#[her eyes are a darker shade of purple but still very intense with their coloring] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earthmoongirl · 2 years

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The Spirit of the Jungle

Tw: lost child, lost animal (not super intense) bug mention

The vines curled up her legs, weaving their way over her feet and calves. Green leaves sprouted from their stems and they crawled over her knees, followed by hundreds of miniature pale flowers. She gazed in awe at their beauty, as shades of pink and cream unfurled before her eyes, adorning her lower body with a garment unmatched by any she had worn in her lifetime. And still, the vines grew upwards. Lone tendrils snaked up her thighs, reaching her stomach and ribs while the lower vines grew thicker, deeper, crisscrossing each other and bearing hints of other colors: the darker green of fully formed leaves, the brown of forest soil. She felt their roots clinging to the skin of her legs, gripping her tightly, searching for nutrients like the vines on a tree. The flowers had become so dense that she could no longer see her feet. And then she could no longer feel her feet. Panic gripped her. She clutched the arms of the stone chair beneath her. She fought for breath as she felt the vines growing into her ribs and chest and tried not to think about what might happen. The fear rose, and she began to struggle against the impeding plants. But the vines were thin and strong. They wrapped around her wrists, up her arms, and over her shoulders. And still, they bloomed in the vibrant colors of the jungle. Purples of the moon orchid. Lime green of ripening fruit. She leaned into the feelings and calmed her breathing. She felt thin vines crawl across her face like hair brushing her cheek on a windy day. They spread over the sides of her jaw and stopped in impossibly thin strands above her eyes. Her feet felt as solid and dense as the forest floor. Her fingertips as delicate as petals. So she sat on the stone chair in the heart of the rainforest, dressed in the livery of the jungle.

At first, the jungle was interested. The tree rat came to smell her feet. The cockatoo perched on her shoulders. The bold squirrel looked into her eyes. But as time passed, the animals got used to the feeling of her presence, and her existence became blended with the jungle itself.

One day a tiger cub came across the stone chair. It was still a kitten, lost and unaccustomed to the jungle dangers. It hopped onto her lap, curled itself among her shoots and leaves, and slept. She could feel the gentle beating of its heart against her leaves. She smiled, and her vines grew, snaking across the forest floor and vibrating with soft purrs. She willed the jungle to protect the cat, feeling with the vines, turning their young sprouts towards it. And the next morning, the cub went on its way, unknowingly watched by the green forest floor.

And when, sometime later, the hive of bees above her became agitated, and swarmed and buzzed around her chair, she whispered a breeze to calm them. When the cochoa birds laid their eggs, she shielded their nests with her leaves. And when the first droughts came, she shared in the forest’s thirst, and her roots dug and pushed deep beneath the earth, through silt and clay and stone, to draw water for her jungle.

Her vines became darker. Small sprouts grew up from her arms. Leaves covered her shoulders and dirt settled in between the vines of her feet. She could feel the forest more clearly. She could even hear it whisper. She listened to the chattering of the squirrels and the creaking of the giant dipterocarp trees. Over time, she learned the language of the underground waters. And she learned the language of the new forest people, who had arrived in their boats from the north and built their village in the river valley.

It rained often in the jungle. It rained for months at a time, and during that season the jungle people would move away from the river and under the tall dark trees. It was during this season that she found the child. It was alone and afraid and very, very lost. She felt his footsteps as she felt the rain that fell on her tallest branches, and the wind that howled far above her head. She listen to the earth hum with gallons of water that snaked up through her veins. And she reached into the forest and she pulled. She pulled the young boy to herself and the branches of the forest reached out to cover him as he passed. The jungle led him to the old stone chair, where he sat on her lap and felt her face as soft as leaves. When his mother came she held him to her chest and kneeled in front of the odd tree that grew out of stone and cried. And from that day the forest people left gifts in front of the overgrown stone chair. They left food. They left relics from lost generations. They played music at her feet and smiled under her bows. She listened. And the village grew and prospered.

The plants continued to grow over her, and she continued to grow with the plants. Her trunk grew thick and tall and her vines grew strong and dense. She crawled with bustling insects and hung over snake dens. Her reach extended to the deepest roots and the highest leaves, to the tallest mountain and the lowest river bed. And she felt their footsteps. The new people, who came with words that the jungle people did not understand. They had large boats and fought with dance-like motions. They had strange gods and curse-bearing magicians. And they pushed past the jungle vines and trampled over the ferns. The forest was scared. The jungle people were not. They remembered their gifts to the spirit of the rainforest. She drew on their gifts and their remembrance but most of all, she drew from their strength. And that, in turn, made her strong. The last of the ships sailed away with flaming sails, for the jungle people protected their forest.

The people fell in love with the forest, the forest fell in love with them. They no longer remembered the altar where they had left their gifts so long ago, but they remembered the protection of the jungle. They sang with the tailor bird and played the song of the crested toad. She listened to their music and laughter and it pleased her, and the jungle was happy. She could no longer tell where her own presence stopped and the wildness of the rainforest began. She grew taller than any tree in the forest, and her roots sprawled over the crumbling stone chair. Her arms were the vines that clothed the jungle trees. Her feet were the soil that gave life to every living thing. Her heart was the rushing of the river, the blowing of the wind, and the songs of the jungle people.

A hero approached her one day. She shared her eyes with the searching mother from such a long time before. She kneeled in front of the old stone chair. “I have come to rescue you,” she said. “I have heard the tale of a young maiden, more beautiful than the forest itself. A maiden who wore sunbeams in her hair and the delicate edelweiss on her waist. I know how the goddess of the earth herself became so jealous that she cursed the maiden to live trapped forever in a throne of jungle. I have searched the jungle, every waterfall, cavern, cliff, and mountain, to kneel before you now. I have come to free you of your eternal torment, and in exchange, I ask one thing; that you would tell me the secrets of the rainforest, so that I may bring the wisdom of the jungle to my people.”

The jungle looked back at her and blinked her moss-covered eyelids. She listened. But she also listened to the forest. It had been a very long time without speaking, only hearing, and the forest has much to say. She thought about her words. She thought about the beautiful song of the bulbul and the steady tread of the ant. She felt the steady winds in the canopy and the deep strength of the tree roots. But she also remembered a time when she was light and free. When she was so light she could skip and run and laugh. Youth once had danced with her beneath the speckled sunlight, yet now she was old, nearly as old as the jungle itself. Now the weight of earth and life pulled her to her chair.

She listened to the heartbeat of the hero. She felt every piece of dirt. She heard the buzz of each cicada that sat on her leaves. The jungle hummed in anticipation. And then a sudden roar rose from the rainforest. The trees groaned, the wind blew, and rain clouds thundered. Birds sang and the ground shook and insects took flight - and the jungle breathed its wisdom.

The wisdom of the jungle is known by its people. The hero returned to her people and taught them all she knew, and the people of the jungle prospered and thrived. Eventually, the jungle people forgot about the brave hero. But they never forgot about the forest, and the forest never forgot about them. Only a few remain who know the legends. They tell the tale of the weeping mother and her daughter’s daughter’s daughter who learned the secrets of the rainforest. Some say the woman of the vines is still out there, in the forest. Skipping along with the butterflies, forever young and beautiful as the jungle’s way of saying thank you. Others say her soul was released into the jungle itself, living on in the raindrops and birdsong and the leaves of ancient vines. The foolish ones say she never existed at all. But the wise ones tell the story of the Spirit of the Jungle.

#my writing #writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #short story #Spirit of the Jungle #tw lost child #tw lost animal #tw bug mention #original writing #short fiction #feel free to reblog #rainforest #fantasy #fiction #hope you enjoy!

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vancouverkitchenrenovation · 1 year

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How to Choose Kitchen Colors

If you want to create a more formal atmosphere in your kitchen, try painting the walls in a forest green. Inspired by the colors of pine boughs in a forest, this color will add a touch of formality to your kitchen. If you prefer a lighter shade, a light yellow-sage can be used to achieve the same effect.

Gray

Gray is a neutral color that can be a stylish option for a kitchen. This color is a timeless choice, so you can expect it to remain in style for a long time. If you are worried that a gray kitchen will look too drab, you can use lighter shades and combine them with more vibrant colors.

Gray is one of the most versatile colors in the world, and you can use it to create a sophisticated backdrop while highlighting architectural features. It also makes it possible to mix and match a variety of accessories without overwhelming the space. Its versatility makes it an excellent choice for kitchens and is a popular choice for interior designers.

If you choose a gray with a heavy blue tone, you should know that the wall color will appear light blue when light hits it. This color goes well with teal blues, which is a common theme in traditional kitchens.

Off-white

Off-white kitchen colors are classic and versatile, and can be used on both walls and flooring. The clean, crisp look of true white is still present, but with more even undertones. These shades are ideal for neutralizing a space and making it more inviting. They also work well with warm accents, including yellow.

Off-white kitchens can look organic with wood or terracotta countertops. Open shelves in dark wood or terracotta can bring out the richness of the color. Brass also picks up the ecru undertones in off-white. Designer Sarah Brown used a soft cream color for her kitchen’s walls, but it still makes the space appear spacious.

Off-white paint is easily matched to other shades, especially if they’re tone-on-tone. While the color may seem too light, you can always play with it by pressing a piece of true-white paper against it. This will reveal the undertone of the paint, which you can then work with. In addition, pure white paint is very easy on the eyes.

Purple

Purple in kitchen colors can add a sophisticated touch to your kitchen. This intense hue can be used on walls and cabinets. A purple kitchen island is also a nice touch. You can pair purple with other colors for a monochromatic look, or echo the hue through accessories. You can also pair purple with neutrals such as white or brown.

Purple works well with any home decor style, from ultra-modern to vintage. Its vibrant color can stand out even when used sparingly. You can also use darker shades of the color to create a moodier effect, but be careful not to go too overboard. It’s best to limit the use of darker shades of purple to the walls and lower cabinets.

If you’re looking to add a touch of purple to your kitchen, consider California Lilac by Benjamin Moore. It’s an appealing blue-purple blend and is an excellent accent color for a modern or contemporary kitchen. It’s cooler than most purples and works well in warm climates. But if you prefer a warmer, deeper shade of purple, go for Kelly-Moore’s Fleur-de-Lis.

Green

Green kitchen colors are a beautiful choice for your kitchen. These shades look stunning with white cabinetry, and they will also blend nicely with rustic wood and brass accents. A yellow-based green looks great with white. To create a contrast, use lighter shades of green in the same color family. Alternatively, you can choose a combination of blues and yellows, or choose a muted green.

A light shade of green, such as seagrass, will work well in a kitchen with a large open plan area. The paint is often matte-finished, giving a modern look to the room. A green backsplash is another way to add a splash of color to a space. A mint-colored porcelain tile is another great way to bring the green kitchen color scheme into your kitchen. Try a large hexagon shape or a sunburst pattern.

You can also paint an island bar in a shade of green. If you have an island bar in your kitchen, consider painting the underside where the bar stools are placed. This is a quick way to incorporate green into the room. You can choose a light shade or a dark shade, depending on your personal preference. This will add brightness to the room.

Blue-green

If you want to create a traditional, classic look for your kitchen, blue-green may be your color. This rich, deep color has a pronounced black undertone, so it’s best to temper it with white upper cabinets and a bistro-tile floor. If you want a fresh and contemporary look, consider a lighter shade of blue-green.

Another gorgeous blue color for your kitchen is Sherwin Williams Naval. This color pairs well with grays and neutrals, so it will ground a feminine decor scheme without feeling too overbearing. The color is so deep that you can pair it with stainless steel, and it pairs well with white and beige accents. This color has also been deemed a favorite among grandmillennials and is the color of Gretchen Rubin’s home.

Because blue-green is a versatile and soothing color, it is an underrated choice for your kitchen. The many shades and variations of the color make it difficult to pinpoint the exact hue that will work best in your kitchen. You may need to consult Benjamin Moore palettes to find the perfect blue-green shade.

Yellow

If you want to add a splash of color to your kitchen, try a buttery yellow. This color adds a glow to your kitchen, and it will make you feel like you’re baking. Try Benjamin Moore’s Inner Glow or Donald Kaufman Color Collection DKC-30. Farrow & Ball’s Citron 74 is another option.

You can also try using Gen-Z yellow as an accent color. This rich ochre tone was once a nod to the seventies, but is now a cool, earthy neutral. Honey-colored backsplashes and cabinetry make this color a focal point. Choose tile with a semi-gloss finish to reflect light. Consider extending this look to your extract fan as well.

While white kitchens have gotten all the attention, yellow can be just as charming and add a pop of sunshine. It can help brighten up a dark kitchen, especially if you have limited natural light.

White

A white kitchen is one of the most popular colors for a kitchen, and it’s no wonder – 95% of kitchens are white. It never dates and always looks fresh and beautiful. One popular kitchen color, Benjamin Moore’s Winter White, has a blue undertone and is an excellent choice for ceilings and cabinets. The color also plays nicely off the veining in the countertops.

You can pair white cabinets with dark wood floors to create an interesting contrast. White countertops and white cabinetry can work well with Carrara marble or herringbone-patterned hardwood floors. Using black accents in the other areas can help create a cohesive look. Adding gold hardware to the cabinets softens the look, and a couple of small wood shelves add a rustic feel to the space.

If you’re choosing a white kitchen color, make sure to test out a few paint samples. You’ll want to find one that will complement your cabinets without clashing. A good way to do this is to purchase a peel and stick sample from a paint retailer. This will give you a better idea of how the color will look on your walls. Often, the paint sample will arrive overnight, making it very convenient.

Black

Black kitchen colors look elegant, but they can also feel closed in a small space. If you want to open up the space, use additional textures and colors to add interest. For example, a black countertop with taupe adjacent cabinet doors will brighten the overall look. Another option is to paint the walls a lighter color.

To make an all-black kitchen visually interesting, add contrasting materials, such as metallics or woven rattan. This will break up the uniform, monochromatic appearance. This is especially useful for kitchens with black cabinetry. For example, a black countertop and woven rattan pendant lights will give a kitchen a more dramatic look.

Black colors can be very challenging to keep clean. A matte finish is more difficult to clean than a high gloss finish. Those that fall in between are the easiest to clean. In addition, black absorbs light, so it’s best to have plenty of natural light in the room.

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The kitchen is often the heart of the home and plays a significant role in determining its overall appeal. If yours feels outdated or dated, you may feel less motivated to spend time cooking and eating in it. That’s why Vancouver kitchen Renovation is proud to bring you a Kitchen Design and Renovation package that will transform your space into something truly timeless and functional. Our Kitchen Design and Renovation packages will create a space that reflects your lifestyle and personality and gives you everything you need to cook delicious meals and entertain guests.

We understand that to be successful is to stay ahead of the curve. That means staying current with the latest technology and design trends. We always want to improve our products or services without breaking the bank. That’s why we stay connected to the latest technologies of NKBA, National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, at Vancouver Kitchen renovation, our primary focus is providing sustainable kitchen design and renovation packages, and we believe in sustainable living. Sustainable living is a way of life in harmony with nature. It is a lifestyle which focuses on the preservation of our environment. Sustainable living is a philosophy emphasizing respect for the environment and concern for its well-being. This means we should take care of the planet and treat it as if it were our home. We should try to preserve what we have and protect it from destruction. If we do this, we will enjoy the benefits of the earth’s resources for many generations. Whether you’re planning a major remodel or adding finishing touches to your current kitchen, we’d love to discuss your project. Book your showroom consultation online.

Main Areas of Service in British Columbia:

Vancouver

North Vancouver

West Vancouver

Burnaby

Coquitlam

Squamish

Whistler

Frequently Asked Questions

What place should a refrigerator go in the kitchen?

The refrigerator should be located next to the sink to make it easy for people to access. You should place it so that it does not block traffic and is not too close to the stove.

Do you install flooring beneath kitchen appliances or not?

You can’t ignore the importance of putting flooring under kitchen appliances. This will ensure your countertop is at the right counter height.

How do I begin a new kitchen design?

You should start by writing down your desires and needs. This will help you communicate your needs to potential kitchen designers, remodelers, and contractors.

– Budget: How much can you spend on your new kitchen?

Size: What is your kitchen’s size? Are you planning to increase or decrease the size of your kitchen’s?

Layout: How does your kitchen look? What changes will you have to make in the layout of kitchen?

– Appliances: What appliances do you want in your new kitchen?

– Storage: How will you store all your food and supplies in your new kitchen?

Style: What kind of kitchen style do you prefer? Traditional, contemporary, rustic, etc.

– Colors: What colors do you want for your new kitchen?

Once you’ve considered all these things, you can start planning your new kitchen!

What kind of kitchen backsplash is in style?

Full-height backsplash would be best for a modern kitchen. If you’re looking for something traditional, a subway backsplash will work well. For a rustic look, a brick or stone backsplash might be the best choice. Ultimately, it comes down to personal preference and what fits best with the overall style of your kitchen.

Statistics

“We decided to strip and refinish our kitchen cabinets during a heat wave with 90-plus-degree temperatures and 90 percent humidity in a house with no air conditioning. (familyhandyman.com)

It’s a fantastic thing about most home improvement projects: no matter the job. It often seems like the last 20% is the most difficult. (familyhandyman.com)

In large firms, the commission charged by the GC ranges from 15 to 25 percent of the total job cost. (thespruce.com)

Your most significant cost investment for a kitchen remodel will usually be cabinets, typically comprising 25 percent of your budget. (hgtv.com)

Experts also recommend setting aside 20 percent of your budget for surprises, including unpleasant demolition discoveries. One is water damage, the electricity that is not up to code, or other budget-spiking gotchas. (hgtv.com)

External Links

hgtv.com

Choosing Kitchen Appliances | HGTV

HGTV

forbes.com

Amazing Kitchen Remodel Ideas That Will Refresh Your Home

familyhandyman.com

Dos and Don’ts From a First-Time DIY Subway Tile Backsplash Install

Create an Open, Craftsman-Style Kitchen (DIY)

homeadvisor.com

Learn how much it costs to Remodel a Kitchen – Compose: SEO.

How does a kitchen renovation increase my home’s worth? – HomeAdvisor

How To

Ten kitchen renovations you could do yourself.

Small kitchen renovation ideas that you can do yourself.

A small kitchen remodeling project is not always something you’d like to tackle. You can make your home feel brand new by doing this. You don’t have to spend a lot of money to upgrade your kitchen. Here are some ideas for small kitchen renovations that you can do by yourself.

Add a backsplash – If you don’t have tiles around your countertop and sink, then adding one is the best thing that you can do. It can be used to add colour and style, as well as make your kitchen seem larger and cleaner.

Do not replace old cabinets. They protect your walls from splashes, spills, stains, etc. And they give your kitchen a classy look. You should replace your cabinet doors if they look tired.

Paint your kitchen – Paint will not only change the appearance of your kitchen but also help you save money. You can give your kitchen a new look and make it more modern by painting it. It will also make it easier to clean.

Update your appliances. It’s a great idea to update your appliances. Not only will it increase their lifespan, but it will also make them look more modern. You can update the appliance that you are most familiar with if you have a specific appliance in mind. If you don’t know how to set these appliances up, ask someone.

You can also add a bar to your kitchen. It not only provides additional work surface but also makes it a great place to entertain guests.

Create a breakfast nook – You don’t have to break the bank to create a breakfast nook. You only need a small table with chairs. To make it more comfortable, you could add cushions.

Add a pantry – A pantry is a must-have in any kitchen. It’s a wonderful place to store food and dishes.

Install an island. An island can be a wonderful addition to your kitchen. This gives your kitchen an open feel and allows you to work from a large area. It is also very attractive when combined to wood flooring.

Add a wine rack – Wine racks are usually found in restaurants and wine bars. They can be used in your home, however. They come in different designs and sizes. You can choose what best suits your kitchen.

Did you miss our previous article… https://vancouverkitchenrenovation.com/kitchens/organizing-coffee-bars-in-homes/

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floresblackburn1 · 2 years

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mbluee · 3 years

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Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #the doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #thirteen x reader #this is painful #do you hate the color red now?#xoxo #also hi willow i posted are you proud of me

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thgreatestblue · 3 years

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false god [part I]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mentions of torture, blood, prostitution. ➜ words: 4,7k ➜ a/n: hello everyone! I decided to split this fic in two parts or else it was going to be too much. I was so excited with this idea that I got carried away (as always). I even thought about only posting the ending, but i figured if i was really writing this concept, then I would commit to it! i hope you enjoy it! ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part II] summary: Turning a blind eye was easier when the money was enough to not send you to a brothel ever again, even if it meant looking away when blood was shed. Head above water and you will never drown. The mantra kept you safe for 3 years, but then six eyes pinned you down, and you found yourself swimming in an ocean you swore you weren’t ever diving in.

If it wasn't for the long and heavy curtains, the house would have been a really pretty and enjoyable place. However, you highly suspected that if it wasn't for the appearances, the house wouldn't even have windows to start with, so you weren't complaining. Although it was hard to see with only a small candle in your hands — the flame barely illuminating the few steps in front of you — you had grown used to the darkness by now. The last 3 years had taught you enough, and you knew the place like the palm of your hand.

But what you didn't know was where Muzan’s daughter had hidden this time. It was a fairly common game you two played when her father wasn't home, one that allowed the poor girl to run free through the corridors with no fear of running into her father — that in the last few weeks has been more violent and angry than you've ever seen. If it was scary for you, that knew what Muzan truly was; you couldn't imagine what the girl felt seeing her father losing the facade; teeths becoming sharper at each smile, eyes glowing redder at each glance.

