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tswwwit · 5 months

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Here's the second part of Cult Reincarnation Dipper!

The first part is over Here if you missed it.

Hope you enjoy!

“Here we are!” Bill says brightly. He nods approvingly at the room, then glances back at Dipper. “Glad you didn’t take off running during the trip.”

How Dipper could have managed that, he isn’t sure. The instant they appeared in this place, Bill took hold of Dipper’s wrist and hasn’t let go even once.

The nightmare realm is exactly as advertised. Dipper’s been pulled through mazelike corridors, up and down impossible hallways, over insane physic-defying structures - and past things with too many teeth and eyes.

He thinks he’s been holding up pretty well, all things considered.

Being dragged by a nightmare god into his realm of dreams for unknown reasons wasn’t exactly on his bucket list. Without any helpful explanations, or even unhelpful ones, he’s stayed calm and followed along. Remaining obedient, keeping quiet, and waiting in hopes of Bill either giving up, or giving him any indication of where the hell they are and what the fuck he’s doing.

Now they’ve arrived, and the destination… isn’t exactly encouraging.

Dipper looks over the gleaming instruments hung on the walls. The needles and scalpels and hooks. He drops his gaze towards the white paper on the chair, at the poorly hidden restraints.

A place of insanity and terror, owned by a king of nightmares, dragging along a vulnerable human with a badly injured arm. Of course he’d end up in a house of medical horrors. It’s too thematically appropriate.

So yeah. Dipper’s been holding on fine. Only his legs have decided they’ve had enough for the day, and given up.

His robes puddle around him as he hits the floor. The tile’s very cold and sterile under his legs, and his arm trembles in Bill’s unwavering grip.

“Hey! What gives?” Bill tugs on Dipper’s wrist again. Thankfully not hard enough to haul him to his feet.

Dipper shakes his head. The floor’s fine. He’ll stay right here, thank you very much. Trying to retrieve his wrist doesn’t work, but he makes a good show of it.

“Nice try,” Bill says, dryly. “But there’s no escaping! Now get on up and have a seat already.”

For the first time, his grip loosens. Dipper yanks his arm towards his chest, attempts to stumble to his feet. His legs fail to cooperate, sliding out in front of him like he’s putting up a tantrum rather than an escape attempt.

With a quick snort, Bill ducks down and tucks his hands under Dipper’s arms. A moment later he lifts Dipper bodily into the air, and appraises him with a smile.

Dipper kicks out in surprise, struggling for purchase - then lets his legs dangle in the air, limp. Flailing around isn’t going to help. Odds are it’d make things worse.

If there was ever a mistake Dipper shouldn’t make, it would be accidentally whacking a god in the groin.

Bill bounces him in his grip a couple times, with a pleased smile, and seemingly zero effort. The human form he’s wearing isn’t bulky; he’s just stronger than he appears. Dipper should have guessed as much. He’s in the demon realm, brought here - kidnapped by - an eldritch, too-powerful being. Any resistance he puts up is as much of a shield as tissue paper.

With a nod, Bill turns a full ninety degrees, and drops him directly into the chair. The leather of the seat creaks underneath Dipper as he hits it, and he instantly straightens up, back rigid.

“There we are.” Bill smirks with satisfaction. He points directly at Dipper’s face with a sudden frown. As it comes closer, Dipper leans as far back as he can manage. “Now stay. Put.”

The tone is very firm, and, well. Obedience is the name of the game, when it comes to a ‘god’.

Dipper simply nods. Bill beams again, then retreats to start pulling drawers open, rustling through them and muttering to himself.

Whatever he’s up to, Dipper doesn’t care to guess. From what he can tell, the entire room is made for easy cleaning, and the objects don’t lend him any comfort. Tons of gleaming instruments hang on hooks and boards, pale metal against white walls. The soaked sleeve of his robe is leaving little dots on the seat and armrests. Every spot of red stands out so brightly in this sterile white environment.

Dipper clutches his arm to his chest again. Not budging. Just as he was told. There’s a thin prickle of sweat building on his skin.

A sound catches his attention, and he glances up at Bill, who’s wearing a big, bright grin. He’s holding something glass in one hand, and a glint of metal in the other.

Dipper keeps trying to maintain pressure on his wound. Bill’s approaching without even a hint of hesitation - without being able to talk, he simply shakes his head again and again. He’s fine, this is great, they can go anywhere else, just don’t -

“What?” Bill cocks his head to the side, and grins again. “Easy, I don’t bite! Much.”

He has very sharp teeth, Dipper notices. With how human that form is, he hadn’t paid much attention to the details.

The white of his smile has fangs.

“Yeesh, tense much?” Bill raises an eyebrow, carelessly dropping a metal box in Dipper’s lap. The other one shows the glass to be a corked bottle - small, round and filled with greenish liquid. Bill starts shaking it rapidly, beckoning with his free hand. ”Gimme that arm, already.”

When Dipper doesn’t move, Bill slowly pries his arm away from his chest. He pushes it down onto the armrest - and before Dipper can react, the makeshift bandage of his robes is ripped off at the elbow, leaving him bare.

Dipper watches the blood trickling down over the seat with a nauseating flip in his stomach. He can look away - does, quickly - but worse, he’s oddly embarrassed. Everything in here was so pristine before he started leaking on things.

“Eh, could be worse.” Bill chimes in over Dipper’s thoughts. A brief glance shows he’s evaluating the wound; he waggles a hand in a so-so gesture. “Decent blood flow, but damage-wise? You’ll be wielding a knife yourself in no time!”

God, what a weird thing to say. Dipper half-shrugs in response.

He hopes Bill’s right, though. Not the knife-wielding, but that it’s not too bad. It certainly feels bad, but Dipper doesn’t have enough experience to tell how, or if, he’ll recover. He’s never seen a sacrifice, with a person, that called for that much blood. Especially one that got so… enthusiastic.

Or perhaps there was, and Dipper just looked away, like he always does. He’s never had the stomach for this sort of thing. Hell, he still doesn’t; as Bill gets settled, Dipper turns and starts counting all the knives on the walls.

Yep. There’s definitely a lot of them. So many, and none of them are in Bill’s hand at the moment. He tries to focus on that as well. The box in Dipper’s lap is too small to contain anything but the tiniest of the scalpels, too. Another good sign, if he’s feeling optimistic.

There’s the sound of something uncorking. Then, liquid dripping down Dipper’s arm and over his wrist, a bright, sparking sting - he grits his teeth, ready for the pain to build, and feels -

Nothing?

Dipper blinks. He’s lost count of the knives, but he does get an excellent view of the empty bottle sailing across the room, and shattering on the opposite wall. Quickly followed by the cork, with a spitting sound; Bill probably pulled it out with his teeth.

There’s a vague prod. Dipper cringes on reflex, shoulders tensing. The next one feels firmer, and not in a great place, but.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

Well, no. It does, a little. If Dipper clenches his arm and makes a fist, he can feel a kind of sting - and hear Bill mutter under his breath. So he probably shouldn’t do that. But other than that faint ache, the pain is gone, leaving a chill semi-numbness in its place.

Beside him, Bill makes a satisfied sound. He flips open the box in Dipper’s lap, pulls something out - then starts doing something weird to his arm.

Dipper feels a pinch, then a tugging sensation. He sucks in a breath.

“Hold still, already.” Bill’s grip tightens, holding him in place. Dipper can tell because when moves his fingers again, he can just about tickle the underside of his arm. “Hey! What’d I just say!”

Dipper stops moving. Obedient, definitely. Totally not questioning what the hell is happening to his flesh, or worried at all. He only flinches a bit at the repeated pinch-tug-pinch, running a line down his arm.

With the numbness, it’s easy to focus on breathing in, and out, in a steady rhythm. Passing time, until Bill’s done with his gruesome work.

“There we go.” Bill stands up, wiping his hands clean on a bright white cloth. He offers Dipper another easy grin. “Not too shabby, am I right?”

Dipper hesitates, but. He’s going to have to face the damage at some point. Might as well be now, while he’s still numb and lightheaded.

First, he sees Bill, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Then the arm itself, looking pale and small, with a long, thin line of stitches running up the wound.

No mutations, no mutilations. Just clean, closed skin.

Wow, that was a big cut. It didn’t really hit him until he saw it sewn up.

Dipper’s no expert on medical anything, but it must be decent work; Bill looks pleased with himself, for one, and the stitches themselves are neatly placed in even lines. Weirder still - it hasn’t been tinkered with, or experimented on at all.

Bill not-too-gently pats his wrist again, before wrapping Dipper’s entire forearm in bright white gauze. He hums to himself as he works. Just as he snips off the bandage with a pair of scissors, he pauses.

“Hm, kinda missing something,” Bill mutters, almost to himself. Then his expression brightens, and he snaps his fingers. “Aha!”

Dipper winces at the full-palm slap on his wrist. Ow. Even numbed, that stung.

“There! All patched up.” Bill says. He sets his fists on his hips, looking triumphant. “What’d’ya think, kid?”

Dipper looks down, and stares. He’s not really sure how he’s supposed to react.

Instead of taping the bandages in place, Bill’s smacked on a sticker. One of Bill himself, triangular-formed, and giving a disproportionately big thumbs-up.

“Ahem.” Bill clears his throat.

When Dipper checks, that seemingly eternal grin has popped right back into place. Expectant. Almost prompting.

Come to think of it - it’s the exact same one Dipper saw after the ritual, not that long ago.

The one that he still doesn’t know how to answer.

Dipper pulls his arm up, holding it close. He touches the bandages carefully, tracing down the line of his wound. All his fingers still work. All his skin seems to have stayed in place. Even the numbness has lingered well past the actual procedure.

Bill Cipher himself, lord of chaos and nightmares, had a hold of a wounded piece of mortal meat. And as far as Dipper can tell, nothing’s missing, nothing’s mangled, and it doesn’t even hurt.

Of all the things Dipper imagined about meeting Bill Cipher - and he can imagine a lot more things than the average guy -

This would never have made the list.

Bill hasn’t said anything. For a while now. Enough time has passed that the silence has grown awkward, because really Dipper should have done something by now, damn it. There has to be -

“Oh, right!” Bill breaks the silence with a snap of his fingers. His eye rolls; he even smacks himself on the side of the head in a ‘dang, can’t believe I forgot’ gesture. “Major bloodloss! No human brain works great when it’s improperly irrigated.”

Which… is true, sure. Dipper does feel pretty woozy, but more likely Bill’s referring to not getting a response.

That’s one thing he can fix, sort of. Dipper tries another smile. Hesitant, but not forced.

Bill just raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, you’re cute. Don’t think flaunting it gets you anywhere.”

Dipper lets his smile drop.

Okay, what? That was not what he was going for, and - and it doesn’t make sense, anyway. Bill must have meant something else, because he’s not cute. Kind of a condescending thing to call a guy who’s just showing he’s grateful.

Even though he should know better, Dipper flashes an irritated glance at this idiot god’s face. He folds his arms, letting out a huff.

And Bill lunges in with startling speed.

Dipper jerks back in the chair only for Bill to follow, face inches away, sharp teeth bared in a wide smile. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and his single eye narrows.

With rising tension, Dipper notes that said eye is actually glowing. There’s intent there, focused and strange - and even worse, the slow stir of magic building between them.

This is what he gets, isn’t it. For being a huge goddamned idiot, and insolent, and why did he do that of all-

“Boop.” Bill taps Dipper’s nose, and stands back up. As if to add insult to incoherence, he also pinches Dipper’s cheek. “Now! Upsy-daisy, kid! We gotta get you settled in!”

Dipper remains seated, even as Bill claps his hands and gestures for him to rise. At one point he even leans over and taps his thighs, in a deeply condescending beckon. If it wouldn’t be suicidally insane, Dipper would flip him off for that.

How is Dipper not dead yet. How is he not insane yet. This doesn’t make sense.

Nothing here makes sense.

But then, maybe Dipper should have expected that. Nightmare logic aside, he’s dizzy and tired, and it’s hard to keep figure out what’s insane demon-god stuff, what he’s simply lost track of.

Waiting for too long has had its consequences, of course. For the second time in an hour, Dipper gets hauled up by a too-strong monster. This time, he’s set on his feet pretty shortly, instead of being swung around like some kind of carnival prize.

Dipper hits the ground as Bill drops him, and stumbles. The world spins around him, and he nearly drops to the floor again until he braces himself on the closest solid-looking object.

The object moves under his arm. Above him, he hears loud, pleased laughter. “Aw, getting touchy, are we?”

Dipper stares at his arm, braced against a firm chest - then up at Bill’s wide grin. Then down again, where he’s wrinkling Bill’s shirt.

Shit. Wrong choice. Bad choice - but there wasn’t much of a choice! If Dipper didn’t want to fall on his ass, he had to grab something.

“I know, I know. I’m too tempting to resist.” Bill says, sounding eminently amused. Almost… teasing? He takes Dipper by the shoulder, turning him around towards the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

Wherever ‘here’ is. Wherever they’re going is even more worrying.

Still, Bill doesn’t seem mad about the invasion of his personal space. Or anything else, weirdly enough. Maybe Dipper’s misinterpreting the signs; he wouldn’t be the first worshiper to do so.

Mystery is part and parcel of Bill Cipher, one of his core essences. No part of him is uncomplicated or simple, because he loves making things difficult. There’s supposed to be puzzles, layered over each other in complex ways to obscure the truth. Every time Bill talks to one of the devout, it requires careful interpretation -

But there are too many possibilities, and Dipper’s too disoriented to keep up with any double-talk.

Bill opens the door into another black-red brick corridor. It looks like it could go anywhere, and everything about it screams ominous.

In a particularly stupid move - though one born of self-preservation - Dipper shoves himself into Bill’s grasp. He grips the shirt, hip bumping against the god, and Bill makes a quiet sound of surprise.

For a heartstopping moment, Dipper knows he’s fucked up.

Then the arm comes around him, and pulls him in tight. Squeezing his shoulder, then dropping around his waist, hand loosely holding his hip.

“Good choice, sapling! Your fleshy human vestibular sense is for shit, and I didn’t patch you up just to watch you break your skull on the ground.” Bill chucks Dipper under the chin with a knuckle and winks. “If I wanted a corpse, I could get those anywhere.”

Which… makes a terrifying kind of sense.

Bill’s right, of course. He’s an immensely powerful god-creature, who can reach in between worlds, given the opportunity. He commands dreams, and people, and an all-consuming amount of magic.

If he wanted a corpse, he could have one in moments. And if he wanted it to be Dipper’s, all he really had to do was… nothing.

As Bill pulls him into the hallway, Dipper checks his wrist again. He flexes his fingers, and sticks close to his ‘god’.

His arm’s a little achy, as the numbness begins to fade. The gauze is tight enough to feel comforting rather than constraining, clean and wrapped with obvious care. Even with the slight pain, it feels like he’s going to heal up just fine.

And though it’s incredibly stupid, the super cheesy sticker does kind of make him feel better.

Obviously Bill likes Dipper’s blood. He said as much during the summon; that it’s ‘very nice’. Likely it’s the reason Dipper was kidnapped in the first place.

But instead of juicing him like an orange, Bill took pains to keep all of it inside.

“As long as we’re stopping you from kicking the bucket,” Bill snaps his fingers. A small, squarish carton appears, and he holds it in front of Dipper. “You might wanna drink this.”

