#Dusk Lounge AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nevadancitizen · 1 month

Text

-> FASCINATION WITH THE ORDINARY

synopsis: your world is vastly different from the nevada native to madness combat. after the main three + 2bdamned get transported to your world, they each find things that fascinate them.

word count: 2.5k

characters: hank, deimos, sanford, 2bdamned, player! reader

trigger warnings: ehh slight yandere/obsession but could also be read as super heavy pining if you're not into that lol

notes: madness combat fandom arise. madness combat fandom come back to me (also set in @/saltymongoose 's self-aware au)

For the sake of consistency, let’s imagine that the Player lives in a big, lonely, woodsy and plain-sy plot of land. There’s little to no outside human interaction, and lots of animals wandering through the area with a river running through it. For the wildlife, I’m basing it on the American South because I’ve lived here my entire life and know how they act.

SUNSETS & SUNRISES

2BDamned would be the most entranced, since he has the most memories from before the fall and before Hank killed the sun. He’s an early riser by nature (since his body has conditioned him so he’s mostly overworked and under-rested, as unhealthy as it is), so he leans more towards the beauty of a sunrise, towards the light that starts to paint the dark sky with hazy orange shades and rosy hues. He likes breathing in the crisp air and the way it almost sends a shock through his lungs.

But the sun stirs a lingering feeling of nostalgia, though, for the way things were before everything fell to madness. Doc tries his best not to let the thoughts get the better of him as you slip through the front door and out onto the front porch, carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

God, he could imagine staying like this forever: just you, him, a beautiful sunrise, and coffee. Surely the way you pay attention to him, the way you get up extra early to watch the sunrise, the way you doctor his coffee just right – they’re all examples of how you care for him, just as he cares for you. But for now, he’ll just bide his time, blowing the steam off the surface of his coffee and purring, soft and raspy, both at the taste and because of your company.

But that doesn’t stop the others from appreciating the astounding view at dusk, because Sanford and Deimos are more partial to sunsets after long days. They like lounging in the adirondack chairs set up around the fire pit, cracking open a few beers, and simply relaxing with you. (Don’t worry, Sanford will gather firewood and Deimos will set it alight if it’s a little too cold for your taste.)

They’re fresher clones, so they don’t remember the sun well, if at all. They both always go quiet when the sun starts to dip below the horizon. Sanford props his tea sunglasses on top of his head and Deimos sets his cigarette in the ashtray as they both stare at the way the light turns the clouds purple and paints the sky with pink streaks. It stirs something sad in your heart – both of these men are pushing and just over the cusp of thirty, yet they don’t know the simple sweetness of a sunset.

But as soon as night overtakes the sky, they both turn their attention back to you. Deimos makes some suave comment about your beauty being nothing in the face of a sunset in that rumbling, smooth voice of his, and Sanford gives him a pointed glare. Sanford points out that your beauty and the beauty of nature are two whole different things, but keeps showering you with not-so-inadvertent compliments, leaving you flustered and blushing from both grunt’s words.

Hank is somewhat of an anomaly with this one. All of the grunt’s biological clocks are absolutely porked from their time without a sun, but Hank’s affected the worst by far. (That, and he doesn’t really care for the sun. He literally slaughtered it.) Therefore, he’s more privy to waking up in the middle of the night and dragging you onto the roof to look at the stars.

He likes laying on his back with you on his chest, pointing out the brightest stars and asking you questions about them. (He doesn’t really care, he just likes hearing your voice.) He loves your vivid descriptions of the constellations and how you describe them in intricate ways. To Hank, they’re just sparkly, unreachable dots in the sky, but it seems like, to you, they’re beautiful: like millions of silver nails driven into a dome of dark blue velvet.

He savors the moments like these the most, when you’re alone with him. There’s no sound except for the crickets and dog-day cicadas and spring peepers and your voice and Hank’s sputtering purring. Honestly, it’s as it should be – without those other pesky dipshits ruining your time together. (Well, he can tolerate Doc, but that annoying extraction team could go fuck themselves for all he cared.)

ENTERTAINMENT

Sanford hates being lazy. He hates feeling like he’s not doing anything useful, even if he’s being useful by resting. The only real way to make him sit down and stop moving is by trapping him on the couch, laying your head in his lap, and turning on the TV. (Even if, for the first thirty minutes, he’s too focused on you and your body heat and how fast his heart is beating to even consider looking at the TV.)

But the thing he loves watching the most isn’t any sort of movie with amazing cinematography or show with riveting writing – it’s infomercials. Specifically, infomercials from the 90’s to the late 2000’s. He likes seeing what things could’ve been like if there was no madness in Nevada, because things are oddly peaceful (at least, to him) in your world. Billy Mays and Cathy Mitchell make him wonder about domestic life with you (even if the Jupiter Jack and the Xpress Redi-Set-Go are completely obsolete by now), and how these little gadgets would make your life together supposedly go smoother.

He likes combing his claws carefully through your hair as you both watch these people play up how useful these obviously useless inventions are. He tries to avert his eyes and act interested in the TV as you look up at him and point out how the Red Devil Grill was recalled because it got so hot it collapsed and caused fires, but can’t. He just can’t keep his eyes off you when you look up at him so sweetly, and can you blame him? You just make his face so warm and his heart beat so fucking fast…

Deimos has always had a fascination with electronics, but it’s mostly been from a tactical and weaponized standpoint. But he’s discovered (well, really, you introduced him to) video games. He absolutely loves curling up into your side, purring and providing commentary as he watches you play. (Because, despite his trying, he hasn’t really gotten a hang of the controls yet.)

He loves more story-fueled games with characters he can really get attached to. He likes investing himself in things and people that don’t actually affect him, because seeing your favorite character go through dire straits or even die hurts for a little while, but it’s nothing compared to seeing someone get eviscerated right in front of you. And, yeah, he totally cried when Arthur Morgan died (and totally played it up so that you’d comfort him).

He also likes draping himself over you in the middle of a boss fight, wriggling and nuzzling into your cheek, causing you to giggle, lose focus, and, obviously, die. He strings together half-hearted apologies through his raspy purring, but he’s not really sorry. More deaths means more time spent with him, and internally, he’s completely and honestly unapologetic for his underhanded tactics.

Due to the nature of his administrative role, Doc spends a lot of time in front of screens. He likes to unplug and unwind by reading, no doubt with a straight-up hazardous amount of coffee by his side. He prefers reading with you with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, whether you’re also reading or working on something else. Though he’s inexperienced (and sometimes even shy) with these types of things, he’s more than happy to ease into affectionate touches and romance that kills his common sense with you.

His tastes are often cheap, but when he earns enough dough, he likes to splurge on second-hand college anatomy textbooks. No, he’s not planning on going to university, but he wants to know the inner workings of the human system (and, therefore, the inner workings of you). He also likes speculative biology and seeing what humans think about other intelligent species potentially being out there.

He would absolutely be elated (though he tries his best to hide it) if you took his interests seriously and discussed them with him. He tries to keep you in his makeshift office and away from the others so you can continue to spend this precious alone time with him, but that doesn’t stop the red-hot flare of jealousy as one of the others bursts in with a childish ask about something that should be obvious. (Of fucking course you wouldn’t want to go for a walk, Deimos, have you seen the weather out? Leave you and him alone!)

Obviously Hank would love gorefest and splatter film movies because of his all-encompassing and absolute love for carnage, and he’d love them even more if you got scared and hid yourself in his shoulder or chest. It’s clear that he’s your strongest and most capable vessel, so he clearly agrees with your choice to choose him as your protector (even if that choice is based on an instinctive need to hide).

He also loves WWE and MMA fighting. When given the choice, he opts for MMA because it’s real and bloody and he prefers seeing people push themselves to their absolute limit rather than some predetermined fight that serves a higher storyline. (But, then again, he really likes the clip of Undertaker breaking into Paul Bearer’s house during an interview and throwing a cabinet at him because, what the fuck? He’s never thought of that before! Using things from the environment when out of weapons instead of his fists could be an improvement. Maybe he can learn a thing or two from these fake fighters…)

And, yes, if you give him access to Twitter he will turn your entire timeline into those backyard fight videos and dashcam car crashes. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens.

ANIMALS

Being a natural night owl, Deimos loves keeping a lookout for what critters come out at night. When he’s on the front porch with you, smoking a cigarette and waving away mosquitoes, he makes sure to keep an eye out for weird and unusual wildlife. (While pressed against your side and purring loudly, no doubt.)

He likes watching the whip-poor-wills swoop down and catch the moths that swarm around the overhead porch lights. Yes, he will try to catch one, but backs off when you tell him to. Instead, he opts for digging in the dirt to find beetles and grubs to toss up in the air for the small birds to catch. He will kinda feel bad if the beetles hit the ground but will continue to throw them to the birds when you tell him insects are basically immune to fall damage, so… no harm, no foul.

He’s also absolutely enamored by raccoons. He likes throwing food to them from the safety of the porch and watching them eat with their little grabby hands. He’s very reckless so, despite your warnings, he’ll try to squirrel one away inside the house. (He does this multiple times and, without fail, gets bitten each time. 2B has given him multiple rabies shots after shooing the raccoons out with a broom.)

Speaking of Doc, he enjoys going out in nature and finding decaying things just to see how many buzzards arrive. He excuses it with something about wanting to see if decomposition works the same across both your world and his, but he secretly finds some relation with the birds – something about being deliverers and arbiters and negators of death. (Though the last one really only applies to him.)

He also likes the rare sightings of wild horses. He’ll go out of his way to (carefully, shyly) rouse you from whatever you’re doing to go take a look at the majestic beasts, and he’ll be even more excited if there’s a foal wandering between the stocky legs of the adults.

He just barely brushes his fingers against yours as you both stand on the edge of the treeline and watch them graze. Seeing the foal break from the herd, kick out and tumble and fall over and immediately get back up sparks… something in his heart. A vision. Just you, just him, linked pinkies, and a future together, with this warm feeling in his chest.

Hank really likes the more dangerous creatures. He gets along well with cottonmouth and other venomous snakes (and “gets along well” really means that they’re mean as can be and strike as often as possible while he just holds them and smiles at you).