You didn't know what had happened for the so composed and cold-hearted Muzan to start falling apart at the seams, as far as you knew, he never acted that way before; even the rest of the servants had started to gossip about his weird composure. Now, more often than not, you could hear screams filling the hallways like whispers from ghosts, haunting the poor souls that were still lucky to be alive in a place like this. It would give all your body goosebumps, a weird aftertaste that was bitter than any drink you could swallow down.

You turn another corner, still trying to find the little girl. She was a sweet and well mannered girl, so easy to look after that you didn't think it was normal. How her eyes were always looking around, her tongue never daring to say more than the necessary, so quiet that most of the time you forget she was still in the room; her mother was the same.

Two beautiful things that over time started to look more like paintings than real human beings, for society to appreciate, portraying a family that was as perfect as the colors Muzan chooses to show. And for their safety, you hoped they would stay just like that. Everybody at the house knew she wasn't really his daughter — you didn't want to think what happened to the real father, then.

For the sake of their sanity, they didn't know what Muzan really was. Many of the servants didn't know either. And for some time, you wondered if it would have been a blessing being ignorant like that, not knowing what really took place in a house like this. Behind closed doors things could get even more terrifying, that even you couldn't imagine — no that you wanted, anyway.

Turning a blind eye to the situation was something you had struggled with in the first year; the amount of blood and organs you had to clean was alarming, the unspoken fear that would be in the tip of everyone’s tongue but never daring to escape; it was heavy the air every time he walked in, but for most of the servants the fear was inexplicable. Not for you though, always going to sleep with the fear that your blood would be the next staining the floor of his office.

It wasn't as if you had had a choice, neither Daki nor Muzan gave you one. It was keeping a secret or dying with it — and you wanted to live enough to see yourself out of this place, far away from these atrocities. Although it wasn't the best opinion, definitely wasn't the worst. Anything other than going back to the brothels of Yoshiwara; to the hands of strangers; to the dark nights where all you could do was scrub your skin until it was burning red.

It was a time of your life you didn't like to revisit; it was locked away in the deepest of your mind, but somehow the key would always find its way back to your hand. It was inevitable to think about those years you spent on your knees, selling your body so you could eat the next day. Though, now that you worked for Muzan, those thoughts that haunted you as you laid your head on the pillow were replaced by blood, screams of agony and guts - you’re not sure which was worse.

The candle burns quickly in your hand, you were running out of time to find the small girl. Although you had come up with a few rules to turn this game a little bit easier — like not entering any room, not hiding inside any closet — the child still put up a challenge; and again, you didn't want to think why she was so good at hiding.

“Ah! There you are!” You could see, even with the thin light, a silhouette that you were very familiar with by now. The dark hair almost blends with the background; she is gripping the candle with both hands, not looking at you even when you call her name, “I think this time you outdone your…”

As soon as you reach the little girl, you can feel the atmosphere change. There’s a dense feeling settling in your chest that spreads throughout your body like fire, almost pulling you down to your knees. The hair on the back of your neck stands up almost instantly, and you don't need to see what it is causing to know exactly what it is. The fear on the girl's face is enough to tell you that she had seen a Demon.

“Stay behind me, honey.” You whisper as you put your body in front of her’s, eyes trying to focus on the figure by the end of the corridor. The little girl immediately grabs your leg, hiding behind it, you can feel her small body shaking against you.

Not so far away, you catch a glimpse of a big silhouette walking towards you, it’s so massive that you can’t help but take a step back. It wasn't everyday you saw another Demon walking in those hallways, if ever. Besides Muzan, you only knew Daki by name; she has been the one who brought you to this place, after all.

In the back of your mind you kept telling yourself if anything went wrong, it was still midday. You could open the curtains and stand in the sun; though you didn't know if you would be fast enough to avoid a tragedy.

As the Demon stepped closer, the fragile flame from your candle trembles, even the fire was nervous at the change of events. The silence is maddening, all your instincts are screaming run! run! but you can’t move a foot. It takes only a few more steps for the figure to finally be illuminated by the light, the anticipation making your heart beat furiously against your ribcage.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't the man in front of you. His face is the first thing that the light reaches — and if you could hear the sound of your heart beating just a second ago, now it goes completely silent.

His face is a shade so light that for a moment you thought it was transparent; so pale, but it looked soft to the touch. There’s a red mark that reminds you of flames covering half of the right side of his forehead, and another one on the left side of his cheeks, that goes down to his neck. However, what was more unsettling about him was his eyes. There are six of them, bright yellow irises surrounded in scarlet bloody sclera, staring directly at you.

With only the candle light to illuminate the hallway, the scenario you found yourself in should’ve been a nightmare, but there was something about the Demon in front of you that made it tolerable. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, a polished posture you don't really see very often. How he didn't look like he was about to rip you apart - or maybe that was worse, because you didn't know what to expect from him.

It made you wonder who he was when still human. His hair was a shade darker than the shadows, perfectly framing his face; the ponytail was tied up on the top of his head, the rest of it falling graciously on his back, long and smooth. He was a very beautiful and elegant man; but even with the whole picture, those eyes were still unsettling,

“I’m looking for Muzan-sama.” His voice is strong and heavy, cutting through the silence of the hallway like a thunder cuts through the night to announce the upcoming rain. The little girl yelps, gripping your thigh even harder.

You immediately bow, prefering to stare at his feet than to stay under his intense gaze, “I’m afraid he’s not at home right now...My lord.” You decide to refer to him in a polite way, and he seems pleased by it.

Not only was he a Demon, but he seemed important, more important than Daki for the looks of it. He wore a black and purple kimono; the material, even in the thin light, looked expensive. However, what made him hold such a powerful presence, was the katana attached to his waist. And if his six eyes weren't enough, there were more of them carving the handle of the sword.

“And who are you?” The Demon asks, voice low and firm, making you shiver slightly. His eyes are fixed on your face, making you feel even more uneasy under his stare. He takes a few steps closer, the overpowering aura paralysing you right in the spot for a second.

“I’m Y/N,” You answer, trying your best not to sound too scared. And quickly adds, not daring making him wait, “And this is Muzan-sama’s daughter.”

You put your hand at the top of the little girl’s head, her shakiness is palpable even from far away, and you can’t blame her. Despite living among Demons, you had wished she would grow up oblivious to what went down in this household. Apparently, an illusion can never last forever, only the truth remains untouched in eternity. You try your best to calm her down by running your fingers through her hair. Even though the wax of the candle burns your hand, you can stop gripping it, anything to help you stay calm.

As if he was in a trance, he stops. Slowly catching your movements with his eyes, “Are you his wife?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you have to blink a few times, raising your eyebrows in the process. Thank Gods I'm not, it’s the first thing that crosses your mind. However, the hesitation in his voice is concerning; and you have a hard time trying to swallow down what that could possibly imply.

“No, I’m just a servant… My lord.” Telling him the truth was the only thing you could do right now.

If he decided to kill you because you weren't important, it was your fault for not trying to escape sooner. You had hoped this wasn't going to be the way you would end, but perhaps you had sold your fate on the day you saw Daki eating another girl.

The demon nods, and takes a few more steps closer. You involuntarily flinch, feeling his presence and intimidating aura hitting you like a train. Your breath gets caught on your throat as you watch his hand moving closer to your face. The nails of the little girl on your thing were definitely drawing blood right now.

But instead of ripping your head off, he touches your cheek.

You didn't notice you had closed your eyes, but they snap open at the gentle touch. Your eyes grow wide at each suffocating second his fingers hover over your skin. Goosebumps spread all over your body as his strong fingers wrap around your chin, forcing you to look at him, at his six eyes. They seem to be studying you, hovering around your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth.

It feels like you’re on display all over again. When men would come to the brothel and choose the girl they were going to use just by her looks; if she still had teeths, if they were still tight enough, if their good reputation was still intact. It made you want to choke each one of them, making them swallow down each word they had ever said until they were suffocating with their own nastiness. Right now, though, you just fell silent, letting him analyse your face as much as he wanted. You knew you would be dreaming with those yellow orbs from now on.

“Tell him I’ll be waiting in his office.” He says, slowly easing the grip, giving your face one last look before finally letting go of your chin, and you averts your eyes as soon as his touch isn't on you anymore.

The only movement your body manages to do is nod, all the rest goes numb with the tension that settles in your bones. Your breathing becomes shallow, body too paralized to function properly. There’s a growing pain on your jaw from clenching your teeth too hard. You and the little girl stay frozen in place as you watch him turning away, walking back from the direction he had come.

A cold sensation settles on the pitch of your stomach as you watch the Demon walk away. If you were to trust your guts, this definitely wasn't the last time you would be seeing him. And for better or for worse, your guts were never wrong.

II.

Walking through the hallways of Muzan’s house was different since the day you encountered that Demon. Each time turning a corner, you would hold your breath, take a double look at the shadows, looking for any sign of the man; as if he would appear from the dark and drag you to join him — no one was going to miss you anyway. Even after weeks, you could still feel his gaze hovering around your skin, the feeling of having so many eyes on you was maddening. But the worst was his touch, still managing to linger on your chin, ghostly haunting your days, and mostly your nights.

Muzan’s daughter seemed to have forgotten the encounter; she didn't say a single thing about it, even after you took her to the kitchen to give her some tea. She was shaking so much you were afraid she would pass out. However, when you asked her about, she just shook her head, saying she was afraid because the man was intimidating. You wondered if her mind had just erased the few important details or if she was pretending that nothing was wrong for her own sanity. Either way, your heart aches for the little girl, but there was nothing you could do.

Head above water and you will never drown. It has become your mantra since the first time you sold your body, since the first time you laid your eyes on a Demon - when you sold your soul to stay alive. It sure makes the food you eat taste bitter and the pillow on which you lay your head feels like a stone; but at least you are alive, right?

You could only hope that the Demon Slayers were going to put an end to this, sooner or later. If the rumors were true, then things finally started to move, and by Muzan’s temper getting worse by each day, they were making some progress.

You just had to control your emotions, and pray that Muzan wasn't going to lash any of his anger on you; living with him for a few years made you realize that even the best servants could suffer a tragic destiny, no one was safe here. No one was ever safe around a Demon, after all.

“Muzan-sama, do you need anything else?”

It was still morning outside; a very pretty day from the glimpse you caught as you passed a slightly open curtain. As much as you wanted to leave the house and enjoy the sun, mornings like those were the worst for Muzan; where the small amount of light would make him so angry that you had lost account of how many times you had to clean his office after some unfortunate soul left a tiny ray of light enter the room.

Muzan seemed to be in a good mood today; a rarity nowadays. He was wearing that same dangerous smile from the day he met you, plotting something in his mind and letting it show through his face; and if you were to guess, it wasn't a good sign. He had called for you, asked to pour him a drink — at this point you knew it was blood, just in some fancy bottle — and now was staring at you.

“I heard you meet Kokushibou, Y/N… What do you think about him?”

“Who?”

There’s a nagging feeling growing in the back of your mind as you watch Muzan dangerously smile at you. You had never heard that name before, but somehow your mind pictured the Demon from the other day straight away. If this conversation was about him, then you were definitely with a few problems.

“Tall, long hair, six eyes… Does it ring a bell?” Muzan’s tone is playful, swinging the glass in his hand.

“He seems...” You hesitate, remembering his six eyes fixed on your face, his strong hand gripping your chin, and the intense threatening aura exhaling from him. You swallow down, but your throat feels dry, “...Strong.”

“Always so observant,” He laughs, drinking a sip from the glass, “Of course he’s strong. He’s the upper moon one, stupid human.”

Wrong answer. Your mind screams, ready to push the alert button as soon as his features change in the slightest. The first time you encountered him you couldn't even speak, couldn't even breathe. The intensity of his threatening aura was so strong that you wanted to puke, scream, run away; but your feet never moved. It took you a long time to even manage to move a muscle when in his presence — all the time he acted amused, and you didn't expect less from a monster savouring the distress of a mere human.

You knew the Demon… Kokushibou was powerful just by his presence, but everything made sense now; the authoritarian semblance of dominance each of his movements seemed to carry, how different his aura was from Daki; even though she was powerful, she still acted like a self absorbed teenager.

“But I’m asking about your first impression,” If he was angry, you couldn't tell, the way Muzan quickly changed emotions was scary, but most of the time, dangerous, “What do you really think about him?”

“He seems to be respectful and polite…” It wasn't a complete lie; Kokushibou did look like he was someone important in his other life, his clothes were clean and tidy. And not trying to kill you that day was a bonus, “And definitely more civil than Daki.”

Muzan laughs again, showing off his teeth, but seeming content with your answer. He studies you while drinking another sip from the glass, and you try to do your best by staying still, but under his gaze no one could ever remain calm, or sane. Your heart beats fast in your chest as the minutes drag by. It’s agonizing, staying in the same room as him for longer than necessary.

“Well, I called you here to say that I don't need your services anymore.” He finally drops the bomb on your lap, and you can’t do much then stare at the explosion forming on your hands.

“Did I do something wrong, Muzan-sama?” You ask, but your voice is weak.

Panic starts to settle on your stomach, did you say something you shouldn't? Have you done something that he didn't like? Did he see through your facade and now was going to kill you? A torrent of thoughts starts to flood your mind as anxiety settles under your skin, making you sweat.

“No, actually you're more than perfect.” Muzan says, rather uninterested “But i don't care about that child anymore, so i don't see why keep pretending”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as he says those words as if he was getting rid of trash. Somehow, in the back of your mind, you knew this moment was going to happen. It was a matter of time until Muzan decided to drop the act and move on as if nothing happened.

He didn't care about anyone but himself. You could only hope he was merciful enough to kill them quickly, heart breaking with the thought of that little girl seeing him as the monster he truly was in her final moments before her death. What a nightmare, what twisted fucking world.

“You've been great. It's a shame you don't want to become a demon, could be one of the best and easily one of my favorites.”

“It is an honor to hear that, Muzan-sama.” You don’t sound like yourself; you can’t even process what he’s saying while you think about mother and daughter, years trying their best to please Muzan only to find death by his own hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes but you hold them as much as you can, it would only piss him off seeing you being emotive, caring about someone.

“Then why don't you want to turn into one?”

When you don't answer, he sighs loudly, closing the book he was reading. The sound takes you out of your thoughts, making you jump; heartbeat on your ears. He murmurs something under his breath, you’re so lucky you don’t have any idea, before getting up. With his back to you, he studies the painting on the wall of his office. It’s a strange combination of flowers and blood, but it strangely suits him.

“Since you've a good reputation, I’ve already guaranteed another job for you.” Muzan turns his head,

“Thank you so much…” You try to say between the cacophony of thoughts swinging around your head. It’s hard to keep the tears from falling down, it’s hard to think about anything else than the poor family being torn apart for his amusement.

“Pack your things, you're going to work for Kokushibou now.”

There’s a painful pause on your heart, and you could swear you were going to collapse right in the moment. Your mind goes blank, fear crossing your eyes as you remember his touch on your chin, the cold yet burning feeling of his stare on each part of your face.

“You just said you think he’s respectful, do you have a problem with him that you didn't tell me about it?” Muzan turns his head, red eyes glowing in the thin light of the room; it’s deadly.

“I don't, Muzan-sama. It’s going to be a honor.” You lie, because that’s the only thing you can do right now.

“Well then, you're dismissed.”

You don’t know how you made it to your room, how you packed your things and cleaned the room you called home for years, one last time. It felt like you were numb to everything, still not being able to process what was happening, where you were going, and who you were going to be working for. At some point your cheeks were thick with tears but you didn't feel sad for yourself, not entirely, it was how abrupt the world was. How abrupt things changed and you couldn't have a single say about it.

That’s why you never got attached to anyone, that’s why you never let your guard down. And even when you didn’t have any type of attachment, the world still manages to pull the rug beneath your feet. You don't even try to look for the little girl — not that you had the opportunity, either way.

As you stare at the view from the window of the train, you can at least relax for the first time in years. Not being surrounded by the overpowering aura that Muzan always carried with himself was so relieving that you could feel yourself taking a few deep breaths, smelling the air of the mountains. Trying to enjoy the ride as much as you could, you didn't want to think about what kind of place Kokushibou lived, or how your life would be once you step in.

It was night when you arrived at the designed station, it was far away from the city, and you were already missing the noise and the traffic, but maybe changing scenarios was something good - you had to keep telling yourself to be positive about this. It couldn't be worse than living with Muzan, right? Right.

You were welcomed by an old lady, she was waiting for you at the platform, waving at you as you got off the train. Since you didn't have many belongings, you only brought a small suitcase with you.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” She gently says, smiling at you.

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you too.” You bow in respect. The old lady pats your head and you immediately feel safer. If the rest of the servants were like her, then maybe Kokushibou was indeed a respectful man.

The tension building up on your body slowly started to calm down as the servant explained what you would have to do. It was easy and simple, washing the bed sheets, cleaning the house, taking care of the garden. You never imagined yourself working under such a mundade setting like this; it was going to be interesting, to say the least.

However, the odd feeling that something was wrong still lingered — your gut still poking you with worries and alerts — and you couldn't just ignore it, but for now, you tucked it underneath your hopes, wishing it was enough to keep them at bay.

The wagon stopped in front of an elegant archway, and as you helped the old lady get down from it, you studied the beautiful front yard, with a colorful garden and a variety of trees. There was a pathway of cobblestones that led to the house; witch was big and very tradicional.

Walking in silence towards the house, your eyes flew around, trying to enjoy each glimpse of nature. It has been so long since you have seen so many different colors, vibrant even under the moonlight. You touch a few flowers, fingers brushing against the delicate petals; the smell of them cleans your mind, making a tiny smile tug on the corner of your lips.

However, as soon as your eyes drifted back to the house, the tiny smile died on your lips, sending you back to reality. Kokushibou was standing right in front of the porch, his hand was resting on his sword. You held your breath as you finally arrived at the house, bowing as soon as you were introduced.

Kokushibou studied you for a long moment before saying “Welcome, Y/N.”

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

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stillebesat · 4 years

Text

Scales (6/7)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Deceit, Virgil, Roman, Patton Blurb: Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door. Fic Type: General Warnings: Shedding (snake style), Minor Injuries, Minor Pain, Touch Starvation, Death Talk Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Deceit had never thought of his scales as being beautiful. They’d made him a freak. An outcast among the others even among the Dark Sides. Their color always the same ugly shade of yellow green as the crayon in a Crayola pack. A visible sign of Thomas’s dislike of him.

Sure, they were always slightly brighter, slightly less ugly right after his sheds, but he’d never thought of them as…

Deceit licked his lips, frozen in place as he stared at the new patch of scales Roman’s technique had revealed.

Scales that--that were--Deceit could only think of them as beautiful. Iridescent. Shining like precious gems. The old sickly yellow had vanished, replaced instead with a vibrant display of golden yellows fading into emerald green which in turn faded to obsidian black.

Gingerly, not quite believing that this was real, he pulled free of Virgil’s grip to lightly touch the exposed patch, his fingers running over the smooth edges.

“Whoa.” Patton whispered, his own hand hovering above Deceit’s. “You have rainbows on you, Ly!”

He paused, heart skipping a beat as one finger hovered over the black areas of his scales. Morality was right. Where the scales had darkened, he could see rainbows shimmering across their surface.

Rainbows. A visible sign of acceptance.

He couldn’t believe it. Believe that--that they would appear...on him.

“Almost.” Logan said, leaning forward to rest his head on Deceit’s human shoulder, breath ghosting across his cheek as he spoke. “It’s probably part of the composition of the scales and the light refracting off of them that--”

“They’re so...bea--bright.” Deceit whispered, unable to bring himself to speak the word ‘beautiful’ out loud. He was a Dark Side. He wasn’t meant to be...to be--”

“Bright? They’re perfectly glowingly gorgeous, my Lion King.” Roman proclaimed. “Exactly like a true Dragon’s scales should be!” He gave him a soft, pleased smile. “You have dragon scales.”

He had dragon scales.

Creativity’s idea had worked.

The tightness in his chest eased.

He could finally get his shed off.

“Well...if we’re all done gawking.” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow to Roman as he pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Perhaps we should get a move on? I was under the impression Dee’s shed should have been off like...three days ago.”

“Correct.” Logan cleared his throat as he pulled back, leaving Deceit’s shoulder feeling bare and cold.

Deceit swallowed, human hand twitching as he fought the urge to pull Logan near again. It was...unexpected, this...feeling. How quickly he’d grown to like having the others touching him. He just wanted to--to--

As if reading his mind, Logan rested a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. “Since the test has obviously worked, what do we do next, Roman?”

Creativity grinned, spreading his arms wide. “Well. First I need to set the proper scene. The commons is hardly warm enough for this to work properly.”

Deceit blinked, looking around the living room. He couldn’t see why it wouldn’t work here. “Scene?” Couldn’t Roman just conjure more ash to--

“A beach!”

Virgil made a face, pulling his hoodie over his head, hiding his eyes. “Oh goodie. Heat stroke.”

Roman shot him a look. “That’s what summer clothes are for Emo Edgelord.”

“Nope. You are not getting rid of my hoodie!”

“Wasn’t planning on it Dark and Stormy, You’ll have a hoodie just watch--” Roman snapped his fingers.

The living room vanished in the blink of an eye replaced by the view of an ocean with waves gently lapping against the shore.

Deceit inhaled, automatically lifting his head up to the sun burning overhead, his body already warming under the intense heat that was much stronger than what he could create in his room. Yet...he glanced from the corner of his eye to Logan. The sun’s rays weren’t as penetrating as he’d expected them to be. No...compared to the fire emanating from Logan’s steady hand, the sun’s heat barely seemed to scratch the surface.