Dipper grimaces at… whatever this is. He can’t read the language, but it’s decorated with a smiling thing that could be either a heart, or a severely mutated fruit.

He glances up at Bill again, but no explanation is forthcoming. He merely waggles the carton around again, nearly shoving it into Dipper’s chest.

Welp. A ‘god’ has ordered him to consume something. Obedience, right, still a virtue. Hell, even if Bill wanted Dipper to swallow liquid mercury, he wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter.

Poison isn’t very likely, though. Bill doesn’t want a dead body around, and he’s put in way too much effort to reverse course now.

Bill raises an eyebrow, tapping the drink invitingly against his chest. At this point Dipper suspects the lack of explaining is intentional.

Fine, whatever. If he’s going to insist…

Dipper still gives it a skeptical look, but he takes it from Bill’s hand. Not accepting a god’s gift is probably rude. Offending him isn’t any more helpful than dehydration.

And though all the advice about dealing with supernatural beings says, ‘don’t consume what they give you’, Bill does have a point. Humans are full of liquid. Dipper lost a decent portion of his own. Filling it back up isn’t the worst idea in the universe.

The top twists open, though Dipper doesn’t dare glance at the contents. He’ll just shut his eyes and chug.

He takes several long, deep drinks, tilting his head back. At first to help himself swallow - then more, and eagerly, because holy shit, he’s so thirsty. He didn’t realize until he started, but he really, really needed this.

With the portion of his tongue he has left, he tastes a faint sweetness, like strawberries.

“Top up your tank, kid.” Bill gives Dipper another nudge, almost playful. “Humans are basically half-fluid. To go at it like that, you musta been practically mummified!”

Weird phrasing seems to be a thing for Bill. Better get used to it.

Since he’s not looking at him, Dipper rolls his eyes and makes a face. Just a quick, two-second expression.

Beside him, Bill’s grin inches up a tiny bit. He starts whistling a cheerful tune as he leads them onward.

It’s an indeterminate amount of time before they stop - Bill, fresh and cheerful, Dipper, wondering how much longer he has to be on his feet - but eventually Bill whips around a corner, facing a brown wooden door in the middle of one of the black slate walls.

Great. Another mystery room, and by the look on Bill’s face - one he’s been eager to get to.

By this point Dipper’s pretty sure Bill’s not about to execute or exsanguinate him At least 90% sure; it’s hard to tell when dealing with a being of pure chaos.

But he still slows his steps as Bill sets his hand on the knob, leaning back into that guiding arm on his waist. Unpredictability has always unnerved him.

Bill turns towards Dipper with a brilliant smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” He says, almost conspiratorially. He nudges Dipper forward as he opens the door. “Welcome home, sapling!”

With a gust of warm air and a light that leaves Dipper blinking, the door opens.

And with a proud smile, Bill Cipher leads him into the single most luxurious looking room he’s ever seen in his life.

Dipper stares. Maybe gawks a little, but he shuts his mouth quickly.

No matter where he looks, everything oozes rich, sumptuous leisure.

There’s paintings, and tapestries, a soft thick black carpet. A huge, soft-looking couch near a fireplace, odds and ends of scattered jewels and technical looking objects on the walls. There’s even a portrait of Bill himself, in his regular form, with a foot upon the world. Large double doors lead to another room, and though the partly open crack Dipper thinks he spots a bed.

On the second glance around, Dipper catches on. That subtle gleam, that catches his eye, seemingly everywhere - is freakin’ gold. Not just the occasional pierce of decoration, either; it’s subtly woven into parts of all the decor, thin lines on furniture and doors and even some in the carpet.

Bill’s room so far beyond the dark, stoic asceticism of the compound. Miles away. Lightyears.

Why the hell did they have a shitty stone cavern to worship in, if their god lives like this?

No, that’s easily answered -the priest always was a dick.

Dipper’s not thrilled about what Bill did to the guy back at the ritual, but he’s far from upset.

Beside him, Bill’s silent. For once he’s not shuffling Dipper along anywhere. No prompting, no pushing, no force of any kind -

But definitely expectant.

Without Bill saying anything, Dipper can feel his arm tense up with anticipation, awaiting a reaction. Probably something flattering to Bill’s ego, or worshipful of his presence.

Truth be told, Dipper might have even given one. Despite all his reservations about the chaos god beside him, it is impressive.

But he can’t say anything. There’s nothing to write down a worshipful chant on. He’s tired and hurt and he’s been walking what feels like all day. Finding focus is hard.

Dipper scrunches his face up, rubbing at his eyes. Things went all blurry for a second, and he has kind of a headache.

What does he do, another smile? But Bill said that was ‘flaunting’. and maybe that’s not great. Another expression, maybe. Some kind of gesture. Body language has a lot of options and… he’s run out of ideas for that. Maybe his brain really is working with too-little fluid.

“Hmm…” Bill rubs his chin, glancing at Dipper - then staring out into the room again. His eye narrows.

Shit, right, this was meant to impress. Dipper, fumbling the devout test for like, the millionth time in his life. Only right now, when it truly matters, he’s too messed up to manage even if he tried.

Before Bill can get too mad, Dipper hunches over. Looking contrite might stave off the worst of it. He can make himself look small.

There’s a long beat of silence. Then Bill claps him on the shoulder. “No worries, kid. This ain’t my first time with a human wandering in with mortal wounds and a poor sense of grandeur! You can tell me how great I am later.”

The rush of relief Dipper feels is immediately ruined by Bill dragging him forward again. So much for a true reprieve; infinite being of pure energy means never stopping for a second of rest, apparently.

“I got just the thing for a squishy little nervous wreck like you,” Bill says, striding forward confidently towards one of the walls, and a door Dipper’s 90% sure wasn’t there even three seconds ago. “We’ll stash you here until you’re more settled down!”

The door opens, and Dipper’s led into a small, dark place. He can make out vague, squarish shapes in the dim light. Thankfully none of them look too imposing.

Another snap, and the room lights up.

For the second time in about as many minutes, Dipper’s totally thrown.

“Kitchen’s through there, bathroom’s thataway,” Bill says, gesturing in the respective directions. He gives Dipper’s shoulder a squeeze, jerking his thumb behind himself. “I’ll be back out this way if you get bored!”

The words run though Dipper’s brain, but he’s not truly focusing on them. The room he’s in has most of his attention. No matter how he looks at it, though, he can’t see any traps. It just looks…

Comfy?

The light reveals a smaller room than the living one, and one that’s far less dramatic. None of the tchotkes lying around. Basically zero ostentation. There’s a wardrobe and a bed, a dark blue carpet rather than the black. A desk, some papers, and an absurdly large and obsessively organized looking bookshelf. The two doors Bill mentioned lie closed, on two different walls.

Dipper’s not sure what he was expecting, but. The simpler decoration, the small but cozy setup - none of which fits Bill’s taste, that’s clear even on a glance. This isn’t meant for the god himself.

Now there’s a question he’s never considered before: Does Bill Cipher ever have guests in his realm?

The answer must be ‘yes’, strange as it seems. Nothing in here is Bill’s vibe, but it might fit a human that he needed to stash somewhere.

Beside him, he hears a low hum. Bill’s hand runs down Dipper’s shoulder, onto his back. It strokes down, then up again - then pushes him forward. “Enjoy!”

Dipper stumbles a couple steps before catching the footboard of the bed. He leans against it, blinking rapidly.

“Now, I got a quick errand to run, so take your time getting comfy. Cram some calories in, wash your crevices, take a nap. Whatever human stuff needs doing.” Bill looks up from checking his watch, then gives him a wink, backing out of the room with double finger guns pointed. “See ya soon!”

The door closes behind him without even a touch on the knob. The room goes quiet.

Dipper cocks his head to one side. Bill’s absence is just as palpable as his presence. That powerful thrum of magic trails into the distance as he heads off, fading in Dipper’s senses, like a too-loud stereo speaker in an obnoxious, demonic car.

After a moment, he shucks off his robe - with the sleeve torn off, it’s weird and uncomfortable. That leaves him in just soft pants and his undershirt, but thankfully with considerable privacy.

As long as he’s here, Dipper does a quick inspection of the room. The bed’s bigger than any one he’s ever seen, minus the one that’s presumably Bill’s. The wardrobe contains a baffling array of flannel shirts, in that they’re almost all identical and oddly… worn? He shuts the doors with a shrug. Hardly the most intimidating find.

A thorough overview reveals no traps, no knives. The sharpest thing in the room is the pens. The worst thing that could happen to Dipper here is a papercut. Or maybe stubbing his toe on the heavy furniture.

It’s been a few minutes. Dipper glances at the door Bill retreated through. Still closed.

He hears no sound from the other room, either. He strains to feel some magic returning, a bloom in his limited senses, but it’s calm and quiet.

Whatever Bill’s up to, he’s long gone.

Leaving Dipper totally unsupervised.

Dipper instantly darts for the opposite door, opening it fast enough that it nearly unbalances him. It swings opens easily, totally unlocked, and he braces himself as he stares -

Into a kitchen.

A big one, at that. Lots of cabinets, a fridge, a stove, knives hanging on the wall in what looks like a rather ominous manner, until Dipper remembers that’s where knives are supposed to be. Though maybe not so many of them.

Also, totally not an exit.

Fine, whatever. They couldn’t all be exits, and there’s another to try.

Dipper rushes over to the second door, yanking it open to reveal… exactly what Bill said, again.

He lingers this time, leaning on the knob. Rubbing at his eyes briefly, in case that ruins the illusion Bill’s cast. It doesn’t have any effect.

It’s - this is way too straightforward. It has to be some type of trick.

Pretty weird for it to be so clean, then.

Any bathroom Bill has should be blood-splattered, or filled with bubbling acid - but this one only smells faintly of bleach. It’s lined with black and white tiling, with a shower that looks overly complicated and a bathtub that could fit several people inside. At least there’s no knives in this room - though Dipper does see a safety razor, resting on the sink. Right next to the cup holding the blue toothbrush.

He slams the second door closed, and takes a deep breath.

Maybe he’s disoriented. Maybe Bill turned everything around when he left, like every other corridor in this chaotic place, and maybe if Dipper yanks opens the third door -the one he came through - it’ll cleave between the realms, back into the ritual room, where -

Dipper leans on the doorframe, slowing down his breathing. He shuts his eyes, lips drawing into a thin line.

Or it could just be. Literally the exact same one he came in through.

Standing in the doorway of Bill Cipher’s personal quarters, Dipper frowns at the fireplace. And at the painting over it. Especially at the even more grandiose door that presumably leads to the god’s master bedroom. It’s beautiful, alright, Dipper can’t argue with that - but also ostentatious, and reeking of smug power.

It’s very quiet inside, too. No motion, no magic.

After a bit of hesitation, he leans his head in, checking both ways.

No Bill around, at all.

He must have actually taken off, instead of lying in wait, ready to surprise… The person he told exactly where he could be found. Which isn't much of an ambush, come to think of it.

Dipper lets his arms drop to his sides, then winces and rubs the bandage on his recently stitched one.

When he came into this place, he had a lot of expectations. All of them were backed up by years of knowledge about Bill Cipher. His likes and dislikes, unpredictability, and his bizarre proclivities.

So far, Dipper’s seen… not a safe place, by a long shot. But way less dangerous than what he thought he’d face.

In fact, aside from the trip to get here and parts of the medical experience, this has been way too normal.

Bill Cipher is a being veiled in mystery, or, depending on your viewpoint, mischief. Never totally meaning what he says, rarely acting like you’d think. Even in the most stodgy of ceremonies, the priest had to leave room for the fact that Bill’s not very… conventional. The research Dipper did on his own had similar things to say. Between sermon and study, that alone has been a constant.

Dipper taps his foot on the floor. The carpet remains soft and nonthreatening. The fireplace crackles warmly, and does not consume the room in a terrifying blaze.

What is he supposed to make of all this?

The priest claimed that only he could interpret the subtle signs of Bill’s true meaning, and what actions to take. He was dead wrong about that. Courtesy of the god he claimed to understand, for that matter.

The rest of the congregation can’t offer any insight, either; they’re back in the compound - but frankly? Dipper wouldn’t trust them to interpret a microwave timer, much less their god.

According to scripture, it takes ages of experience, along with deep personal knowledge, to even begin to understand Bill’s motives. One young human like Dipper would never stand a chance.

But if he’s here anyway…

Dipper traces his fingers along the wall, making his way quietly, cautiously, into the room.

Why not get started? It’s not like he has anything else to do.

Having something to study will help pass the time, as long as he’s here. And with this wealth of information in front of him, who could resist?

As he walks into the place, he doesn’t burst into flame, or turn inside out, or get tossed into an eternal void of constant screaming. So, it’s probably okay.

He takes a deep breath, and lets it out. It only shakes a little.

Besides, navigating around an immortal being of eternal knowledge can’t be that different from sneaking around the compound. All evidence so far is that Bill’s actually friendlier about it.

One thing’s pretty certain - he’s not likely to obliterate a guy he’s just spent several hours getting ‘settled’. If anything, he’s sorta intimated that Dipper’s a ‘guest’. Bill’s likely not magically bound to the rules of hospitality, but violating them is pretty universally gauche.

The thought makes Dipper’s shoulders drop. He pats the wall a couple times, then checks his wrist. The bright yellow triangle stays still, overly-large hand still giving a thumbs-up.

Dipper rolls his eyes. Okay. There’s one fact learned - Bill Cipher’s capable of being kind of a dork.

This could actually be pretty intriguing. Useful, perhaps. In the heart of Bill’s home, with all of his stuff lying around - like that pile of books near the couch, or that pile of dishes he saw in the sink, or the fact that he even has a guest room, what the hell is with that -

Dipper can get firsthand information. No more dilapidated scrolls, or censored books, or scrounging around outside to find objective sources.

Bill Cipher, as far as Dipper can tell, actually lives here. In these exact rooms.

He can try and hide the truth as much as he likes, or lie to Dipper’s face, but he can’t hide his living room. Hanging out in your own place is the most authentic anyone can be, god or not.

With that in mind, Dipper gets to the investigation.

Without context, it’s hard to discern what most of the objects around mean. Whether they’re regularly used, or just for display. Until Dipper sees Bill actually interacting with the stuff he has, he’ll just file that information away for later.

About three circuits of the living room, Dipper catches sight of the portrait above the fireplace again. The one with Bill himself, crowned and stepping on the world. Scepter in hand, his single eye beholding -

Ah, right. The eye thing.

Dipper backs up, very slowly. As a parting gesture, he throws a little wave at the portrait, and another ‘cute’ smile.

Then he darts right the hell back into his room, and pulls the door along with him. He lets his head drop back against the wood, and closes his eyes.

Shit. Shit. Of course he wasn’t roaming around freely. There was oversight.

Hopefully Bill’s busy enough to not have cared about a couple minutes of ‘wandering’. As far as he knows, that was, uh… Dipper got lost, right. That sounds believable. Maybe he was even looking for Bill himself.

But snooping? No, definitely not. Why would anyone do that.

Welp. That’s about that, then. Three doors, three results, and zero exits.

Sure, it’s possible that Bill’s room does have a way out, but between the odds of being caught, and the odds of getting lost in the twisting, recursive corridors if he did manage to find it -

Yeah, Dipper’s going to pass.

He saw the other ‘guests’ around this realm, and they didn’t look like the types to leave blood on the inside.