If you don’t keep a close enough eye on him, he’ll wander off and try to provoke larger animals, like bobcats. To him, they’re just tiny little pussycats, even if they pose a real threat and could kill him. Please don’t let him go too far, because if he comes across a bear, he will try to wrestle it, and Doc doesn’t like having to do emergency surgery on the island countertop in your kitchen.

On multiple occasions, he’s come back to the house after being missing for hours, reeking of skunk spray. He just purrs happily as you tell him to strip and hold still as you spray him down with the hose.

Sanford is way calmer with his interactions with wildlife. He likes sitting on the dock with you and watching the fish swim by (because he’s impressed both by the fish and by the river – he’s never seen water in such great quantity!) Set him up with a hook, lure, and line and he’ll be entertained for hours. Though he struggles a bit with making streamers and fishing knots due to his big hands and claws, he’s more than patient when you teach him (mostly because he gets to spend time with you).

When he’s fishing, he likes to look around and observe – mostly because fishing is a waiting game. His favorite visitors are herds of whitetail deer, especially when summer is in full swing and the fawns are ready to start exploring. They remind him of his family, mainly because of the way the does don’t really care which fawn is theirs, just that each is getting enough milk. You point at them and discuss them with him in small whispers because you don’t want to spook them.

Again, it reminds him of his want for a domestic life with you. Just basking in the mottled sun that seeps through the trees, dipping your bare feet in the cool river water as a catfish tugs on the line – it’s all he wants, really. Now if he could just get the rest of the grunts to leave you alone… excluding Deimos, of course.

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

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May I, please and thank you, ask ruby in autumn at dusk with Tech and Crosshair and a female jedi? (Maybe in the clone wars or an au where Cross came back in Kamino and we are blatanty ignoring end s2-s3)

Beloved

Summary: For all that your former Master used to claim that relationships were hard, you can’t help but think that it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Jedi F!Reader x TBB Tech

Word Count: 976

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Warnings: Order 66 happens at the very end, but reader survives

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I need you to understand I could have written 5k words of this. Involving smut and a proper plot. I barely, just barely, managed to keep this under my self imposed word limit. Anyway! I hope you like it!

Autumn on Kamino is just like every other season, wet. Although, you think it’s a little more wet than other seasons. Not that you mind, you get to hear the sound of the rain pounding against the window as the sun sets.

“I have to go back to Coruscant,” You announce into the quiet of the room that you share with Crosshair and Tech. Both men, absorbed in their own work, jolt up. Identical eyes snapping to your face.

“What?” Crosshair demands, his brow furrowing.

“Why do you need to return to Coruscant? You are the Jedi General of Clone Force 99. And we are not going to Coruscant.” Tech points out, his brow furrowed as well.

Crosshair, you know, is scowling because he doesn’t like it when you’re away from him. Tech, however, is puzzled because he can’t figure out why you would need to go to Coruscant when your Squad isn’t going to Coruscant.

They really are so cute.

You feel your heart swell with affection.

You sit up from where you’re lounging in the bed, stretching your arms over your head with a groan, “Well, you’re both aware that I’m a very young Jedi General, right?”

Crosshair’s gaze, which had fallen to your stomach when your tank top rose as you stretched, snaps back to your face, “You were Knighted.”

“I was! At 18, when the war began.” You smile at him knowingly, “And, because of said war, I never finished my education. Which, apparently, is a problem.” Tech releases a choking noise, and you turn your patient smile onto the other man.

“You never finished your education?!”

He would be offended by that, wouldn’t he?

“I finished the important ones. First aid, diplomacy, bladework, investigations. I just never finished my astronav class.” You shrug, “So, I have to go back to Coruscant and sit the exam for that.”

A squeak falls from your lips as Crosshair moves and coils himself around you, “Absolutely not.”

You giggle as his lips find your pulse point, and your giggle morphs into a startled gasp as he bites down and leaves a dark mark blooming on your skin. “That wasn’t me asking, Cross.”

Another squeak falls from your lips as Tech wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, and he presses a lazy, lingering kiss against your calf, “And what are we meant to do while you are gone?” He asks, his lips still pressed against your calf.

“I’m sure they’ll find something for you all to do-” A yelp falls from your lips this time as Crosshair’s lips move to your shoulder, and he bites down, “Are you trying to stake your claim, Cross?” You ask with an amused smile.

“Too many Regs on Coruscant.” He grumbles, “They might try something.”

You roll your eyes, “It’s not like I’m going clubbing, Cross. I’m going to the temple.” You shift and squirm slightly so you’re able to reach up and comb your fingers through his short hair, “Besides, it’s not like I’m pretty enough to snag anyone’s attention-”

Tech, who has shifted so that his lips are hovering just over your lower thigh, releases an explosive sigh and bites a mark into your thigh, “Ridiculous. You are ridiculous.”

“Rude.”

“How do you think you managed to catch us, kitten?” Crosshair points out as he shifts so he’s able to look in your eyes.

“Kinda just assumed that you both shared incredibly poor taste-” You squeak when both Tech and Crosshair bite down at the same time, leaving nearly identical marks on your skin.

“Try again.” Crosshair growls against your throat.

You pout at him, though even if he could see it, he’d ignore it, “Fine. Because, for some reason, you both love me.”

“Better.” Tech murmurs from somewhere around your thigh, and you shiver at the feel of his warm breath against your sensitive skin.

You swallow hard, and steel your will, “I still have to go to Coruscant.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Crosshair curses and drops his forehead to your chest, while Tech just releases a sigh and lays his cheek against your thigh.

“I am sorry.” You murmur, “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”

“When do you have to leave?” Tech asks.

“Day after tomorrow.” You reply, lifting your head to look at him.

“That’s plenty of time, I suppose.” Crosshair murmurs.

“For what?” You ask, dropping your head back to the pillow to stare at him, bewildered.

Crosshair just smirks at you and lazily drags the strap of your tank top down your shoulder, “Take a wild guess, kitten.”

And your face burns with slightly flustered embarrassment, pulling laughter from both men.

“Do not worry, cyare.” Tech murmurs as his fingers glide up your outer thighs to hook around the waist of your shorts, “We will take good care of you.” He adds as his gaze locks with yours.

And, in spite of your burning face, you smile, “I’m not worried. You always do.”

One week later, four days after you leave Kamino and a day before you land on Coruscant, your boys are ordered to help Jedi Master Depa Billaba and her Battalion with their mission on Kaller.

10 days after you left Kamino, the Batch arrives on Kaller to help Master Billaba.

10 days and 2 hours after you left Kamino, the 501 marches on the Jedi temple, while you’re in the middle of your AstroNav exam.

10 days and 5 hours after you left Kamino, you’ve taken shelter with Senator Riyo Chuchi, and you’re missing an arm and an eye.

But you’re alive, which is more than can be said for the majority of your brethren.

And all you can do is hope that Crosshair and Tech are okay, and hope that they wouldn’t turn on you if, and when, you see them again.

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb crosshair x reader x tbb tech #crosshair x reader x tech #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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madamvanrouge · 8 months

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Lilia Vanrouge X Reader

✿Briar's Secret [Part 8]✿

Note: THIS IS THE FINAL PART! Angst, fluff, love reunion stuff, cute kissing scene alert, cute banter scene alert, Meleanor's little sister!au, present twst era.

Mentions of my twst OC Midnight.

"You broke up with Riddle? Why?" Lilia questioned as [Y/N] sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. Lilia's heart clenched in both joy and sorrow.

"I have been having these strange dreams. I keep on meeting this person- He always pulls me towards the sunset sky and gazes at it with me till it becomes exactly midnight. And every time, the dream ends when it turns midnight. When he's about to tell me something. Its been happening for a month. And then Riddle got angry when I couldn't do some stuff for him because the dreams have been weirding and stressing me out, so we got into a pretty nasty argument where he broke up with me." [Y/N] sighed yet again, nuzzling Lilia's shoulder.

Lilia almost felt his heart do flips at the news. She was remembering. There was no mistake. A person leaving exactly at midnight. It had to be Midnight. It frustrated him to think she'd dreamed of Midnight instead of Lilia but it was a start. He should feel bad for Riddle, but he couldn't help the seams of happiness bursting in his essence.

"What does he look like?" Lilia asked patiently, though in truth, he was far from patient. He tapped the bench they were sitting on impatiently, hoping she wouldn't notice his quiet fidgeting.

"There's actually two people. They sound only slightly different and look a bit different. The one who appears at dusk has a soft voice and short hair. The one who appears at midnight at the end of the dream has long black hair. Thats all I remember." She pressed a hand to her forehead.

Ah. So thats how it was. Inside her, [Y/N] had always seen Lilia and Midnight as important people. She'd associated them as friends. Lilia wondered, would she hate him once she knew what he'd done to Midnight? Once she knew of how he never apologized to Midnight till after his death?

"I am sure its not much. But sometimes, dreams may bring about to your notice a gleam familiar as if you may have seen it once before. It is good to keep in mind that dreams sometimes encapsulate memories. Khehehe." Lilia chuckled. [Y/N] only snuggled into him further, seeking his comfort. Something he was more than happy to give.

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

It was after Malleus' overblot when [Y/N] tried to leave Twisted Wonderland that she finally remembered of her past self. Of Princess [Y/N] Draconia. She rushed as fast as her legs could carry her, to the giant double doors beyond which lay the lounge of Diasomnia dorm. Rushing in, she hurried up the flight of stairs, ignoring the students' stares as she knocked fervently on Lilia's door.

He opened the door, clearly stressed and dishevelled, his complexion pale as if he had not eaten for quite a while. His beautiful crimson eyes widened on seeing her, as he tilted his head questioningly. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him, her hand gently stroking his soft, smooth hair as she held him gently.

"I remember." were all the words needed to get Lilia's grip to tighten around her figure. [Y/N] felt her shoulder turn damp as her beloved fae General wept on her soundlessly, his shoulders trembling from having carried burdens heavier than he could handle for centuries, all alone.