“MY EYES!” Virgil complained, jerking the hood of his now light purple jacket over his head as the carpet of the living room shifted to the same opalescent volcanic dust Creativity had conjured earlier. “ROMAN!”

Dust that felt so soft and warm...that it took all Deceit’s control to not bury himself in it then and there.

Even if he did have dragon scales, he wasn’t the Dragon Witch. He wouldn’t copy her. No. He wouldn’t! He---

“Hey! I can’t control the brightness of the sun, Dr. Gloom!”

Virgil hissed, glaring at him under his hood. “You’re Crea--”

“I know what I am. That doesn’t mean I can make the sun darker! Especially not if we want--”

“A Beach party!” Patton pumped his hand in the air, now wearing blue swim shorts with white hearts on them. “Come on Virge! We can bury LyLy in sand-”

“Ash.” Logan corrected softly in Deceit’s ear as he again moved, carefully urging him to lay down.

Ash that felt really good against the shed right now. At least better than the sweat sodden blankets he’d been under earlier.

Despite his best intentions to not copy what the Dragon Witch apparently did, Deceit didn’t need any further urging before he rolled onto his left side, wriggling to bury himself into the soft opalescent dust as quickly as possible. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure, his tense muscles already relaxing.

He had to admit...this didn’t feel half bad.

“-and turn him into a mermaid sculpture!”

Roman chuckled, shaking his head as he moved with practiced grace to help partially bury Deceit, making sure his neck and head were supported while also ensuring that none of the shed was showing and that he could still breathe.. “Mermaid Deceit. That’s something. Though I would think more of an Eel--”

“What about a Naga? That’s more fitting for Dee’s style.” Virgil muttered, carefully mounding the ash up around Deceit’s head, covering his hair as he raised an eyebrow to him.

Deceit made a face, careful to not get any ash in his mouth as he resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Annie. He much preferred having legs thank you very much.

“A Naga?” Patton asked as he energetically pushed ash up and over Deceit’s stomach to cover the shed there.

“Half snake, Pat?”

“Oh...well--”

Personally, and Annie was well aware of this, Deceit had always been drawn more to spiders than snakes. But with his scaled complexion and Morality’s now known fear of arachnids...it wasn’t a topic he felt he could bring up.

He closed his human eye, slowly exhaling as he went still, his shed covered fingers digging deeper into the ash as Logan settled next to him, gently running his fingers through his regular hair.

“Why not go build a sand castle or play in the ocean or something?” He mumbled, leaning into Logan’s hand as his fingers continued to run through his hair. The others could go have their beach party while he just--

“And just LEAVE you?!” Morality demanded, sounding scandalized as he patted Deceit’s leg. “No siree, mister! We’re. Staying. Right. Here!”

“It’s not like this will take as long as the Dragon Witch.” Roman said with a shrug. “Just be sure to not move too much. The shed will only come off without issue if it’s evenly and properly dried out before we remove it.”

It made sense, though it still didn’t make sense that the others were actually wanting to...stick around to help him with this. “How long?” He asked, half curling up so his head was pressed against Logan’s leg, taking more comfort in having the Logical Side near him. He knew Lo would prevent the other three from doing something stupid and this--

This felt...felt so nice. Having them around. Not...screaming or being horrified. He never would have thought that they--that they cared--that this---would happen. That they would help a Dark Side like this. That they would consider him to be...Family.

“Well--depending on what size she is when the shed takes her...it can last up to a week before I’m called in to help--”

“A WEEK!” Virgil repeated.

Deceit opened his human eye, tilting it so he could see Anxiety. “If mine can take up to three days at my size...it’s not surprising it could take her longer.” Though he would have to arrange to...see...if not meet this Dragon Witch at some point. He’d been under the impression she was a full dragon. Perhaps there was more merit to the ‘witch’ part of Dragon Witch than he originally thought.

“Exactly! And I mean...that’s just what she’s told me.” Roman looked away. “Honestly, I do believe that she’s not being fully truthful on how long it actually takes. You know...to keep me from taking advantage of her during that time.” He ran a hand through his hair, a slight frown on his face. “Like I’d strike a worthy opponent when they’re down.” He mumbled in such a way Deceit was sure no one else was meant to hear it.

“But he’s already been this way for six days Roman!” Virgil hissed. “Are you saying we have to wait one more for it to work?”

“That is currently unknown. With the change in his scales, Lyal’s timeline may have altered.” Logan shrugged a shoulder, trailing his fingers down the side of Deceit’s neck. “There really is no way to know for sure how long this will take until his next shed when we can give him the proper setup from the onset.” He reached, adjusting his glasses, eyes sparking with interest. “I would expect with how quickly the ash worked on his test spot, that we should not have to wait long though.”

True. Deceit flexed his fingers underneath the ash, the corner of his lip quirking upwards. His mobility had always been extremely limited under the shed. Being able to move his fingers now before doing anything to get rid of the shed had to be a good sign.

“So we just...wait?” Patton asked, fidgeting as he piled ash up and over his legs even though Deceit had no scales there needing to be covered. ��Then use the brush--”

“To remove it, yes.” Roman confirmed. “I can show you how to do it so it won’t hurt-- I mean, it took me a time or two with the Dragon Witch nearly biting off my head to learn how.”

“And with how long Lyal’s been in shed, we do not want to mess this up for him.” Logan cut in.

Deceit swallowed, heart skipping a beat. No...he really--if this was all some sort of trick--if Roman had made this all up. He’d--He’d---

“Oh yah. You do not want to get on Dee’s dar--well darker side.” Virgil said. “You do not want to see that--”

“Well I’m sure our mighty Lion King here will be less snappy at least, he doesn’t have the fangs after all to---”

Deceit raised his human hand, heart pounding in his ears as Roman fell silent, his hands hovering over his mouth just shy of completely covering it as everyone else froze.

“Ly?” Creativity breathed out softly.

If it had been his scaled hand doing the controlling, Roman wouldn’t be able to speak at all.

“I don’t really need fangs now do I to express my displeasure?” He asked, trying to smirk though he could feel his lips trembling as he met Creativity’s wide eyes before letting his hand fall limply back to the ground, freeing the other from his control.

He let out a shaky breath, pressing the scaled side of his face back into the ash, closing his human eye to block out seeing the others.

A mistake. He shouldn’t have reacted so. They wouldn’t want---Creativity was helping him! And he’d just! He shouldn’t have--but THIS COULD GO SO WRONG.

“Lyal.” Deceit jumped, eye opening wide as Roman gently pressed his palm against his cheek. “I promise you. Nothing will go wrong. I’ve had years of experience helping the Dragon Witch now. Your scales will be perfectly pristine when this is over.”

So he said. But Creativity wouldn’t have to live with the consequences would he if this didn’t work right.

His scales malformed.

His arm left useless.

His face--

“Dude.” Virgil laid a trembling hand on his elbow, squeezing it. “Stop with the internal panicking already. We’re not going to let anything go wrong.”

“He has a valid reason to be worried, Virge.” Logan said before Deceit could do more than bare his teeth and hiss at the former dark side. His fingers trailed through Deceit’s hair. “We are asking Lyal to put a lot of trust in us currently. This is a huge step. For all of. One with an uncertain outcome for him.”

Roman scoffed, rubbing his thumb along Deceit’s cheek. “Uncertain! What do--I told you! It’s exactly like the Dragon Witch!”

“We’re not going to hurt you, Ly.” Patton whispered, patting his knee. “We’re FamILY! We’ll be very very very careful with your scales!”

It was one thing to hear it.

Totally another to let them--Deceit jerked, crying out as a wave of ice seemed to cascade through him like an avalanche. COLD! He rolled onto Logan’s lap, flinging ash onto the others as he pressed his face against Logic’s chest with a sob, grabbing onto his arm in a white knuckled grip, seeking to soak up every inch of warmth that Logic could give him.

Logan immediately wrapped his arms around him in a firey embrace compared to the glacier of ice running down his side. “Lyal--”

“COLD.” He gasped out through gritted teeth, his shed covered arm held close to his chest as he stared down to the now blackened shed that made him look like a partially burned corpse.

The test spot hadn’t felt like this. It had been warm!

Something was wrong.

IT HAD GONE WRONG.

He had to get it off.

NOW.

He released Logan to grab at his ash covered shoulder, fingers digging at the shed before they were abruptly blocked by a currying brush appearing in his hand, sending a cloud of ash flying off his shoulder.

“Gently, Decepticon.” Roman commanded softly, carefully pulling Deceit’s arm away from his chest. He offered him a calming smile as he placed his own brush on Deceit’s wrist, quickly working over the area with an experienced hand, the shed flaking away just like it had before, revealing scales that looked exactly the same as the ones on his stomach. “It probably feels like you were just dipped in a bucket of ice, but you don’t want to tear it off like that band-aid do you?”

Deceit bit back a whine, shaking as Roman’s brush changed to a toothbrush to delicately work on his fingers. Cold was normal? HOW COULD IT BE NORMAL? “N-n-n-no.”

“Then do what I do.” Roman said, eyes silently pleading as he worked the bristles over a knuckle. “You’ll be fine.”

He--he just--Deceit forced himself to copy Creativity and move his own currying brush in small circles, despite everything within him screaming to just tear it away.

This was a delicate process. He couldn’t rush---Deceit whimpered, his body trembling violently as another wave of ice washed through him, skirting around the areas already freed from the shed.

He hated this. HATED IT. This wasn’t like the other sheds at all. Was this gonna happen every time?? “Can’t this go faster?” He hissed out.

It was cold. So cold. He could barely feel the sun blazing over his head now. Only Logan’s heat against him had--

He stilled as warm fingers trailed along his scaled cheek. “Remember you’re not alone, Lyal. Not anymore.” Logan said into his ear as he gently scrubbed at the shed near Deceit’s ear with his own soft bristled brush.

“That’s right!” Patton said, going for his side, working near his naval. “You’ll be free from it soon enough, sport. Many hands means less work!”

“Makes light work.” Logan corrected. “Though I suppose your sentiment works as well, Pat.”

“Is there a procedure for hair, Princey?” Virgil asked hesitantly from behind. “I can work on that.”

Roman hummed, glancing up to his hair, before shaking his head. “Not that I’m familiar with. That’s one thing that’s different from the Dragon Witch. She’s never had anything happen with her hair if the shed took her when she was more human.”

Virgil exhaled. “That’s so not helpful.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry, Princey. I’ll---figure it out.” Virgil said, flashing a comb before he set to work on the waxy covered bits of his hair.

Deceit took a steadying breath, his own attempts to free his shoulder becoming less frantic as he got distracted watching the others work, freeing more and more gleaming multi-colored scales from the shed.

His fingers twitched one by one as Roman carefully freed them, revealing nails that had darkened and grown sharp, looking more like talons than human fingernails.

“Those feel alright?” Creativity murmured, looking up to meet Deceit’s eye as he finished with his thumb. “Move them around. Open and Close. Did I miss anything there? A stray piece of shed caught in a crevice?”

Deceit flexed and wiggled his fingers before clenching them into a fist, the talons scraping along his palm, but not drawing blood despite there being no scales there.

“Seems fine.” He whispered, careful to not move his head too much so that Logan and Virgil wouldn’t accidentally hurt him as he let his hand fall open, noting how pink his palm was compared to the scales on the other side. Again he pressed his talons against the flesh.

“Careful.” Roman warned. “I’m pretty sure you can draw blood if you try hard enough.”

True, even regular human nails could do that. “Talons.” He said, unable to hide his disbelief. He had talons now.

“And...maybe a horn?” Virgil offered. “There’s a...bump here. I thought it was just a clump of hair stuck together, but--”

Deceit stiffened before forcing himself to relax. “You’re kidding right? Please say you are.” That was just another--WHY A HORN!?

“I’m not actually. Feel for yourself.”

He really didn’t want to. Why a horn?! What next? Wings? A TAIL? How much of a dragon exactly was he supposed to become with Thomas’s supposed growing ‘acceptance’ of him?!

Letting his brush fall to the ash, he reluctantly reached up with his human hand, so as to let Roman continue working on removing the shed on his arm, to his hair. “Where?”

“Here.” Virgil guided him to a spot a couple inches above his ear.

Calling it a bump was an understatement. Deceit made a face as he felt the sharp point of what could only be the beginnings of a horn. “WHY?” He complained, dropping his hand, digging his fingers into the ash.

He didn’t WANT horns. The talons were enough to deal with! Why did there have to be a horn too? Would it grow longer with each subsequent shed he went through? How long before he wouldn’t be able to wear his hat?!

“Like I said before, dragons are much cooler than snakes.” Roman said, working on his elbow.

“You’re not the one with the horn, Princey.” Deceit shot back, tilting his head as Logan began working on his ear.

At least with snake scales he only had to worry about the scales and his hair! He didn’t have the first idea on what sort of care a horn needed, or the talons or...or even the dragon scales themselves!

“I’m sure the Dragon Witch can teach you!” Patton said, giving him a bright smile.

Great. Being taught by a figment of the imagination. What next?

“I think Patton’s done with your chest, Lyal.” Logan remarked, brushing the back of his neck. “If you would be so kind as to turn over, we can better access the shed back there.”

He exhaled, twisting to rest his head against Logan’s chest so he could give the others better access to his back. So help him if they discovered a wing back there.

Still….this...this wasn’t so bad.

With Roman coaching the others whenever they hesitated the process was going a lot quicker than it would have had he been attempting to remove the shed by himself.

He ducked his head, watching the rainbows dance across the blackened parts of his scales as the others worked, a shiver running through him as he felt the brushes vanish in favor of soft cloths being rubbed against his scales.

If this was what being part of the FamILY meant…having everyone work together like this...to help him.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad to be...accep--included.

“Lyal.” Logan’s breath ghosted over his scaled cheek. “I’m going to remove the shed cap over your eye, do not move.”

A faint pressure around his snake eye and suddenly bright sunlight streamed into it, nearly blinding him. Deceit winced, tears blurring his vision as he blinked for the first time in nearly a week, easing the irritation of having had it open for so long.

“And done!” Roman proclaimed with a final swipe of his polishing cloth, gesturing for Virgil and Patton to sit back, though both appeared reluctant to do so, their fingers lingering on his scales.

He couldn’t blame them.

Creativity snapped his fingers, a large mirror appearing in his hands as he tilted it so that Deceit could see his reflection for the first time.

Deceit froze. Staring wide eyed at the image confronting him.

And he’d thought he’d forgotten how to breathe before.

“So~? Whatcha think?” Roman asked, fidgeting in place.

Deceits shakily inhaled, as he slowly brought a hand up to his face, feeling the smooth scales there as he pushed away from Logan, shivering from the lack of heat as he sat up to get a better look at his new scales shining like a hoard of gemstones in the sunlight.

Beautiful.

He couldn’t look away. “Is...is that really...me?” He asked in disbelief.

It had to be hadn’t it? This wasn’t some sort of cruel trick?

Virgil squeezed his shoulder, smirking in the mirror. “It’s surprising isn’t it?” He said, softly. “What changes when you’re accepted.”

Changes. Had Virgil--but this couldn’t--this was really was him? Deceit moved his taloned hand, the one in the mirror copying him exactly as he ran his fingers along his cheek, delicately touching the now pointed tip of his ear, before running up through his hair that now had golden highlights similar to Virgil’s own purple ones, feeling the obsidian colored horn barely visible there.

And then there was his eye, no longer a cold pale yellow, the iris seemed to dance with an inner fire, flickering between orange and gold as an array of emotions rushed through him.

Beautiful.

He--He was…

Deceit ducked his head, blinking rapidly as his eyes burned with unshed tears.

A Dark Side shouldn’t cry. Shouldn’t appear weak in front of the others in front of his--

Family.

“You--” He swallowed hard over the lump forming in his throat as he ran his hand down his scales. Free. Finally free of the shed. He lifted his left hand, stretching it fully out and flexing his fingers. Watching as the rainbows shimmered over the scales. Unmarred. Working perfectly.

It--it---He looked up to Roman, Patton, Virgil and finally Logan their heat signatures now haloed around them now that his sna--dragon eye could see them properly. “Thank you.” He managed to choke out.

Without their help--he had no idea how he could have--what would have--if he hadn’t come--if Logan hadn’t convinced him to--

Roman relaxed, offering him a nod and a soft smile in return.

“Of course, LyLy.” Patton said his own eyes shimmering with tears as he grinned wide. “We’re here to help you no matter what.”

“And since the major crisis appears to be over.” Logan said, a tinge of awe in his voice as his fingers ghosted along Deceit’s scales. “We should now focus on the more minor issue of getting you something to eat. Maybe that soup I mentioned earlier.” A small smile played on his lips when Deceit’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

He flushed, watching how the reds in the rainbows on his scaled cheek grew brighter than the other colors right before the mirror vanished, leaving him staring directly at the delighted look on Roman’s face. He looked away. “Ah...probably.”

Already he could feel his mouth watering at the thought of having something warm going down his throat. Soup would do for now. Though honestly---Pizza too would be good--no he’d better be careful to not eat too much solid food right away after so long a fast.

“Eat?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

Deceit shrugged, grimacing as his stomach growled again. “Yes? I...haven’t since--” He gestured to his scales.

“Wait.” Virgil grabbed his wrist, the shadows under his eyes growing dark. “You’re telling me...you haven’t eaten in SIX days?”

“WHAT!” Patton cried, shooting his feet, sending up a small cloud of ash as he did so. “No! No no no we can’t have that mister!”

“Why in the world would you--” Virgil demanded.

Deceit rolled his eyes. Oh, like Anxiety was one to talk about not eating for long periods of time! It wasn’t his fault he missed a week. “I can’t when I’m shedding, Annie.”

Would it be the same now though? With his scales now taking after a dragon’s instead of a snakes?

“Well, we can’t have you wait a second more LyLy! Soup’s coming. Hold on. I’ll be right back!” Patton turned, the beach scene shimmering around him as he vanished from sight.

“Perhaps while Patton is getting that...it would be best for us to return to the living room, Roman.” Logan suggested as he too moved to his feet, offering a hand for Deceit to take. “Lyal will probably be more comfortable resting on the couch while we wait for his long overdue meal.”

Roman scoffed, raising his hand towards the sun as if to grab it. “Couch?! Living room?! How dull!”

Deceit glanced up to the sun as he took Logan’s hand, shakily getting to his feet. “Honestly...compared to the excitement I’ve been through today…” He barely flinched as Logic scooped him up into his arms, holding him securely before his knees could buckle again.

Logan shot him another small smile. “Save your strength.” He cautioned.

Deceit sighed and nodded, resting his head against Logan’s chest without complaint, enjoying how the warmth was less...antagonizing to him now that he was free from the shed. “Dull sounds rather good to me Roman.”

“Total Mood, Dee. Anything to get away from the fire demon in the sky.” Virgil said, again adjusting his lighter hoodie over his eyes.

“But what if we had an epic midnight beach party instead?!” Roman asked as he lowered his hand, the sun moving down towards the horizon with the gesture.

“Ohhh.” Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing his hood back. “You can make the sun set whenever you want and yet you can’t lessen the intensity of its heat?”

“Hey!” Roman whirled pointing a finger at Anxiety. “Having Heat without Light is rather difficult to manage Dr. Gloom! The right conditions had to be met for Lya---”

“Yah, yah. Heat helps the shed, gotcha.” Virgil exhaled, glancing up to the stars that were appearing in the sky as the last rays of the sun vanished.

At least he still had Logan’s heat to rely on with the sun now gone. Deceit fought not to shiver. “What does this...party entail exactly?” He asked.

If it was just sitting in the dark staring at the stars, he’d have to do a hard pass. Not even a thick blanket and Logan’s stories about the constellations would be enough to convince him to sit in the cold so soon after finishing the shedding process.

“Well, I was thinking we could have a fire.” Roman snapped his fingers, a roaring campfire appearing near enough to Logan and Deceit that he could already feel the heat from the flames.

Deceit reached out with his scaled hand, humming as the fire warmed his skin. Not as hot as the sun, or Logan’s body heat, but it was...nice.

“Can’t have our Halfling Dragon getting cold now can we?” Creativity said with a wink.

“But you can have me die from heat stroke?”

“Oh hush, Count Dracula. I kept your hoodie! You can’t tell me--”

Halfing Dragon? Deceit made a face at that. Just because he had the dragon scales and the talons and the horns and…okay, he’d have to think of a better argument on why he wasn’t a...Halfling.

“Ooooh a campfire! Perfect!” Patton exclaimed, suddenly popping back into view, once more in his normal clothes, with a large pot in his hands. It shifted to what looked like Virgil’s Halloween Cauldron complete with a thin metal handle as he moved to the flames. “I thought I smelt the smoke! I can easily make the soup over it like in those adventure stories!” He said as a pole and hook appeared for him to hang the pot on so it hung directly in the middle of the fire.

Patton studied it, making minute adjustments to the pot before nodding to himself in satisfaction as he pulled out a long wooden spoon to stir the contents inside.

“Exactly! We could even watch a Western movie!” Roman exclaimed as a large screen appeared behind him, the fire growing smaller so as to not compete with the light shining on the screen showing the Disney logo as the ash rose up around them forming large couches for everyone to sprawl on with a multiple of blankets piled nearby.

“There’s a Disney movie that’s Western?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why yes, Zorro.” Roman grinned, looking pleased with himself. “The Lone Ranger was made by Disney was it not?”