On the upside he’s survived the night. Morning. Whatever time of day it is.

Bill wants Dipper alive, which is strange and confusing and more than a little concerning- but it’s also a huge weight off his shoulders.

Dipper turns to pull the door fully closed behind him, then hesitates.

After debating for a bit, he settles on leaving the door slightly ajar. Hearing when Bill comes back seems like a good idea, while keeping him out doesn’t.

But if Bill were to, say, see a door semi-open and shut it himself, then hey. Kinda his fault for not paying attention. No blame on any humans here.

Ugh, Dipper’s losing focus again; he shakes his head to clear it. His legs feel sluggish too, after the long journey and the.. ‘Getting lost’. They stumble as he takes another step.

After such a long day. After getting hurt, and dragged around, and everything else that’s happened, he’s just so tired.

Just like during the sacrifice, he has to focus on the real priority - and right now? It’s not the immortal, insane demon god.

With a weary sigh, Dipper looks for a place to sit down.

Even pulling the chair out from the desk seems like an ordeal. And while the bed’s far too large for just one person, it's here and empty. Presumably Dipper’s meant to use it, anyway.

And when he takes a seat, it doesn’t leap up to bite him. It doesn’t release any poisoned spikes when he tests the mattress with a quick press of the palm, or snap closed around him when rolls on top of the sheets. The blankets are smooth, without a hint of scratchiness.

Dipper breathes in, and lets it out slowly. He rubs a hand on the top blanket, patting it once or twice, before letting his eyes shut.

It’s just. So, so soft.

Weirdly springy too, compared to his old cot. A mixture of sink and bounce, so that Dipper almost feels like he’ll get absorbed into it like jello, or get thrown out of it if he moves the wrong way.

Shifting his weight, Dipper frowns as he tucks the pillow under his head. How could anyone sleep on something like this? It’s totally impossible.

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

Dipper wakes up with a damp pillow under his cheek, a slight headache in his temples, and a sore and aching wrist.

He rolls onto his side with a groan, moving to a drier section of pillow.

Great, he drooled in his sleep again. Super gross. Another reason that not having a tongue sucks.

It’s warm in the room, though, and quiet. His head hurts, so he needs some water. And his wrist hurts, too. Which isn’t surprising after being sliced open.

What’s more surprising is that he actually managed to get some rest afterwards. The whole compound is full of people celebrating or arguing after a ritual goes down. Usually there’s some of both, but right now it’s so quiet that he could swear nobody’s -

With a snort, Dipper jerks his head up off the pillow. He props himself up on his elbow, rubbing at his eyes.

Shit, of course. He’s not in the compound anymore.

Nobody is around, because he’s been taken away by their literal goddamned god, and stowed in this too-big, too-normal room in this alien place. Without other worshipers, who would… probably make things worse, if he’s being honest.

Dipper stuck here, fending for himself. He’s been subjected to… minor medical attention. And a nice bed, and a drink. Not to mention having his first uninterrupted nap in ages.

Thinking about it, it’s kinda hard to see a downside.

One will make itself known eventually. Dipper’s not so naive as to think this is altruism, not from Bill Cipher.

As he sits up, the blankets fall off him and pool into his lap, heavy and soft. For a moment, he’s tempted to pull them back up and curl into the nice, warm bed, under the gentle covers.

But that’s probably not the best idea, considering.

God, he can’t believe he just fell asleep like that. In the house of a nightmare demon, Dipper just went and dropped off like a total, vulnerable moron.

And shit, it’s dark in here.

He doesn’t remember turning off the lights. Or where the lightswitch is, for that matter. He can sort-of make out the furniture around him, some kind of ambient illumination, perhaps. A bit of light also shines out from the closed door leading to Bill’s room.

Somewhere in there, he hears footsteps, and then silence. The feel of that powerful magic, leaking in like the light under the doorframe.

Dipper fiddles with the edge of the blanket. Some kind of quilt, he guesses, one that’s faintly frayed at the edges. It’s very soft.

At minimum, he’s been in Bill’s house for several hours. His best guess puts it between half to all of a day, depending on how long he slept.

Despite all Dipper’s learned about the god’s unavoidable wrath, and his infinite, changeable whims -

It hasn’t been too bad. So far.

Dipper rubs his fingers together, leg jogging under the sheets. Eventually he realizes he’s pulling threads out of the quilt, and hisses through his teeth.

At some point, the other shoe will drop. Bill Cipher is capricious, his favor doubly so.

And nothing ever works out in Dipper’s favor, not even once.

But maybe, if he works at it now - he might be able to make some headway. Hiding away in the bedroom won’t help with that.

Getting up out of the bed is an effort, but his legs feel steady on the floor and his vision is clear. Dipper takes a deep, calming breath. He turns the knob, and peeks out into the room

“Hey hey! Look who’s back in the waking world. In a way.” Bill waves at him with a bright grin. Great, Dipper got spotted basically instantly. “Get over here! I need ya to check this out.”

There it is. His first order.

Dipper shuts his eyes, and walks into the room. He swallows, and drops into the fist form of ritual bow, knees thumping on the carpet.

This absolutely sucks. The one minor upside is that there is a carpet; Dipper’s not going to ruin his knees if he has to do this ten times a day.

Hanging around a god, he’ll be lucky if he spends any time not bowing and scraping and generally genuflecting. Though the idea makes him burn inside, he grits his teeth.

He can cope. He’s been through worse. If nothing else, Bill’s more interesting than the daily grind back at the compound. Albeit in a semi-terrifying way.

“Huh.” Bill says. Dipper mentally checks his posture, but no, it’s perfect. Wait - he forgot to press his hands together, right.

“Huh.” Bill says, this time sounding…

Not very thrilled.

Freezing in place, Dipper runs through his options. In a better world, he’d be able to start doing some chant or whatever, but that’s off the table. A quick peek at Bill shows that he’s not impressed, so. Read that right.

Also not very good. What else is there, though, what can he -

A long, heavy sigh interrupts his thoughts. Bill’s started rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. A totally devout kinda guy.” Bill’s voice is very dry. He taps one impatient finger on the table. “Really feeling all the religious passion, here.”

The clear sarcasm makes Dipper wince. God, of course Bill isn’t fooled. Seeing into the hearts and minds of men as he does, one small human is transparent as hell. He knows exactly what Dipper thinks of him, doesn’t he.

Shit, he’s likely seen everything.

“But sure, if you’re so devoted, you should get up already.” Bill’s tone lightens, and he gives a quick beckoning gesture. That eternal smile bounces back into place. “C’mon, kid. You can’t scrape your nose on the carpet and check out what I asked you to.”

Dipper scrambles to his feet, brushing nonexistent dirt off his pants. It’s a decent excuse not to meet the god’s eye.

He shuffles slowly forward until he stands next to the god. Logically that should make him nervous. He should be sweating and terrified -

But damn it, Dipper really hates genuflecting, and Bill’s total lack of interest is actually, maybe, kind of cool of him.

For a bright moment Dipper thinks there might not be any of that sort of thing, until a robe flops to the ground in front of him.

Ah. A not-very-subtle hint, there. Dipper takes a breath to steady himself -

Then a second robe right on top of the one on the ground. And a third. A fourth follows that nearly hits a cabinet on the wall, and Dipper decides he probably missed the mark.

Bill’s not making a point. He’s just messy.

“Jeez, with this many robes, you’d think they could make a few of ‘em fashionable.” Bill lets out a low whistle. When Dipper glances over, he’s rifling through those cardboard boxes with a frown. “Accessorize! Embroider! Stain ‘em with ichor! This crap is just boring.”

All their robes were pretty identical, but that was the point. To lose one’s individuality, and become a perfect servant for the god. Bill doesn’t sound as appreciative as he should be.

And where the hell did he get all of these, anyway?

The boxes on the table are dilapidated, reused cardboard. None of it matches the style or the reality of this… apartment? House? Something?

Bill chucks yet another robe over his shoulder with a snort. “And don’t get me started on the shape. Or the color!” He sticks his tongue out, letting a final robe dangle from his fingers like he’s holding a dead rat. “I woulda picked something way cooler.”

Whatever his definition of ‘cooler’ is, Dipper doesn’t want to know. Bill catches his skeptical look and Dipper quickly tamps it down.

That single golden eye blinks, then he beckons Dipper closer with a grin. “Get over here, sapling. I gotta know if we’re dealing with the full inventory or not.”

There goes Bill, again. Talking about something without giving Dipper any context for it whatsoever. Likely that’s a sign of things to come.

All the books about Bill Cipher say he’s ‘cryptic’. Now Dipper’s wondering if that was supposed to be a euphemism for ‘annoying’.

Dipper squeezes his hands tight at his sides. Not the kind of thing he should be thinking. Instead, he nods, and checks the boxes as requested.

His god continues messing with the contents, plucking out this and that. Another robe, discarded easily. He sets aside a small ritual set of candles, a setting for ritual offerings. All very distinct. They could have come from Dipper’s own congregation, they’re so familiar.

Wait - but they are.

He remembers Bill asking them to pack up stuff, distantly. He didn’t think about what it was for, other than, like, another weird god request.

But these aren’t just anyone’s things.

No, he recognizes that robe, with the chewed-on sleeve, and that set of trinkets. Hell, all of said robes have similar wear and tear, the same, slightly oversized look.

Dipper glances at the boxes, then back to Bill. Though he can’t speak to ask the question, it must be obvious in his face.

“Yep! This is your stuff, Pine Tree.” Bill points a finger gun, giving Dipper a wink. “I asked those imbeciles back in your cult to grab it for ya. Since you’re staying here with me, and all.”

Dipper’s mouth works, but no sound comes out; he shuts it quickly. Bill, uncaring, flicks a finger at a candle and watches it light with a smirk.

He just- Said it.

Bill Cipher himself called his religion a ‘cult’.

He actually admitted it. Under any other circumstances that would be absolute blasphemy, but the ‘god’ himself just casually tossed out that the entire stupid religion is kinda full of it and he isn’t even bothered by it.

Dipper wants to sit down, but there's no chair nearby. He braces himself on the table instead.

“Don’t get it wrong, I’m still the biggest, baddest being you’ll ever meet! But your group of losers pretended to speak for me.” Bill continues. Something about Dipper’s shock seems to have caught his attention. He throws his arms in the air in disgust. A carelessly held candelabra goes flying. “When I wanna give orders, I handle that crap myself.”

Dipper nods again, kind of numbly.

Yeah, that - that actually tracks. The gap between the Bill he was told about, and the Bill that is, is too vast to be ignored.

Obviously Bill’s weird, it’s part of his basic makeup - but if anything, he matches up more with the Bill that Dipper read about in forbidden texts, instead of the one heard at every sermon. And that…

Honestly, it feels pretty good. Being right. Or right-adjacent; Dipper’s not naive enough to think he has the whole picture yet. Still, being more correct than anyone else? Makes Dipper almost smile.

It’ll get clearer. There’s time, he’s not dead yet.

And who the hell knows what else Dipper’s going to learn, while he’s staying in Bill’s home. The only thing he can predict is that half the things will come totally out of left field.

A nudge on his side catches his attention again. “So! Does this cover everything, or do I gotta nightmare some guys into coughing up the rest?” Bill twirls a thin candle between his fingers idly, and raises an eyebrow. “Anything you wanna keep, or stuff you wanna obliterate?”

The startled look on Dipper’s face must surprise him, because Bill blinks a few times. “What? It’s your crap, sapling.” He offers a half-bow, and a wink. “Your gracious host here, at your service.”

Wow, uh, that - Dipper has to turn away for a moment. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling oddly -

Damn it, getting distracted is bad. He has to shape up. Bill might decide he’ll be less gracious if Dipper doesn’t freakin’ focus, now’s not the time to look incompetent.

He offers Bill a shrug, and a noncommittal wave, then tilts the closest box towards himself.

If he’s going to figure out what to do with his things, he might as well check what’s shown up. A part of Dipper’s surprised that there’s this much of it.

Actually... there's that miniature altar that ‘disappeared’, and a pair of shoes that walked off by themselves. A scattering of little baubles, mostly bare-bones ritual stuff that everyone got handed out. Even though Dipper’s seemed to roll down a grate or get flushed somehow.

Guess Bill’s order really got people motivated to find his things. There’s stuff here that hasn’t made an appearance in ages.

Nearby, Bill’s put on his expectant look again. Dipper’s getting used to it.

Whatever Bill’s looking for, he hasn’t bothered to explain it in the slightest. Much like every other interaction with the guy. It must be pretty good though, because there’s a tinge of eagerness to his expression.

Dipper turns away to poke at the items on the table.

He almost feels bad that he doesn’t know what Bill’s looking for. Even though there’s no logical reason he should. Mind-reading is Bill’s thing, not his followers’.

Well, whatever. Bill can put that face on all he likes. Unless he has a few helpful hints on hand, he’s just gonna have to wait.

As for the possessions - A quick evaluation of the first box of stuff reveals… mostly things he doesn’t care about either way. On the other hand, he’s never had this many things before, and it would feel weird to just. Dispose of them this easily.

But then again…

He never has liked the robes.

Tentatively, Dipper points at the cloth on the floor, then cuts a finger over his throat.

Bill made his opinion on them clear, so. If he agrees. Maybe Dipper actually won’t need them during his stay in this -

A sudden burst of blue flame startles him; Dipper jumps in place, going tense.

Noted - be careful about inviting Bill to destruction, because he does not hesitate.

“Great!” Bill claps his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. “Half done - now let’s wrap this up and move onto something more fun.”

Patience must not be Bill’s strong suit, because he turns the boxes upside down, dumping everything out on the table. A few broad swipes spread it over the wood, a careless tumble of what’s, honestly, mostly junk.

Some of it was clearly just tossed in to make the box more full; the top layer is all stuff from the ritual room. As for the stuff that is his, well. How much of it could he actually need? There’s candles, a bunch of knickknacks that he didn’t even like when he was still in the, well. Cult. There’s a thick worn notebook, and his journal with its slightly tattered cover and the bookmark still in place -

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat. He glances at Bill, then back to the table.

How did they find that, it was under the loose rock in the corner. Did they know all this time that he had this. Did they not care, or was it truly hidden and only discovered later. How the hell did it survive all the way here?

However it got here - that’s. All his notes, all his research. All his thoughts, lying there for Bill to -

Wait. Bill. Hasn’t noticed, yet.

He’s picked up a tiny brass necklace. His eye narrows as it dangles from his fingers. Not surprising; it is a pretty awful portrayal. The angles are anything but even.

And while he’s distracted, Dipper makes a grab for the books.

He times it right; as Bill tosses the necklace away and into the fireplace, he slides both books across the table, tucking them into his pants and under his shirt.

Not the first time he’s hidden contraband - and probably not the last. A quick check on Bill shows a totally nonchalant demon, slightly bored with the junk in front of him. Either he truly didn’t notice - or doesn’t care about what Dipper pulled. Either one’s a win.

Dipper feels tension seep out of his shoulders, and he shuts his eyes.

Compared to the god of fury and torture Dipper was taught about, the true god is relatively even-tempered. So far.

But he already knows how bad it gets, when something terrible is spoken about his god. There’s no way Bill would like reading what Dipper wrote about him.

“Aha!” Bill exclaims, and yanks his latest prize out of the pile, holding it in the air. “Knew there had to be something good in here.”