"I'm home, Lilia." [Y/N] squeezed him. "My cute little flower." she used the silly nickname she'd come up with for him as a child, since his name referred to a flower.

"Welcome home, princess." Lilia wiped away his tears, getting down on one knee as he kissed the back of her soft, delicate hand. A faint blush covered the fae's cheeks as his lips touched her skin.

[Y/N] pulled him up forcefully, grabbing his chin as she did in the past, making him look her in the eye. "Oh look at you. So adorable when you're blushing."

"Khehe. Perhaps I could show you more." Lilia leant in to her lips. His gaze was fixated on her lips, on how they would taste. He wondered if a monster, a sinner like him even deserved this. But for now, he wished he could do as his heart wanted. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. He needed her.

"When did you learn to talk back?" [Y/N] chuckled as she caressed his cheek. "You were as meek as a village girl before. And had the temper to match your short height." She brought him in closer to her lips.

"Oh please." Lilia snickered, his warm breath fanning her lips. "Thankfully I have an advantage over you now."

"Hmm, jerk." she chuckled.

"I love you as well." Lilia grinned, his fang poking out.

"Oh, you cheeky little thing." [Y/N] grinned as her lips brushed his. "I love you."

"As do I, my dear princess." Lilia's lips met hers in a passionate kiss, his arms encircling her waist as he pulled her impossibly closer, loving her, loving her, and loving her as he'd always wanted to. He would protect her this time, with his life, he swore.

His treasure.

His perfect half.

His deepest, loveliest secret.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

[ＦＩＮ]

NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!

A.N.: Hope everyone enjoyed, hehe.

#malleus draconia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #diasomnia x reader #diasomnia

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softagenda · 11 months

Text

aperitif (ais)

ais x reader(f)

food au / short fic

series: birds of a feather ; aperitif

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview:

“He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”

His hand slid up your back and sunk into your hair. He crushed your mouth against his, more bite than kiss, his breath hot against your face. “Sometimes, sparrow,” he said softly, pressing the words into your lips, “I want that too.”

______________

A thin trail of cigarette smoke issued from the open maw of the Seaspring’s temple.

You felt the tension leave your shoulders, breathing in a lungful of briny air as you breached the steps and entered. This must be what it felt like, to tread on the tongue of a colossal whale: humid, salty air drifting around you, almost cloying to the skin; the arching red gates and rafters forming the palate, stalwart pillars covered in white talismans like teeth; a lake of blood pooling below like saliva.

As you surveyed the room, a form lounged between the pillars on the left, one long leg hanging over the pier, his boot stirring the water below. Your gazes met over the embering butt of a cigarette, his eyes glowing amidst the shadow and gloom of the temple.

You waited for a moment, gauging his mood, but, when the corner of his mouth slowly rose, you approached. The pier creaked underneath your boots, the talisman’s fluttering against the current of air.

“There you are.”

Ais took another long drag from his cigarette before a smirk curled his mouth. “Missed me?”

“Not you.” You instead knelt next to the Soulless lounging at his hip, three tails writhing with what you’d come to recognize as happiness. “Hey, good girl. I brought you a little something.”

Reaching into your bag, you tugged out a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. Once the massive hunk of meat and bone was revealed, Princess leapt to her feet and whined, prancing on the pier. You checked to make sure all the paper had come away clean before lifting it with both hands and offering it.

Vicious jaws bit with savage glee into the middle, sending rivulets of blood falling to the ancient wood below. She spun to the left and leaned into Ais, as if to show him the gift proudly, before he gently guided her back with a hand on her shoulder.

“Good for you, Princess,” he said with a smile, the hard lines around his eyes softening a bit. “Mind eating over there? You’re dripping.”

With a happy whine, she took her prize a few yards away and began tucking in with glee. You smiled but glanced away, ignoring the visceral wet sounds of hundreds of teeth gnashing into meat and scraping against bone.

“Where’s mine?”

You dropped down across from him, crossing your legs and propping your back against the pillar. “Jealous?” you asked, an echo of before that had his mouth curling again. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Doubt it.”

“Then,” you continued, “earn it.”

“Woof.”

Glowing red eyes watched you, their depths inscrutable, as he took another pull from the cigarette. The smoke curled from around his lips, slipping from the cracks in his teeth. The shadows under his eyes had darkened since you last saw him, the hollows in his cheeks deeper.

“You weren’t at the Wick the other day,” you said, careful to keep your voice level. “Skipping out on your tab?”

Smoke exuded from his nose as he sighed, head drifting back as his eyes closed. “Hm. Didn’t feel like company. Pissed I didn’t show?”

“No. Not like we’d agreed to meet,” you said easily. That was true - though over the past few months, it had become something of a regular thing: moseying into the Wick some time after dusk, having a drink with the other at the bar, sometimes lazing the night away in the booth in the corner, nursing pints and heckling Leander. “And now?” At his look, you added, “feel like company?”

“If I don’t?”

Witha short nod, you swept your bag over your shoulder and prepared to leave, when Ais’s eyes opened. “Stay.”

“Ass,” you murmured under your breath but slouched back to the ground.

In silence, you watched the water, the blood red surface still as stained glass. Ais resettled, his head back, eyes closed, his expression almost meditative except for the furrow on his brow. Once in a while the cigarette was lifted, his frowning mouth wrapping around the end, before another ghost exhumed from his lips.

You sat back, content to wait, thoughts drifting hazily as though you were spread out on a sunny hillside rather than the threshold of hell.

Ais could be mercurial at times - his moods swinging from playful smirks to grim contemplation, sharp with an icy rage or coddled by an almost drowsy boredom, with little warning. Some of that you knew was due to the Seaspring and the hivemind created amongst those who had drunk from the water, but it was difficult to tell how much.

Every now and then, Ais would disappear for a while, locked somewhere deep in this temple, and resurface after a time, his countenance steadier, more controlled. You couldn’t be sure - you had only known him for a few months, after all - but you wondered if that was his time to center himself amidst the hundreds of others swimming through the hivemind’s pool.

Hours could have passed before you felt his gaze on your face. The cigarette was barely a nub between his fingers. He dropped it into an iron tray by the tea kettle with a flick of his wrist and watched you for a long moment before he lifted his hand.

You lifted one brow in silent question, but Ais just curled his fingers, beckoning.

With narrowed eyes, you sighed before rising from your slouch and approaching him. Once in range, his hand whipped out and grabbed your arm, tugging you into his lap. Your knees hit the ground behind his hips, burning white hot for a moment before aching like a fresh bruise.

Muffling a curse into the front of his kimono, you sat back on his thighs, pushing against the hand that had settled on the small of your back. “Here I thought you wanted to earn that ‘good boy’ title,” you griped, shooting a glare at the mouth just inches away.

But Ais wasn’t teasing as you’d expected. His mouth, rather than twisting into a smirk, had stiffened, a muscle flexing on his tight jaw. Red eyes bore into you, the color of wine, not bright with humor but full of a deep, bottomless darkness that hooked into you with a strange mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Far from it,” he said, his voice low and empty. Before you could react, his hips turned, both legs hanging over the pier, as he slowly leaned forward.

Your arms, once draped loosely around his shoulders, now clenched around him as he held you over the Seaspring with an arm bracing your back. Your hands clutched fistfuls of the kimono, the fabric slippery between your sweaty fingers.

Ais continued to bend until your back was near parallel to the surface of the water. Out of growing panic, your legs had wrapped around him, thighs gripping as tightly as you could hold.

“Ais,” you started, but froze, the words caught in your throat.

His face turned toward you, burrowing deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sometimes, the thought of you drinking from the Seaspring grows inside me.” His nose trailed against your cheek as until his mouth hovered against yours. “I dream of it. Taking a drink myself. Letting the blood pool in my mouth. Then…” A brush of hot, wet tongue teased against your lips, trying to coax you into opening for him.

A shudder ran down your back. Heat pooled and thrummed between your thighs, even as your stomach twisted at the idea. You’re caught between fear and desire, struggling to keep pace with him.

“Or like this,” he continued, his body pressed tightly to your front as he lowered you ever closer to the water. You realize with a thread of panic that the ends of your hair were now dipping beneath the surface. “Trapping you in my arms, and just… sliding in.”

Something hard and unyielding pressed against your groin, rubbing against you.

You swallowed thickly, staring into his eyes. The simmering red had been completely subsumed within the black. An abyss peered back at you.

“He whispers it, in my head.” His arm loosened at your back, dropping you another inch closer to the water even as your legs and arms tightened desperately.

The words sent icy fear flooding through your veins. He whispers it, in my head. That could only mean one thing, one being. A name you had only heard once before.

Ocudeus.

“The thought of losing you, of someone taking you far from here,” Ais whispered, his voice rough. “He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”

For a long moment, you hung there over the still water, holding him as tight as you could. You felt cold, your body paralyzed with fear.

Beneath you came the sound of faint, thin pops of air. Bubbles. One, two, a cluster breaching the surface.

A scream was building in your throat. Instead of giving in to it, you stared into his eyes, searching. “You’d have to think of a new nickname for me,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Sparrows can’t swim.”

You licked your lips, your tongue just brushing against his, and - there. A flicker of that familiar red curling around his pupil. “‘Seagull’ doesn’t have - quite as nice a ring to it,” you gasped, heart pounding in your chest.

The bubbles were emerging more frequently at your back, the water gurgling, near boiling.

A thin whine from nearby cut through the air.

Just as it seemed the Seaspring might reach up and wash you beneath its undertow, you’re jerked upward. As easily as he might a bag of flour, Ais rolled you both back onto the pier. Stars burst behind your eyes as your head knocked on the pier, your hair snagging on splinters and nail heads.

Blinking through the pain, you forced your eyes open.

Ais was braced over you, his hair drifting about his face, the white tips hovering along his jaw and his horns. He was stiff and pale, his jaw taut, his eyes clenched shut as he fought himself.

When you twitched, his whole body tightened around you. His hand beneath your head which had once softened the blow, now slid down and gripped your nape, holding you in place. The silver pendant that rested on his chest now nestled against your collar, a cool kiss of metal against your clammy skin.

Panting, shaken, you laid there without complaint as your body slowly calmed.