Anxiety smirked. “My my, Princey. You can actually watch shows that aren’t a cartoon?”

“HEY!”

Deceit’s nostrils flared, and he leaned towards the pot as the scent of chicken noodle soup wafted over to him, ignoring the other two’s bickering. “That smells awf--” He cut off, making a face as he quickly corrected himself. “Amazing, Pat.”

“Lying?” Logan asked in an undertone as he sat both of them down on the couch nearest the fire so that Deceit could stay warm. “I take it the compulsion is coming back now that the shed is over?”

Deceit exhaled as he adjusted his position so he was more comfortable resting against Logic. “No.”

Great. Now he’d have to be more conscious of how he spoke to the others again. Why couldn’t the shift to dragon scales have altered that particular quirk of his? That would have been extremely helpful. But nooo. He had to grow a horn instead.

“Mhmmm.” Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes glittering with humor. “Pretty sure that’s a falsehood, Lyal.”

Deceit stuck out his tongue as he grabbed a blanket to pull over them. “Forget what I said.”

Logan chuckled, his fingers again running through his hair, moving in slow circles around the small horn. “I know.” He said softly. “You can’t always not lie. As Logic, I won’t forget that. I promise, we’ll work with you as your FamILY so it won’t be an issue.”

Family.

Butterflies danced in his stomach as Deceit partially curled up to make room for Annie to sit by his feet like a silent guardian gargoyle, watching as Roman and Patton worked together to get the soup and the movie ready.

He had to admit, he was growing rather fond of the concept.

To Be Continued Epilogue

#Scales #stillbesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Logan #Roman #Virgil #Patton #Logic #Creativity #Anxiety #Morality #shedding tw #minor injuries tw #minor pain tw #touch starvation tw #death talk tw

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p1harmonyofficial · 3 years

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[📰] P1Harmony May Be New to K-Pop, But They're Beauty Experts

By Devon Abelman

"Pots-and-pans music" is what Keeho, the leader of P1Harmony, lovingly calls the K-pop group's songs. They're loud, explosive, and essentially caffeine mainlined through your eardrums — all in the best way possible, of course.

"Because our music is so strong, we try to portray that in our hair and makeup as well," Keeho continues. "For me, my hair is all slicked back for our new song, 'Scared,' and our makeup is a lot darker than [for our debut single,] 'Siren.'"

In fact, Jongseob, P1Harmony's youngest member, adds their strikingly different hair colors, like Theo's whimsical light pink, Intak's sleek jet black, and Keeho's enigmatic navy blue, balance each other out and express the range of emotions portrayed in their lyrics and melodies.

But this is just a basic overview of P1Harmony and the intense aesthetic they've been building for the past six months since debuting in October 2020. In advance of the release of their new EP, Disharmony: Break Out, today, April 20, I sat down with the rookie K-pop group via Zoom to get a deeper look at each member, their individual relationships to beauty, and how they are choosing to present themselves now that they are on the world's stage.

Keeho

When I ask Keeho which P1Harmony song fits his personality best, he replies, "You can't really fit me in a box like that. There are various characters I can be." The 19-year-old from Canada even wears many hats throughout our interview. Not only is Keeho the group's official leader, but he's also their unofficial translator, color commentator, and storyteller — he truly has an aside or anecdote to share about everything.

The first tale Keeho tells dates back to second grade, when he begged his mom to let him get blonde streaks in his hair. "I was that kid in class," he remarks.

Then, Keeho delves into how his family introduced him to the wonders of beauty growing up. His mom, in particular, made him "do a five-, six-step skin-care routine," he recalls. Every morning before school, he'd splash his face with warm water ("must be warm water, so you open up the pores") and wash up with cleansing foam. Then, he'd rinse it off with cold water ("so you close them"). Although this isn't scientifically true, I'm glad this worked for him.

When layering on his serums and creams, "the first one you need to do is the most liquidy one and the last one you need to do is the one that is not liquidy at all," Keeho recalls his mom instructing him — a fact I confirm for him. Also, she'd tell him to never rub his skin-care products on, only pat.

Last but not least, Keeho would (and still does) reach for sunscreen — "always sunscreen," he emphasizes. "My mom said, 'If you don't put it on, you're going to age like a raisin.'"

Keeho's older sister, on the other hand, brought him into the world of makeup by employing him as her guinea pig for testing out new looks. "I would let my sister put makeup on me all the time," Keeho says, mentioning Halloween as a common occasion for her artistry. They even playfully filmed YouTube beauty tutorials and challenges together.

One aspect of beauty Keeho has yet to try is a manicure, but he's ready to dive into that realm. "I think it would be fun," he says. A$AP Rocky's eye nail art that he showed off front row at Prada back in October 2019 is Keeho's major inspiration.

Intak

Another unofficial title Keeho has taken on within P1Harmony is hairstylist. Intak, the group's 17-year-old charismatic rapper and star dancer, credits him for his hair-care routine. "I learned how to use hair serum to volumize my hair when I go out," Intak says. Keeho goes on to explain that they both have incredibly dry hair, so he recommended his favorite moisturizing products to Intak and told him to rake them through his hair while it's still wet and only slightly towel-dried. Intak was so pleased with the result that he went out and bought the same products that day.

Although he has kept his hair black throughout his career so far, Intak is quick to share he's very experimental with beauty. For performances in the past, he's adorned his eyes with bloody scratch-like liner and ultra-sooty smoky eyes. Plus, you're about to see some cheek art on him and dramatically flushed cheeks.

Unlike Keeho, Intak didn't get into skin care until after debuting. "I've started visiting the dermatologist frequently," he says. "They gave me a set [of products] that includes [everything I need]." His favorite is a mask infused with avocado and peppermint, like the Tonymoly I'm Real Avocado Mask Sheet or Skinfood's Pear Mint Food Mask, which quenches his dehydrated skin.

Jiung

Spoken like a true Libra, Jiung is the first to mention he enjoys expressing himself through beauty and fashion. "[They are] really important things," the 19-year-old explains in English. "I always try to learn how to express myself that way. So the more I know, the more I can do."

However, when I ask Jiung what kinds of looks he feels the most confident in, he laughs before taking time to think about it. (In the meantime, Keeho shares he knows what he, personally, is least confident in: T-shirts, due to his long arms.) "This is hard," Jiung groans. I must say his short honey-blonde hair — a look he's always been curious about trying — is definitely bringing out a particularly magnetic side of him, as seen in the P-side track video for "If You Call Me."

When he was younger, Jiung dabbled in all different kinds of haircuts, colors, and perms, he lists off. The latter of which he looks forward to trying out again now as a K-pop star.

When the members were just trainees, Keeho helps Jiung recount a time when he wanted to fill in his eyebrows. "He did not how to do it at all," Keeho says. "He got a Sharpie and started coloring in his eyebrows. It was devastating, to say the least, for the people who had to see it."

"It was art," Jiung interjects. Now, he proudly declares he has a proper brow powder.

Theo

Theo, P1Harmony's straightforward vocalist, is admittedly a sneakerhead. He strictly wears Jordans, according to Keeho's translation. Air Jordan 1s are Theo's favorite style, but he can't pick a color that he's the biggest fan of. He can tell you what he feels least confident in, though: shorts and short-sleeved shirts. So if you barely see Theo in summery clothes, now you know why. (However, he doesn't offer up an exact explanation.)

Since elementary school, the now-19-year-old has permed and colored his hair every shade of ROYGBIV, including red, gray, and even blue for one summer break — all thanks to his mom, who is a hairstylist. This is a revelation even many of the other members weren't privy to, much to the chagrin of Keeho. "It's annoying me right now because his hair is healthy," he remarks. "My hair looks like a broom."

Knowing his hair is healthy comes as a shock to me, though, as Theo has gone from white-blonde to rosy-pink over the past six months. (Let's be real, that's a transformation few people's hair can handle.) He's also been able to grow out hair; it falls past his eyebrows and is starting to graze his shoulders in the back.

Honestly, Theo is ready for it to be short again, he shares. "I like my long hair, but I don't like it being in my face," he asserts. "I can't really maintain it. I bleached it so much that it flips in all different directions."

Soul

Before our interview officially started, the members and I exchanged weird facts about ourselves to get to know each other better beyond our beauty routines. Keeho revealed his left eyebrow has been twitching lately, and he needs to cuddle a body pillow to fall asleep. Intak has a freckle on his finger that his grandma often mistakes for dirt and tries to wipe off. Jiung had pet geckos, scorpions, and tarantulas growing up. Jongseob loves mint chocolate. Theo can't burp, and Soul enjoys petting insects.

But that's not the weirdest thing about him or any of the members. The strangest thing about the boys is that "Soul doesn't do anything at all [for his skin-care routine], and his skin is actually pretty good," Keeho says. (You can scroll through Soul's selfies on P1Harmony's Twitter to confirm this, but spoiler: His complexion is immaculate.)

Soul, 16, goes on to explain that his skin is incredibly dry and sensitive, so much so that even cleansing makes his face turn red and any bit of friction causes bumps to form. Needless to say, he's scared to put anything on his face. "I just do cleansing foam and leave it at that," Soul admits. Makeup isn't off the table, though. Soul is no stranger to subtle washes of pink shadow on his lids and fake eyebrow piercings made out of silver studs.

Although Soul is seemingly one of the shyest members and keeps to himself for most of the interview, he's an intense rockstar at heart. He favors P1Harmony's more aggressive, hard-hitting songs, like their new title song, "Scared."

Raise your hand if you'd like to see Soul with thick, black kohl or graphic blue liner and long, raven hair, perhaps paired with a studded leather jacket over a ripped-up T-shirt. OK, great; I'm not the only one. For now, we'll have to appreciate his bob-length ashy-blonde hair.

Jongseob

Other than his nuggets of knowledge about the way P1Harmony reflects their music in their hair and makeup, Jongseob mostly listens throughout the interview. Luckily, the 15-year-old rapper/songwriter did pipe up to share his skin-care routine.

First, Jongseob double-cleanses to remove his makeup, starting with cleansing oil and following up with a foam cleanser. Serum is slathered on next, then moisturizer. When his skin is feeling especially dry, Jongseob layers a gel cream on top as a sleeping mask — a tactic I'd never considered before. Typically, I reach for them in reverse order.

Jongseob's hair has also been through the wringer since P1Harmony's debut. Last October, he colored his hair lilac and gradually went darker shades of purple until it was an electric violet hue. Most recently, though, his dye job has been a fiery orange. Next, Jongseob says he wants to try gray with an ash tone.

And this is just the beginning of P1Harmony's journey through the mystical world of K-pop beauty. This time next year, they're sure to have experimented with even bolder, brighter, and more eccentric looks. For now, you can check out a teaser for their brand-new music video for "Scared" of their latest EP, Disharmony: Break Out, below.

#p1harmony #ot6 #t:news #era:disharmony : break out #210421

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altarwaiting · 4 years

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How to gif without photoshop

Hello! By popular demand (of like 4 people) I am going to write out a tutorial of how I make gifs when I’m on my personal laptop and don’t have access to photoshop. There is another method I use with a different software that is a bit more complicated and if people are interested, I will make a tutorial of that method as well. I’ll do my best to keep this concise, so let’s get started.

Warning that this is VERY text and image heavy because I know how frustrating it can be when a tutorial feels like it’s skipping steps and I want this to be as clear as possible. Also please read this on desktop, tumblr mobile kills the quality of gifs inside text posts.

This is the video I will be giffing and here is the gif I will be making!

What you need:

A video to gif

For the best results, I recommend a video that is either 720p or 1080p (basically the higher the quality, the better). Videos with good lighting and bright colors also turn out the best. Unfortunately for me, I gif the TV show Prodigal Son a lot and that show has neither of those things, which is why my gif example is from that show; if you can make a scene with zero lighting or vibrancy look even somewhat decent, you can make anything else look good.

A video downloader or screen recorder

This is the video downloader I use and this is the screen recorder but basically any youtube video download website or screen recorder program works. Keep in mind that ezgif has a pretty low upload limit for videos, so if you want to gif something longer than like ~4 minutes, cut the video down to the specific parts you want first on a website like this one.

ezgif

A very straight forward website that anyone can access. You don’t need to download anything, it’s all online.

Bonus: Online Image Editor (not required, but I use this website to add text to gifs)

1. Making the gif:

Once you have a video downloaded, you go to ezgif.com and go to the section video to gif. Click choose a file, scroll to your downloaded video, and hit upload video. Your screen should look like this now.

There are two ways to pull out the sections of the video you want to gif. You can either write in the start and end time in the little sections (you have to convert them to seconds: for example, if my gif started at 1:16 and ended at 1:20, it would be 76 seconds and 80 seconds respectively). Or you can do the method that I feel is easier, where you go to the section you want it to start on, hit pause, and hit the blue button that says “use current position” then let the video play until it hits your stopping point, hit pause again, and click on the second “use current position” button.

Once you have the start and end time recorded, scroll down to the next part of the screen with the size options. For size, select “540xAUTO (for Tumblr)” since tumblr gif sizes start at 540p and go down the more gifs are in a row. For frame rate, try to do either 20 or 25; the higher the frame rate, the smoother the gif will look. If you are trying to gif something in 540p that is longer, you might need to chose 10 to keep it under 5mb, which is the tumblr gif size limit. For method, leave it on FFMPEG. Then hit, convert to gif.

your gif will now look something like this!

Now, this gif is currently 5.7mb, which is above the size limit for tumblr (5mb or above gifs will still play if I recall, but the quality will be really bad when you post them). If I was planning on keeping the gif this size, I would go back and change the frame rate to either 20 or 10 to get the size down. However, I am going to resize the gif to 268p, so I don’t need to worry about it being to big.

Using the correct gif size for tumblr is one of the easiest ways to make sure the gif looks good! For gifs that take up a whole row, the size should be 540p wide. For two gifs in one row, the size is 268p each. For three gifs in one row, the sizes are 177p, 178p, and 177p in that order. Here is a visual of it.

The next step would normally be resizing the gif, but Prodigal Son youtube videos come with a black banner on the top and bottom that I need to crop out. You will see a menu full of options under your gif, and you want to click on “crop.”

Cropping is pretty straight forward; you just move the little box over the part you want cropped, then hit the “crop image” button. Make sure width stays 540p!

Your gif now looks like this

Next, you look at the options under your gif again, and go to “resize.”

Again, resizing is pretty straight forward. I just put in 268 into the “width” section and leave the “height” section blank since the site will automatically resize the height. You can ignore the other menu options.

Your gif now looks like this

Next step is optional, but I usually do it. Once again, you go to the menu of options under your gif and select “speed.”

Speed is also super straight forward. I almost always reduce the speed of my gifs somewhere from 90% to 80% no matter what, just because I think it makes it look smoother. For gifs that are of short scenes that go really fast, I will reduce it to anywhere from 70% to 50%. You can try different speeds to test out what you think looks best. For this gif, I’m going to put it at 80%.

Here’s what we have so far. Congrats, you have made a gif!

Now for the fun part!

2. Coloring the gif

Go to the “effects” option, in the menu under your gif. You will see a LOT of options, but the panels I’m going to focus on are “colorize”, “brightness and contrast” and “color presets”. This section is going to vary a lot depending on what specific video you are giffing so remember to be flexible and try lots of different options out! It took me a while to get to a place where I can just eye a scene and know what settings to use. It’s super easy to go back and tweak a setting if the gif doesn’t look like how you want it the first time, but it’s a lot of trial and error.

The main option I focus on in the “colorize” section, is “saturation.” This is what will make all the color in your gif pop out. The saturation I use varies a ton; for scenes that already are colorful/bright, I usually keep it around 120 to 150, since you don’t want it to be over saturated. If I’m making an edit that is supposed to look toned down or more grey/neutral tones, I’ll decreases the saturation in the range of like 90-40. For a show like Prodigal Son, where there is basically zero color vibrancy, I tend to go full out with saturation, usually in the 150-200 range. For this gif, I have it all the way up to 200.

Next is brightness and contrast. This also varies wildly, but a good rule of thumb is I always try to keep my contrast at least 5 points higher than whatever my brightness is, it just makes the lighting more even. You need to find a good balance; obviously, the darker the scene, the higher you want the brightness and contrast, but if you go too high, the gif with be staticy/grainy. For Prodigal Son, which has horrible lighting, my brightness is anywhere from 10-30 and my contrast is anywhere from 15-35. For this gif, my brightness is on the lower side since the scene is outside in natural light; brightness is 16, contrast is 26.

After you get those settings, I go over to “color presets” section and click on the “tint” option. It will pull up a color chart that looks like this

You ALWAYS want the intensity up to 100. This part is where the most trial and error occurs; there isn’t any one color option that works for every gif. The shade I use most often is light red/pink or light blue/light purple. For scenes that are lacking warm tones (which is almost all of Prodigal Son) I tend to go to the light reds, and for scenes that are lacking cool tones, I go to the light blues. The light reds are best for making characters skin tones look more...like actual skin tones and not totally washed out. To select a color, you just move your mouse around the chart. This is the range of color codes I tend to use.

Again, intensity should be up to 100 (it automatically starts at 50 and I was too lazy to move it while getting screen shots :P).

For this gif, I actually used a new technique I’ve been trying out where I start with a light blue tint to even out the color tones, then once that gif is done, I go back to effects and add a layer of pink to make the colors brighter. Usually, one color works fine, but sometimes it’s hard to find a good balance (the red colors can get too red and the blue sometimes brings out too much of a yellow shade). For now, I have my color tint set at #eeebff.

Ultimately, this is what my effect settings look like and this is what the gif looks like now.

Now, like I said before, I added another layer of tint to this gif. All you have to do is go to the menu under your gif, and click on effects again.

It will take you back to the panel you were just on, expect now your colored gif is on the top and all the settings are blank again. The only setting you need to use now is the tint option; go there, and select a light red shade. I used #fff0f0.

And here is the final gif! To save it, just right click and hit “save image as.”

I know it seems like a long process, but once you get a hang of it, it goes by super fast, especially if all your gifs are coming from the same video.

BONUS: Adding text

If you are trying to gif something with dialogue or you want a quote to put over your gif, you will want to put text over it. ezgif has a “text” option that you can use if you want, but I personally don’t really like their font options, so I use the website Online Image Editor.

This is what it looks like. You can either hit “upload an image” and upload your saved gif, or you can go back to ezgif, right click the gif, hit “copy image url” and paste that url into the “upload from url” option. The web page should now look like this.

It’s pretty straight forward from here; click on the “add text” button and a menu will appear on the left hand with options for the text.

Type whatever you want the caption to be in the “type text here” box. This website has a ton of font options you can play around with, but when I just want to caption a gif, I stick with “Arial Bold Italic.” For a 268p gif, the font size should be 10-12, depending on how much writing you plan to put on each gif (if some gifs are going to have more writing than others, pick a smaller font size so it stays consistent!) When I make a 540p, the font goes up to 14-16. I use white for the color and black for the stroke. I make the strokewith 3 because it makes the caption stand out more. Once all these settings are selected, hit the “preview” button under the text box.

You can now drag your text anywhere you want on the image! The only bad thing about this website is that it doesn’t automatically center text, so you either have to eyeball it, or if you’re picky, like me, open up one of those online ruler applications and use it to measure out the center. For captions, I move the text just slightly above the bottom of the gif.

Finally, you hit apply. Once your gif has the text on it, all you have to do to save it is right click it and hit “save image as.” And here is the finished project!

That got a lot longer than I thought it would, but I hope it was informative! If anything was unclear or if you have further questions, feel free to send me an ask. Thank you for reading.

#gif tutorial #giffing tutorial #giffing #gifmaking #mine #my gifs #long post #I hope this makes sense lol #pls rb if it helped!!!#also if mobile doesn't keep the read more...idek

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mooberg · 3 years

Text

Among the Statues

Chapter 6: Hammer on Stone

I’m gonna try and not make updating this story a yearly thing, I swear.

The lvc belongs to @voiceoflarka

Word count: 2291

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

Purple light splashed across Horns’ face as he gazed steadily out the window. His senses were on high alert for anything flying through the sky as he counted raindrops falling past the bright neon. Gamma and Psi were still out, but no one could be sure Dragon couldn’t find this place. The team slept about the safehouse, exhausted from worry while he stayed wide awake from the same.

“How powerful you must be, my little psychic…”

Dragon’s words echoed in his mind, cloudy in their intent. Clearly there was some darker interest there, and he doubted it was present before she froze the world. But what did she want, truly? He felt certain in the assumption her wishes had shifted upon their introduction, and her intensity toward him was worrisome; more than he wanted to let on. The team was worried enough, this was just part of it all. Having to consider additional motivations of a person who’s actions were already irredeemable was just going to add more stress. Was he being stupid? Probably. But they were aware enough of the situation and so he chose not to complicate things with his emotions. Well, more than normal anyway.

He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes shifted briefly out of focus, his mind doing the same. Worry was tiresome on a mind already stretched thin from recent events. His body was alert, but his focus wavered. The sound of the rain lulled him deeper and deeper into trance…

Flashes. Bursts of light. A mansion. Then a forest. A courtyard covered in shards stained each colour of the rainbow. Eight viruses stood at the entrance in shock. A field of picnickers. A broken tree branch just barely pulled out of the way. Flashes of white. A feeling of doing good. Flashes. Helping. Flashes. “Stop her”. More flashes. A convention hall. Solaris Amphitheatre. “Go…” echoing in his mind as everything slowly faded to black…

Horns pulled out of his trance with a jolt and a gasp, shaking his head as his vision returned. He glanced around quickly, panic abating as he took stock of his team around him, safe and sound. He whipped out his phone, typing a quick text.