Dipper takes one look at whatever’s got Bill so enamored - and makes a face.

Oh no. He forgot about…. that.

“Maybe being ‘devout’ isn’t your style, but there might be a better term.” Bill’s sharp teeth are white in his smile. He flicks one of the ragged felt arms, squeezing the yellow ‘torso’. “How’s ‘obsessed’ fit ya?”

The stupid awful Bill Cipher plushie dangles limply in his grip. As Bill gives it another squeeze, some more of the stuffing puffs out. Worn as it already is, with one of the legs missing and the pupil in the eye worn away, it makes the entire thing look twice as pathetic.

Dipper staunchly resists the urge to hide under the table. It’s too late anyway. He’s not escaping this now.

Who the hell decided to pack that? It’s ugly and stupid and juvenile. If Dipper had been able to choose what he brought along, he would have deliberately left it behind. Maybe burned it, so nobody else would know he still had one.

As it stands, he’s torn between being glad it’s here - and totally goddamned humiliated.

He makes a quick grab for it, but Bill dodges him with a grin.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try.” He waggles it again, beaming bright. “I knew it! You’re super interested in me, aren’t you? Was this little guy your favorite? Didja cuddle up with him in bed every night?”

Asshole probably saw all of that happen, and now he’s taunting. Dipper grits his teeth, hands clenching by his sides.

Damn it, it’s not Dipper’s fault there weren’t a lot of soft things in the cult. Who cares if he had something that made his life suck a little less? Especially one that flatters Bill himself. If anything Bill should be pleased, knowing he got some devotion from this less-than-pious human- but instead he’s being an ass about it.

“I’m right, of course.” Bill says, with smug certainty. “Ol’ mini-me here got oodles of affection, didn’t he?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, backing up as Dipper turns around the table corner in pursuit. “Now let’s see…”

Dipper sucks in a breath, watching Bill bring it to his face. His teeth bared in a sharp smile, mouth slightly open.

Bill shuts his eye, and puffs a breath over the plush. For a second Dipper thinks it’s about to be consumed in fire, he stumbles forward in protest.

But though it’s blue all over, it doesn’t burn. As he watches, the hole in the side closes over, stuffing concealed. Some of the minor stains come out, the stitching of the bricks turns black and pristine. The second leg dangles beside the other, the eye is full and renewed and only maybe blinks.

Dipper stops his chase, pausing with his hand on the table.

That plush hasn’t looked anywhere near that good since he was little. Bill acted like it was nothing to him. Bill thought it was funny. He could have turned it into nothing, just for kicks - and it’s.

Every time he thinks he knows what Bill Cipher is up to, his expectations get turned upside down and shaken for loose change. Dipper doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

Bill looks over his work with pride, picking up one of the arms to shake it. “Nice to meet ya, Bill! I’m the real, better Bill.” He pauses, then nods solemnly, as if it responded. “Yeah, I am the greatest. Glad you noticed!”

And in a stunningly unsurprising turn of events, Bill’s also going to be obnoxious about this.

Bill brings the plushie right up to Dipper’s face, pitching his voice higher. “Oooh, Pine Tree, I’m so glad to see ya! You’re my favorite human.” He lifts the felt arms in a floppy invitation for a hug. “I love you sooooo much!”

Dipper feels his lips draw into a thin line, while Bill’s mouth arches up in a grin.

“What’s that?” Bill cups his ear as if to hear better. “You want a kiss?” Dipper shakes his head, but not before Bill starts mashing the stupid plush against his cheeks. He tries fending it off, but Bill’s quick enough to find every gap in his defenses. Also, he’s making exaggerated kissy sounds. “Mwah mwah mwah!”

Dipper snatches the stupid plush from Bill’s stupid hand, then turns right on his heel and storms back to the guest room.

Behind him, he hears Bill cackling with laughter.

He knew he was in for some kind of trial. A type of torment. What he’s faced so far hasn’t been terrible. Or much at all, compared to when he was back with the congregation.

This god isn’t quite the creature of eternal nightmares and torment that he was always told about. Instead he has other motives, ones too strange and subtle to interpret. Dipper should be thankful.

A glance backward shows said god slumped on the couch, cackling to himself with one hand on his forehead.

But Bill sure thinks he’s fucking hilarious.

Dipper slams the door shut, as loud as he can. It doesn’t quite block out the continuing laughter. He slumps against the door, letting out a long, tired sigh.

Great. He doesn’t know what else he expected.

Bill Cipher’s a total asshole.

#I meant to get this done quicker but my body betrayed me with illness #Probably coulda done another editing pass but I am tired and need a nap #Apologies for all of this; My November was kinda bad and then I compensated by writing Hella Fluff #Gotta wait till next part for Bill to find out the reason Dip's so quiet #That's going to be very fun :3c #For me that is #Uhhh anything else that I can add as a fun note #There's one particular scene that made me go yeah this is a good reason to write a shitton of words to get there #Because I am a fool #Hope this was fun to read you guys!! I am gonna take a friggin' nap

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pillowspace · 8 months

Note

I just randomly was scrolling through my feed and saw something about you being a songwriter?

If this is true, do you have advice for writing original songs?

Thank you and have a good day

-Q

I've been songwriting since I was 2 years old, so I'll try my best to explain, but I've never put it into words before. Nor do I know if this is good advice, but!! This is how I do it

An app I use for songwriting is Lyric Notepad, but if you just want to use a website for finding rhyming words, that can work too. So: if you don't know what you want the next line to be and you're stuck, it's good to check what would rhyme with the previous line. I've found that just seeing these stray words can give me ideas for what the entire section could be

Don't force it if you're not in the mood! I've had to scrap entire songs because I pushed myself past a limit, and the quality significantly suffered for it. Only songwrite if you think you can

If you come up with a stray tune or line that you think sounds good but you don't know how to progress past it, record it or write it down somewhere and just leave it for later. Then when you're next writing a song and you don't know how to progress, you can add in that tune/line if it's fitting to the song you're writing. Like a... recycle bin

Sometimes I stop singing the lines to myself while writing, and pretty much just start writing flat poetry that doesn't actually have a flow of any sort. Um. Avoid that. Make sure there's an actual tune to what you're doing <//3

I've found that my best songs come from me recording myself humming random notes rather than just diving straight into the words. If I think something I hummed sounded very good, I then write down a bunch of placeholder words for the tune (it can be literal nonsense, just whatever makes you remember the syllable count.) After that, I go over it with actual lyrics. I only sometimes do this method, but it usually goes well

If you songwrite a lot, you'll start to pick up on what phrases and words you like, making things easier and easier. There's no shame in taking a little bit of inspiration from your surroundings. For example, I seem to often write the words "debris," "rotten," etc.

You can set a theme for yourself at the start of a song! My most recently written song had the theme of "ballroom yandere," my song before that was "touch-starved vampire," uhhh a song of mine that I love but haven't ever posted was "someone meeting a faery who tries to learn how to love the singer." You can get fun with it. Don't worry if you stray away from the theme, my "person who's distraught by their enemy apologizing to them" song quickly turned into "enemies who care about each other somber in the aftermath of a battle"

You can study how the lyrics of other songs are structured. Like verses, chorus, etc. You don't have to follow this too closely though if you don't want to

Uhhh!! I'm not sure if I have anything else to say

#ask

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charlotte-official · 6 months

Text

REVERED WANMIN CHEF - DEEP FRIED FONTAINIAN MENU? - AN INTERVIEW

INTERVIEWEE: @xiangling-official - Xiangling Mao

featuring: @guoba-official - Guoba, companion of Miss Mao

surprise guests:

@conquerer-of-demons - Vigilant Yaksha and Adeptus, Xiao.

@yanfei-official (...?) - Popular Legal Advisor in Liyue

notes: (Mod Speaking) This was done in the "Teyvat's History" discord server. Each character's part was also done by the accordingly mods. Some parts were also shifted around since there were message delays so to make the exchange smoother I shifted some lines around. ..Honestly, if I'm being dead honest, this is less of an interview, because if it was, I'd be taking out the silly parts and giving only the answers and putting it in the steambird issue, but that already came out yesterday, so whatever. And besides, this is supposed to be a silly thing, so I hope you enjoy whatever this is. I had a lot of fun doing this.

warning: this interview contains the atrocities called gen alpha slang. (ie: skibidi, fanum tax, rizz, etc.)

[Charlotte sits down across from the young chef- Xiangling Mao-, holding a thick notebook full of questions for the interview.]

Xiangling: thank you for having me, Charlotte. ahem. i am on my best behavior today.

Charlotte: Nah! It's nothing! I'm just glad you could make it to the interview anyway! Nonetheless, please go ahead and sit down so we can start the interview!

Xiangling: ah, yes. i will do that.

[Xiangling sits down very delicately, as if she’s afraid she’ll somehow break the chair. or anything. yanfei told her very adamantly not to set anything on fire.]

Charlotte: Ahem! Here's the first question! What gave you the idea to go to Fontaine on a trip in the first place? Was it like.. an inspirational walk of sorts to gather inspiration for dishes?

[Charlotte waves her frantically, trying to convey her message through gestures.]

Xiangling: oh, hah, that’s a…bit of a long story. but the short side of it is that i did go to look for new ingredients i could use in my dishes and introduce to the people of liyue. i’m always looking for novelty!

Charlotte: Mm.. I see! What inspired you to specifically use the method of 'deep fry'? And what spurred you to just simply.. deep fry everything in sight.

Xiangling: UHHH HAHA. well you see. my specialty these days is uh.

[Charlotte listens intently. If Charlotte's ears couldve grown in that moment they would've been the size of the opera house.]

Xiangling: what i like to call, ”being a little silly” if you catch my drift and “deepfry”.. it’s such a silly word

Charlotte: Ah.. I see.. So in less professional terms your style is to really just be silly to experiment with your ingredients? No, please let me rephrase that To try and match the vocabulary I've heard you're notorious for using!

Xiangling: ah.. aha… um- listen, charlotte—

Charlotte: You.. you try to make your dishes... 'rizztastic'..?

Xiangling: i, um- legally, i cannot answer that

Charlotte: erm.. add a little 'skibidi' to the plates..?

Xiangling: … listen, yanfei told me i couldn’t say those things anymore especially not here [whispers] OR ELSE ILL GO TO JAIL. and xiao, poor xiao he never understands what im saying

Yanfei: [the voice of yanfei in the breeze] dooooooooon't say itttttttttttttttttt i'm going to kiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllll yooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...

Xiangling: MISS CHARLOTTE IM BEGGING YOU. do not tempt me. and xiao, poor xiao he never understands what im saying..

Xiao: I WAS CALLED?

Xiangling: XIAO????

Yanfei: you better not embarass usssssssssssssssssssssssss..

Xiao: hi. i heard my name.

Xiangling: um. charlotte im so sorry i forget he does that sometimes

Charlotte: Hi! Sir, hello! could you like.. wait in the corner? I've got an interview to finish.

Xiangling: dont mind him he’ll just be there

Xiao: sounds good to me.

[He waddles towards corner and sits down, staring into the back of xiangling's head.. for reasons.]

Charlotte: anyway, Xiangling, please, I'm sure you could just say those terms of yours! It'll add your own flair to the interview!

Xiangling: i.. um…

Charlotte: It'll make the interview uh.. fanum tax..?

Xiao: (dont you dare do it xiangling. i wont be able to translate.)

Xiangling: miss charlotte.. i.. i feel.. skibidi..

Yanfei: woooooooooooo............ XIANGLINGGGGGGGGGG............. WHAT HAVE YOU DONEEEEEE.............

Xiangling: i feel… i can feel yanfei calling to me.. shes saying: "xiangling.. stick out your gyatt for the rizzler"

Yanfei: DO NOT FRAME MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.....

[The Yaksha facepalms.]

Charlotte: Do you feel... skibidi about your new creations?

[Miss Mao turns around to look at xiao, doing a thumbs up]

Xiangling: i do, in fact, feel quite skibidi about my new creations

[The Adeptus shakes his head.]

Xiangling: [she nods] i think we’re all in agreement here

[Xiao QUICKLY shook his head.]

Charlotte: Alright, next, what did you see in specifically Romaritime flowers? To choose them to deepfry them first, of course.

Xiangling: well first of all, think about their name. i looked at them and i thought, “huh! romaritime flowers? more like romarititties!” and then you know, my strategy these days is to deepfry everything, so i took these flowers and i deepfried them. all very convoluted, yes, i know. i’ve got a complicated process.

[Xiangling turns around and gives xiao another thumbs up]

[Xiao, scared, shakes his head quickly.]

Charlotte: [nods, continuing to listen.] Romarititties.. Hm.. I see! Did this.. verbal change inspire you to deepfry the flowers?

Xiangling: it did, in fact! a lot of my dishes are inspired by such techniques!

Charlotte: Do Deep fried Romaritine flowers just... have a resemblance to.. you know.. to you?

Xiao: regretting actually answering her call for once, because he now has to sit through the entire interview,

Xiangling: oh, sure, you could say that. mhm. they’re all orange and crunchy. and also, now that xiao is here, i can give you the long story for how i ended up in fontaine if you want!

Charlotte: [The gears whizz through charlotte's head. ...Liyuean boobs are orange and crunchy..? Charlotte shrugs and readies herself to ask another question.] Oh? So you ended up in Fontaine on accident and didn't venture to the nation on purpose?

Xiangling: um- well, haha, you could say that. although my original purpose was to find new ingredients, i wasn’t necessarily going to fontaine.

Charlotte: Mm.. I see! Care to share?

Xiangling: of course, charlotte! ahem

Xiao: [im scared for you, miss charlotte.]

Xiangling: so i was on my way to what i like to call skibidi mountain, right, when suddenly a skibidilichurl appeared. and then i fell off the mountain but i didnt die because adeptus xiao saved me, and when i offered him deepfried slime pudding as thanks he left. and then i think maybe i contracted some kind of disease from the hilichurl because i went back up the mountain and i tried to um eat it uhh yadda yadda etc, moving on. this was all still in liyue by the way, but it’s very important to the story.

[Chef Xiangling gives thumbs up(s)]

[Charlotte enthusiastically returns the thumbsup.]

Xiangling: I went on my merry way, and i arrived in mondstadt. now you see, ive been there many times before, so ive eaten all there is to try to eat. YOU’D THINK. and then i thought. well what about.. that stormterror dragon? that shit would be fire haha 🔥🔥it was almost as if barbatos himself had launched me haha 😹

Charlotte: Oh? Now that is quite intriguing.. Do go on, Miss Mao!

Xiangling: thank you, thank you, i will. [she tosses xiao an excited look over her shoulder before looking back at Charlotte.] well so and then i was in the ocean right?

[Adeptus Xiao concernedly looks at the two, concerned for Charlotte for having to listen to Xiangling.]

Charlotte: she nods excitedly at the girl sitting across from her.

Xiangling: so i was very much at a loss of what to do.. i cant swim underwater here.. im in the middle of the ocean.. now this is a predicament. but thankfully barbatos must have forgiven me for the horrible sin i’d almost committed, because the wind picked me up and launched me face-first over the fontaine walls haha! 😹 so there you go, thats how i got to fontaine!

Charlotte: Ahhhh!! i see!! Aha!! This is definitely going to be an interesting read for my readers..

Xiangling: thumbs up good to hear!! do you think you could promote my deepfried romarititty flowers while we’re at it?