After a long moment, the tension seeped from him, a tidal wave easing back into the ocean. His eyes opened, and the familiar bright, brimming red finally set your heart at ease.

His lips parted but no words came forth. He seemed unsure what to say.

Gathering your courage, you sighed, “... good boy.”

Ais blinked.

Stared, inscrutable, for a tense pause before his head hung between his shoulders. His forehead dropped against your collar bone, his face practically nestled in your chest, and just like that your heart was thundering again, knocking insistently at your rib cage.

He tilted his face toward you, his cheek rubbing against your shirt like a cat. “Do I get my treat now?”

“Think you deserve it?” you shot back, still shaken, but fighting through it to smirk. “After that performance… maybe I should muzzle you.”

Ais hummed, his hands idly stroking up your waist. “Would find a way to bite you regardless.”

“How about you bite my buns instead, if you’re so desperate for a nibble?”

His brows rose, but Ais smirked, his hands drifting lower, headed for your ass. “Read my mind, sparrow.” He managed to grab two, squeezing handfuls while you were reaching above your head and digging through your bag.

Wiggling out from under him and sitting up, you pushed another parcel into his now empty hands, flushing hot beneath your clothes. “These buns, asshole.”

Bemused, Ais maneuvered himself back into his preferred seat, leaning against the pillar with one knee drawn up. He inspected the parcel before unwrapping the edges. Three golden balls of bread were crowded together, their skins glazed with butter and lightly roasted. Inside, he’d find braised meat and chopped root vegetables, all marinated in a spicy sweet sauce.

He looked up, that fanged smile spreading across his face. “Really did miss me, huh. Sap.”

Huffing, you avoided his gaze and stared out over the water, drawn inevitably to the place where the Seaspring had begun to boil. The surface was once again calm, the depths impossible to distinguish. A shiver slipped down your spine, the hair on the back rising.

“Here.”

A bun hovered in front of your mouth. You stared him down over the top.

“Sharing is caring. Can’t be known as that terrible of a host,” he said dryly, “Think of my reputation.”

“You just want your balls in my mouth,” you grumbled but bit into the bun to hide your smile as he grinned again.

“Been told the taste is to die for.”

“Who told you that, Vere? I guess he would know.”

“Ask him. Get a second opinion.”

“An expert opinion, I bet. I’ll do that.”

Debating the point amidst bites from the mean buns, you sank into the comfort of the familiar as that moment grew further and further away. Princess, evidently finished obliterating her cow shoulder, approached and curled up next to you for a post-dinner nap, her head resting on your thighs. She seemed a little unsettled but calmed after a couple scritches.

As you stroked her head and fed her the last of your bun, all beneath the soft, dark veil of Ais’s gaze, you resolved to tuck that memory to the side for now, to examine later.

The first true moment that the Seaspring’s maw attempted to swallow you whole.

__________________

a/n: thanks for reading!

#ais x reader #ais reader fic #ais touchstarved #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved reader fic #touchstarved

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ikamigami · 2 months

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Im bored

Can you give me dca fanfic recommendations?

I didn't read too many dca fanfics.. so it won't be much.. but here it is:

Ghost in the machine AU made by @/venomous-qwille

Love, Death and Rollerskates AU made by @/spadillelicious

Dusk Lounge AU made by @/kriimhild

You can find all of them on AO3.. I hope you'll like them..

😅👉👈

#fnaf dca #dca fandom #dca fanfic #i'm sorry if that's not much #mutuals asks #ask answered

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snekoftheages · 5 months

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Okay so like I love the pokemonxTWST au, but there is so much more potential for shenanigans. Pokemon ranger MC that is basically a cowboy not being phased about the magic lasers that almost ended them. Performer MC working in the Mostro lounge for some extra money (Azul is ecstatic at the foot traffic it brings in). Legends of Arceus MC that is so happy to have technolongy back and everyone else is super confused about why they're crying from happiness over internet shitposts

And for the love of god I need an MC with a bag that seems bottomless. What's in this backpack? 40 pokeballs 20 great balls, 3 dusk balls, 30 potions, 2 max revives, an entire ecosystem of berries, just straight up rocks, pokepuffs with no packaging, a couple bottles of milk-

#twst #twst x pokemon #pokemon oc

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an-au-blog · 7 months

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hello again! i have a handful of unclenapped au thoughts for you today!

who is the funniest local that could recognize u!buggy and why is it franky? no but really, my favorite rn is the old skypiean knight but i am eager to hear your thoughts

buggy crying in rayleigh’s arms and not knowing why!!!? TT~TT stooop, it’s too much, i can’t take it!!

now that i’ve heard it, i do prefer your take on buggy deciding post-marineford to lie through his teeth to shanks rather than risk an emperor’s ire. he doesn’t know him! this is a reasonable fear! of course lying to him risks compounding that ire, but buggy getting in over his head is just… how these things go for him. it’s fine! it’s totally fine!

until shanks calls his bluff. oof.

does shanks ever manage to convince buggy to be honest with him about what he remembers, do you think? or to stay on the red force with him, after they see luffy’s 3d2y message? and where do the impel down guys go, if buggy refuses to be their captain? do they pull a barto and go around calling themselves members of the strawhat fleet? galdino i assume goes back to working for crocodile?

xoxo, difan

I can tell you've thought about it lol, I'm happy!

Sorry I take so long to respond but I really wanted to have time to think about some of these.

Idk who the funniest one would be, but when you said Franky I think he'd be so thrilled that he can meet a former Roger crew member. Though (as I think I mentioned in another post) I don't think Buggy would like him very much. He wouldn't dislike him but you know... Franky is way too puppy coded and Buggy is a scared and aggressive stray cat. I can see Franky getting all excited like "Wow, no way! It's you!!!" and Buggy jumps up the nearest tree hissing like a cat.

Maybe it'll be funnier if he doesn't recognize Buggy at first though. He's just lounging on deck after they leave water 7 and Franky just jumps and narrows his eyes to Buggy. The clown is on his toes - this freak is staring at him so intensely that he's ready to jump in the water.

Though I understand if you don't agree with my take and I'd love to hear if you have a different vision! Because honestly I'm not 100% convinced with mine either lol

The skypia knight is honestly so cool and I loved him from the first time we saw him to the last, he is so dear to me! The most interesting and maybe unnoticed recognition, in my opinion would be the big snake thing that I forgot the name of. Imagine: it's attacking everyone but Buggy. No one knows or cares why and maybe Nami tries to use him as a shield but the snake just swoops Buggy to safety and continues.

I'm gonna be honest: out of pure selfishness and self-indulgence I'm saying "yes." Shanks absolutely would convince Buggy to stay with his crew for the 2 years after seeing the message.

I think that after Buggy accidentally snapped and let out all his thoughts and practically had a meltdown in front of him when he confessed that he doesn't remember. Maybe he had a little retreat back into his shell after he calmed down and realized he just exploded on one the emperor of the gawddamned sea, but Shanks started taming him like a scared wild animal. And essentially that's what he is, at that moment... Buggy eventually stops avoiding him and goes back to sleeping in the captain's cabin. At first I imagine that at first he felt safer with the impel down prisoners. As much as he doesn't trust them either, he at least knows he'll be strong enough to fight them enough to run away. If he stays with the emperor, he stands no chance.

It takes him a bit but they become friends again.

Buggy is used to observing people to weigh their intentions but the more he observes the more he realizes that Shanks is honest. He starts understanding what Luffy meant with all the stories about him. And in return Shanks lives talking about Luffy as well. And Buggy loves listening.

I've a feeling that they talk about Luffy until dusk one time. About what a good kid he is, what he did for Buggy and how Shanks sees the new generation of pirates in him. They talk about dreams, and fears and hopes despite the fears. And watch the stars and have a little moment.

And because I hate having good things, Shanks misreads the mood and kind of leans in for a kiss, Buggy leans away and for a second has a "wtf is going on? I don't want this! will he kill me if I don't want this?!" moment and kind of starts shaking. He thinks that that's what Shanks meant by the fact they used to be "friends" and this is what was expected of him. So he tries to lean in and kiss him but Shanks is the one to lean away this time. He realized he messed up and he keeps apologizing to Buggy and telling him he feels like an idiot for not reading the room. That he shouldn't force himself to do anything. And Buggy just starts crying and thanking him because he's the only person outside the strawhat crew who doesn't expect anything from him. Whether on purpose or not. (For example the prisoners expected him to be their leader, his captives expected information he didn't have...)

Shanks is very consented but doesn't want to push him and thinks he'll share when he's ready. And he does. He shares about his painful trauma and the full story of his memory loss and escape a few months later. Shanks had never been more angry, yet full of sorrow in his life.

The impel down prisoners want to follow Buggy but he refuses to lead them. So half of them go back to their homes, some to their families, some start families (like how in the episode there was one guy who said "i wanna go back to my wife and kids" when he got free and then heard that buggy was a roger crewmate and went "who needs a wife and kids when we have buggy!" or something and I thought that was kinda funny) but I like the idea that some of them, even though they were dismissed by Buggy and then again by Luffy after the reunion of the straw hats (yes they followed him), they still count themselves as part of their fleet.

As for Mr. 3, I don't think he would have much of a choice other than going back to Crocodile. I still think he'd made good friends with Buggy. Maybe he could even run away on the same ship he did, but he wouldn't want to be part of the straw hats.

#unclenapped au #shuggy #buggy au #answers #op

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baeg-yeou · 26 days

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AU, Moon meets a friendly consort relative at Opal Night

“I’m sorry. I’ll take you to the guest quarters immediately.”

As soon as Rise said that, a consort dropped from one of the archways. Before focusing on him, Moon noticed that fast expression of shock and uncertainty on Rise’s face. But she composed herself very quickly.

The consort took a couple of steps forward without changing into his groundling form as if he wanted the newcomers to have a good look at his winged form. The strange consort was taller than Moon, his chest and shoulders broader. He was built as if he spent most of his days flying and hunting, not lounging around a huge and luxurious colony. But the most shocking thing about him was scars. His chest, stomach and arms were covered in scars, almost silver against his black scales. It was unthinkable for a consort from the Reaches to have so many scars, but he wore them with confidence as if they were fine jewelry. Moon looked at his face and had to suppress a shudder - the consort was missing a left eye and there were scars on his face too, as if something tried to claw his eyes out, leaving long marks on his cheeks.