“Need you back ASAP

We have a lead.”

~~*~~

“The amphitheatre’s packed, guys. The Colors of the Wind Art Festival was this weekend and it attracted hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. Viruses from all over Dashland, maybe even beyond. Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle she didn’t hit here first, I can’t see another cluster of people quite this big anywhere in the Capitol.” Callow’s voice deep in their ear informed. The earpiece struggled to be heard over the whipping wind and thundering motors.

Horns thanked every being he could think of that Glitch was a good driver as they sped down the centre of the road. Cars whooshed past on either side of them at a solid 120 kilometers, and he just held on for dear life behind her.

“With her powers, she could wipe them out in seconds.” Glitch said, swerving around a car frozen in a lane change. “We… can’t have that again.”

“She’s going to come after me when she sees us.” Horns added. “This stopped being about frozen viruses the minute someone resisted her spell. Let me draw her out.”

“You better be careful.” Gamma’s response came quickly, and not without trepidation.

A conflicted silence hung on the line as the tall buildings of Lower Dashland Proper fell away to low, manicured trees and green fields. The Dashland convention grounds sprawled out before them. Bordered on three of four sides with downtown roads, the grounds were located a few kilometers off from the city centre and hosted most major events held in the region each year. The amphitheatre was an architectural feat, the large glass and wood dome towering over the stage and most of the ringed seating. Its façade was designed to match the three other convention buildings dotted throughout the parkland. Dozens of vendor stalls and food trucks had been gathered on the northern field, where the team had arrived. Glitch brought their motorcycle to a stop next to Callow and Jolly’s just as Gamma landed next to them with the rest of the team.

“Let me scout real quick. Find us a clear place.” They said. “We’re not losing any more lives today.”

“We are more prepared this time than before.” Psi began as Gamma took off. “We know what we’re up against now and we’re here first. Be on your guard and keep communications open. We can do this.”

“I’m gonna try to get her talking.” Horns added. “Figure out what it is she wants out of all this.”

“I mean… you said it yourself.” Jolly said. “She wants you.”

Horns sighed, looking out around the convention grounds lit up in shades of gold with the late afternoon sun. “There’s more to it than that. I know it.”

“Maybe before, but now-”

“The field to the east is the clearest we’re going to get.” Gamma’s voice in their ears cut them all off. “Everyone spread out around the grounds and keep your eyes peeled.”

“Where are you going to go?” Psi asked Horns.

The Satyr hadn’t torn his eyes from the fields through Gamma’s report, falling back on his intuition to guide him, as it had done when it brought him here. “The amphitheatre.” He pointed to the east as he gave Psi a wry smile. “Seems Dragon wants to put on a show.”

His mentor gave him a nod and headed off directly south. Horns took a breath and stepped on to the paved concrete path. Banners hanging from the merchant stalls along the path flapped in the gentle afternoon breeze. Vendors hung out of almost every stall, enticing customers in to buy. Or at least their statues did. Horns stepped around their potential customers dotting the path. He took his time. There was no point in hiding.

He sighed. “Would’ve been a cool festival…”

The grounds opened up to him eventually as he left the stalls behind, as manicured as an open public field could get. Short grass dotted with trees to allow convention-goers to hide from the sun. The amphitheatre lay in the southeast corner, and he stepped onto the grass to beeline straight there. Even from this distance halfway across the field, Horns could see all the souls sheltered within. There they remained, locked in a moment of excitement and celebration now stained with freezing ice. A rainbow of innocents who did not sign up for this chaos.

“Poor guys…” He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Nice to see you again,” he reached up and discretely tapped his earpiece on as he turned, knowing without looking what he faced. “Dragon.”

Across the convention grounds, his whole team froze.

“My dear, I’m afraid I cannot return your greeting as you have not given me your name.” She replied.

Horns gave her a quick once over. Her dress had changed to a simple red velvet with fine black lace over top, but the black cloak remained. Her dark brown hair still fell freely about her shoulders, now unburdened from the weight of the rain under which they had first met. And she smiled at him, her glowing dark red eyes regarding him with a complex mix of emotions. Horns decided to take a chance.

“Horns.” He offered.

“Any last name?” She asked.

“Maybe another time.” He gave her a cocky smile.

“Very well.” She sighed not quite out of disappointment. “I assume the others are close by?”

“Close enough.” Horns confirmed. “But it’s just you and me in this field now so let’s talk. What did you mean?”

“In which case, dear?”

“What am I wrong about?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t?”

She gave a haughty laugh. “Oh, my little psychic I wouldn’t say you’re ignorant on the matter, just… prone to forgiveness.”

Horns cocked his head in question.

“I can tell by those horns and those ears that you know as well as I differences are not always tolerated.” She began. “Sure, those in power preach equality and change, but they never seem to follow through, do they? Someone always ends up under someone else’s boot.”

“Keep her talking, Horns. We need to know more.” Gamma came through in his ear.

“It’s more common than people think, that’s for sure.” Horns agreed.

“Not so naive after all, are you?” Dragon grinned, leaning towards him a little. “So tell me child, have you been under someone’s boot?”

“You said you know these horns; you know the answer.” Horns hesitated to continue.

“It’s okay. I know they’re listening.”

He looked around briefly, unable to see any of his team. Then with a sigh, he turned off his earpiece. There were still people close to him in the dark about his true nature, and he’d rather it stayed that way for now. “All my life. There’s never been a moment I felt safe. From ridicule, from harm caused by those who didn’t care, or didn’t even want to know. I was born a Satyr. It’s who I am; I can’t change that. I can’t hide it, and I have tried. So why does that give people the right to push me around?”

“It doesn’t.” Dragon countered. “You do.”

She looked out across the fields and Horns took that moment to quickly turn his earpiece back on.

“You let them walk on you, you place yourself under their boot. You give them permission.”

“So that’s what this is.” Horns connected the dots. “You’re taking back permission.”

“You catch on quick, my little psychic.”

“But not everyone is like that.” Horns countered. “I’ve met good people. People who care about me, about everyone. People out here working themselves to stardust to try and stop you from taking more innocent lives-”

“Innocent?” Dragon scoffed, forcing Horns to step back as she stepped forward. “My dear there are no innocents here. There are the guilty parties, and the ones that do nothing. Well, if they’re going to do nothing, they might as well make me a lovely little statue garden.”

“I… I’ll stop you.” Horns insisted. “Even if I have to wake everyone up all by myself. I won’t let you stomp them down to dust.”

Dragon smiled at him. “I know.”

With a pound of her foot on the paved concrete, pillars of ice erupted from the ground, angled at him. Horns had no time to react before the blow caught his chest full force, sending him flying back and into the air. He shut his eyes against the spiderwebbing pain, curling in on himself to protect his damaged chest for when he hit the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Gamma’s voice cut through the pain as their arms carefully wrapped around him. He opened his eyes to his team starting to attack below him. Psi’s plants snaked their way into the fight and turned the field to chaos as the trainees moved in.

Gamma lowered him to the ground out of the way of the fight. “Stay here.”

They took off before he even got a chance to argue, wings open wide at the top of their flight to fire on Dragon. Psi's vines swooped in as Horns watched and curled around him to shield him from the fight. But he could watch on with mounting worry.

Like last time, the team struggled to land any hits on their opponent. They lined up a modified version of their well practiced barrage attack, using the distracting attack of one person to bring the next closer to their target. The very one that had gotten Horns in close to Psi once. Even if they missed, even if she blocked them, bit by bit they could close in. Dragon was faring well, but the cracks in her defences were beginning to show. Between Gamma's unrelenting laser attacks, Psi's distracting and deadly plants, and the team refusing to let up, Horns could very well see this fight turning in their favour.

But of course, so did Dragon.

Just like last time, Horns watched her preparing to strike. She allowed the team to land some blows and chose to dodge Gamma's attacks instead of blocking them with ice. The small reprieve was just enough to save her enough energy to send them all flying back with a burst of wind and throw up a jagged dome of ice.

Gamma bared down with their lasers, intent on melting through, but Horns knew it would still take too long. He thrashed against the vines' hold on him, panic gripping his chest tighter and blocking out the pain from the movement. He couldn't see them frozen again. He couldn't look down the line of his family and force himself to think strategically about who he could afford to leave frozen, should he not be successful in waking them all. He couldn't do it all again. Not again.

The scream he unleashed in his fear and fury was nothing compared to the mind blast that simultaneously ripped through Dragon's skull. It exhausted him almost immediately. He was barely aware of Gamma breaking through the ice barrier and the sounds of frustration when their adversary was not found inside. He hardly felt the vines slowly lowering him to the ground and releasing their grip, though he did fight his last few inches to freedom. And he didn't pay mind to three familiar statues now present in the open.

He just stayed on his knees where Psi had dropped him and tried to force some energy back into his soul.

#lvc #larka's virus community #moo writes #among the statues #the team #team gamma-psi #those last 6 paragraphs or so have been in my phone notes for like 2 years #god i hope i stick with writing this #please tag generously #also any similarities to /that/ online series we've been screaming about lately are entirely unintentional

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miidnightglosss · 3 years

Text

Boston Tea Party - Part 1 (Grell Sutcliffe - Chapter 1)

There's a tradition in Boston, Massachusetts, one where every student at the end of their eighth-grade year of school throws their papers and textbooks into a bonfire and parties the night away before their souls are ultimately crushed before going through the trials of high school life. Those who still have their souls, at least.

Grell Sutcliff, 14, had decided to follow this tradition surrounded by a number of her best friends. Her bright red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She pulled down her black tank top ever so slightly and adjusted her white skirt accordingly. Her flip-flops lagged behind as she took a seat next to one of her best friends, Johanna West. "Are you sure you're just gonna stick with Bart Simpson over there? I know, like, thirteen other guys that are way cuter than him," Grell offered, her English accent apparent.

Johanna rolled her hazel eyes as she pushed the bright orange side of her hair (wig technically) out of her eyes. Her tan skin glowed against her sun while her eyes reflected the light. She had a fuchsia and orange split dyed wig that went surprisingly well with the rest of her somewhat toned-down clothing. Johanna had worn just a black cut-off tank top and dark denim shorts, her black Doja Cat hoodie slung over the back of her camping chair. She crossed her legs and bounced her Van-covered foot as she spoke again to Grell. "Yes, for the one-millionth time. And no amount of your criticism is going to change that.

"I'm just saying," Grell continued. "If you weren't promised to him, who would you date?"

Johanna and her boyfriend, Bart, have been promised to marry each other ever since he proposed (kind of) early last school year. They've known each other two years prior and figured "why the hell not?" They were a good pair and bounced off of each other well. Most of the time.

The two girls looked over to the rest of their group, which mostly consisted of boys. Walker Auteberry was playing football with Sebastian Michaelis, Matt Connery, and Ronald Knox.

Walker Auteberry was basically a pure athletic paragon. Tall, blond, fit. Not too terribly muscular. His curls bounced on top of his faded hair as it dissolved to match his tanned skin after a trip to Honolulu.

His face lit up with a smile, which was soon turned to shock as Sebastian tackled him to the ground. His porcelain skin and ebony hair were the perfect contrast to Walker's appearance. Sebastian was a bit leaner than Walker, but couldn't get a tan for shit. He was very punk or e-boy and often wore shades of black and gray with tiny bursts of red or purple color here and there.

Ronald Knox was a mega playboy. He also had blond, almost golden, hair with a few brown tuffs in the front that he somehow managed to pull off. His unnaturally green eyes, those similar to Grell's and William T. Spears's, were lit up with intensity as he chucked the ball over to Sebastian once more, making a touchdown. He was the preppiest among the boys.

Matt, Johanna's cousin, was somewhat of a mix between them. His blond hair had been dyed black, a bit darker than Sebastian's. He was more emo than the two. There's a difference. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but he was enjoying himself nonetheless.

Ciel Phantomhive, son to one of the richest families in Boston, sat beside his fiancee, Elizabeth Midford. Also wealthy.

Johanna smirked. "Probably either Sebastian or Ronald."

Grell furrowed her eyebrows. "What the fuck? Sebastian, hell yeah, but Ronald?"

"What?"

"They're complete dorks."

Johanna shrugged. "I have a thing for dorks."

"Then why are you with that?"

The girls looked over to Bartlomiej von Grimmelshausen, Bart for short. His family was traditionally Polish, but they were also the founders of one of the leading sportscar companies in town, Luxus. He had wavy jet black hair styled with a taper fade and ivory skin. He had around the same build as Walker but had grown a bit colder and more business-focused over the past few years. He had just thrown on a short-sleeve flannel with a white tank top underneath and a pair of black shorts. He stood alone as he fished in the nearby lake.

Johanna sighed. "I don't know. We have history and he's not someone I wanna lose."

"I ain't sayin' she a gold digga--"

Johanna playfully swatted Grell's arm. "Shut up! I'm not in it for the money."

"Then what? In my opinion, any of the other guys here would be more compatible with you."

"Right, like William?"

"Hey, now," Grell started, using her parent voice. "William's off-limits."

"Fine," Johanna finished jokingly. Jacquelyn Marek came over after a conversation with her parents at another site. All their parents were friends and they let them have freedom, but not too much. "Hey, what's up?"

Grell looked up to Jackie. She possessed auburn hair and ivory skin, much like Walker. She'd worn a yellow cropped tube top and black shorts today. She seemed distraught but tried hiding it. "Um... Yeah. Hey, do you guys wanna have a sleepover? You know, one last hurrah before high school starts?"

"Sure. It can't be at my house, though," Grell shouted. "Not after last time!"

"He gave me a weird look," Walker yelled back across the field.

"That's not a good reason to chuck a tube TV out the window," Matt replied

The girls giggled to themselves. "I'd have to ask August and Florence but they'll probably be fine with it." Johanna brushed some fallen leaves off her lap as she stood up. "I have to ask Bart something. Be right back."

Jackie moved in closer to Grell. "So when are you gonna make a move?"

Grell sighed dramatically. "I've already told you, once the time's right."

"Yeah, well, you'd better speed it up. He'll get snatched up quickly, especially somewhere as prestigious as the Phantomhive Academy. The geeky nerd bitches will be all up on him if he lets them." Jackie peered over at the adults to make sure they weren't looking and pulled out a Juul. She took a puff before offering it to Grell. "Wanna try? It's strawberries and cream."

Grell wrinkled her nose. "The fuck it is. And, no. I'm getting enough lung cancer just standing next to you." Jackie shrugged and took another hit. "What do you mean he'll get snatched up?"

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Someone like him up at a place like that? His parents are practically begging for grandkids."

Grell gazed longingly at her crush as he sat and scribbled in his notebook. "You're being incredibly vague right now."

"But you do know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

Grell's crush, William, was way out of her league. Just like a majority of the people in her friend group, the Spears were wealthy. Will wanted to get into his own business. So did Grell, but while she was thinking of her own fashion line, he was thinking of his own line of supercomputer androids to help humanity. His short dark brown hair was always slicked back and his icy glare could cut through stone. He had a lean build and tall figure to match his business-as-usual aura.

"If you want, I could probably spike everyone's drinks and maybe move things forward a little."

Grell whipped her head towards Jackie, eyes full of disbelief and concern with a hint of curiosity.

"I'm doing it." As Jackie skipped away, Grell couldn't find the words to stop her.

♞

A couple of hours had passed before the parents had decided to give their kids some alone time. As soon as that happened, Jackie called up a local caterer to bring the group a giant bowl of punch. While everyone was busy being preoccupied with each other, she snuck off and poured in a few tiny shots she'd smuggled from the same gas station she'd gotten her Juul.

Grell watched as Johanna and Bart played a game of Marco Polo in the lake. Johanna trod the water as Bart found her hips beneath the waves. The couple smiled having found each other and kissed, right before hearing an "ew" from Matt, and getting splashed by a wave of water. Soon it had turned into a chicken fight, Johanna and Bart versus Matt and Walker.

Grell snapped out of her trance as a red solo cup was presented in front of her. "That could be you pretty soon," Jackie reminded. Without another word, Grell shot down the punch within a few huge gulps and assisted in passing them out, throat burning.

Soon enough, everyone was holding a drink and coming back to the punch bowl for more. Fireflies illuminated the skies as everyone danced to Bottoms Up by Trey Songz.

Jackie marched on top of a stump and raised her free hand. "Attention, assholes of Boston, Massachusetts!" Everyone in the group, including a few others, looked her way. "We're now going to play Truth or Dare now. I go first. Ciel, truth or dare?"

Normally, Ciel would be one of the first to deny a game of Truth or Dare. However, he was under the influence. He shrugged, an arm wrapped around Elizabeth's waist, whose hair had now been taken out of her usual drill tails. "Truth."

"If you were to make out with one guy here, who would it be?"

Ciel eyed Sebastian up and down. "I think we all know the answer to that already." The group let out a chorus of hoots and hollers as Sebastian purred back. Lizzie lazily swatted Ciel's chest.

"Okayokayokayokay-- OKAY!" Jackie silenced them again. "You pick someone now."

Ciel looked up, down, and all-around at the group until his eyes laid on William. "You!" He pointed overdramatically. "Truth or Dare?"

William, giggling like a maniac, had chosen dare. Never took him as a happy drunk, Grell thought to herself. "I dare youuuuu--" Ciel hiccupped-- "to make out with the most attractive person here."

Grell’s cheeks flushed a bright red as she nervously laughed along with her friends, Walker finding it the most hilarious thing in the world and slapping his hand on his knee while he wheezed for air.

She realized two things: one, he could pick someone, literally anyone, but her and confirm exactly what he thought of her. Two, he could kiss her and it would be the start of something beautiful. Either way, it was totally nerve-wracking. It wasn't like Will to spontaneously make out with someone. It wasn't like Will to get drunk without him really even knowing either. It wasn't like him to get drunk.

Grell didn't realize how much she had been overthinking this entire situation until William stood right in front of her.

Shit. Seductive. Go. She tried her best to look playful and flirty despite how much she was shaking right now. She hasn't noticed how much taller Will was to her. At least a good half a foot. Grell decided that it would probably be best to just let herself loose in the moment, so she snaked her arms around William's neck as he wrapped his around her waist. They stretched ever so slightly so that their lips were inches apart until they finally collided with each other.

It was everything Grell had dreamed it would be. His soft lips seemed to fit hers perfectly. Will licked her bottom lip, asking for permission to enter her mouth. She allowed him without hesitation as their tongues wrestled with each other for a good while. Her hands tightened through his hair while his gripped her hips tightly, pulling her closer to his body. Grell could've stayed like that for the rest of eternity--

"Okay, Grell, get you some!"

Johanna laughed at her remark from behind the two as Jackie cackled along with her. William drew away from Grell and opened his eyes, leaving Grell helpless, her eyes longing and her face red.

William smirked as Walker pat him a couple of times on his shoulder and the game continued. Grell couldn't pay much attention, though. She was certain that kiss meant one thing: they were meant to be together.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

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aquariusrunes · 4 years

Text

The Superfriends AU (part 9)

The flashes were blinding and the large lights heated the room like a sauna. His palms were moist with sweat as he reached up and pulled at his collar. Colin had not been this nervous this morning. And Damian of course, said he had nothing to be nervous about when he had started to feel anxious. But he did. He’d obviously been too tired to properly panic when Violet dropped off the outfit he was currently wearing, this morning.

It had started when he unzipped the black garment bag. The intricate details embroidered on the expensive fabric immediately caught his eye and sent up the most alarming red flags. He’d never worn anything so expensive. Not even the suits Mr. Wayne had gotten tailored to his form for the handful of galas Damian had taken him to, cost as much as his current outfit.

The next anxiety laced arrow to hit him was when Damian had pointed out that Colin and Edna had yet to hold a real conversation. Their interactions with one another had completely ceased after his boyfriend’s introductions were finished.

And then there was Edna’s ability to influence Damian. She was one of the few members of his family he let himself be pushed around by. He willingly did her bidding as well as valued her opinion. And Colin had thought making sure Marinette had a good opinion of him was important, only to find out that Edna’s had more weight.

Now he stood sandwiched between the small woman who essentially invented fashion and one of the richest men in the world. Bruce had pated Colin on the shoulder when he first walked up to the two, a silent reassurance to the obviously panicked boy. The intimidating man now stood straight, shoulders squared with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not on his son, who was currently up on a platform surrounded by fake trees, instead his dark eyes had a strange shadow cast over them, reminding Colin of the man’s alter ego. He was carefully surveying the room, analyzing everyone who fell under his intense gaze.

On Colin’s right stood his boyfriend’s great aunt, her stance near identical to her nephew's. Her eyes were trained on Damian, unlike the boy’s father whose gaze was roaming the room. However, her glare was no less intimidating or fear inducing. Though, Colin couldn’t exactly blame the woman for her current enraged expression.

His eyes went back to his boyfriend, Damian was dressed in a top that resembled a toga, the one strap tank consisting of billowy semi-sheer fabric, tucked into slim dark grey pants, that Edna had whispered to him were a cigarette style. He also wore a well fitted silver blazer, the material of which was lighter than the pants. His face covered in metallic silver and soft brown makeup, he was too far to really see the details the makeup artist had done, but he could see an intricately drawn crescent moon done in silver eyeliner on Damian’s right cheek, as well as the matte midnight blue lipstick.

His hair had been wetted and dried a number of times before it was curled to Edna’s satisfaction. Now every time there was a pause in the camera’s flashes, a tall blonde woman would step up onto the platform and use a spray bottle to dampen Damian’s hair and then restyle it. Every time she tried to touch him though, he would aggressively react both physically and verbally. Colin had picked up on a few older female oriented insults, his boyfriend had a knack for talking like he just time traveled from Victorian London. The darker skinned boy eventually resorted to batting the bottle out of the woman’s grip as well as slapping her hands away.