Charlotte: Oh of course! I am writing a whole article about the ordeal.

Xiangling: great!! i just hope yanfei doesnt see the whole, ah… skibidi section..

Charlotte: Ah.. Well, only if she doesn't read the interview as a whole. I can't hide anything. I write for the truth, after all. But hey! We've got a question or two to still get through!

Xiangling: alright! hit me with em!

Charlotte: Ahem, anyway, Miss Mao, have you any new dishes with the Fontainian flair?

Xiangling: oh, do you mean like.. in the style of fontainian dishes? or just with fontainian ingredients

Charlotte: Well, it can either be Fontainian ingredients OR style! Whatever floats your boat!

Xiangling: alright! well in THAT case.. guoba cmere for a second.. yup, thats it.. thank you buddy! will you show it to the nice pink haired lady?

[charlotte looks curiously at the bear thing.]

Charlotte: Oh! Thank you!

Xiangling: this is our deepfried lakelight lily noodle soup! it’s gotten wonderful reviews from many of my close friends!

Yanfei: [voice in the wind] those noodles were asssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Xiangling: erm.. xiao, did you hear something? or is my head playing tricks on me ..?

Charlotte: Aha! Those look great! Would you really mind if I had a taste?

Xiao: i heard nothing. please charlotte dont try it.

Xiangling: oh please do!! this bowl is all for you if you want it!

[Adeptus Xiao looked at Charlotte while shaking his head rapidly.]

[not seeing xiao behind her, Xiangling smiles widely at charlotte]

Charlotte: [charlotte grins, not noticing the obvious panic the Adeptus displays.] It looks great! I'll definitely try it! [Xiangling hands Charlotte a pair of chopsticks- and moment of truth! Charlotte picks up the lakelight lilies with a bundle of noodles and eats them.]

Xiangling: so??? how is it?? i dont know if you can taste them, but i put some jueyun chilis in there last second!

[Xiao was scared for her.]

Xiangling: [she bounces over to xiao, clutching his arm in excitement.] ISNT THIS WONDERFUL XIAO

Charlotte: [charlotte munches, not hearing Xiangling.] Ooh.. what a nice crisp ta........ste. charlottes entire face heats up and steam begins to pour out of Charlotte's ear, much like how it did for Xinyan when she ate the deepfried Romaritime Flower.

Xiao: YYYEAHH..

Xiangling: haha! i can tell that you like it charlotte!! that’s exactly what xinyan said when she tried it!!! xinyan’s face does that anytime she tries my food, actually romarititty flowers.. lakelight lily soup.. huh i guess she just really liked them!

Charlotte: It.. tastes.. wonderful.. [charlotte faints from chili overload.]

#charlotte genshin impact #xiangling #genshin impact #exclusive interviews !#xiao #alatus #guoba #liyue #fontaine #yanfei

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neroli9 · 1 year

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APJFM Truth Or Dare!

I meant to post this at New Year’s. Alas, I didn’t finish it until now! So pretend we’re still in that happy time when Reader and Sans are still together...

Sans looks around at the assembled group: Reader, Sasha, Asriel, Frisk and Jerren. Then he looks back at Sasha. “i thought you said you were gonna be, and i quote, ‘as far away from you two horndogs as i can possibly get.’”

“We just got four questions that my sister said we couldn’t use if I was around,” she says, shrugging. “So my eyes are safe.”

“what, seriously?” Sans turns towards the fourth wall, rapping it with his knuckles. “i was counting on you people for some sexy fun! instead you send in shit like —“ He takes one of the four discarded questions, written out on a slip of paper, and presses it up to the wall. It reads ‘turn your junk into a magical teacup.’ He jabs his finger at it angrily, then flips off the wall.

“You and I already had a hot game of Truth or Dare," Reader reminds him. “You'll survive a PG-13 one.” She takes one of the slips of paper. “Sasha, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” she says, grinning.

Reader unfolds the paper. “Uh. You’re supposed to rob a bank."

“Heck yeah! Stepstool Man, take us to a bank,” she orders, gesturing to Asriel and Frisk.

Sans glances at Reader, who shrugs. “what else am i doing with my life,” he mutters. Then he and the three teenagers disappear.

“Are we getting the sexy ones done now?” Jerren asks.

“They were all for Sans,” says Reader with a shrug.

“No one wanted to see my drag act?"

“No one knew you had a drag act until chapter 85.”

Sans, Reader, Frisk and Asriel return with six bags of money. Sasha opens up one of the two that she’s carrying and starts dumping the money out on the floor. “It’s pretty nice to have a lackey that can take us right to the bank vault!”

“And create light for us,” Frisk adds.

“And get us out before we run out of oxygen,” Asriel chimes in.

Reader raises an eyebrow at her sister. “So it sounds like you didn’t really do anything.”

“I used my powers of persuasion and excellent people skills,” Sasha says with wounded dignity. “Who’s next?”

Reader picks out another piece of paper. “Sans, truth or dare?"

“dare.”

She unfolds the paper. “Show off the socks you’re wearing.”

Sans shrugs and kicks off his shoes. He’s wearing plain black suit socks, but he poses his feet as if he’s modeling. “gorgeous, right?”

Everyone stares at his feet. “Isn’t that scandalous or something?” Sasha asks. “For monsters, I mean.”

“Not exactly,” Asriel says. “It depends on the context.”

“I don’t think anyone’s getting turned on by those,” Frisk notes dispassionately. “Now, if they were leopard print or something, that’d be scandalous.”

“You hear that? Stop going all gooey over his boring black socks,” Sasha says to her sister, elbowing her.

“I am not going all gooey," Reader says with a failed attempt at dignity. Sans grins as he swings his feet over to her lap. She gives them an affectionate pat. “Well, maybe a little gooey.”

“Did anyone dare one of us to jab out their own eyeballs with a hatpin? Because I’ll take that one,” Sasha says, reaching for the slips of paper.

“You already went,” Asriel reminds her. “My turn! Give me truth.”

Reader pulls out one of the slips of paper. “What is your most mortifying memory?”

Asriel and Frisk glance at each other. “Uhhh. Can I switch to dare?”

“That bad?” Reader asks. “I don’t mind if you switch, but…”

“Definitely switch,” Asriel says.

“Fine, then. ‘Impersonate someone in this room for 20 seconds.’”

Asriel looks at Sans, and Sans smacks his forehead. Asriel smacks his forehead, too. “don’t try to impersonate me, kiddo,” he says in a gruff voice. “ya really gotta BELIEVE nothing matters to get me right. you’re not jaded enough yet.” He shrugs, his hands out to the sides in a comically helpless pose.

“cripes,” Sans grumbles, wincing. But everyone else is laughing uproariously, even Reader.

“frisk, truth or dare? not that it matters,” Asriel continues.

“Dare,” Frisk answers, laughing.

Reader fishes out a piece of paper and reads it. “Perform the most advanced dance and/or gymnastic move you know.”

“Easy,” Frisk says. They launch themselves into a perfect cartwheel, hopping back to their feet and taking a bow to applause from the group.

“That was great!” Reader says, beaming. “Jerren, you’re up."

“Truth,” he says with a superior grin. “I seem to be the only one willing to tell it.”

Reader picks out another slip of paper and unfolds it. “Jerren, why are you a bitch?”

His grin turns to a scowl as the rest of the room laughs at him. “That’s not even a proper question,” he protests. “That’s just someone being a little troll.”

“So you’re not going to answer?"

“I’ll answer a real question,” he says with wounded dignity.

“All right, all right.” Reader picks out another one. “What’s the cringiest thing you’ve done in any timeline? I --“

But Jerren interrupts her before she can finish the question. “You would have loved the timeline where I was a fashion designer,” he says with relish. “I took it in my head that I needed to do something truly avant garde! I needed to shake up the world of New Ebott fashion and show them something no one had ever seen before! I was going to hang out with all the fashionistas and trendsetters, and they would all be amazed by me!” He sighs. “They fawned over my designs so much that I started to feel disdainful of them. I kept pushing the envelope, wondering how far I could go. I kept hoping someone would realize it was all a big joke on them, that all I was doing was shitting out ugly designs and they were acting like I was a genius. Finally, I recreated the Emperor’s New Clothes, just to see if I could really get away with it. I made a big show of tailoring a whole collection with this special new material I’d designed. The rarest, most refined fabric that only the most elite names in fashion could possibly appreciate properly. I sent out model after model on the runway, stark naked, as the biggest names in fashion oohed and aahed. Finally, I strode out onto the runway myself, clad in what I deemed my finest creation. I struck a pose as they applauded.” He jumps to his feet and mimics a model’s pose. "Then I mooned them and called them a pack of bloody idiots. It was hilarious.”

There’s silence.

“That does sound hilarious,” Reader says tentatively. “But that wasn’t the end of the question. ‘I give Chara use of a felt puppet to speak on Jerrens behalf because I know for a fact that he has no honesty left in his soul.’”

“No, no, we’re done, I answered the question," Jerren says irritably. "It's your turn.”

He tries to sit back down, but Chara's already there, looking smug. “Definitely when Ceridwen died,” they say.

Jerren’s expression is murderous. “Don’t you dare —"

“Not the first time. I think it was the sixth time, when you’d tried a bunch of different ways to save her. Do you remember that?”

Jerren tries to put his hand over Chara’s mouth, but it goes right through their face. Chara continues, unfazed. “He ran all through the hospital yelling, ‘I wish you all were dead! I’d kill you all myself if it’d save her! I’d kill you all with my bare hands!’”

“Enough!” Jerren yells. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”

“I realized he was running towards the maternity ward, and I was like, wow, you’re not really gonna do this, are you? But he opens the door and shouts “None of you little pieces of shit are EVER gonna be HALF the person she was! None of you PUT TOGETHER!”

Everyone in the room is cringing now, except Sans who’s grinning from ear hole to ear hole. “you were grieving so hard you cussed out a room full of babies?”

Jerren picks up the chair and slams it against the wall. The back and one of the legs cracks off, and it falls to the ground in a heap. Chara is still standing there, grinning insolently —

Reader picks out another slip of paper and unfolds it. “Jerren, why are you a bitch?”

His jaw seems tense, but he smooths it out into a smile. “Because I dare to do what most would never consider,” he answers with a faint air of superiority. “It’s no surprise I’m resented for that. But the best most people can do is fling pathetic, anonymous insults at me.”

“that’s seriously your answer?” Sans says sourly.

“Take it or leave it,” Jerren answers, still wearing that supercilious smile. “Your turn, my dear.”

“I’ll do truth, too,” Reader says, picking out a slip of paper. “’What’s the most intriguing thing about Sans? Body, personality, whatever.’ Hmmm…” She looks at Sans, putting her hand to her lips. “I’m always trying to figure him out. The scary, intense Sans is no more the true Sans than the laid-back, fun-loving Sans. Same for the Sans who knows everything, and the Sans who’s a complete mess. He’s changed a lot since I first knew him, and… I wonder how he’s going to end up.”

“He’s going to fail,” Jerren says shortly, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be embarrassing and painful, and in the end none of it will matter anyway. If you’ll excuse me…” He nods to the group, then makes a quick exit.

“I’ve got to get to work,” Frisk mumbles.

“Undyne’s probably looking for me,” Asriel says, just as unconvincingly.

“I said I’d help Myrdi do some filing,” Reader adds.

The three of them follow Jerren out the door, leaving Sans and Sasha.

Sasha turns to Sans with a gleam in her eye. “Boy, do I have some intel for you.”

#APJFM Truth or Dare 2022 #thanks to everyone who sent in questions!#wish I could have used them all but I'm happy with how it turned out

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kirakirabug · 24 days

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Currently airing anime I've started watching and some small thoughts. Because I thought it'd be fun to do, under the read more yayy :3

Astro Note: I've only watched one episode so far but I really like it. The art style is very unique and it has a fun premise with fun characters. I love a good alien girl too. The romance is cute too despite only being teased at the moment, and Terurun is probs my fave character thus far.

Blue Archive the Animation: I've only watched the first episode. I've never played the game but someone I follow on twitter posts about the villains a lot and I think they're fine ASF so I'm just watching to see them. Uhhh but the characters are cute so far, though it's not really the kind of show I watch. I like the pink haired girl, who's surprised???

Girls Band Cry: I mainly started watching because I saw it popping off on twitter and, I want to watch more 3D anime. So far, it's good! The characters are interesting and I do enjoy the CGI animation a lot. I don't have anything else to add but maybe I'll like it more as I watch more episodes.

A Salad Bowl of Eccentrics: Probably my personal favourite so far! Not only is the opening a banger, in fact probably the best one so far but the characters are already so fun and enjoyable. I like the humour and Sara is an absolute cutie pie, I also do enjoy an opposite isekai plot. A.K.A a fantasy character coming to the normal human world and learning to adapt. I can't wait to see where this series goes, I'll definitely be keeping up with it.

Himitsu no AiPri: My first Pretty Series season. Well, I did start watching Kiratto Prichan a long while ago but didn't get very far. From what I can see, having knowledge of the previous seasons would probably be beneficial to the watching but ermmm, whatever. It's cute so far! And it definitely reminds me of Precure, since it's trying to compete with it. I love the character designs and the premise seems interesting, though I don't entirely understand it yet. I might try and start watching the first season in-between as well and work my way up but, no promises!

Grandpa and Grandma Turn Young Again: I've only watched the first episode, it's a cute little episodic series so far! I don't really have much to add but the Grandma is very cute. And the art style is cute too, but I'll have to watch the second episode to gauge more of an interest. I definitely think it has a great premise though.

Mysterious Disappearances: I'll be honest I completely forgot I downloaded the first episode at all so, I don't really know if I'll continue with this series. The first episode wasn't bad though, it's just not really my series. But, I might as well keep watching it since I've started, maybe I'll come to like it more as I watch it. I think the art style is fun at least! Unlike the others this screencap is not mine because I only screenshot the cat that showed up (it's my mission to screenshot every kitty I see now).

Studio Apartment, Good Lighting, Angel Included: First of all, what a series name. Second of all, I fucking hate Shintaro with every one of my being. Oh, his name is similar to Rentarou now I want him to die even more. Okay, I hate his ass he's one of those boring ass MC's that's really stupid and dense and I can't stand him. So why am I watching this series? Don't be ridiculous, the cute girls of course. I didn't think I'd continue this show but I really like the girls so far, Towa is soooo silly and an idiot I can't help but love her. Noel is also adorable and I didn't see the reveal of who she really was coming. And, I love the design of the purple chunibyou girl so I'm mainly watching to see her debut LOL. The show would be 10 times better without Shintaro, like get rid of him and this show would be way more enjoyable. It's always the ugly ass boring ass men getting in the way. The ending really adds to that point like I would kill for a slice of life with these unusual and mostly nonhuman girls, please.

Whisper Me a Love Song: It's not really my thing, so I don't know if I'll continue it, but it's cute so far. I like the art style and I especially like the side character Kaori, if she shows up more I might continue watching just for her. That's really all I have to say since I've only seen one episode so far.

The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio: Watched the first episode like today and I'll just say it now. If a series has a gyaru I'm gonna watch it, that's the main reason I picked this show up. But, I do think it's pretty good so far! I do enjoy a duo who don't like each other at all and I like that Yasumi is the one annoying Yuuhi. I'm mixed on Yuuhi as a character but, so far I think she's fine, her design reminds me of Uto from 100kano hehe. I'll definitely continue if only to take cute screenshots of Yasumi.