He was probably the most intimidating consort Moon had seen so far. Moon stole a quick look at the Tempest’s warriors. Even Beacon and Tempest herself could not hide their surprise. The male warriors looked frankly scared.

The consort shifted to a groundling form which turned out to be tall and muscular as well. The scars did not look as prominent on his light copper skin and an eye patch, decorated with tiny sapphires, covered his missing eye. His long black hair was braided in several braids with precious gemstones, but otherwise he wore surprisingly little amount of jewelry for a consort his age.

The consort looked directly at Moon and said, ignoring the others:

“I’m Dawn, of Alabaster and Midnight bloodline. My birthqueen was your mother's sister-queen. Would you like to go with me to our bloodline’s consort bowers?”

Moon saw Rise opening her mouth as if to protest, but then shutting it and pressing her lips tightly. He could swear she did not like this. Moon wasn’t an expert in the Raksuran etiquette, but was sure that this Dawn broke it, speaking to him before a queen greeted the guests.

But this did not stop him from nodding in agreement.

Without any other word Dawn shifted and flew to the central well. Moon swifted and followed him.

The other consort flew at leisurely pace, too slow for Moon’s liking and he started to feel irritated when they finally reached a bridge that crossed one small curve of the central well. From the bridge they went through the inner wall of the tree, back into a passage, covered with figures of Aeriat and Arbora.

The passage ended in a big round room with a hearth bowl in the center. There were heating stones in the hearth and a metal pot was put above them by some currently unpresent Arbora. Plates of different food were also left by the hearth.

Dawn shifted, sat on one of the low benches, covered with furs, and started preparing tea, as if nothing happened. Moon hesitated for a moment but shifted and sat across Dawn near the hearth.

While Dawn was preparing tea, Moon looked at him thoroughly trying to find any similarities between them. This helped not to think about the whole situation and why the reigning queen refused to greet them. Tempest must be furious.

“Are we really related? We don’t look alike.” He asked finally, after a long moment of silence.

Without interrupting his actions, Dawn answered:

“Yes, we are part of the same bloodline from both sides. Our birthqueens came from the same clutch. And Midnight and Dusk - your sire - were half-clutchmates. Same birthqueen, different consorts. I took after Alabaster and her bloodline, especially her sire. You… You look a lot like Dusk.”

Dusk. His father’s name. But it did not awaken any memories in him.

Finally Dawn put away everything he was using to make tea and looked directly at Moon. His remaining eye was of deep blue colour and Moon felt uncomfortable as if he was being judged. His first impulse was to bare his teeth but then he remembered friendly consorts of the Viridian Sea court and decided against it.

“You don’t remember me?”

“No.” Moon told him, trying not to sound defensive. “I don’t remember anything or anyone.”

It came out harsher than he intended, but Dawn just smiled warmly.

“And I remember you. I was fifteen turns old at that time. You were a trouble-maker. Good first consort material, as some old teachers said.”

This suddenly felt like a punch in the stomach. Some other Raksura had memories of Moon, the ones he didn’t have himself. It was a perfect opportunity to ask what had happened all these turns ago. And maybe Dawn purposefully gave him the opportunity. But unexpectedly Moon understood that he was not ready to know. Not yet.

Besides, Dawn, on his part, did not ask him about his life. Maybe he was also avoiding the touchy subject of leaving fledglings and Arbora babies to die in the forest.

But Moon did not want to ruin a moment of friendliness.

Instead he settled on, “Will you be in trouble for inviting me without a reigning queen’s permission?”

Dawn did not protest it, but created a pause by taking a boiling pot from hearth. Cleary, he used this time to think of a proper answer.

“Malachite… will see my reasoning. I didn’t want you to feel abandoned and rejected after they dragged you here across all the Reaches.”

This told Moon two things. First, his mother’s name was Malachite, which did not sound any more familiar than his father’s name. Second, Dawn obviously had a different perspective on the situation.

“Tempest - the queen that brought me here - thought this would be a good thing for me.”

“Tempest is not a consort,” Dawn pointed out the obvious. “It’s always hard to leave your home for another court. Even an allied one. If Emerald Twilight told us the truth, and you were alone all this time and only recently joined a court, well… That must have been not easy for you.”

Conveniently, with these words Dawn offered him a cup filled with tea, letting Moon use it as an excuse not to answer immediately. Moon took it, made a sip and also took a small piece of raw meat from the nearest plate. It was easy to understand Dawn’s polite guidance of their conversation, but thinking about Indigo Cloud hurt too much to tell anything.

“So, you know how it feels - to leave your birthcourt?”

Something changed in Dawn’s face, but the emotion was so quick, like a slight ripple on a water’s surface, that Moon could not tell what it was. The second later he understood that it was a stupid question - Dawn obviously had not gone to another court to be claimed by a foreign queen. Moon knew enough to understand that scars must have made him an undesirable match. He almost opened his mouth to apologise when Dawn suddenly said:

“I was taken by a queen from an allied court here, in the Reaches. But she died before we had a clutch, so I returned home. I have no intention to leave the court anymore.”

That hit Moon like a slap to the face. His thoughts immediately rushed to Jade. Even after she lied to him, Moon could not imagine outliving her. Barely managing the sudden tightening in his chest, he managed, “I’m sorry.”

Dawn regarded him with a long look, which, surprisingly, was not hostile, just sad, as if Moon was a very young fledgling saying stupid things without thinking.

“I accept your apology.”

For some time they ate and drank tea in silence. But Moon’s head felt crowded with thoughts. How did Dawn get his scars? What did happen back in the old colony? And the most important one - did Jade keep her promise? Was she here?

After some time Moon mastered the courage to ask. He felt like he was preparing to jump for a cliff not knowing if he would be able to shift.

“Was there a visit from another court? The Indigo Cloud planned to send a group after I left with Tempest and her warriors.”

“Not to my knowledge. But I think even if they were ordered away, the word would have spread.”

Moon had to turn away his gaze. He felt like something was squeezing his throat. Jade lied to him. She’s not coming.

Dawn, obviously, noted his turmoil, but was too polite to comment on it.

“The weather was terrible for flying for several days. Maybe they got delayed.”

“Maybe,” Moon agreed, and his thoughts immediately rushed to all the terrible dangers that awaited Raksura in the Reaches. And Jade did not know the Reaches as well as Tempest did.

Dawn watched him silently, but at some point said, as if coming to some decision.

“Let me take you to the bowers. You should rest. Tomorrow… Maybe it will be easier for all of us.”

Dawn got up and Moon followed him to a narrow stairs leading to the bower above this room. As they were moving upward, Moon understood something. It was too quiet here.

“Where are the other consorts?”

“Most of them belong to the Onyx’s bloodline - she’s the sister queen here, her bloodline never left the Reaches. So, they have their own set of bowers. My clutchmate and his consort offspring live here. He was taken by a queen we foster from another court. They went to an allied court for a visit several days ago, before the storm. My other clutchmate was taken by a queen of Onyx bloodline. He and his children live in the other bowers. Also, two consorts from my birthqueen’s last clutch. There’s not much left of our bloodline.”

“So, where are they?”

Dawn stopped and signed.

“I ordered them away.”

Moon looked at him incredulously.

“You… Ordered them away.”

“Yes.” If Dawn was in his shifted form he would definitely flick spines in irritation. “They are young and curious. Sometimes too curious for their own good. I worried they’d shower you with questions and make you nervous and uncomfortable. So, I ordered them away.”

Moon was genuinely baffled. At times when he thought he had weird Raksuran customs figured out, something like this happened.

“I didn’t know you could do this.”

He tried to imply that Dawn, being a consort without a queen, should not have such power over other consorts, but it sounded rude even for him.

Anyway, Dawn understood him perfectly.

“You can say I act as a first consort for Malachite’s bloodline. She never took another consort after Dusk died. And our bloodline needed a first consort. Horizon - my taken clutchmate that lives here - he’s a good consort, polite and great with fledglings, but he’s too gentle to handle young warriors. And sometimes they need good handling.”

Moon absorbed this information. Remembering young warriors back in Indigo Cloud, Dawn was right. The mere thought of the court made his heart tighten painfully, so he quickly asked.

“Do the scars help?”

Dawn quirked a quick smile.

“A lot.”

#raksura #books of the raksura #fanfiction

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kriimhild · 6 months

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Sometimes does DL Moon sing when the two are alone together, just for Sun? What's Sun's favorite song to hear Moon sing, and what is Moon's favorite to perform? Does he sing to comfort Sun? Or himself? Has he ever accidentally made Sun emotional with whatever song he's singing? Has he ever gotten emotional himself while singing?

MWAHAHAHA! Oooh I've waited for this so long thank you! Moon's main genre is electronicore, which is a fusion of metalcore and some various genres. So he's shouty and loud XD My personal favorite and most relatebale to this AU is Electric Callboys, and the track Neon is just absolutely Moon after Sun breaks his heart :')) my poor baby- aaaand I love Spaceman it's a really Moon one too! :3

He and DJ play this genre at club gigs and wild nights when Dusk Lounge really kicks into gear. On lighter evenings, they sing electroswing, but most commonly, Moon just plays the piano and perform something softer, smooth stuff.

Moon often sing lullabies and love songs for Sun, but honestly, when Moon acts like THIS on the stage, he turns on the moment. :D He won't admit it if you ask him, but he does. And yes, sometimes Moon gets emotional, like that scene when he was unable to talk, only playing on the piano, hoping that someone will understand it. It happens often when he lose his voice, but he doesn't panic anymore, just waits to let be end.

#askbox #dl asks

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aurore-parle-de-ses-idees · 10 months

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and for au roulette #1, band/musician, sending est and a van full of rangers to a rock show lmao

Traffic slows to a crawl as you leave the highway that runs from Minas Tirith to Dol Amroth, the Belfalas exits clogged as half the world it seems tries to reach the concert grounds at the same time. Candaith is asleep in the passenger seat, despite the music you have playing much louder than is reasonable. The windows are open as far as they’ll go, admitting a pleasant breeze that smells of clouds of exhaust and the distant sea.