Beyond the problems he was having with the stylist, Damian was also getting difficult with the photographer. Not necessarily on purpose, but Edna was still less than pleased.

Damian was a very handsome boy, not exactly what one would consider classically handsome, but his features were undeniably attractive. His naturally neutral expression was extremely attractive, and gave off an air of aloofness and mystery that most girls their age found irresistible. But very few people were aware of just how stunning the boy’s smile could be. Not the fake polite one he showed interviewers or those he couldn't be bothered with but had to interact with often enough to the point that forced him to be courteous. His real smile was absolutely breathtaking.

The photographer had been trying to get that breathtaking expression for about ten minutes. Colin could see how the man was grating on his boyfriend's nerves. Edna and the photographer were becoming increasingly frustrated as well, which was totally understandable in the redhead's mind. But he was sure that if either of them snapped at Damian the boy would storm out in a frustrated huff.

Poor Angel, he really was trying. He just had difficulty relaxing to the point where his natural smile could be displayed. He carried far too much tension around for sixteen year old, even with all his extracurriculars.

Colin watched the blonde woman fight against Damian once again, his bangs had fallen into his eyes and she needed to correct them. His boyfriend’s palm raised, slapping the purple spray bottle out of her hand, it bounced off the platform and rolled towards Colin, Edna, and Mr. Wayne.

It caused Bruce to let a low chuckle break from his lips, which took Colin far too much by surprise. He’d actually forgotten that his boyfriend’s father had been standing there. The wealthy man looked down at his Aunt’s unamused expression. “I did warn you about working with him.”

“Yes.” She grumbled. “Forgive me for having faith that a sixteen year old could stand not to act like a child for thirty minutes or so.” Her arms crossed tightly over her body. “Honestly, why are your boys always so difficult?”

“They aren’t difficult,” Bruce defended. “Just...different.”

Edna rolled her eyes at the man.

“Different, sure.” She huffed. “Luckily, I planned for Damian’s ‘differentness’ and have a solution at the ready.”

Bruce cocked his eyebrow, giving his aunt a questioning look. She smiled up at him before her gaze lowered to Colin, the boy’s face coated in just as much confusion as Bruce’s. “Colin dahling.” The woman walked forwards several steps, leaning down and picking up the purple bottle. “Come here please.” She motioned at him with a curl of her fingers and he was quick to follow her, doing as told like a little soldier.

“Yes ms-” He stopped himself. “Edna.” He finally said.

She smiled, patting his hand. “Colin could you be a dear and go help Damian with his hair?” The ginger tilted his head, looking back at the blonde woman as she stomped off the platform. Another series of flashes fired, as Damian positioned himself in whatever way the photographer told him to.

“His hair?” Colin asked. “I think it looks fine.” Truthfully he did. He wished Damian would wear it curly more often, but knew how unprofessional his boyfriend felt when he did.

“Could you just go push his bangs back and use the spray bottle to help his hair curl a little more. Please dahling, it would be a big help.” Edna held the bottle out to Colin.

“Um…” Colin looked back at Damian as another flash went off. “I guess?” He questioned. “Right now?”

His hands slowly took the purple bottle. “No no, in just a moment, when I walk over to look at the shots we have so far.”

“Yes ma’am.” Colin turned from the woman, facing Damian’s platform. His perplexed look melting away and being replaced with a smile as he saw Damian push his own bangs back, only for them to fall back into his eyes without the assistance of his ever precious hair gel.

He only had to wait a moment before Edna patted him on the shoulder before swaggering over to the photographer. Colin was quick to hop up onto the platform and over to his boyfriend, who looked less than pleased. His face was set in a scowl and his arms were tightly crossed. The closer Colin got though the more of the makeup he could make out. Damian’s eyes were traced in metallic off white eyeliner, the shade only varying slightly from the moon drawn on his cheek, and a range of soft browns were used for his eyeshadow. The color pellet suited him extremely well.

“You know,” He began, getting Damian’s attention. “You’re making this way more difficult than it has to be.”

Damian didn’t respond, he just rolled his eyes, directing his gaze elsewhere.

“It’d all go a lot quicker if you cooperated. It’d also be less painful too.” Once Colin was properly in front of his boyfriend he took note of the glitter highlighting his cheekbones, as well as a chain earrings that had been hooked onto his right ear, and a thick silver choker that resembled something out of the greek myths themselves around Damian’s neck.

Damian gave Colin a rather dry unamused look. “If that woman would stop touching me, everyone would be in less pain.”

“Dames,” Colin breathed. “She’s a stylist, it’s literally her job to touch you.” He rested his free hand on his hip. “She is getting paid to come up here and make sure that you continually look perfect throughout this shoot.”

The boy only huffed turning his head away once again.

“Your aunt is getting a little frustrated with you as well.” Colin’s gaze drifted across the room towards the woman. She was sitting in front of a computer with the tall balding photographer, neither seemed happy with the shots they had so far. Edna’s eyes slowly traveled up, locking onto Colin’s. It nearly gave him a heart attack.

He turned his attention back to his boyfriend. “I’m gonna spray you with this,” He held up the bottle. “And mess with your hair.” Damian’s eyebrow quirked up. “If you slap my hand, I will punch you in the face.”

Damian’s shoulders visibly tensed when the mist fell over him, but he relaxed once Colin moved to brush his bangs back. While a little less tense, the boy still stood incredibly still, almost like a statue. Colin’s hands moved quickly, doing his best to mimic how the first hair stylist had shaped Damian’s hair before the shoot had started. It didn’t look perfect but it looked better than it did when his bangs were hanging in his face. In fact, once Colin was done it started looking more messy, resembling the boy’s rare bedhead after a sleepless night. But it looked good, at least in Colin’s opinion.

He couldn’t stop his laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He snickered, running his fingers through Damian’s curls, repositioning them. “You should really consider wearing it curly more often.” He whispered.

“Absolutely not.” Damian was quick to refuse, but couldn’t stop the corner of his lips from quirking up. “Why are you up here anyway?” He asked.

Colin smirked as he continued his work. “Board of me already babe?”

Damian rolled his eyes, gaze dropped to the ground as he willed his blush to fade. He wasn’t great with nicknames, not when Colin used them. Shortenings of his name was fine, but it always got to him when more traditional pet names were used by his boyfriend. “No.” He muttered. “Just curious, after all Edna was rather clear about you and Jon not interfering while I work.”

“Your aunt asked me to come fix your hair.” Colin shrugged. “Probably because she knew you wouldn’t be near as cranky with me.”

“I am not being cranky.” The boy bit back, earning an unamused look from his freckled boyfriend.

“Dames.”

“I don’t like people touching me Colin, she knew this when she asked me to be her model.” Colin rolled his eyes, hands moving out of his boyfriend’s hair.

“Yeah, but you're also very mature for your age and should be able to suck it up for thirty minutes or so.” Colin crossed his arms. “Seriously Dames, this isn’t like a crowd of Wayne Ward Fangirls trying to grope you on the street. That woman is trying to do her job and by you being cranky, it’s making everything run very inefficient.”

“Are you implying I’m a bad model?”

“Course not.” The redhead sighed. “I’m implying that you’re acting like a child and it’s not cute.” He gave a small smile. “But other than your attitude, you’re doing a very good job.” Colin leaned forward and peck Damian’s cheek, the one not coated in eyeliner. “Just smile a little more.”

Colin turned, hopping off the platform, and turning back to watch once he was far enough to not be in the shot. He flashed the mixed race boy a blinding smile once he was out of the way and gave him a thumbs up. Damian returned the gesture with a soft smile, not noticing the flashes of the camera as he watched his boyfriend who, after a few minutes, started to make utterly ridiculous faces.

Edna and Bruce watched from their previous spot. Positions the same, backs straight, shoulders square, hands clasped behind them. Edna’s face cracked into a self satisfied smirk. Bruce’s eyes watching the scene before him critically.

“So that’s why Colin’s here.” He finally said.

“Fail safes are important dahling.”

“What would you have done if Damian hadn’t brought him along?”

“Please,” Edna looked up at her nephew. “Who do you think gave him the idea to invite the boy?”

…

Marinette watched her cousin and his boyfriend retreat down the hallway, Colin’s arms wound around one of Damian’s. The boy had mentioned in the elevator that he needed to go feed Titus and would be down in the cafeteria once he was finished. Colin quickly volunteered to go with him. Marinette assumed it was because of how moody Damian had gotten towards the end of the photoshoot. She could practically see the negative energy radiating off the boy. Jon and Chloé, who had also been in the elevator went straight to the Mode cafeteria. Marinette and Adrien had gotten off on the floor with all of their rooms like Colin and Damian. Marinette making the excuse that she needed to call her mom and Adrien saying he forgot something in his room.

Once she saw her cousin’s form round the corner of the hall she turned back around to look and see if Adrien had gone into his room yet or not. The door with a large number seven on it was firmly close, the blonde nowhere in sight. She turned back to her own door, took in a large breath to steal her nerves, then turned the knob and walked into the suite.

The room was large with a queen sized bed against a wall of floor to ceiling windows, the sheer black curtains were drawn currently. There was a fireplace in her room on the opposite wall, the one that her door was on. It was an electrical insert and so didn’t require a chimney. There was a flat screen tv above it and two red chairs in front of it. A silver rack was against the mainly empty wall, holding her mass of black garment bags. The west wall was mainly taken up by a large dresser vanity combo, which her accessory trunk was currently in front of.

Her room had been mostly left undisturbed since she first arrived, save for the bed, which she had messily made that morning. Mostly everything in the room was well organized, especially her garments and accessories to make things a little less stressful for her during the hectic week.

The large white comforter of her bed was wrinkled and had been pulled towards the center of the mattress, creating something that resembled a nest. In front of the mass of blankets, propped up on a couple of pillows was her tablet. Her nerves were on fire, but she still managed a smile when the head of her kawami popped up from behind the piece of technology. The small creature was quick to pause whatever video she had been watching, most likely a telenovela she had found on one of the streaming services Marinette’s family subscribed too. The girl had discovered relatively soon after becoming the wielder of the ladybug miraculous that the creature had a bit of an addiction to the television genre.

“Marinette!” Tikki beamed, flying up to her holder. “How is the photoshoot going?”

“Well…” Her smile tightened. “Well.” She reiterated. “I think it’s going well. Aunt E is unbelievably specific.” Marinette’s hands clutched the fabric of her sweatpants before releasing it, she repeated this process a few times. “She made some intern repaint a handful of leaves on a fake tree because it wasn't mossy enough. She also made a girl cry this morning, sooo we’ve been off to an interesting start.”

“Did you have to take your earrings off?” The tiny god asked, eyes large, searching her wielder’s face. She didn’t sound angry, necessarily, but Marinette knew she would be if she lied.

The bluenette bit down on her lower lip, gaze fluttering down to the floor. “Yes.” She said, voice laced with a heavy sigh. “But only for thirty minutes or so.”

“Marinette...” The kawami sighed.

“Edna was insistent I wear her earrings!” The girl quickly defended. “I tried Tikki, I really did but she was so-so...insistent.”

The small god stared at her obviously anxious choice. “That was very dangerous Marinette.” Her voice was still very gentle in nature.

“I know.” Marinette kept her eyes on her feet. “And I’m sorry, really sorry.”

Tikki was quiet for a long moment before letting out a large breath, flying a little closer to the girl. “You’ll have to have them off again for the rest of the shoot, won’t you?”

“Again, I am so sorry.”

“Marinette, having the earrings off is very dangerous.” Tikki reiterated. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

“Of course I do.” Marinette scrunched her hands into her sweatpants again. “But I did think up a plan!” She added quickly. “Since I have to take them off again, I’m going to hide them here in my room. That way you can watch over them and they aren’t floating around in a room full of strangers.”

Tikki floated back down onto the bed. “I suppose that would be the best option. Do you know where you’ll hi-” A very solid knock came from her door, just two taps, but Marinette already knew who would be behind it. She walked to the door, then turned about to tell Tikki she wouldn’t need to hide, but the god had already vanished.

She opened the door, revealing one Adrien Agreste, a sheepish smile on his face. “Is yours half as mad as mine?” He asked as Marinette stepped aside, letting him into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“I’d say more disappointed, but I haven’t told her everything yet.”

Adrien winced at her words. “I can come back later once you have.” He offered, to which Marinette gave him a look.

“Definitely not.”

“Damn.”

“What happened to pretending it didn’t happen?” Suddenly Tikki was floating in the middle of the room again. “Acting like you didn’t know?! Not discussing it directly!?” The Kawami huffed. “Marinette there are only so many loopholes we can go through before you blatantly just break the rules!”

“I’m sorry!” Marinette whined. “But I didn’t know what to do!” She took several steps forward. “Edna made me take off my earrings and I had to give them to someone! I couldn’t just set them down somewhere and risk them getting stolen or falling on the floor or something! And yes, Edna offered to hold them or suggested I let Uncle Bruce do it but, full disclosure I don’t know if I trust either of them with a miraculous. Like Uncle Bruce is very curious and I just couldn’t risk it!” Both Adrien and Tikki were becoming mildly concerned with how red the girl was getting, her speech increasing in speed with every shade her face deepened in color. “And Edna well I just don’t think I could ever in good conscience hand the earrings over to her! I mean yes she knows but she doesn’t understand. And in the moment, I mean you have to agree that under those circumstances Adrien was the best option since we weren’t taking photos together. But we’ll have to after lunch so I told him I had a plan and so I’m going to hide our mirac-”

“PIGTAILS!” Marinette physically jumped back, colliding with the dresser. A small black cat like creature floating before her. “Take a breath girl.” He said. “Seriously, you’re going to pass out.” The creature turned his head towards Tikki. “Does she do this a lot?”

“It’s not a common occurrence, but it isn’t necessarily uncommon.” The red god replied.

“Good grief.” The black creature mumbled. “Look Pigtails, we aren’t mad. Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. Sometimes unpredictable stuff like this happens. I’m honestly surprised the kid’s pops hasn’t made him take the ring off during a photoshoot yet.”

“Marinette,” Adrien finally spoke. “You remember Plagg, right?”

The girl’s eyes were still wide, her heart rate still slowing form the shock that had just pulsed through her body. “Y-yeah. I remember him.”

“The two of you being aware of one another’s identities and interacting with each others miraculouses as civilians, it complicates things and if the past is anything to go by, makes things exceedingly more difficult. It’s why we find it better to keep personal things a secret. But I’m sure the guardian's already talked you through all of this stuff.”

Marinette nodded her head, taking a step forward.

“But,” Plagg let a breath out. “This is where we are now. And what’s most important is that the miraculouses are safe while the two of you can’t wear them. So, where’s this genius hiding spot of yours?”

“I-I’ll get it.” She mumbled, quickly darting across the room to where her portable sewing kit was.

Adrien and Tikki both kept their eyes locked on Plagg.

“That was surprisingly very insightful Plagg.” Tikki said, flying up to her partner.

“I can be smart!” He retorted. “I understand the importance of our miraculouses! I don’t just think about Cheese.”

“You just mainly think about it.” Adrien responded, pulling the tin of camembert out of his pocket and setting it down on the dresser.

“Well yeah.”

“Okay.” The three’s attention was directed towards Marinette as she sat down on the end of her bed, setting her now open sewing kit in her lap. Held tightly in her hands was a handmade Chat Noir doll.

“What is that?” Plagg asked.

“This,” Marinette held it up. “Is what I’m going to hide the miraculouses in.” She smiled, grabbing the small scissors out of her portable kit she flipped the doll on it’s side, looking for the seam before moving to cut it open.

“I-” Adrien’s head tilted. “I’m so confus-is that the doll Manon stole when she got akumatized?”

Marinette looked up at him, the doll’s side already open. “Yeah.” She blinked before digger her fingers into the doll to pull out some of the stuffing. “I didn’t really know what to do with them afterwards. I couldn’t just throw them away, so I put them all in a trunk. I let her play with them whenever I babysit. Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t live in the trunk. They’re usually either on my desk or the shelf above my bed.”

Plagg had flown over and was now hovering above Marinette’s shoulder, Tikki sitting on her other one. “You’re going to put them inside of it?” The small black creature asked.

“Yup.”

“I have never seen either of those dolls in your room.” Adrien said, sitting down on the arm of one of the red chairs.

“That’s because I hide them when you come over.” She glanced up at him. “Last thing I needed was a nosy kitty teasing me about my dolls.”

“I am not nosy.”

“Adrien whenever Chat Noir is in my room about seventy-five percent of what he does is rummaged through my things.” She shot him a pointed look.

“I’m curious.”

“Your nosy.” The girl set the doll down in her lap on top of her sewing kit, she then reached up and carefully pulled out her earrings. She let out a sigh, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders as she slipped the jewelry inside the doll.

She then looked up at Adrien expectantly.

He stared at her for a long moment with blank eyes, blinking rapidly before finally asking. “Why’d you bring the Chat doll with you?”

Marinette’s cheeks tinted pink as she looked back down at the doll, she put some of the stuffing back in, that way the two miraculouses would be seperated. “I have my reasons.” She whispered.

“Sometimes when she’s trying to think things out she’ll talk to it.” Tikki supplied from Marinette’s shoulder. “The whole identity thing has been on her mind a lot lately so she’s been talking to him quite a bit.”

Marinette’s face grew more red as Plagg laughed. “That’s hilarious!” The creature cackled. “This one just confesses his undying love to the poster he has on the backside of his closet door.”

“Okay!” Adrien stood quickly, slipping his ring off his finger and placing it in Marinette’s waiting palm. “Let’s just hurry up and go get lunch.” He turned away from her quickly, trying to hide his own blush behind his hand.

Marinette silently slipped it into the doll, then replaced the rest of the stuffing. She was quick to thread a needle with some black thread then set to work repairing the doll.

Both Kawami’s watched the girl closely. “This is actually a pretty sound idea pigtails.” Plagg muttered. “Unless of course someone obsessed with dolls get akumatized. But Hawkmoth should be out of range so, we should be fine.”

Marinette hummed in agreement as she finished her stitch. “Good as new.” She whispered, twisting to set the doll in the middle of the small nest Tikki had made.

“Should we be worried that there aren’t any heroes in Paris right now?” The god of creation asked, unknowingly inciting panic in her chosen.

“Oh my god.” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t have a lot of time before I left,” Adrien turned. “But I was able to get a message to Master Fu with Plagg’s help. So he knows we’re both gone.” Adrien stuck his hands into his pockets.

“If there’s trouble, then he’ll probably just call on one of the random holders you’ve been using every now and again.” Plagg added. “But I doubt Hawkmoth will try anything, and if he did, he'd probably call the akuma back once you two didn’t show.”

“That’s true.” Tikki whispered. “Not much use terrorizing Paris when the objects your after aren’t even there. Still though, now that you two are aware of one another’s identities, I implore you to avoid being out of the city at the same time in the future. Just in case.”

“Well it’s not like I planned on leaving.” Adrien said. “I found out like barely an hour before I boarded the plane to come here.”

“Just a tip for the future.” Tikki added.

“Are we watching Yo soy Betty, la fea?” The three looked back at the nest where Plagg had obviously made himself comfortable. “I love that show!” He looked up at Tikki excitedly. “Where are we right now?” He asked.

The Kawami sighed. “He’s staying here then?” She asked, looking between the two humans.

“We figured you’d both want to stay close to your miraculouses.” Marinette explained.

“And we also thought that since you two hadn't seen one another in awhile, you’d want to hang out and catch up.” He smiled sheepishly. “Do you mind?”

Tikki let out a small huff and rolled her eyes at the excited kitten rolling around in her nest. “I suppose not.” She slowly flew down and situated herself next to him. “But no cheese in my nest.”

“Ahh! Tikki! That’s not fair!”

…

It was so strange. Chloé Bourgeois, one of the most difficult and least liked people on the planet, a self given title, had only made two friends throughout her entire life. The first was Adrien, the two had known one another practically since they were in the womb. Literally. Emilie was pregnant on her wedding day, not that anyone save for maybe four people alive knew that, and Chloé was conceived after the reception. They’d always been pushed together, the girl’s mother lobbying hard for a relationship to bloom between the two. But Adrien was her oldest and dearest friend.

Sabrina was her second friend. She’d met her when she was ten. Chloé had made a girl at the park cry. The way Sabrina stared at her, eyes wide, drinking in the scene and raw emotions of anger and sadness radiating off the other two was one of the creepiest things Chloé has ever seen. So of course, she had yelled at Sabrina, she didn’t like the way she was being ogled at. The next day Sabrina had transferred into Chloé’s class. The ginger latched onto her, becoming a constant companion. Until Chloé tried to be better, then Sabrina moved on to Lila.

Yet, in under twenty-four hours Jon Kent had proclaimed himself her new best friend. She’d opened up to him more than anyone else she’d ever known, even her therapist of three years didn’t know as much about Chloé as this random boy from Kansas now did. And everytime she said something bad about herself he would correct her. Everytime she said something bad about someone else, he forced her to list three things she liked about them. She’d never known anyone like him. The strange spell he had over her was so confusing. She honestly had no idea how they had gotten here in such a short period of time. But she didn’t hate it.

She sat across from him at one of the circular tables in the Mode cafeteria, now dressed in her sweats with her hair up in a clip. The metallic makeup still decorating her face. Her lipstick stained the rim of the white mug she sipped her coffee from as she watched the boy across from her animatedly rant.