Train to the End of the World: Cute girls alongside a gyaru? Of course I was gonna pick this series up, so far it's pretty good. I'm not one on SciFi mysteries so I'm not entirely in love with it yet, but it seems like an exciting show. The opening song is nice! I think I'll have to watch more to really put my thoughts down, though I'm also just watching a lot of series so brain not work. I can't add anymore images sawry

Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night: BANGERRRR BANGER OHHH SO GOOD SO GOOOOOOD. A Salad Bowl of Eccentrics appeals to me most because of my personal taste but objectively I think this is the best show. Watching the first episode of this anime gave me the same feeling as when I watched WEP for the first time. And that feeling is phenomenal, I feel so strongly towards this series already and it's only been 2 episodes, I'm really excited to see where the plot goes and how these girls succeed or fail. The animation and direction is just so AUGHAHBEJSNENNSNE I'm running around on all fours you NEED to watch this show you need to watch it NOW!

I'm also of course, still keeping up with Wonderful Precure! Sorry most of these are vague and not good because uhhh too many series is a lot for me I don't know why I'm doing this. For honour and to get up that anime count, I don't know if I'll keep up at this pace. Though I at least know that if I can't keep up with all of them I have a few that I will definitely keep watching regardless. This season is gonna be pretty good I feel.

#kirakirabug talks #thanks for reading my 2 am ramble #i am not feeling so good tbh my head hurts woahhh woajhebhensbd that may read in this posy #like aughh psychic damage

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought. unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once. It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there? Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression. "Ahh, I get it. You're not used to a female tailor. Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that. "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all. The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors. Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately. "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man? I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.

“What? No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky. “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.

"No, it's good for you! She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily. "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay. "Depends. How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently. "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned. "I'm leaving. And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone. It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call? Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you. Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long. He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone. Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way). “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated. “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.” Was it too forward? Too obvious? And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me. If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look. But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room. No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently. Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else. “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots. “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted. “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly. “And socks, of course. And some watches, maybe? And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too. I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy. He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either. As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.

Worse, his gut was less innocent. Mine, it demanded, all mine. Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret. You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space. Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety. Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

"So, what do you think?"

I think you look so damn good from every angle. I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again. I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve. I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality. “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit. The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent. Most of all, your talent was undeniable. "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly. "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly? I feel a bit… out of place. I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery. "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier. Sometimes you're only a man. And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts. “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger. “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel. But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck. The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?”

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good? Good looks?”

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now. Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you? You had to. You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something. You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, thanks.” He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow. You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted. He selected the solid gold one, making you smile. “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket. Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter. Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected. This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version. If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie. And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled. Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice. It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary. Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really? Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan. So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him. He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed. “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!”

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated. It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small. “Why not? You know how he is. Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced. “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry. You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then? You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not. Nothing’s ever happened between us. I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally? Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question. “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all. Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him. Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt.

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something.

"I know I certainly haven't. And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong. Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways. "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly. That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you. “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered. Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay? I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one. “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you. “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…” You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him. “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at. Conversation in any form typically stressed him out. But this? This he was still pretty good at. And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly. "Now look over there at that mirror. Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length. Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get. God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh. This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection. “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet. Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand. “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it. I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.

"What material is this skirt made of?"

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra. If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess. You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit. "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me? After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality. “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it. “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded. “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you? You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More? Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first. He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop. You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you. It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything. It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,” you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up. He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you. “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs. Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it. Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?” you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you. He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk. "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed. You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own. "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you? I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again. Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet. I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm? What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go. His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you. At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left. He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout. He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either. He wanted to test you just a little. He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in. He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet. You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time. You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine. He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this. Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on. Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right? Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes. Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl. Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted.

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment. Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly. “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become. When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment. Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good. Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace. It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different. You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want? Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly. "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected. He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever. He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened. To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace. He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh. “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled. “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work. You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response. Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him. Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong. You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his. “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine? Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed. “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now. Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context. And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up. “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence. A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable. Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something. "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest. "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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barry-j-blupjeans · 2 years

Text

@taznovembercelebration day 27: wonder, why

The door shut with a final clunk and Lucretia had to resist the urge not to collapse onto the nearest chair with exhaustion. She could still hear them talking through the door, their voices slowly fading away. When she turned away, she spotted Killian descending the staircase that lead up to the viewing area for the Test of Initiation. Behind her, Carey and Boyland split off towards where the new Reclaimers had just left.

“They did, uh, they did pretty good,” Killian said, approaching her. “I particularly liked when the big guy ripped off the arms of that helpless robot- uhhh hey, Director, do you think these guys are like- good?”

Lucretia blinked a few times, trying to get herself back into focus. She turned to give Killian her full attention.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” Killian scratched at her neck. “They did good, besides killing all the testing instruments we had and I’m certainly not complaining about wreaking Lucas’s shit-” Lucretia smiled slightly- “I gotta wonder about other things, y’know? No one else has been able to- to handle relics. And they just wonder in from Gods know where and pick up the damn thing? I was… admittedly, I was unconscious for that part, so I don’t know what went down. But if anything, doesn’t that make the whole thing worse?”

Lucretia could feel a headache coming on. She started walking, gesturing for Killian to walk with her. They went through the doors and towards Lucretia’s office.

“I have questions about them too,” Lucretia said, not noting that her questions were more along the lines of “why did I do to you?” and not “are you evil?”. “But I have a good feeling about the three of them. They seem like… good people.”

“Good people,” Killian echoed. “Um, Director-” Killian laid a hand on her shoulder and Lucretia paused, once again turning to look at her. “I trust your judgment, I really do. But, uhm. When they… disposed of Brian-” here, Killian grimaced. Lucretia tried to keep her mask off cool indifference up, but fuck, Brian was a big loss. “They looked like they were having, uh, fun? And I don’t know if I’m- if I'm comfortable with letting people who have fun killing others just… waltz right in here and take, arguably, some of the most important jobs we have.”

Lucretia let out a breath. Killian pressed on, a little more motivated.

“And,” she added, glancing around like the Reclaimers would be listening in somehow, “they claimed to be level one, or something, but the- the magic I saw them use before, both planetside and during Initiation- correct me if I’m wrong, Director, but that didn’t look like level one shit. I’m worried they might be, uhm. Y’know. With the wrong crowd.”

“The Red Robes, you mean?” Lucretia said and Killian nodded. Lucretia bit the inside of her lip, frowning. She didn’t particularly like lying, despite the fact that her whole organization was based on them. It was even harder to lie to Killian, who had been with her for years at this point. Even more so because the lie was about Taako, Merle, and Magnus not being part of the “Red Robes” when they were, in fact, three out of the only seven left in existence. Add tenfold for the fact that Lucretia was a Red Robe, herself.

“I can assure you,” Lucretia said, straight-faced. “The Reclaimers are not associated with the Red Robes. I had Lucas do an extensive background check as you were bringing them up. They’re just- they’re normal people, who seem to happen to have a natural resistance to the Relic’s thrall. Call it a blessing or a miracle or whatever you want, Killian, but trust me when I say the last thing I would do is let a Red Robe onto this base.”

Killian seemed to relax a little at that and Lucretia felt guilt twist like a knife to her chest. Killian nodded, a smile quirking up onto her lips.

“You’re right,” she said. “They, uh. They do seem like pretty good people. I just gotta hope they stop killing folks for fun, y’know?”

“We can hope,” Lucretia said, ignoring the way the guilt just drove further into her heart.

#killian #lucretia #taz killian #taz lucretia #taz #taz nc #taz november celebration #ise cube writing #mine #i like this one :D

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fallindomino · 3 years

Text

how i would have changed s2 of hsmtmts

obvious disclaimer but im not a screenwriter or anyth so im not claiming what i want is best, this is just for fun lololol

okay so first of all nini would still have dropped out of yac but she wouldn’t have gone back to east, she would have transferred to north bc she was too ashamed to tell anyone she left at first and maybe she still wants to explore who she is away from ricky and the others

nini could join north’s batb and this way maybe we could have some playful rivalry with lily and nini and more scenes with antoine shdhdjdj also it could have been a great opportunity to flesh out lily’s character so those scenes where she reaches out to ricky and her confession at the end of the season actually make sense lol

speaking of ricky ,,, i think he should have left the play at some point hear me out. he only joined in the first place because of nini and barely wanted to do it at all once he realized he wasn’t gonna be able to perform with her. he could have joined crew and been a manager with natalie or smth considering he rlly does see the theater gang as a second family. also this would leave so much room for ej and ricky development and bants since ej joined the av club and began to pursue film. they could have some convos where idk ricky asks ej how he figured out what he wanted to do after duke didn’t work out and ricky could actually develop some interests that arent the play or nini ,,, maybe fucking art club i mean he did p good on that centerpiece for carlos’ quinceañera.

with ricky not being the beast anymore i think seb should take his place that would be soooo good. and since seb isn’t chip anymore carlos won’t make those snide comments about chip being a small unimportant role and we can just cut that whole fight bc it was dumb and bad. we could still have seb being insecure that carlos is only dating him bc there aren’t really any other gay guys at school. in a heartbeat is great and i did like ricky being supportive in the background it was kinda funny too idk dhdjdjfj

ooh i almost forgot abt rini ahshdj okay so i still think they should break up. but in my version there’s no ricky pulling an ej 1.0 and deleting comments off of nini’s insta, cause with ricky in art club and nini at north trying to figure out what she wants i think one of them would realize that they’re going in different directions and only got back tgt because they made each other feel safe cause what they had was familiar. this could be triggered by ricky mentioning smth abt nini at yac and then nini breaks down and tells him that she dropped out and is at north and doesn’t know where she’s going. and then they can both realize they aren’t good for each other rn and have a less tragic mutual break up.

honestly i really liked the scene of nini taking charge after miss jenn freaked out cause with the character detail of nini giving every person in the cast of productions she’s in a thank you note she just seems really like someone who is suited to lifting others up. this could still be explored at north, maybe she could help lily through her issues that were briefly implied in ep 11 and nini realizes she wants to be a drama teacher and encourage kids to go off book and put themselves into their acting, something she couldn’t have at yac.

okay now ej ,,, so like i said in ricky’s section, more bants between them cause i feel like friendships kinda fell by the wayside due to all the relationships so more friendship !!!! also the scene where ej tells his dad he’s not going to duke shouldn’t have been an ending scene, it should have been fleshed out with his dad pushing back saying how he pulled all these strings to get him in and ej saying he doesn’t wanna go if his own hard work couldn’t get him there. and also more scenes of ej doing av club things !!! and realizing he rlly likes film and wants to do it OMG IT WOULD BE SO COOL IF HE BROKE THE FOURTH WALL AND ASKED THE DOCUMENTARY CREW ABT THE FILM INDUSTRY god i would love that. the only scene we rlly got of ej doing film things was at the quinceañera which made me kinda sad. uhhh also i just wanted to specifically mention how ej got mr mazzara that job at cal tech bc it really showed how he wanted to be there for people not just for gina, who he had a crush on, but for mr mazzara who supported him outside of romance, so i wanna keep that for sure.

gina !!! okay so i mostly liked her arc in this season, the only changes i would make would be to flesh it out a teeny bit (god this hypothetical s2 would have to be like 22 eps at least shdjdjdjfj) anyways besides ashlyn singing home to get gina to stay i think there should be a scene where they actually talk in her room abt how gina feels safer when shes on the run (second chance reference ilysm) hhhh and also a scene of her and carlos actually working out compromises for their choreo cause i liked that bit of development too and fleshing that out would make gina an even better foil for lily, who felt a need to hog the spotlight like gina used to. with gina’s own arc fleshed out her character would feel more whole independently from romance and portwell would be even more rewarding than it is in the current s2. the only thing i would really change abt portwell is that they would kiss !!! in the finale but thats bc im biased.

ashlyn should have gotten a more fleshed out storyline about being insecure about not being a good enough belle or the typical belle. there were some throwaway lines when north did their typical dramatics but the only two real scenes that showed it were when ash talked to big red about it and when she was telling nini she wanted to do a run in “home” bc lily did it. ashlyn should get more screen time where she has to grapple with the reasons she doesn’t feel good enough and big red can still support her but also gina too bc i would like more roommate besties interaction.

kourtney could still date howie, that harry potter shit was cute but there needs to be smth else for kourtney’s arc. idk she’s still into fashion so maybe she could be out here trying to create her own line or smth? this doesn’t have to be resolved in s2 like making a wholeass line takes time and she could work on it into a potential s3. kourtney just didnt get much outside of howie and the stuff at the beginning of the season where she said nini inspired her to be independent and that's why she got a job was just dropped?? so i think that fashion could fill that for her if she’s still dating howie cause like having her whole arc just be the pizza place kinda overlaps w big red’s mini arc abt how he wasn’t settling for hospitality, its what he wants to do with his life.

ik what ur thinking. anna, even if you added more episodes, where would u find the room to add all these plotlines?? well first we cut (most of) the seblos fight, so thats some time saved. honestly most of the time that we r going to gain is going to be from cutting ms jenn’s time. things like ms jenn’s and nini’s car ride would get cut, but mostly all of ms jenn’s romances would get cut down. considering she’s the teacher and isn’t actually a character with an arc how does she have THREE love interests this season?? like all of the weird tension between her and zack can be cut, like just some short scenes of them being competitive can stay. all of the stuff with ricky’s dad can go bye bye we don’t need it. i did like her w mr mazzara so most of that can stay i just didn’t like how he said he would give up cal tech for her, ew no that would be gone.

the MENKIES !!!! this is the last thing im gonna address cause in a perfect world every character would get a long fleshed out arc but then the season would be waaay too long and also im mostly trying to work within material the show gave so this is mostly made up of “realistic” deviations from what actually happened. lol idk what that even means it just makes sense to me. but anyways!! uhhh bro idk i thought them dropping the menkies was funny but it also made the finale really BAD lmao. in this finale, seb is the beast, east still had to deal w the fact that they’re underfunded compared to north but no one is injured, lily is less of a poorly written character and maybe ppl are even rooting for her, and wow i just realized i never actually said what role i think nini should have in north’s show. OOH she could be student director instead of lily cause lily both being in the play while also directing was weird considering omg i just checked and according to her wiki page shes a FRESHMAN?? and they let her be student director? lol hell nah. okay so with all that in mind ,,, the menkies should have been the season cliffhanger instead of portwell. east and north should both be nominated, both schools perform at the menkies, and then the award winner is about to be announced and THATS when it cuts to natalie and the end of the season.

one, this actually gives more tension for a summer s3 as we would be waiting to see the consequences of whichever school won. also i bet people would be wondering if nini’s gonna be transferring back to east or staying at north. people would also prob wonder if ej would be getting the scholarship if east won and what that would mean for his interest in film.

lmao that got longggg and idk if anyone’s even gonna read this but it was fun to do :D

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honeypirate · 3 years

Note

Congrats on the 420 honey! You deserve it!!!

For your 420 event could I pretty please get Tanaka with She/Her pronouns?

Date idea #6 Reality #5

Can you also put edible #6?

Okay I love you and congrats again!

Oh my god thank you so much for this I had so much fun writing it!!