“It will be fun,” you insist, not for the first time. Radanir looks no less skeptical in the rearview. “Surely we’ll be able to find something you like here.” Radanir mutters something you can’t make out and you inch forward another car-length.

“Are your friends from Stangard coming still?” Lorniel calls from the far back of the tight-packed van you have borrowed for the occasion.

“Most of them, I think,” you shout back, turning down the music some. “Nona said her brother had something come up, but the rest of them should be there.” It will be strange, you think, having friends from so many circles of your life overlap here, but that’s half the fun of it. “Can anyone reach the cooler?” you add. “I finished my drink up here.” There’s some shuffling, and muffled cursing from Corunir when you’re forced to swerve aside to avoid a group of impatient motorcyclists cutting in and out of traffic. “Sorry...”

It’s a long, slow slog into the concert grounds and around to the open parking, but you arrive at last and gratefully let the van shudder to a rest, stretching with a great sigh while your friends clamber out. The roof bends concerningly as Lothrandir climbs up to look around, but he swings back down quickly to inform you of the nearest gates and bathrooms.

There’s no rush. The gates won’t open for hours yet while the lots continue to fill. You open the trunk and fold down the backmost seats and lounge, watching Candaith soundly beat everyone at cards and propping your feet on one of the coolers. Someone nearby has set up a portable speaker loud enough to carry five rows in any direction; he’s taking requests. Someone else rolls out an entire grill, and soon the open field smells of... well, it smells of lots of things, but you think the grillers are making burgers.

You swap snacks with a group three cars down, and the group next to them invite you for drinks and party games. By the time Nona calls you to say she’s arrived, you think even Radanir is a little caught up in it all, even if he keeps regularly retreating to the van. You really do hope he finds something here to his liking.

You’ve lost half your group by the time Nona finds you, Horn and Corudan trailing behind her. You talk about the fine weather, and the less fine traffic, and the most interesting things you’ve seen so far (a surprisingly long list, for the few hours you’ve been here). Nona paces about the entire time, restless after her days-long drive to meet the others before coming here.

Finally, the gates open, and the great crowds slowly amble inside. Your friends have more or less reassembled, chatting with new friends and total strangers all the way in. The great rising excitement buzzes under your skin, your laughter loud and the late-day sun warm on your skin.

The opening acts are good, and you do want to sit and appreciate them, but the rising, restless energy keeps you moving, grinning at the great banners and posters for Valasmack and Amon Amarth and telling at least five different people where you found the onion rings.

You stop at last in the warm hour after dusk, the wind from the coast cool and pleasant where it cuts through the heat of so many people all pressed together. You don’t go down to the wildness at the front, where people throw themselves about with an abandon you can’t quite reach, but you stand near enough the stage that the sound from the great speakers rolls right into you. The bass of it rumbles through the concrete, pulsing with every rolling drumbeat through the thick soles of your boots. You can feel it in your ribs.

Your ears will ring for nearly a week after this, but there’s a certain kind of magic to it, the great thunder in your bones and singing so loudly, loud enough your voice will be deeper and rougher from the strain come morning but still not louder than the bands themselves. The punch-drunk camaraderie with old friends and with people you’ll never see again. The heat and the wind and the wide, wide grins, and the exhausted sleep you have with your friends, crammed into the back of the borrowed van and passed out half on top of each other. There are few more pleasant ways to end the free days of summer, you think.

#auroulette2023 #lotro #est #my stories #i don't think radanir would enjoy the experience all that much honestly- not enough to go again anyway- but he didn't have an Awful time #also wrote this guy while travelling lol #uhhh who all is in there #corunir #lorniel #nona #horn #lothrandir #candaith #radanir #corudan #mm some of those only by mention but whatever #this setup brought to you by everything about getting into and out of starlake #asfds oh yeah and the bands This Is Just Godsmack and Amon Amarth Got Transferred Wholesale

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emilykat-artblog18 · 10 months

Text

The Other Port

{a humanized Tugs AU story inspired by Coraline} Written by Emilykat-artblog18 and @minty-industrialsteamblog

(chapter 1)

.:: The Button Eyed Dolls ::.

I remember a time my two deckhands, Ten Cents and Sunshine, experienced some abnormalities during a job I assigned them. Bigg City Port was busier than ever.

For almost a whole month my employees worked from dawn to dusk with barely any time for themselves.

While many of them were used to the heavy workload, my two younger recruits weren’t so much. After a long day helping to help unload crates of fruit from a tramp steamer they returned to the Star Fleet Headquarters feeling very tired.

Ten Cents trudged slowly into the employee lounge, Sunshine flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, “Finally! I thought the day would never end.” Sunshine exclaimed, adjusting himself a bit.

“Get as much rest as you can when you get back to your bunk. Captain Starr said there’ll be more labor inducing work like this tomorrow and even the following weeks.” Ten Cents advised as he opened a bottle of lemonade from the icebox.

“Oh boy, more work…” Sunshine said very uncharacteristically.

“Cheer up Sunshine, if we do as we’re assigned in a timely manner, surely we’ll have some time for ourselves,” Ten Cents reassured, “But speaking of time for ourselves, let’s go to our bunks and recharge our batteries for tomorrow”

“Alright then…” Ten Cents pocketed the bottle cap from his lemonade and the two walked to their bunks.

Not much time had passed once my youngest workers lied down in their bunks when Sunshine decided to speak up.

“Hey, Ten Cents-”

“Yeah Sunshine?”

“I’ve been thinking… Have you ever wished for anything better than this?”

“Better than what?”

“Better than how things have been at Star Tug and Marine recently. We’ve been practically working our butts off. Don’t we deserve a break by now?”

“Sunshine, I know it’s been rough over the past couple of months but having worked for the company for sometime, I’ve gotten used to it. I don’t need to wish for a break, eventually we’ll get some vacation time to burn, although…”

Ten Cents paused, “If I’m being honest, I could do with a break working in the bustling port, a change in scenery would be nice”

“What would be nice, Ten Cents?” Both Ten Cents and Sunshine nearly fell out of their bunks, “Nothing Captain Starr, sir!” I slowly walked up to the two youngsters.

“I greatly apologize if I interrupted you both on anything, but I have one last job for you two today. I need you two to go to our storage room and clean it out. So that there’s more space for new equipment and supplies need to be stored away. Understood?”

“Yes sir”, Ten Cents and Sunshine replied together. I tossed them the keys.

“Anything that isn’t necessary, leave it next to the door but don’t block the hallway. Warrior and Big Mac will take them to the dump. Be sure to return them to me after you're done. Don’t lose them.” I turned and walked to my office,

“We will, Sir.”

Once I was out of earshot, Ten Cents let out a sigh.

“The Jinx strikes again.” Sunshine remarked,

Ten Cents glared, “Do you see a hooter anywhere? And last time I checked, Boomer resigned.”

“Jinxes stick like glue”, Sunshine said ominously.

“Oh shut up you little-” Ten Cents gave Sunshine a punch on his shoulder, “Let’s go the quicker we get this done, the sooner we can get some sleep.”

“Alright, I’m coming”. And with that, the two made their way to the storage room.

The storage room hadn’t been used in a very long time. As soon as Ten Cents unlocked the door and flicked on the lightswitch, the ceiling lights barely lit the room up, but both could see rows upon rows of boxes stacked upon metal racks with cobwebs and dust bunnies coating everything. Sunshine was suddenly hit by a waft of dust causing him to choke.

“There’s just so many of them. How long has it been since this place was organized?”

“Probably way before you and I joined the Star Fleet. I guess nobody bothered to clean up this place.” Ten Cents replied. The two walked deeper into the storage room.

“How were so many boxes crammed into such a small room?” Sunshine commented.

“No idea but let’s get to cleaning.”

“Right!”

Ten Cents and Sunshine worked hard cleaning up the storage room, looking inside each box for anything that was no longer necessary to keep. A couple hours passed as they worked, slowly the rest of my team returned from their jobs.

Warrior and Big Mac would’ve said hello to the duo but they were just too tired and trudged off to the showers. Ten Cents and Sunshine were nearly done cleaning out the junk in the storage room with many boxes now stacked neatly next to the wall before they started to speak to each other again.

“Hey Sunshine, ever thought of what the inside of Top Hat’s mind looks like?”

“Yeah what?”

Ten Cents pointed to a bunch of boxes simply labeled as “garbage”

“Ha, I thought it was that!” laughed Sunshine.

The two started cracking more jokes at the expense of Top Hat to pass the time. If Top Hat was there, he would’ve wrung Ten Cents and Sunshine’s necks. Their laughter was soon cut short as a small metallic thud echoed throughout the room startling them.

“Sunshine… Did you bump something off one of the racks?”

“No; Did you, Ten Cents?”

“No.”

Ten Cents walked towards the direction of where the sound came from. The side of the room was much darker so Ten Cents searched the ground with his flashlight drawn.

“I found it!”

“What is it?!”

Ten Cents returned holding something large wrapped in decaying newspaper. Sunshine was perplexed as Ten Cents proceeded to rip the newspaper off.

“Feels like there’s a-”, Ten Cents dropped the wad of newspaper out of utter shock.

“Feels like there’s a what?” puzzled Sunshine.

Ten Cents didn’t reply and just held out the objects in his hand. Sunshine was in disbelief. What was inside the newspaper wad were a pair of filthy, stuffed dolls with buttons sewn where the eyes would be. Ten Cents quivered, “They look exactly like us…”

Sunshine grabbed the dolls and examined them in admiration.

“The amount of detail put into these is quite impressive. The only question is… who made them?”

Ten Cents shook his head, “beats me”.

Ten Cents then noticed something wrapped around the neck on the doll that resembled him. He snatched the doll out of Sunshine’s hands to get a better look.

“Mine’s got a key on it”

“Any idea on what it’s for?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue, Sunshine. But let’s not focus on that right now. Once we are finished then we can ask the others about them.”