“Seriously though!” Jon banged his fist against the table, making both of their trays of food shake. He had been ranting about flannel the whole time they’d been in line. At this point, Chloé didn’t think anything was going to get him to stop.

“Plenty of high end designers resent the material, it’s got a stench of the midwest and middle class reeking off of it.” She sat her cup down. “My mother finds it personally offensive. She’d probably disown me if she ever saw me in it.”

Jon stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and blank before he finally spoke. “I’m going to buy you so much flanel, what’s your favourite colors?”

“Gold, yellow, baby blue, and duke blue.” She crossed her arms. “Please God, don’t buy me anything. Especially flanel.”

“I’m gonna get you a yellow and blue one.” Chloé let out a large groan as the Kansan beamed at her.

“Hey Chlo.” She looked up, making eye contact with one Adrien Agreste. His smile radiating that pure sunshine he was famous for. “Hi Jon.”

“Hey Adrien.” Jon smiled back, sticking a spoonful of chocolate pudding in his mouth.

“Mind if we join you?” Chloé’s eyes immediately flicked behind the blonde where Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood, partially hidden behind the tall model, tray in her hand.

“Course not!” Jon chimed after a thick swallow. “Got a big table because I figured all six of us would want to sit together.” Adrien walked around the table to sit between Chloé and Jon, while Marinette sat between the two on the other side.

Chloé quickly noted the lack of earrings on her person. It was strange seeing her without them, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she saw the girl’s naked lobes. Her eyes then darted to Adrien’s hand, now resting on the table. No ring.

They must have stashed the jewelry away somewhere safe before coming down. She was more than a little relieved that an anxiety inducing scene like the one this morning would not be repeated. She swore her heart rate quickened every time she saw the two slip their miraculouses into one another’s hands. But the idea of two of the most powerful things on earth being left unguarded somewhere in the Mode building was somewhat unsettling as well. She’d just have to trust in the two’s intuition she supposed. Not much else she could do anyway.

“So, what were the two of you chatting about?” Adrien asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the table as the four began to eat their meals.

“Oh.” Jon perked up. “I was just talking about how I was gonna buy Chloé a whole bunch of flannels.” He smiled at her cheekily. “Then we can wear them around and match so everyone knows we’re best friends.”

“Definitely not.” Chloé snapped quickly as Adrien began to laugh.

“I think I would honestly give you one of my kidneys if you got this girl into flannel.” The blonde continued to laugh as he began cutting into what looked like chicken.

“It’s not the worst material in the world.” Marinette said, voice somewhat quiet. “It’s just hard to work with when your designing for people willing to pay millions.”

“Exactly what I said!” Chloé shouted.

“You said it smelled like the midwest and middle class.” Jon corrected.

“Yeah,” Chloé crosses her arms. “It’s the smell that makes it difficult to sell to millionaires.”

“I don’t even want to think of what my father would do if he saw me in flannel.” Adrien added before taking a bite of his food.

“Geez, what is with y’all’s parents?” Jon asked. “My dad wouldn’t have the slightest problem with me wearing flannel.”

“Does your dad regularly wear flannel though Jon?” Chloé asked.

“Well yeah,” the boy stirred his spoon around what remained in his small bowl of pudding. “But my mom kind of hates the fabric. But she doesn’t get mad at me when I wear it!”

“Ah, but you see young one,” Marinette interjected. “Your parents care about you.”

“My father cares!”

“That you look good.” Chloé snorted. “Seriously Adri, it’s okay that your dad doesn’t love you. In fact, I think I’ve been doing much better since I accepted the fact that my mother can’t stand me.” The table went silent, Chloé preoccupied with her coffee didn’t noticed until she had set her cup back down. “What?” She asked, looking around at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Chlo…” Adrien reached out for her hand.

“She cares Chloé.” Marinette whispered. “On some level, all parents care about their kids.”

“She’s right.” Jon added. “She may not show it but your mother loves you Chloé.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away from Adrien’s. “It’s really not that big of a deal anymore. I’ve accepted it and I’ve moved on.” She turned her face away from the group.

“Chloé-” Marinette was interrupted by a tray being slammed down on the table. They all looked up to see Damian who was pulling a chair up and sitting down between Marinette and Jon.

“I hate this.” He said, monotone voice laced with rage.

Colin quietly pulled up a seat, opting to sit between Adrien and Chloé. “Blood pressure dear.” The redhead mentioned, picking up a white mug that fizzed like a soft drink and taking a long sip from it.

“Hate what?” Marinette asked.

“This.” Damian’s eyes squinted, hands extending. “Did Enda tell you what she did?” He asked.

Marinette turned forward, fork poking at the pasta on her tray. “I think we’ve already established that Aunt E shared very little of what was happening during this trip with me.”

“Alexander Galbaki has these fraternal twins in his family.” Damian began to explain, fist clenched around his fork. “I forget their names, it’s like russian or german though. But their our age, a girl and a boy who are never seen not with one another.”

“I’m betting on a twincest situation.” Colin piped up, setting his cup down.

“Does that happen in real life?” Jon asked. “I thought it was just a fanfiction thing?”

Colin shook his head. “We looked up their instagram while Titus ate, they are like all over each other, it’s seriously nauseating.”

“What do these creeps have to do with Edna?” Chloé asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fist.

“Edna decided to have Marinette and I be her models for this after she found out that Galbaki is releasing a collection the same night as her runway!” Damian threw his hands out in front of him, his face clearly expressing that they should all be understanding his frustration.

“And the twins are headlining it?” Adrien finally asked.

“YES!” he screamed.

“Oh.” Marinette nodded. “She wants us to compete with them.” She nodded a little faster. “That makes sense.” She twirled some pasta on to her fork. “Why is this pissing you off?”

“She could have told us!” he stabbed his fork into his salad. “Seriously! If I had known I had a target on this trip I would have researched in advance.” He grumbled as he shoved his fork into his mouth.

“Vanya and Demitri.” Colin sounded, Damian’s phone in his hand. “See it’s gross,” He showed the phone to Chloé, the screen displaying two very pale teenagers with platinum blonde hair. The girl was in a very skimpy white bikini her long hair straightened and reaching her butt, black headband holding back her bangs and a pair of high end sunglasses covering her eyes. She was seated on the lap of another very pale teenager in a pair of black swim trunks. His almost white hair swept back, sunglasses covering his eyes as well. One of his hands was weaved around the girl’s waist, the other resting on her thigh.

“Okay ew.” Chloé mumbled as Colin shifted to show Adrien the picture.

“I mean,” The blonde scratched at his head. “Yeah, that doesn’t look great but it’s just one picture-”

“They are all over each other in pretty much every post.” Colin interjected. “It’s gross.”

“So stop looking at it.” Marinette stated matter-of-factly. “No one is making you insta stalk them.”

“We need to do research!” Damian growled. “I need to be ready to take them down at a moments notice.”

“Dames is just pissy because Demitri is taller than him.” Colin said with a roll of his eyes.

“He is a freakishly tall human being!”

Colin leaned over to Chloé. “He used to be like way short when he was little, even though he’s shot up like a weed he’s still got short man syndrome.” He whispered, the girl quickly covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.

“Speaking of insta stalking.” Chloé said through her breathy laugh. “Have we gotten any more updates on the drama back home?” She asked, question pointed towards Adrien. “Last I heard Lila was telling everyone she was Damian’s secret girlfriend?”

“Has she upgraded form unrequited love to secret girlfriend?” Marinette asked, eyebrow cocked as she leaned forward on her elbow.

“Something like that.” Adrien breathed tiredly. “According to Nino the girls have been asking none stop questions and the story just keep growing.”

“Growing how?” Colin asked, eyes narrowing.

“Well, for one she’s been referring to him exclusively as Dami-Bear.”

“Wow.” Damian stabbed at his salad again. “I hate that.” he shoved it into his mouth.

“And she also told a very long and dramatized story about the two of you in Grease last summer.” Adrien glanced to Colin and then Damian before his eyes landed on his tray of food. “Nino didn’t repeat verbatim, but it apparently wasn’t really family friendly.”

“Oh I’m gonna break her nose.” Chloé jumped when Colin’s fork snapped in half.

“Blood pressure darling.” Damian quipped, receiving only the dirtiest of looks from his boyfriend.

“It could be worse.” Jon held up his hand, like he was trying to calm Colin from across the table. “She could be posting this stuff online or something, at least it’s contained to their class, right?”

“I don't know.” Marinette hummed. “She’s got a lot of followers in school, not just our class.” She looked down at her food, brows knitted together. “Dames, you have international coverage, right?”

“That might just be the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

The bluenette rolled her eyes. “Can I texted some friends from your phone?” She asked dryly. Damian only shrugged, gesturing across the table to Colin who still had the smartphone. The boy was quick to pass it over.

UNKNOWN: You arent gonna believe this

New Contact: ???

New Contact: who?

UNKNOWN: Its Marinette.

UNKNOWN: dont freak out

UNKNOWN: but Im textng from Damian Wayne’s Phone

Marinette held out the phone, leaning close to Damian and smiled wide. The boy looked up at his phone, camera app open and focusing on him and his cousin. His face remained expressionless but he held up a simple peace sign as she snapped the photo. Marinette then quickly sent it off to the number she was texting.

UNKNOWN: proof

New Contact: GIRL?!?!?!

New Contact: WTF!?!!?

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1) (part 2) (part 2.5) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) - Here (part 10)

Photoshoot Part 2! I don’t know why I thought I could fit this all into one part. Like seriously, what was I thinking? I also miss calculated how long these three sections would be, the next Incredibles Cameo will be in the next part for sure. Writing has been kind of hard this week but my mind has been racing with ideas. So buckle up y’all cause there are now some big plot twists that have wormed their way into my mind and have been embedded in this fic. I’ll be curious to see if anyone can see them coming ;) Thank you all so much for the comments! They always make me smile and get me motivated to write more! As always if you have any questions about the story or AU feel free to ask, I love getting them and will happily answer any question you got! And if you want to be tagged let me know!

Can y’all guess who Mari is texting?

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513 @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123 @wellcrud-blog-blog @silvergold-swirl @crazylittlemunchkin @an-ahez @queencommonsense @ladybug-182 @meganemily231 @driftingmoonlitpetals @kand-roo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @theatreandcomicfreak @paradoxal-occurance @miraculousl4dybug @thanks-captain-obvious @sassydepression @multishipper1needshalp @wegan97 @surprisebishhhhhhhhh @redscarlet95 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @synnesstra @fandomkitty8 @tired-yeetling @saluteswifties @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dast218 @naclychilli @royalchaoticfangirl @panda3506 @nataladriana9 @shreky-boi @my-name-is-michell @dawnwave16

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cherry-holland · 5 years

Text

Dame - h.o.

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Latina!reader

Summary: you get hired to help a certain British boy learn Spanish for an upcoming role... too bad y’all catch feelings 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warning: smuuut, some fluff!!

A/n: ayyye ya girl is back with another concept that, once again, @hazshauntedbelle has concocted and I just couldn’t pass up this opportunity to write it!!!

You were new to London, and man was London different than the Bronx. You didn’t hear Spanish being yelled at from the windows, or the consistent sound of sirens wailing right outside your apartment building. Yes, it was still a city, but it had nothing on New York. London was... a bit more peaceful if anything. And, honestly, you would take the peaceful over the constant noise that covered the Bronx at the moment.

You had moved because your superiors at the law firm you worked at in Manhattan were planting a new firm in the UK, and you, being the adventure lover you are, jumped at the chance. As much as you loved the Bronx and all that the city has to offer, you were craving a fresh start, something to shake things up in your life. You were never one to just sit still and stay in one place at a time, so the opportunity came at just the right time.

However, even when you got to London, you were still craving something new. You wanted to do something apart from the mundane work that a law firm brings... something different. So, you came up with the idea to teach Spanish for all who were willing to listen. Growing up in a big Puerto Rican household where Spanish was your first language, you had vast knowledge, and was itching to share it with these Brits.

At first, you had a few college students come for extra help, with some secondary school children mixed in. There were some adults that came later on in the mix, but you had primarily a lot of younger students. One in particular was catching on really well, and could even hold actual conversations with you. This did not go unnoticed by her mother, who approached you with an opportunity to teach one of her clients. She did briefly tell you she worked for a talent agency in the area, but didn’t speak much about her work (most likely for obvious reasons). So when she pitched you the idea, you were intrigued.

And thus started your teaching lessons with Harrison Osterfield. You had heard his name around town because of his up and coming status as a model and actor. You also did see him in Catch-22, but other than that he was just a normal guy just trying to get his Spanish correct.

But, to be honest, he wasn’t just a normal guy to you. You grew close with Harrison, even so far as accompanying him to a few parties with his best friends and poker nights at his apartment, even just having lazy Sundays where you two would be lounging around in sweats watching Golden Girls.

And you couldn’t help but feel things for him when he would keep you close by when you were out, or when he would always help you out when you played poker because you were shit at it, or when he would put his head in your lap during one of Rose’s St Olaf stories and pout his lips because you weren’t massaging his scalp. The closeness you felt with Harrison was making you catch feelings, but you were unsure of your boundaries with him, especially because you were getting paid to teach him your native language.

“Harrison, I am really gonna need you to focus or else I’m gonna leave,” you joked, smacking his arm lightly as you peered into your notes on the floor of his apartment.

“Oh, y/n/n, come on! We’ve been at it for hours, and I’m dying to watch Practical Magic again,” Harrison groaned playfully, his head burying into your shoulder.

“Haz, listen. If you wanna be that badass, bilingual spy, you’ve gotta learn a second language! Now come on, next line,” you turned to him with a serious face on, eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

Harrison paused for a second with an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at you, before continuing, “Okay. ‘¿Por qué haces difícil resis- resistire?’”

“You almost got it! It’s, ‘¿Por qué haces que sea difícil resistirte?’ So let’s try that again, Haz,” you encouraged, giggling at his mess-up.

“Alright. ‘¿Por qué haces que sea difícil resistirte?’” Harrison sighed, smiling when he got the words right.

“Okay, Haz, I see you, Mr. Bilingual,” you playfully teased, shoving his shoulder lightly.

A blush threatened to take over Harrison’s face as he continued again. “¿Ni siquiera te das cuenta de cuánto te quiero en este momento?”

“Wait, Haz, that’s not in the-“ you shuffled through your notes for him when he interrupted you.

“Y/n, no intentes esconderte de esto.”

“Harrison, ¿qué quieres decir?” You asked, and you swore you felt your heart race.

“No tienes idea de cuánto quiero besarte en este momento,” Harrison breathed, and you took note of how close he was to you.

“Haz-“

“Dame un beso,” he whispered, looking deep into your eyes as he leaned in, and his lips ghosted yours. “Please tell me you want this.”

You felt your knees buckle at the feeling of his lips just barely touching yours, the tingly sensation reaching from your heart to your core. You close the gap as your lips pressed into his soft ones, your hand snaking it’s way to his neck, then to his soft sandy blonde curls. You felt that tingly sensation grow deeper and deeper as you sucked on Harrison’s bottom lip, a soft moan escaping his mouth at the feeling of his lip in between your teeth.

After a bit of time wrestling tongues, you two broke apart, panting from the loss of breath. Your eyes traveled all over Harrison’s face, and honestly, you could have came on site. His hair was now disheveled thanks to your hands being tangled in his hair. His lips were swollen and a rosy pink, and his ocean eyes were a shade darker than normal. He had a pretty intense flush on his cheeks as he stared at you with eyes that screamed an emotion you couldn’t identify until this very moment - love.

“Kiss me again,” Harrison spoke quietly, now-darkened blues zeroing in on your lips.

“No, no hasta que me vuelvas a preguntar en Español,” you tutted, you biting your lip and moving closer.

“Dame un beso, Amor,” Harrison spoke up a bit louder this time as he found himself grabbing your waist and pulling you closely and tightly, your legs resting on either side of him.

You smiled as you closed the gap, this time the kiss was heated, sensual... passionate. His hands creeping up your t-shirt. Your hands tugging at those curls of his. His hands removing your shirt. Your hands yanking his off of his body.

“God, tu eres perfección,” Harrison spoke softly, admiring the black lace bra that held your breasts in place, practically undressing you with his eyes.

“Me? Says you, Osterfield,” you blushed, you giving your own mental undressing as your eyes trail down to his muscular chest and his chiseled abs.

Harrison’s face flushed as he leaned in to kiss you, all teeth and tongue. Clothes becoming scattered everywhere. Soft moans filling the air as hands start to touch parts of each other you had never would’ve touched before. A sensation so strong, you and Harrison both felt it heightening your senses.

“Haz, please,” you whined as you felt his hand travel lower to your core, slender fingers ghosting your clit.

“Please what, angel?” Harrison hummed as his index finger slid up and down your folds, your wetness sliding along with it.

“Please get inside me, holy shit,” you moaned at the contact.

“Alright, love,” Harrison smirks as he guided his length into your core, causing a loud moan to escape your lips at the feeling of his dick inside you.

He paused before looking down at you with expectant eyes, waiting for a signal for him to continue. You nodded with a soft smile as he started thrusting, moans spilling out of his and your mouths.

“Oh, god Haz, you feel so damn good in me,” you pant out, staring deep into his eyes.

“Fuck y/n, don’t do that shit to me. You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” Harrison moaned loudly, his thrusts picking up speed.

“Then go ahead. Cum for me, papi,” you purred.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt his dick twitch, his cum spilling inside of you. You couldn’t help but watch him come undone above you. His eyes squeezed shut. His plump lips parted as moans and pants, as well as a string of curse words, flow out of it, cheeks now a dark rosy color. The sight of his release quickly got you to yours, your own orgasm overtaking your body, causing you to see stars.

“Holy shit,” you muttered shakily as you were coming down from your high.

“Are you alright, love?” Harrison asked, a wave of concern washing over his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be okay,” you sigh, “it’s just... I haven’t been fucked like that in a very long time...”

“Oh really now?” Harrison questioned, a smirk slowly growing on his face as he tucked a stray hair of yours away from your face.

“Yeah...” you trailed off, heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Well, princess, there’s plenty of more where that came from,” Harrison spoke as he leaned down to your bare neck, his lips starting to leave little spots of purple with his kisses.

“You know, as much as I’m loving this right now, this isn’t what you’re paying me for, Haz,” you sighed at the feeling of his lips sucking on precious skin.

Harrison’s lips stopped their attacks across your neck as he looked up at you, eyes shining with lust and adoration. “Well, guess my lesson’s over now.”

“Yeah, and a new one’s about to begin.”

Tagging some mutuals bc I love y’all (feel free to ignore if ya don’t wanna read it!) @beautifullydisconnected @osterfield-holland-andcompany @farfromhaz @angelhaz11

#harrison osterfield x latina!reader #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield x latina reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield #my writing #my sweet prince

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erintoknow · 4 years

Text

so unfamiliar now

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Unless you want Ortega hounding you to the end of your days, you’re going to have to put on a show and convince her she doesn’t need to keep worrying about you. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. She’s fine. Wait – [Horseshoe Crab]

It’s my birthday today so have a second update this week!!!!!

[Read on AO3]

If you’re going to get Ortega to lay off of you, you need to start thinking about your appearance again. Dressing in hoodies to look inconspicuous doesn’t do you any good if it actually ends up drawing more attention to yourself. So… What do you dress like?

Once upon a time Ariadne fancied anything and everything from skirts and the femmest outfits she could get her hands on all the way to shrugging on a leather jacket and gloves as part of her roller derby get-up. What could possibly be a logical progression from that?

Don’t want to look too affluent. A waste of resources. But you don’t want to look destitute either. So… Clean, some color. Mostly greens, some purples and black for variety. Cloth and cotton, things you can layer. Mix in some new items with thrift store purchases to fill out the rest.

One day at the mall, you stumble across a cute pair of shoes with a 1” heel and add them to the pile. The old Ariadne would never have worn something like that, but fuck her. She’s dead.

Should you start doing make-up again? Stare yourself down in the mirror in the morning and make a face. Bad enough you have to see that wretched thing as much as you do already. The concealer work is enough. Leave the eyeshadow and lipstick in the past. Anyone misgenders you, you can just beat the shit out of them. It’s 2020 now, you’re totally allowed to do that, super villain or no.

God. Do you look human yet? You don’t feel it. What is Ariadne like? How do you play this? Do you play up the stutter or tamp it down? Does she find it cu– Fuck. Fucking hell. No. No you are not thinking about that. Jesus fucking christ.

You pull fabric around your shoulders, frowning in disapproval at the mirror. Once upon a time, Ortega’s mother gave you a serape like this for Christmas. That one was a rainbow of color. This shawl is a duller green, with a white geometric pattern along the edges. Still, it’s long enough, draping down to your waist. You could hide your arms completely underneath, maybe a few other things if there was a call for it. Kind of like the cape for your villain suit.

So is this you, now? Or at least, if not you; is it Ariadne? You’re allowed to change, right? Will she even buy it? You’re not sure that you do.

When you get the phone call from Ortega one evening you go along and let her make plans. You’ve got time to kill before your next big operation anyway. And you can field test your new wardrobe.

–––

“Ariadne! Hola!” Ortega raises her arm, a bright smile on her face. Looks like the last of the stitches are gone. Thank god. She’s got jeans on, another flannel shirt. No jacket today? If it wasn’t for the gave-away glint of metal embedded in her arms and hands she’d look like a textbook middle-age butch lesbian.