Event Masterlist

Tanaka x fem!reader + theme park + soulmate au + scarf kiss

Okay so for this soulmate AU I couldn’t choose which one I wanted so I choose both of these hopefully you like it haha

1. Colors of things or places your soulmate’s been/touched are brighter and more vivid.

2. Whenever you lose an item (like a sock), it ends up in your soulmates’ possession somehow

For spring break you and your friends decided to take a group to a theme park a couple towns over. It was perfect except for the fact the fact that it was a cool spring day.

“Hey Yui! Have you seen my scarf?” You were searching your room frantically. Since it was a little chilly you wanted to wear your scarf instead of a jacket since you’ll be outside all day.

“I haven’t. When was the last time you saw it?” She asks from her spot on your bed doing her makeup.

“Just a few days ago! I had washed it because it fell in the mud, remember?”

She nods putting the mascara wand back and twisting it closed “maybe your soulmate has it now”

You groan and flop backwards on a pile of clothing “you’re probably right. It was my favorite too.”

“Don’t they also have your favorite daisy earrings, your tamagotchi, and the left shoe of your favorite heals you wore to prom?”

You chuckle “yeah they do. I hope they’re taking care of my tamagotchi baby”

“Those things are so old I can’t believe you still took care of it religiously”

“It was my baby! It was my job to take care of it!”

She laughs and rolls her eyes “what do you have of his?”

“Uuuhhh” you look around and start grabbing random things “this little volleyball charm I keep meaning to put on my keys. This sweatshirt that has a bleach stain but is obviously super loved. And this water bottle” you take a drink from it and Yui looks at the bottle, feeling that she’s seen it somewhere.

She shakes her head “anyway. Are you ready? We have to go soon if we want to meet the rest of the group”

You sigh and pull yourself up to sitting again “yeah I’m ready. I’m just gonna go with no jacket or scarf and hopefully the thrill of the theme park will keep me warm”

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“Is this yours?” Tanaka asks Saeko and she shakes her head “nope!” She says with a pop on the p sound “must be your soulmate’s again” Tanaka felt his stomach fill with butterflies. He wraps the scarf around his neck as he heads out the door, noya and the other guys waiting for him on the doorstep “see you later little bro! Do what I would do and have some fun!” Saeko calls out with a laugh

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“Who else is gonna be here?” You ask as you slip the volleyball charm on your keys, the water bottle in the side pocket of your backpack as you walk towards the theme park gates from the car

“The boys VB club, the rest of our club, and a few guys from other schools that the boys invited” Yui says as you get to the line

“Are we meeting them somewhere?” You ask and she nods

“For lunch we are all supposed to meet up at the pizza place by the dragon ride. Or at least that’s what Noya told me”

You smile “so then we have a few hours to do what we want!”

You ride the crazy rides first, screaming beside Michimiya as they twist and turn and make you feel dizzy. “This is the best day” you say after you stumble off the dragon ride, dizzy and not able to walk in a straight line. “But the pizza place is right there so let’s go claim a table before it fills up”

You were the first ones you guys knew at the pizza place, claiming the largest table as you waited for the rest of the group.

Asahi and Daichi came first, Daichi sitting right next to Yui and chatting like usual. Part of you hoped they would be soulmates but Yui said the things she has don’t belong to him and the yellow flip flop he had wasn’t hers.

Boys you didn’t really recognize came next, filling in around the table as some went to order. Noya and Tanaka came next just as a chill from the breeze went through you. “Y/n how come you don’t have a jacket?” Noya asks as he sits beside you. “I wanted a scarf but I lost mine today so I decided I’d rather be a little cold than have to carry around a jacket all day”

Tanaka’s ears perked up. You lost a scarf? He wanted to rush over to you and ask if you also lost daisy earrings and a shoe and a tamagotchi? But he controlled himself and sat across from you, his hands messing with the ends of the scarf around his neck.

You noticed Tanaka’s scarf, but that couldn’t be yours, it was too vivid of a red to be yours. Yours was plain red, a muted color you liked.

When you all got up to finally order, Tanaka pulled Noya aside “switch me seats” he said and Noya raised his brows “okay. Why?”

“Because she lost a scarf. And this” he holds out the ends “isn’t mine. It just showed up today.”

“She could be your soulmate?!” Noya exclaims and places his hands on Tanaka shoulders, jumping in excitement “that’s amazing!!”

Tanaka hushes him “keep calm bro. This might just be a coincidence. I need to do some recon” noya grins “oooh right right right okay okay. You got it! Let me know if I can do anything”

Tanaka sits beside you at the table and you raise your eyebrows at Noya across from you. He just grins and takes the biggest bite of pizza you’ve ever seen, making you laugh.

Tanaka places a bottle of water next to your plate and you cover your mouth, still chewing a little as you ask “is that for me?” You meet his eye and he nods, a blush on his ears.

“Thank you Tanaka!“ You say place your hand on his forearm that was on the table, giving it a light squeeze.

“No problem y/n” he takes another bite of his pizza.

You pull out your water bottle from your bag and unscrew the top, pouring the water he got you into your bottle, empty from the first half of the day.

“TANAKA!” Noya shouts and you look up at him with a confused look “yes? Noya?” Tanaka says stiffly, trying to get him to shut up and calm down. His eyes said ‘yes. I see it. Be cool dude’

“Uuuh I was thinking we should uhhh GET COTTON CANDY!” He tries to cover it and nods proud of himself, you look to Tanaka and he looks a little nervous but responds with the same amount of excitement “yea!! I agree!! I love cotton candy”

You chuckle softly, pushing your empty plate away “I like the pink kind best” you say with a smile and Tanaka’s heart starts to race at how cute you looked.

“No way! The blue kind!” He says back and rocks his shoulder playfully into yours

“No the blue kind tastes like it’s just trying to hard to be better than pink. It’ll never win”

“Wanna bet?” He asks and you laugh

“What are we betting?”

“How about we decide that after we see who wins?”

“Ooh I like it. More of a risk” you say with a laugh “you’re on” you hold out your hand and he takes it with a firm shake.

“What ride should we hit next?” Yui asks and she pulls out the park map, unfolding it and placing it on the table.

“How about we go in a huge circle around the back that way we can hit the cotton candy stand here” you point to the back of the map “then we can hit all the best ones on our way out”

Tanaka watched as your finger traced a path on the page, watching as the colors of the paper changed with your touch, becoming more vivid and bright. He gasped softly and you looked over to him

“Did you have a different idea?” You ask and he shakes his head, you thought it was weird that he was being so quiet but you didn’t pry.

The rides on this side of the park were slower and more interactive. You had fun shooting lasers through one ride, then number cars the next, feeling special every time Tanaka wanted to sit beside you.

you get to a teacup ride and Tanaka takes your hand when the gates open, leading you directly to the blue one in the middle. You laugh as he pulls you along.

“Are you ready for this?” He asks with a grin and you laugh, nodding as the music began and the ride started. His hands move to the wheel in the middle and for a moment you think it actually changes colors. His hands moved the wheel as fast as he possibly could, making your world spin and making you laugh uncontrollably. The wheel he was turning was such a vivid shade of blue now but you didn’t know if it wasn’t always like that.

Tanaka loved the sound of your laughter, it was beautiful, like a song just for him. When the ride ended he took note of your messy hair and the tears from the corner of your eyes from laughing so hard. You looked like an angel. His angel.

As you wait for the ride to stop completely you just look at each other, panting from laughing so hard with smiles on your faces. It was like the world stopped and gave you two this special moment.

“Come on kids! Cotton candy time!” Noya shouts as the doors to the teacups open and everyone shuffles out.

Tanaka exits first, holding his hand out to help you which you gladly take. Smiling and feeling your cheeks heat under his soft gaze.

“Ready to lose this bet?” He asks and squeezes your hand but doesn’t let it go as you walk behind your friends

“I don’t know Tanaka, are you?”

He laughs “I’m ready to win” he says with a goofy grin and you felt your heart race.

You didn’t really know what was happening. You and Tanaka were friends but you hadn’t been this flirty before. He’s told you that you were gorgeous but most of the time he was all over Kiyoko asking her if she’s got any of his lost items. (She hadn’t. Her soulmate wa someone from a different school who she’s already met)

“You get blue. I’ll get pink. And then we will share and compare” you say as you wait in line at the stand

“No lying. Say what you honestly think” he adds and you laugh

“Of course. No cheating”

Noya behind you speaks up “but they also have green and yellow. What if those are better?”

You and Tanaka speak at the same time “they’re not”

Making you laugh and making noya wanna vom at how cute it was.

You get your cotton candy and drop his hand to open your bag, humming in delight when you popped a bit in your mouth. “Pink is definitely better” you say and offer him some but something beeps in his pocket and his hands are a little occupied with holding his blue cotton candy and fishing around in his pocket he just opens his mouth with a little smile and sparkle in his eye.

You don’t miss a beat, placing the bit of, to his eye vibrantly pink, cotton candy on his tongue and accidentally brushing his bottom lip when you pulled away your hand.

“Yeah” he says “pink is amazing. But just wait for blue” he pulls out the thing he was looking for in his pocket and it was a pink tamagotchi. “Sorry. Gotta feed it too” he says and you laugh

“it’s fine. I had one of those before but I lost it. I think my soulmate has it and I just hope they are taking care of my little guy” you watch as his thumb presses the buttons. That couldn’t be yours. It was too bright of pink. You had a lighter pink version.

“Hey what’s that?” Yui asks when she comes to chat with you “he has a tamagotchi too isn't that cool?” You say and she nods “that’s pretty neat. Yours is pink too” you shake your head “not that pink though! It’s vibrant and mine is lighter than that” Michimiya gives you a look like you’re the stupidest girl she’s ever met and you raise your eyebrows “what?” She shakes her head with a laugh and changes the subject

“So what color is better?”

You gasp and turn to Tanaka who has a mouth full of blue already and you laugh at him, cheeks flushing s little because of how oddly adorable it was.

“Let me try” you say and he pulls off a piece, raising it to your lips and you smile and let him feed you, feeling your face heat even more.

“Pink is better” you say just as he says “Blue is better” making you laugh and making Yui give you a smile before she quietly left you guys to figure it out.

“I don’t think you had enough pink” you say and he shakes his head “I think your taste buds are broken” you gasp “hey!” You say and playfully slap his shoulder. He smirks and you watch as he places a vibrantly blue piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

“Try some more pink” you say and hold your bag out to him, finally beginning to realize that the colors aren’t just random.

He takes a piece of your candy and you withhold a gasp from the way it changed from normal pink to vibrantly pink.

“Okay okay” he says after a few more bites and then comparing them side by side “I think you’re right. Pink is better”

He looks up to you, finding you wide eyed and staring quietly at his hands “are you okay?” He asks and you shake off your shocked feelings. Warmth and excitement taking their place in your heart.

“So since I won that means you need to do something for me, right?” You ask and he nods

“What can I do for you, malady?” He asks and you chuckle at his goofy ways.

“Maybe you could give me back my scarf” you say softly and he gasps “you figured it out” he said and you nod with a laugh

“It took me almost all day but I finally realized”

“That we’re soulmates” he finishes for you with a dopey grin and you nod “yeah. That were soulmates”

You don’t know when all your friends abandoned you but you weren’t really worried. You take your backpack off one shoulder and open it, storing your leftover candy as well as his.

“So. What now?” You ask with a laugh and he shrugs “I. I don’t know. I didn’t think past this.”

“How about..”

You reach up and take a hold of the scarf, he assumes to take it off him but he gasps when you pull him down to your level with it “how about this?” You suggest and bring your lips an inch away from his

“Yes. Yes I like this” he says and cups your cheeks as he connects your lips together.

The moment his lips touched yours it was like the sky exploded. Your body tingled and you saw vibrant colors behind your eyelids as he kisses you, quick peppering of pecks across your lips to make you chuckle before you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into him. Your tongues and lips moving together as the rest of the world melts away.

“Okay.. gross” a small child said in passing and you break apart to start laughing with him. “It wasn’t gross” he says with a hurt expression but you just guide him back down to give him one last peck. “Come on, soulmate. Let’s go meet back up with our friends so we don’t miss out on the dragon ride”

“So you should have my vb keychain and my hoodie as well” he says and you nod “and you should have my daisy earrings and my shoe” he nods “amazing” he says softly and you return his smile. “I’m glad it’s you” he says and you raise your eyebrows “really? You’re not sad it’s not Kiyoko?” You look down and he reaches out to tilt your face back up to look at him “I’m so glad it’s you. Kiyoko was a crush. But you, everything is so much brighter now. I feel like my world has changed”

You spot Noya first and he runs up to Tanaka “so?” He asks and you laugh “did you know?” You ask and he nods “the water bottle” he says and you laugh, forgetting all about that.

You spent the rest of the day holding his hand and flirting, watching as colors of things changed when he touched them and experimenting with it. You rode the crazy rides one last time as you held his hand as he sat next to you. When it came time to leave, him and noya ask to ride back with you guys and you can’t hide your excitement.

Noya takes the passenger seat while Yui drives and you sit in the back with Tanaka. Within ten minutes you’re both passed out and cuddled into each other and Yui can’t help but smile. She couldn’t wait to find her soulmate and couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy she felt that you found yours first.

#tanaka x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke #haikyuu tanaka #tanaka fluff #tanaka x you #tanaka x y/n #420 event

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authorofemotion · 2 years

Text

I posted 4,946 times in 2021

399 posts created (8%)

4547 posts reblogged (92%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 11.4 posts.

I added 1,084 tags in 2021

#i told the stars about queue - 279 posts

#claire gets an ask - 242 posts

#bookie! - 162 posts

#cat - 139 posts

#claire yells to the void - 87 posts

#athena! - 69 posts

#mutuals - 56 posts

#ask game answers - 21 posts

#my cats - 16 posts

#prayer request - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#because i’m a teenager and don’t need to be experiencing burnout just so i can impress people who want to sell me four more years of burnout

My Top Posts in 2021

reblog this with a phrase you say a lot but you’re not sure where you picked it up

I call things nifty a lot semi-sarcastically, but whenever anything bad to any degree happens I somehow started saying “that is both fun,, and nifty” mostly to myself cause that would get annoying

tagging the whole gang (but no pressure to be perceived) @bookdragon1811 @turtleduck-enthusiast @shyposttree @kanerallels @accidental-spice @heckin-music-dork @avatardoggo @silverstarrss @laughingphoenixleader @stardust948 @yearningbxtch @dido-arc @books-and-starss @ladygobpire @holbytlanna @paracosmic-activity @nightfrostshadow @captaincrackhead @pinkknight999

50 notes • Posted 2021-11-10 20:05:40 GMT

*hands you a hot piece of bread*

@bookdragon1811 @turtleduck-enthusiast @nightfrostshadow @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @accidental-spice @kanerallels @friendswithcryptid @hurting-fictional-people @shyposttree @multifandoms-multishipper @journey-the-panda

<333333

57 notes • Posted 2021-09-11 23:54:26 GMT

This is your sign to go make your ocs on this picrew!! (if you want to!)

(In order: Lillian, Meg, Emory, Wyatt, Hector, and Alastor)

tagging mutuals who I know have ocs,, @bookdragon1811 @silverstarrss @accidental-spice @kanerallels uhhh I’m sure there’s more but my brain is dead—anyone’s free to add on though!