Sunshine sighed, “Oh alright, but can I hold onto them? Until we find out who made them, of course.”

“Yeah sure. Well I think we’re just about finished, let's get cleaned up and get some grub at the cafeteria. All this work has made me hungry”, Ten Cents replied, rubbing his stomach.

“A bite sounds good as well to me”, Sunshine agreed. Ten Cents closed the storage room door, locking it behind him, and the two set off to the cafeteria.

{End of Chapter 1}

Next chapter ->

#this is tugs #bigg city port #The Other Port AU #tugs humanized #my au #coraline au #this is humanized #tugs ten cents #tugs sunshine #Captain Starr #star tugs #finally making these chapters available to everyone #this is the beginning of what’s to come #more chapters coming soon ;)

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pixelchills · 11 months

Note

What are some AUs you like?

Well... I'm a massive fan of MissMoon2Dust's open AU "Helper Bots". I have multiple OCs for the AU myself :3

I also like some Mer and Naga AUs, but mostly the ones where Sun and Moon are a pair and no y/n, because I don't particularly like y/n stories or AUs.

I like @jankybones ragdoll AU, even though there's not much out of it. I also like @kriimhild 's Dusk Lounge AU very big amount too... :>

#asks

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keicordelle · 6 months

Text

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Nocturnal

Given the way the sun liked to shine right on his eyes like some sort of laser beam dead set on blinding him entirely, it should come as no surprise that Keshet preferred to adventure at night. It was, by his reckoning, the ideal time for such things, and not just because he could actually see. Few enemies expected to be assailed in the night, particularly by a foe who could see better in the dark than they could. Only the Miqo'te could rival the luminescent vision of the Au Ra, and Keshet was more than willing to take the chance that he'd find himself up against one of their number in his midnight skirmishes - after all, he had plenty of experience fighting others who could see just as well at night as he. In fact, fighting in the day was far more of a hindrance, his vision limited by the violent stabbing of Azim's rays lancing through his skull. (Well, alright, it wasn't quite that bad, but it did suck.)

The problem, of course, lay in that none of the rest of Eorzea was particularly given to nocturnal operations. Back on the Steppe, where pretty well everyone dealt with the same light sensitivity he did, it was fairly common for inter-tribal trade to take place after dusk. After all, Nhaama's blessing was strongest beneath the light of the moon, and the only ones who would think to spurn such a thing were the sniveling Oronir. The Dotharl often worked under the cover of darkness for the rest of their dealings as well. From launching assaults on other tribes to their daily comings and goings, everything was done beneath the gentle glow of Nhaama's grace and with the stars twinkling far overhead.

Here, though... Shops closed before dusk even fell, mealtimes were all scheduled during the day, and even his fellow adventurers all seemed determined to drag him out under the blazing light of high noon.

Keshet grimaced as he shielded his eyes against the light, the bright sun shining off the golden sands of the desert expressly to stab him in the eyes. It was worse than just getting bloody sand in his eyes. This was a time meant for lounging in the sun and sleeping, not wandering aimlessly around the desert hunting down zombies. Nhaama preserve him from determined Miqo'te. Shouldn't he be able to set his own schedule, if he was the so-called Warrior of Light? You'd think those who'd given him the title would be more willing to accommodate his whims and his needs.

"I don't see anything," the dark-haired girl said. (He wasn't sure if she'd so much as introduced herself before roping him into this quest, but if she had he'd already forgotten her name.)

"I can't see anything past the sunbeams in my damned eyes," he grumbled, but he was pretty sure she didn't hear him. Just as well, really. He missed Thancred. Thancred was always willing to work with him under the cover of darkness. Maybe from here on out he'd just insist the Scions operate at night. Surely his comrades would be more accommodating than the average Ul'dahn investigator.

"Oh! Over there! I see one!" she exclaimed merrily.

Keshet squinted, but he couldn't see anything past the glare of the light. Maybe a big hat would help. Or some tinted glasses. Surely Urianger would know where he could get some that would fit around his horns. "I believe you," he said with a shrug. "Let's go kick some zombie butt, shall we?" And hope that they really were as slow moving as the stories said, because adding flames to the piercing blaze of sunlight was really not the best way to improve his vision.

Read the rest of the series on Ao3!

FIRST | PREV | NEXT

#ffxiv #wol #au ra #ffxiv fanfiction #au ra headcanons #nashu mhakaracca #somehow it is always always nighttime in game whenever I start an important cutscene #so much so that I decided this was canon for Keshet #:weary:#my writing #daily inconveniences #keshet dotharl #~k

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extape · 1 year

Text

Chance Encounters in Woodsboro, CA — G.F.

summary: new era, new(?) ghostface, new final girl. if you thought being a murder victim would be bad, wait until you get a load of your new-and-improved role. Get ready to star in your own homemade horror film, your co-star is dying to meet you ♡ ♡ ♡

INCLUDES: multi-part series; non-canon au; college setting; allusions to stalking; a meet-cute but it’s actually toxic wish-fulfillment.

It started on a Tuesday at 1:15.

You didn’t consider yourself an overly ambitious student. Middling seemed an apt description. Your course-load for the term reflected that, and while you were kind of coasting by in good faith that C’s would definitely/probably earn a degree, you were always prepared in the classroom.

Pencil. Notebook. Even a highlighter. That’s why you had talked to him that Tuesday, tucked in the back of Dr. Olsen’s Independent Films class.

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

It was the middle of a lecture on sound-editing. The room’s lights were still dimmed from their recent presentation on European cinema, and you were beginning to nod off. Dr. Olsen had been a fixture at the podium for the past thirty-or-so minutes as he continued on, and on, and he fidgeted so rarely that it seemed like his mouth was the only part of his body that was capable of movement.

“— and that is how you are able to differentiate between the diegetic and non-diegetic sounds. And while sound in film and television is either diegetic, non-diegetic, or a mix of the two, it’s important to always consider —”

You ignored the first brush of something against the skin of your shoulder; you sat up in your seat the second time.

“Hey, can I borrow a pen?”

Billy — whom you shared one class and a handful of passing encounters with — was hushed as he leaned forward, repeating himself. There was the faint thump of his shoe against the linoleum, the creak of his chair. Dr. Olsen continued in his drawl as you craned your neck, nearly coming nose-to-nose as you offered the no. 2 pencil you had been scribbling with; you hadn’t been taking notes. You didn't think Billy had been, either.

He mumbled his appreciation, his breath tickling your neck, and the lecture went on. It wasn’t until the projector was switched off and students began trickling through the door that he caught your attention again, lingering at his desk.

“I’m keeping this,” he said, holding your pencil to his nose. “Hope you have a spare.”

The last time you had talked had been earlier in the term — a forgettable encounter at a house-party downtown, more of a respective nod of acknowledgment than anything. Now, your smile was awkward as you packed your papers into your bag.

“Take good care of it," you replied. "Sentimental value.”

"I'll sharpen it on the hour.”

And that’s all there had been to the interaction; he asked for a pen, you gave him a pencil. Short and simple. Almost sweet, if you took his eyes into consideration. You left it at that and went your separate ways until next Tuesday, but it was a start.

For Billy — who tracked the expanse of your back as you left Dr. Olsen’s class, and continued his stare until you had finally exited his line of sight — it was a start.

---

It turned out that prolonged exposure to fluorescent lighting caused headaches.

You came to this discovery upon your third hour in the library. It was evening, nearing dusk, and the third-floor lounge was quiet. Thank fuck, it was quiet. You didn’t think you could manage your headache evolving into a migraine. Your Tylenol supply was limited, and as you crushed another tablet between your teeth, you stacked another textbook onto the pile you’d collected.

Anatomy and Physiology 101 turned out to be a bitch to learn. Not for lack of trying. Ventricular systems, pulmonary arteries, neural tubes — it all tended to blur together after a few hours of staring at print on paper, and you doubted you had anything to show for your efforts beyond dry retinas and what would probably be a C- on tomorrow’s exam.

Gray’s Anatomy for Students was kind of fucking bullshit.

You pressed your palms into your eyes and heaved a sigh — fuck it. An old dog couldn’t be taught new tricks, and an academically challenged student couldn’t memorize the entirety of the human nervous system in one evening. You were overdue for a break; you wanted to go outside for a smoke, maybe eat something with empty carbs, or caffeine, or preferably both.

It was a short trip downstairs, and you ended up with a dented can of Coca-Cola and a semi-melted chocolate bar, courtesy of the first-floor vending machines. It’s only as you made your way back up the second-floor staircase that you realized how empty the other lounges were. The entire building, really. No one but you and a wayward janitor, if you were being optimistic, and it almost seemed theatrical. Flickering lights, lonely corridors, no one in sight.

That was probably Red Flag #1, reminiscing on it.

The metal door to the third-floor lounge gave a heavy bang as you kicked it open, your hands occupied. There was the louder crack! of your aluminum can being opened, fizz bubbling over the rim, and you licked at your wetted thumb as you sulked back to your study-table.

Your headache was getting worse; you didn’t remember leaving a textbook opened at your seat — a thick paperback with more creases than actual paper, thumbed through within an inch of its spine. The title was unfamiliar.

Fundamentals of Anatomy & Physiology, 2nd Edition. Page 174.

There was a passage highlighted.

Red blood cells, also referred to as red cells, red blood corpuscles, haematids, erythroid cells or erythrocytes, are the most common type of blood cell and the vertebrate's principal means of delivering oxygen to the body tissues—via blood flow through the circulatory system. A type of blood cell that is made in the bone marrow and found in the blood. Red blood cells contain a protein called hemoglobin, which carries oxygen from the lungs to all parts —

Jesus H. Christ — you couldn’t care less. Fuck hemoglobin. A quick glance at the checkout card showed that you indeed checked it out, your name stamped underneath a Danny Johnson - OUT: August 2nd - IN: September 24th. You blew out a heavy breath that conveyed more than intended and, popping another Tylenol, you told yourself that a C- really wouldn’t be too bad. You tapped out not too long after, ditching the library with your metaphorical tail between your legs, resigned to be a stupid, old fuckin' dog.