Did she always dress like that? Is it because she’s seeing Jane now? Swear she flirted a little more femme when she was with men. Not that you were paying attention at the time. Of course not.

Shut up.

You raise your hand back, “Hola yourself. Y–you look happy today.”

“I like the new look.”

You blink, glance down at yourself. Doubt creeping back into your head. “Uh. Well. It’s uh, it’s just stuff I had… laying around… you know.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” She doesn’t believe you at all, damn her.

“D–don’t think it’s for your benefit!” You hiss back, you reach up and grab the edges of your shawl, pulling the green fabric closed over your body. “B–because it’s not!”

Her smile broadens. “I didn’t say anything, Ariadne.”

“F–fuck you.”

“I like the shawl, it’s cute.”

Oh god. You can’t look at her. Face warm. Ortega has a girlfriend, what the hell is she doing? “G–good for you. You um, you want to – to get on with w–whatever the fuck we’re doing today?”

“Alright, alright.” She laughs, turning and beckoning you to follow. “We’re already here actually.” Ortega gets about halfway to the front doors before she realizes (acknowledges?) that you aren’t following her. She turns her head, flaps her arms in a ‘what?’ gesture.

Pulling your shawl tight around you, there’s newfound gratitude for how your sunglasses help to mask your eyes.

You stare up at the front facade of the Los Diablos Children’s Hospital, white tiling and red brickwork and dozens of little panes of glass like too many eyes. “Ortega…” you try to keep the panic out of your voice. “I thought you said we were doing something fun.”

She walks back to you, tight frown on her face. “We used to do this all the time, remember?”

You stare at her, “Do what?”

“Visits? Readings? You know?”

Bite your lip, is that true? Ortega seems so sure of it, but… Thinking back to hospitals all your memory coughs up is a very different kind of picture. One that makes your stomach roil and your head dizzy. True or not there’s still one problem: “Ortega… I’m trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Ortega sighs and pats you on the shoulder. “Look, there’s no PR crew, no cameras, I haven’t even told Chen. The only person who knows we’re coming is the lady in charge of managing volunteers, Sue, and as far she knows you’re just a friend I’m dragging along.” She steps beside you, hooking her arm in yours. “So, you’ve got nothing to worry about, okay?”

You tense up as Ortega half-walks, half-drags you to the doors. “If – if, um – ninjas descend from the ceiling and kidnap me, I want you to know…”

“Yeah?”

“I f–f–fucking hate you.”

Ortega laughs, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bright lights and white walls, men and women in scrubs, medical masks. You keep your shades on, damn politeness. Mercifully, hardly anyone spares you a thought, eyes sliding off. Fewer people than you'd believe recognize Ortega out of her Ranger’s outfit. At the same time, you do get the sense she’s a known quantity here, this isn’t her first rodeo. You’ll just have to trust her; there’s an uncomfortable thought.

You wish you had the Rat-King handy, you can wrap a song tight around your head but you could stand to have a little help filtering out the background noise. Maybe it’s your own baggage, but the chatter of hospital thoughts always has this tension to it – forced cheeriness.

Hang back and let Ortega talk to the front desk, a few minutes of waiting and the woman, she mentioned, Sue? –Susan?– comes out frowning behind the too-thick fireproof doors. Straight brown hair, dressed in white, stud earrings.

It makes an interesting contrast between her and Ortega. Ortega’s sporting her Ranger-branded sports jacket today. Ranger-blue indigo shirt underneath. Her bronzed skin a touch darker in shade than her conversation partner. It’s a good look for her – the outfit that is.

You guess.

Not that you’re an expert on Ortega’s style choices or anything.

What do you care what she looks like?

You don’t.

Shut up.

Sue and Ortega make small talk, and Ortega keeps glancing your way. Expecting you to join in? You’d rather hang back. Not talking to any doctors today, thanks.

You worry the sleeves of your shirt, pulled down to the wrists. Rub the fabric between your fingers, trace patterns over your thigh, anything to do that isn’t further chewing up the inside of your cheek.

It’s been weeks now and neither one of you have discussed the kiss in the Hospital. Maybe Ortega doesn’t even remember. Some drug-fueled fever dream.

Or…

Or maybe she hated it? Is politely letting you pretend it never happened. She’s with Jane, you have to remember. Ortega is a lot of things, but she’s not a cheater.

And now Ortega’s beckoning you over. Welp.

Take a breath, in – hold – out. You’re not scared. What are you scared of? You are Ghost, the mysterious plight of Los Diablos. They ought to be scared of you. Ortega taps the side of her head. No shades? You make a face and she gives you a serious look. You huff and pull them off, fold up and tuck them in your purse. White walls. White lights. Can feel your heart jump. Fuck. Ortega smiles at you, you fake a smile back.

You’ve got this. Everything’s under control.

Here we go.

Sue hands the two of you off to a nurse who in turn acts as your guide. You trail behind, not paying much attention to his and Ortega’s conversation. What you bother to pick up confirms that Ortega’s made a habit of these low-key visits apparently, to different hospitals across the city. Ever since returning to the Rangers.

Did Ortega used to drag you along to official Ranger PR events? You can almost remember. The memory of remembering. Try to think too hard about hospitals though, and you get panicky. Short breath. Little dizzy. A hospital is the last place you want to pass out at, thanks but go fuck yourself.

–––

A pair of tiny arms clings to your leg and a jolt of panic shoots through you. “Uh… H–h–hello?”

A girl with cropped brown hair stares back up at you. “HI LADY! I like your hair!!”

You glance at Ortega, she’s got her back to you, teaching a boy how to do some fancy handshake. You catch the eye of the nurse, hanging back by the doorway. He gives a small smile. No help there. Look back down at the kid, “T–th–thanks? Um– Don’t you want to talk to Charge over there?”

She remains undeterred. “What’s your name?”

“Ari?” You glance towards Ortega again. Help. She remains utterly unaware of your plight.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

You choke. “W–w–what? I’m uh– I’m a girl.” Fuck. What did she pick up on? You usually pass just fine these days. Could just die right now, that would be great, thanks.

“Oh. Okay!” There is absolutely no hint of embarrassment in this girl’s mind. “Are you Ms. Charge’s girlfriend?”

You hunch down and very gently try to pry her arms off your leg. “What um, what gives you that idea?”

She tilts her head, staring you down with full intensity. “‘cause you keep looking at Ms. Charge AND everyone knows the hero’s girlfriend ALWAYS has red hair!!”

You smile to hide the panic. “W–what uh, what makes you say that?”

She gives you a doubtful look, can’t believe an adult doesn’t know this. “‘cause it’s in all the movies!! Duh!!”

“Ari!’ Oh thank god. You breathe a sigh of relief as Ortega walks over, the other kids curiously watching behind her. “Making friends?”

“Hi Ms. Charge!!” The little girl fixes her full attention to Ortega.

“Hello!” She smiles widely, “Introduce me to your friend, Ari?”

“Uh–”

“My name is Casey!” The little terror cuts in. “SHE never asked!” Casey huffs. “Your girlfriend is RUDE Ms. Charge.”

“Girlfriend?” Ortega raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head wildly, suddenly way too warm. “S–s–she came up with that one herself!”

An hour and a half later of helping Ortega handle the meet and greet and you’re free again.

You slip your shades back on as the two of you exit the hospital. Run a hand through your purse to find the chocolate bar, peel off the wrapper at one end with shaking hands. “That was… that was something.”

Ortega claps you on the back and you stumble forward a step. “See? I told you you’d be fine.”

“Y–yeah, well…” You frown, “If you d–don’t hear from me in a week, you only have yourself to blame.” You break off a piece of chocolate, “Want any?”

“I’m good.” Ortega smiles, you shrug and pop the candy into your mouth “So…” Her smile fades as she glances towards you, “what did you think?” The two of you leave the parking lot, walk the sidewalk, you follow her lead through the streets.

“What d–did I think?”

“Want to come with me the next time I go?”

You give her a wry smile, “Y–You’re not gonna just, uh, just spring it on me again?”

She smirks back at you, “Me? Spring something on you? Never.”

“F–f–fucking smug-ass liar.” You punch her in the shoulder, and Ortega overplays it, comically swinging to the side. “W–why do I keep letting you do this to me?” You keep asking yourself that, and the answer hasn’t gotten any less terrifying.

“Do you remember the last time we did one of those visits?” Ortega glances at you as the two of you hurry across the street.

“When was that?”

“It must have been… well, right before–” She grimaces.

“Oh.” You chew your cheek, trying to think back. Can feel your stomach lurch as the world tilts under you. You have to stop and steady yourself. Cover it up by shaking your head. “I… kind of do? I–I–I haven’t thought about this in years, sorry.” You furrow your eyebrows, “I…”

“You were–” Ortega stops herself, “Oh, sorry, go ahead.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, finish your thought, it’s fine.”

Damn.

“I… think this might be… um, the first positive experience I’ve had with a hospital in… in years.” You grimace, keenly aware of the line you’re skirting. “Between uh… you in the hospital and…”

“And…?” Ortega slows down to match your pace.

Shake your head, “No, it’s – it’s nothing. Sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” You try to smile even though it feels fake. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, well–” Ortega rubs the back of her neck, “I was just going to say; I had to step outside to handle a phone call. And–” She laughs, “You were on the verge of panicking, all ‘Charge! Don’t leave me alone with these kids!”

You come to a stop, and groan, run a hand over your face. “Oh my god.”

“You remember now.”

You bite your lip, nod your head. “Uh-huh.”

“How did you get into teaching them about taxonomy? You never told me.”

You can feel the heat on your face now. “Okay. Look. It–it–it made sense at the time okay!? I thought it’d be easiest to keep them from going crazy if I r–r–read them a story?”

“Okay?” Ortega stops walking, leans her shoulder against a boutique storefront’s window, watching you with a smile. You cross your arms under your shawl to try and keep your hands from shaking.

“Okay. So. I just – just grabbed the first children’s book I saw. It–It–it was this animal book? I think? But it was all cutesy and inaccurate.” You bite your lip. “And when I pointed out a mistake, they all laughed so… I just… kept… doing… that…?”

She laughs at you.

You cover your face in your hands, heat going straight to your ears. “D–don’t laugh!”

Ortega covers her mouth, “Okay, okay. Sorry, you’re just so–”

You drop your hands to your sides, “I’m just so what?” You narrow your eyes at her.

She doesn’t miss a beat. “We’ll have to get you a book to read, the next time we go.”

Oh god.

“You’re going to – to kill me Ortega…”

Her smile falters, “I hope not.”

The two of you walk the next block in silence. Is it as awkward for her as it is for you?

Finally Ortega stretches her arms over her head and says, “I don’t do these hospital visits often enough these days.”

Watch her face from the corner of your eye, trying to get a read on her. “How come?”

Ortega sags, shoulders slumped forward. “Too easy to get caught up in work. Especially lately.”

Ah.

You have to keep your face blank, don’t let your heart race. “S–still obsessed with trying to figure out Ghost?”

She gives you a grim smile. “You know it.”

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

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jng-animation · 3 years

Text

This post contains the research and extra content that goes alongside the production of my Film Language essay.

3.Film Language - 16/11/2020

My initial analysis of each scene from both films consisted of watching through them individually and bullet pointing each film language technique that appeared. Here is the rough list of all the points I had gathered:

Up= Ellie’s Death Scene

*An extremely common use of the colour yellow signifies the emotion of happiness between Carl and Ellie, a common theme in Disney’s movies. The lighting becomes a prominent shade of yellow giving an extremely intense yellow glow to most things in the scene. This yellow builds-up to a point where they are set on having children, to which the room they paint is completely yellow.

*Carl and Ellie both wear yellow on multiple occasions matching the glow and hue of the scenes.

*The opposite to this yellow theme is settings of grey, like the hospital, which mostly occurs when sadness is fed into the scene. Even the colour of Ellie and Carl, their clothes, their hair, etc are set to less saturated darker colours. As the build-up to the death scene comes the colour within the scenes become much less saturated, and these last through the duration of the film.

*On the reoccurring hill Carl and Ellie both visits, the last time they visit has the intense yellow glow to represent happiness, however this is diverted by Ellie’s difficulty to climb the hill, till she collapses.

In the hospital scene Ellie is lit with a cold hue, whereas Carl is lit with a warm tone.

After Ellie realised, she can’t have children, the next shot of the two characters is set between a wall, as the characters are losing each other over the difficulties of life...

The music for the build-up starts intensely upbeat and cheerful, full of different instruments. fitting the happiness between the two characters, however as troubles each pass the music fades slightly and slowly till it just becomes a sombre background noise. Picking back up and lowering a few times. This eventually becomes one piano playing away the sadness of the scene.

There are two differing and contrasting shots of the church where Carl and Ellie got married, and Ellie’s funeral... the funeral being lit and coloured much darker and with deep purples and pinks.

*Throughout the entire build up Carl’s character when looking towards Ellie is always looking up towards her, she always is above him for him to look up to her, however as age gets to the pair, Carl now looks down on Ellie as she looks up on him.

Inception = Mal Death Scene

*Yellow happy colours, rooms completely yellow, but the pair climb out to the dark cold outside

*The yellow of the walls in the initial room Cob walks into could be taken in as a lie in happiness.

*The colour yellow in films also exhibits some psychological states of mind, such as: Madness, sickness, insecurity, obsessive, idyllic and naivety. Mal possesses all these states of mind when believing that her only way back to the real reality is death, even when she is in fact in her real reality. (https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/how-to-use-color-in-film-50-examples-of-movie-color-palettes/)

*Angelic romantic room settings which when interpreted in terms of mise-en-scene can show the state of each characters state of mind: Cob’s room – broken, shattered, destroyed – much like his state of mind due to his wife wanting to commit suicide to escape a fake reality. Mal’s room – intact, calm, clean – much like expression of her state of mind as she calmly and contently tries to persuade her husband to commit with her.

*Cob’s room is trashed, a slight call forward to how his life is going to be broken by his wife, by her death, and her calling him out as the cause for her death.

*Mal’s room is perfect to represent that she will finally gain bliss from her restless mind, how she can’t cope with life being an illusion.

The camera is always close to Cob but always far away from Mal making her look small and out of touch with reality. This distancing from Cob shows she doesn’t want to believe him, and as Cob can’t get to her head Mal’s camera angle shows he is far away and out of touch with her.

The camera gets closer and closer to Mal with each shot that passes, to sway the viewers thoughts so they believe that they are coming to an agreement or a little bit closer to reaching Mal.

The camera is held by hand shaking constantly throughout this scene to give an “in-the-moment” feeling, or even a recall of memories, a recollection. This opposed to the rest of the film which has steady smooth cameras. Maybe to represent the panic in cobs head

A lot of high angle shots, that switch to eye-line angled shots.

In my essay I talk about the points revolving around the colour language, specifically yellow; the mise-en-scene and state of mind with inception; and the semiotic sign of car looking up to Ellie throughout the Up scene. (all these points I have marked with a “*”) So within this post I shall give some more background and research into the other points which I haven’t been able to condense within the word count of my Film Language essay.

“In the hospital scene Ellie is lit with a cold hue, whereas Carl is lit with a warm tone.”

This point was going to be added to my talk into colour language, along with the points made into yellow and its transitional property throughout the film.

Within the shot of Ellie laid in a hospital bed, immediately after her collapsing on the hill, the bright yellows and warm oranges settle into a cold deepened grey-blue and a contrasting red light shining in from the window. Once Carl enters the room her stops in place of the red light, making him illuminated red, and Ellie illuminated blue. These two opposite and contrasting colours can say a lot about the events foreshadowing and even their characters within this scene. The filmmakers may have wanted to convey a subtle way of the separation of the two characters, and how this is where their journey together ends, as this is the last shot, we see our two characters together. Or they might have wanted to convey the exact opposite, on how Ellie and Carl were always the ones for each other, as you can’t have one without the other, cold without hot. Or even this could be the way to represent the life within each of our characters, and how Ellie’s light is finally dying out, but Carl must watch as his light still has long left to burn.

There are many ways to interpret the message or sign behind this lighting and use of colour, that it is almost just individual and respective to each viewer on how they treat this use of film language.

“After Ellie realised, she can’t have children, the next shot of the two characters is set between a wall, as the characters are losing each other over the difficulties of life...”

I really wanted to express this point in my essay as I found it to be interesting and subtle to the eye, as it took me a few re-watches of this scene to truly notice.

After the scene where Ellie is explained to not be able to have the children the couple so desired, the first shots of the couple is two point-of-view shots. These shots show that both characters are separated from one another by the wall of their house, Ellie in the garden facing out into the void, as Carl look on at her from the inside of the window in upset. This use of composition or mise-en-scene can be interpreted to be a loss in connection of the pair and how they deal with the troubling times of their relationship. Or even a foreshadowing of the future events of each of the characters. As a side note this point links into my point of “Carl always looking up to Ellie”, as this is one of the times Carl must look down to Ellie as she must now look up to him. This can be interpreted as a way of showing mutual dependency and care for one another, Carl has always been the one to fall in love with Ellie from the start, however we’ve seen limited supply of Ellie’s dependency on Carl as she is extremely independent and confident in her actions.

“The music for the build-up starts intensely upbeat and cheerful, full of different instruments. fitting the happiness between the two characters, however as troubles each pass the music fades slightly and slowly till it just becomes a sombre background noise. Picking back up and lowering a few times. This eventually becomes one piano playing away the sadness of the scene.”

As a point in difference compare to Inception, Up contains a coherent soundtrack to this build-up scene, whereas Inception contains no music to its scene.

As explained in the point, the music seems to mimic that of the narrative, coherently changing with each step – as the story gets sadder, the music fades or loses an instrument, as the story gets happier, it gains an instrument and gets more lively. This subtle but very much subconsciously noticeable change in music allows for an overall emphasis on each of the film language techniques used at each of the varying points across this montage build-up.

“There are two differing and contrasting shots of the church where Carl and Ellie got married, and Ellie’s funeral... the funeral being lit and coloured much darker and with deep purples and pinks.”

This point also links in within the rest of the colour language and also ties in some lighting techniques as well.

The church can be determined as the same church for both the Wedding between Ellie and Carl, and the funeral place for Ellie as the glass window in the centre of the arch at the back is the same. However, as mentioned above, the lighting and colour is what largely differs between these two shots. In the wedding shot, the lighting is much like the rest of the montage and follows the same golden yellow hue, the same can be seen with the candles. However, there are slight faded rays of pink, which much the same as the pink flowers and pink carpet can represent romance and innocence. This compared with the funeral shot shows a drastic change in lighting and colour. The lighting is slight a slight pink, but also with more hints of purple, the same can be said about the flowers, both pink and purple. Purple can represent illusion, which might comment on Carl’s state of mind, as for the rest of the movie he still talks to Ellie as if she is still alive, both an illusion in itself as well as an illusion in the denial that she has passed on. (There is also bundles of multicoloured balloons which can be representative of a foreshadowing to Carl’s house and the balloons used to get to Paradise Falls.)

https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/how-to-use-color-in-film-50-examples-of-movie-color-palettes/

Inception

“The camera is always close to Cob but always far away from Mal making her look small and out of touch with reality. This distancing from Cob shows she doesn’t want to believe him, and as Cob can’t get to her head Mal’s camera angle shows he is far away and out of touch with her.”

The distance between Cob and Mal and the camera itself can be interpreted to be a suggestion of their current relationship and thoughts about one another’s thinking and opinions. Mal doesn’t believe Cob in his idea that this reality is the true reality, which is shown as her distancing from the opinions of Cob. The same can be said about Cob not being able to get close enough to save Mal, as he doesn’t believe the reality is a dream but in fact knows it is real.

“The camera gets closer and closer to Mal with each shot that passes, to sway the viewers thoughts so they believe that they are coming to an agreement or a little bit closer to reaching Mal.”

The filmmakers use this method of moving the camera closer to Mal to create a feeling of a metaphorical settling/disarming of the situation, getting a little closer to save her each time. Or this can be interpreted exactly the opposite way by looking at the idea that the camera gets closer and closer to her thoughts as she goes deeper and deeper into her own rabbit hole of delusion.

“The camera is held by hand shaking constantly throughout this scene to give an “in-the-moment” feeling, or even a recollection of memories. This opposed to the rest of the film which has steady handled cameras - maybe to represent the panic in Cob’s head.”

The camera in this scene had switched from that of a still and smooth moving camera, to a handheld camera. The shakiness of the camera fills the atmosphere with uncertainty and unknowing-ness, which is exactly the state of mind Cob takes on as soon as he walks through the doors of the hotel suite to find it destroyed. The same could also be interpreted on Mal’s madness which can be intensified by this shaking.

“In contrast to the smooth moving-camera shots […], the inherent shakiness of the handheld camera can be exploited when a loss of control, whether in the situation or in the character’s state of mind, is something the filmmaker wants to convey to the viewer.” (Barsam, 2009)

“A lot of high angle shots, that switch to eye-line angled shots.”

High camera angle shots can be looked at in a way to indicate a sense of being in the head of the subject the camera is focusing on. This can be used to express to the viewer the exact though process of the character in focus, or dependent on the closeness of the subject to show a level of madness. However, these camera angle start going back to more eye level, which represents a more conversational and grounded setting or atmosphere. The filmmakers might have wanted to use this to accentuate the panic going through Cob’s mind as he realises as soon as he sees Mal on the window ledge.

References + Links:

https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/how-to-use-color-in-film-50-examples-of-movie-color-palettes/

https://www.stclair-film.com/uploads/4/9/3/7/49376005/gfx-looking-at-movies-3rd-edition.pdf

#Film Langauage #animation #BA2a

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