(For all of your efforts, you ended up with a highly impressive 79% — sans bonus points. The fluorescent-induced headache was somewhat worth it.)

---

Sundays tended to be a dull affair — this one was no exception. An impromptu night of drinking had led to nothing enviable, and you spent a fair share of the following morning/afternoon regretting those last few rounds of vodka cranberries.

Your manager seemed to regret them on your behalf, too.

Keith was simultaneously bitter, sour, and salty on any given day — a Type-A, if you'd ever seen one. Typically his apathy would have been something to commend; it was kind of refreshing when it wasn't directed at you. If only the object of his ire wasn't 28 minutes late to their shift with a hangover and a shirt that could have been inside-out.

He was at the register when you eventually rolled through the doorway. Wobbling on one of the backroom's ladders, he was setting up the new rental merch — posters, flyers, stacks on stacks on stacks of BOGO movies, and an obnoxious banner that advertised for customers to Save! Save! Save! Big! Big! Big!

"Late again, wage-slave," Keith called from half-way up his perch, distracted with tying a knot.

You pushed down your sunglasses. "What are you? Some kinda cop?"

He pointed a finger at you, aimed like a gun. "That's strike two — you know what happens when you make it to three?" A rhetorical question you've heard before, and he answered for you, "Not on the dot, your pay gets docked."

He suddenly did a double-take as you tossed your bag over the register, looking down at you with the expression of a man on death-row. "Ugh, god, look at you. Did you get dressed in the dark? Did you shower? You're not even in uniform. What is that stain on your shirt?"

This Sunday was a dull affair, indeed.

Thankfully, his voice somewhat faded as you dragged your living corpse toward the backroom. You made quick work of yourself; you punched in, guzzled a water bottle from the mini-fridge, and slapped on a pair of headphones, blocking out the tin sound of The Cranberries playing over the loudspeaker.

You could still hear a muffled, "And it doesn't matter if we have customers, it's the principle of the matter. My great-grandmother is celebrating her 98th birthday today, and now I'm about to miss the cake and candles on account of your tardiness —"

He was a dedicated servant of Video Star Movie Rentals, you'd give him that much. Weird fucker. At the very least, you supposed that you appreciated the five-finger discount he often let slide whenever the store received a new shipment of CD's. You clipped on your name-tag as you made your way back to the register, and Keith had lowered himself from the ladder, but he was still talking. Loudly.

"Make sure that Debbie is on the right-hand side of the display shelves," he pointed to the counter where a cardboard-standee of Debbie Harry laid, flanked by BOGO boxes. "Right. Not left," he stressed. "If it's left, it messes up the entire setup I've cultivated, and I cannot afford to fix your shit just because you want to experiment with Feng Shui."

Fair point. It was hard to get a word in edgewise; you settled for nodding at the appropriate times. It was only after a semi-lengthy lecture on the importance of timeliness and making sure to lock both entrances before clocking out that Keith reluctantly tossed you the keys, the metal bell jingling against the door as he left, and the Cranberries weren't playing anymore. Sonic Youth had taken over the airwaves.

Lowering your shades, you took a survey of the store; other than a couple of high-schoolers trying to surreptitiously sneak a peek into the Adult Video section, the place was empty. Certifiably DOA. You figured the general public had better things to do than save big and rent B-movies, and it made for a quiet environment, at the least — very peaceful. Your hangover appreciated it.

Maneuvering Debbie was short work, and it took less than 30 minutes for you to organize the register. Soon enough, all you were left with were the BOGO boxes, each one packed with a heady (and dusty) variety: children's animation, chick flicks, wrestling tapes, some low-budget horror movies that were probably filmed in a sad, Midwestern basement. You spotted a Roman Bridger DVD in the mix and took it for yourself.

It wasn't too long before you distantly heard the rattle of the entryway bell; the high-schoolers had made their escape, it seemed, copping what you were fairly sure was a horny-satire of The Babysitter Murders, and it was their decent taste alone (and possibly your lingering hangover) that kept you from tackling the shoplifters out the door.

Your shift moved a bit slowly, after that.

Migrating to the clearance section at the back of the store, you began to unpack what looked to be a dozen copies of the first three seasons of The Beverly Hillbillies. You worked in relative silence, occasionally nodding along to whatever was on the radio. Sonic Youth was eventually exchanged for Nirvana, which had been swapped for Mudhoney, and after a few commercial breaks you were left with Frank Zappa as you unpacked and stacked $2.99 box-sets on the clearance shelves.

It was almost nice — the sun was casting shadows across the store's carpet. There were dust-motes visible in the light. Things felt calm. You went unbothered as the Hillbillies ended up in their very cheap, very rightful place, and the WWE tapes followed soon after, then the $4.99 B-movies, until you only had the low-budget shit left.

Debbie remained quiet and well-behaved as you went back and forth from the register to the backroom, then from the display shelves to the clearance section, and just as you were due for a break . . .

The bell rang, again. Keith's 'company policy' script came to you automatically.

"Welcome to Video Star Movie Rentals: remember to be kind and rewind. How can I help . . .” you trailed off as you turned toward the entrance, peering over your shades at the customer.

“You."

. . . Huh.

‘You’ was a familiar face, albeit a surprising one.

Billy stood at the entryway, seemingly caught off-guard by the sight of you behind the register, too. Then he made a deprecating noise, shaking his head.

”A film student working at the video store? Kind of on the nose, isn’t it?”

He looked different today — hair pushed beneath a backwards cap, usual flannel absent. When you replied, your tone was droll.

"Sorry to disappoint,” you set the BOGO movies aside. “Gotta pay the bills somehow. I don’t suppose I could help you find anything, uh, sir?"

He began to peruse the display shelves, touching the DVD cases. “No, ma’am. I know what I’m here for.”

Wonderful. He would hear no complaints from you. You had no shame in admitting that you were reluctant to stick around for idle chat, not a particularly willing conversationalist when it came to wild encounters with peers. It didn't help that you've heard Billy get into it with other students in class. He was like a fucking dog with a bone when it came to anything cinema-related.

There was the faint shoop-shoop of the tagging gun as you retuned to your endless amount of discounted movies; you half-heartedly watched Billy browse through the aisles, picking up a few tapes and DVDs just to set them back down. This went on for a few minutes, and it was only when he chose his first rental that he spoke again.

“Your selection’s kind of weak,” he said critically. “ I mean, do you guys deal exclusively in PG-13 or something?”

Fuckin’ Keith.

“Uh, no. My manager’s kind of a fascist. Real big on censorship.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” you said to the back of Billy’s head, who was crouched by the Thriller section, now. “I’ve been trying to radicalize him, but he’s tough. If you’re looking for anything rated R, it’ll be in the back of the Adult Video section.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you could hear him mutter as he plucked two more DVDs out of the mix. “But I think I’m set, unless . . . you have any suggestions? Maybe one of those ‘adult videos’?”

Escalating from chit-chat to innuendos — hardy-har. The smile you shot back at him was a little mean.

“Aren’t you the campus cinephile? I doubt there’s anything I can recommend that you haven’t seen on a loop.”

“Ooh,” Billy sucked in a breath, hand-to-heart. “Are you allowed to talk to me like that? I mean, I’m a paying customer.” He slid his DVDs across the register toward you. There was the flash of skin — bare forearms braced against the counter, sleeves rolled up. Bizarrely, you thought of the clinical diagrams from your Anatomy textbooks; his veins were prominent. The word tendon came to mind.

Distracted, you typed in your employee discount-code.

“Excited for the big game on Friday?” he continued, not quite wry, and you knew he was poking fun — trying to keep the proverbial ball rolling. Your football team was a joke; cheering for them was comparable to spit-shining a turd.

“Are you?”

He didn’t strike you as a collegiate sports enthusiast. Too . . . alternative. For lack of a better term. You probably wouldn’t mind seeing him in the uniform, though.

“Fuck,” he huffed. “Nah, fondling the ol’ pigskin doesn’t really do it for me.”

“No weekend plans, then? Lame.”

There was a gleam in his eye; he seemed to like your nonchalance. “Never said that.”

“Big date?”

“. . . Real big. Huge.”

You scanned the first movie in his pile — a copy of a French film that you recognized from Dr. Olsen's lectures. "Poor girl."

"Hey," Billy's laugh was short but loud, like an animal's bark. "You're a little mean, huh? What if I have a lucky guy on the side?"

"Well," you held up the next case, a yellowed copy of The Power Drill Massacre, scanning it. "I hope he likes Tobe Hooper knock-offs."

"PDM is not a knock-off," Billy was haughty. Then, with a pleased smile, he said, "I didn't know you liked scary movies."

You paused, looking up at him through your darkened lenses and lashes.

There was a . . . vibe. For lack of a better term — your vocabulary was limited for the day, apparently. He was putting out a vibe, and you rolled your eyes as you scanned the next DVD. Another horror film.

"Just as much as anyone else, but, uh, clearly not as much as you." You tried not to make it sound like a compliment. He seemed it take it as one, anyway. Bagging his marathon of misery, you read off his total on the register. "That'll be $13.00."

He slid you a crisp $20. "Here, keep the change."

You tried not to look at him too directly as you printed off his receipt. It was quiet as you bagged it — the guy knew a thing about intense eye-contact, and you more-or-less ignored him as you casually took two boxes of candy from the display shelf beside you, slipping them in the plastic bag, too.

"A bonus," you explained as he peeked at the candy, brows raised. "For your big date."

For a second, Billy just . . . looked at you, tonguing at his cheek. There was something hard in his expression. Then, he smiled like he knew something that you would never know, and you scoffed at the gall.

He shook his bag in a rhythmic beat.

". . . See you on Tuesday," he finally said, flashing teeth. He gave a two-finger salute as he made for the exit, adding on a pleasant, "bye, Debbie," for good measure. The entryway bell rattled one last time before going mute; he ended up being the only paying customer for the rest of your shift.

Later in the night, when the air turned crisp with the early-autumn chill, the two of you would be thinking of each other for entirely different reasons.

#scream x reader #ghostface x reader #my writing #in this house we ignore canon it’s okay guy you’re safe here

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