59 notes • Posted 2021-11-04 15:02:14 GMT

enemies, but like in a sexy way

61 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 00:50:48 GMT

GUYS I FOUND THE CUTEST PICREW

this may look the most like me out of any that i’ve done :D I don’t know if there’s already a chain going around with this? but i’m tagging mutuals anyway!!

no pressure tags: @bookdragon1811 @turtleduck-enthusiast @shyposttree @kanerallels @accidental-spice @silverstarrss @books-and-starss @holbytlanna @heckin-music-dork @stardust948 @nightfrostshadow and anyone else i’m forgetting because my brain is mush!!

103 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 02:10:52 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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gureishi · 3 years

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Ohhhh, requests? Requests!!!! ❤️

We all know and love SE and the Choi family (Mc, Saeyoung and Saeran living together in the bunker).... But what about. Other way arround?

Saeran after ending, with saeran and saeyoung making amends, and you finally befriending and getting to know the true person behind 707.

Im happy with whatever ideas you have for this, but if you need more guidance... A scene between saeyoung and Mc, talking? Saeyoung thanking mcfor making saeran happy and feeling like he failed as a brother for not protecting him, and mc being all sweet as she is reassuring him that it's OK and that they are happy now and just fluffy??????

Gosh, I wrote a lot, sorry.

Oh wow. I ADORE this request. Thank you for bringing me this sweet idea. ♡

I love envisioning their lives together post-AE, and it was so much for fun me to imagine this tiny little slice of that.

after

Saeyoung & Reader (platonic); Saeran X Reader (background), G, words: 2355

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Today there’s one of those early-winter snows where the flurries get stuck in your hair but the ground’s not white and beautiful, just cold and damp. The parking lot is nearly empty—apparently no one else wanted to go out today. Personally, you can’t understand why. You love the way the sky’s a bright white and how the biting wind makes the tips of your ears pink.

Saeyoung, who’s been walking a few paces ahead of you, turns around in time to see you stop and catch a snowflake on your tongue. He raises his eyebrows; he’s got his hood up and there’s a light dusting of snow on top of his head, like powdered sugar.

“I was gonna ask if you regretted coming along now that it’s snowing, but I guess I have my answer.” He’s got a complicated look on his face, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to laugh at you or not.

“I have no regrets!” you sing, and then he does laugh, shaking his head indulgently.

“Come on,” he says. “Your shoes are getting wet.”

“Your shoes are getting wet. Also your head. Who goes to the store in just a hoodie in the winter?” But you run to catch up with him, splashing in the little puddles that have collected in the uneven pavement.

“It was the hoodie or the floor-length pink fur coat, so I went for the hoodie,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

The automatic doors slide open for you; he grabs a shopping cart from the assortment parked just inside the door. You walk beside him, feeling a little awkward. Grocery store etiquette, you think, is such a personal thing. Saeran, for instance, likes to go slowly through the store, lingering in each area—looking for inspiration, sometimes checking recipes on his phone. You like to move through the store at random, picking out items that strike your fancy. These methods work surprisingly well together—perhaps because Saeran finds it charming when you come running up to him with a strange new fruit in your arms.

Saeyoung, it seems, has neither a list nor a plan. He pushes the shopping cart lazily with one hand, heading vaguely toward the nearest aisle. You’re tempted to guide him in one direction or another, but you also don’t want to be a nuisance. This is his shopping trip—he was the one who announced he was going to the store; you were the one who’d insisted on tagging along.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked then, hesitating, one hand already on the doorknob. “You don’t need to! I can get whatever you—”

“I want to,” you’d said firmly, jumping off the couch where you’d been lying with your feet in Saeran’s lap, reading a book. It wasn’t that you needed anything in particular from the grocery store or that you didn’t trust Saeyoung to find whatever was needed for the house (though, in retrospect, it wasn’t that you did trust him, either). It was just…

In the few precious days that you’d been living in the bunker with the brothers—in a world that was suddenly so peaceful you couldn’t quite believe it—you’d begun to realize something: in spite of the hours of phone conversations and chats you’d shared with the enigmatic and charming 707, you actually hardly knew Saeyoung at all.

“So, uhhh,” he begins, a bit uncomfortably. You glance at him askance; his cheeks are pink. “What do we need, anyway?”

You laugh—you can’t help it. “What were you going to buy if I didn’t come with you?”

Saeyoung shrugs, looking down. He’s definitely blushing. “I was gonna…wing it.”

Maybe it’s his inexplicable shyness with you and maybe it’s your genuine love of grocery shopping, but your confidence is bolstered. You take the cart from him and he relinquishes it gratefully, falling into step behind you.

“First we’re going to get produce,” you tell him, and he nods eagerly, bouncing on his heels. He honestly looks excited that you’ve taken the lead; you make a mental note about this. At home, Saeyoung is often in charge—of little things, like what movie you’ll all watch together—because he is boisterously enthusiastic about everything and you and Saeran are more subdued. But here, without his twin, outside of his domain, he is suddenly much less confident.

You select a few types of squash; he watches somewhat reverently. “How do you know what to get?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Practice, I guess,” you say. “I have in mind a couple of recipes we can make this week, and there are some staples it’s always good to have…” You pause, realizing something, your hands full of squash. “Saeyoung, can I ask you something?”

“What? Yeah!” He responds a little too readily and you know he’s trying to mask his awkwardness. It’s endearing.

“You lived alone for a pretty long time,” you say thoughtfully. You survey the selection of cabbage. “Didn’t you…buy food? To eat?”

He laughs, runs a hand through his already-messy red curls. “God Seven doesn’t need food to live!” he sings, and it’s in the tone of the 707 you’d developed a strange friendship with during those days you were at Mint Eye. You know now that Saeyoung was there, even then, under all that false positivity and diversionary teasing.

“You do, though,” you tell him. You hand him a head of cabbage.

Your firm tone seems to quell him. He looks down at the cabbage.

“I ate snacks, mostly,” he says, a little more quietly. “Sometimes Vanderwood got frustrated and brought me other things to eat.”

You turn away to hide the look in your eyes from him. These poor, poor boys.

“You two!” you explain in mock-frustration, pushing the cart to the next refrigerated shelf. “So you were living on junk food while he was keeping himself alive with caffeine pills. What am I going to do with you?”

Saeyoung bounces behind you, still holding the cabbage.

“Feed us!” he says. You roll your eyes and tear a plastic bag off the role beside the shelves.

“Put the cabbage in the bag,” you tell him. He does.

You gather a few more fruits and vegetables and Saeyoung asks about all of them; you’re amused when he doesn’t know what a persimmon is.

“So besides chips and stuff, then, what do you like to eat?” you ask him, pushing the cart into the large, open area where meat and fish sit on ice, row after chilly row.

Saeyoung hums thoughtfully, peering at a particularly large fish, complete with eyeballs and everything. “This is creepy,” he says. “Can we get it?”

“We…can,” you say. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

He walks a little ahead of you, and he looks at each different type of meat with such curiosity. They’re both like this, you think—so full of wonder over basic, mundane things. Saeran was in awe the first night the three of you settled in on Saeyoung’s huge couch to watch TV together. And now here is Saeyoung—who’s had considerably more freedom than his brother—staring at an assortment of different cuts of meat like he’s in a museum.

“I’m not sure,” he says finally, tilting his head to the side. “I love chips, and, you know, fish-shaped buns…”

“But is there a meal you like? Maybe from, I don’t know, the past…?” You regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth.

Saeyoung laughs bitterly. “Not from childhood, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right,” you say. “Yeah. I knew that. I’m sorry.”

He comes back to your side, leans on the cart. “It’s okay,” he tells you. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say. “Sorry.” You steer the cart toward a display of different chicken parts and he pads along beside you—like an obedient dog, you think.

“What’s the difference between…” he bends over, peering at the packages. “Breasts and thighs?”

You giggle. “You tell me.”

You watch as his face turns red, clashing wonderfully with his hair.

“Um, l-let’s get the…thighs, I guess,” he chokes, and you stifle your laughter with your hand.

“Thighs it is.”

He throws the chicken into the cart with his face turned away and you grin. 707 was a tease, but it is easy to fluster Saeyoung.

You move through the aisle of bottled sauces in companionable silence. You hold up a bottle of bottle of soy sauce and he nods enthusiastically; he does the same for the fish sauce and corn syrup. To test him, you hold up a banana ketchup—which you’ve personally never actually tried—and he gives you the same affirmative head bob.

“Saeyoung, do you know what this is?”

He tilts his head to the side, reads the label.

“Banana ketchup? Yum!”

You sigh. “Fine.” You toss it in the cart; maneuver to the next aisle.

“You didn’t even have soy sauce or salt or anything in your house when we moved in,” you say. “There was literally nothing in the cabinets.”

He strolls along beside you, running a finger along the rows of different kinds of pasta. “It never occurred to me.”

“We were kind of surprised,” you add, tossing a big bag of rice into the cart. “We bought a bunch of stuff, before we…left.” You stumble over the words; gears spin frantically in your brain. The words hang heavily in the air between you. Before we left to find you. Before we found you and then lost you again.

He’s silent for a moment and you know he feels the change in atmosphere, the way time seems to have slowed down.

“Hey,” he says finally. He’s got one arm draped over the side of the cart and his posture is a little stiff. “Did I ever thank you? I mean, properly.”

You bite your lip, keep walking. Your face feels hot. Suddenly, you’re not really looking at what’s on the shelves.

“You did,” you say softly. “But I feel I should be the one thanking you. You’re the reason we’re both alive, you know.”

Saeyoung stops, and you almost crash into him. He spins around, and he’s got a hard, determined look in his face. You’ve seen that look before.

“No,” he says. “Nuh-uh. You saved us. You protected him. You did what I didn’t…couldn’t—”

Ah. Your heart’s pounding against your ribcage. Of course it’s here, you think—in this narrow aisle, next to hundreds of loaves of bread, that he’s saying this to you.

“Saeyoung, he knows that you would die for him. You tried to.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, walks away from you, lingers at the end of the aisle. The change in him is remarkable. There’s no hint of the awestruck boy, bouncing up and down over the wide selection of steaks, in this morose, bitter man.

“I didn’t succeed, did I?” he says. A mother with a small child seated in the front of her shopping cart comes down the aisle and you back up into the shelves to let them pass. You wonder if they can feel how thick the air is.

“No, you didn’t,” you say. “And thank god, because where would we be if you had?” He finally looks at you then, and you’re taken aback by the wild look in his eyes. It scares you; you take a step toward him. “You fought for him,” you tell him. “And he fought for you.”

His fingers drum a frantic pattern on the metal shelf beside him. He’s got the look of a cornered animal, ready to bolt. You’ve seen this expression before—though on a different Choi brother.

“I was supposed to protect him,” he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him. You take one more step. Another. Finally you’re at his side, and he flinches, but he doesn’t run away.

“You did,” you say. “And he’s safe. All of us are safe.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“We’re going to buy this stuff,” you tell him. “We’re gonna pay for it, and get in the car, and go back home, and he’ll be there. Waiting for you.”

Saeyoung shuts his eyes and takes a long, slow breath. You do it with him. He runs a shaky hand through his hair again and you give him a little nudge with your elbow. Eyes still closed, one side of his mouth twitches upward—a half-smile.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know.”

“I just feel like I owe you…”

“Me too.”

His eyes open; they’re clearer, bright and gold behind his glasses.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says, and it sounds like a question.

“I love him,” you say. “So, I think I do.”

Saeyoung shakes his head; the color’s back in his cheeks now, and he grabs the cart, pushing it out of the aisle. You jog to catch up, grab onto the side just as he’d done earlier. Hold on tight.

“You love him a lot, don’t you?” he says. You can see him in your peripheral vision—his eyes are twinkling.

“More than anything in the world,” you reply.

“Me too,” he says, echoing you, and you grin. You picture the look on Saeran’s face if he could hear this conversation—the way his green eyes would soften, the way he’d get that adorable little dusting of pink over his cheeks.

Saeyoung turns the cart abruptly, maneuvering into the next aisle with an expertise you didn’t expect—you shriek, barely holding on. He cackles.

“We need this!” he says, and you turn to see him pointing at an alarmingly large box of some sort of purple cookie you’ve never seen before.

We don’t, you almost say, but you hesitate, because what’s the harm?

“Sure,” you say, and you toss them in the cart.

Saeyoung smiles. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. You know he’s not talking about the stupid cookies.

You beam right back at him. “I am too.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys

#mystic messenger #request #gureishi writes requests #soft-enbee

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babycharmander · 3 years

Text

Things I have learned in my 20+ years of writing fanfic

I’d been thinking about this for a while and figured I’d compile a list, in case other people find it helpful. Keep in mind that what I say here is only my own experiences and tastes and I’ve no intentions of telling you how to write your own stories. So uhhh... let’s go!

1) Different stories require different planning methods. When I was younger, I used to think that I had to use the exact same method for planning each of my stories. Strict outlines on everything! Except... that's not how writing works. Stories are like wild beasts--you can try to tame them, certainly, but as each one is an individual, it may require different methods. Or you may discover that the stories that come to you are ones you can all write in the same way!

But for me personally, I find it best to plan out stories in different ways depending on which one seems to work at the time. One story may require a strict outline, while another may need a very loose roadmap. Other times I can fly from the seat of my pants and finish a story that way, or even use things readers have brought up to help me figure out parts of my story. The point is, don't try to confine yourself to one method of planning. Do what suits your story.

2) When working on a longfic, look for ways to include other characters. This one doesn't apply to every fandom or fic situation (for example, if there's only two main characters in your fandom, or if your characters have a very very very good reason to be isolated), but it's honestly a little bit of a pet peeve of mine when it comes to other stories, though I was guilty of it too when I was younger. I remember writing fics in fandoms where you'd have a large group of characters, but... the fic would only focus on two or three of them. They seemed to exist in a bubble, where no one else outside of that bubble really reacted to what was going on, even if there was no reason why they SHOULDN'T react to this.

For example, say you're working on a longfic for a fandom where there's a group of 5-10 characters (maybe a family, a neighborhood, a team, whatever). In this fic, character A nearly dies, leaving character B devastated at their terrible state and doing everything in their power to take care of A. And then... the rest of the characters don't really do anything, or just avoid the situation for no apparent reason. Once again, it feels like the whole story is taking place in a bubble. I totally get that sometimes you want to just focus on A and B's relationship, but consider how you approach this sort of thing for a longfic. Why not look for ways to include the others?

I'm not saying that means the entire story has to focus on all of those characters if your main intention is to focus on the relationship between A and B. But look for ways to include the others in the group/team/family/neighborhood/town/whatever--show how they're reacting to the situation or what they're actively doing to help or hinder it. Even if you only show one or two scenes per character, it burst the "bubble" effect of your longfic and makes the story richer and the world fuller. Heck, you may even find that you actually enjoy writing those other characters more than you initially thought. Give it a try!

3) In longfics, have specific details in your story that you can potentially bring back later. I'm not entirely sure how to explain this one, but... give your story specific details. Stuff like characters briefly talking about an event from the past, or a character having an item in their possession, or a character happening to know another, or just... anything. Obviously don't fill your stories with unnecessary detail, but sprinkle interesting, specific things in there every so often. You don't have to linger on them or hang a bright flashing arrow next to them to tell the reader "LOOK AT THIS!!!" In fact, you don't even have to come back to them later.

So... why am I telling you to do this?

Because sometimes those specific details will surprise you.

Sometimes you'll be writing part of your story, and then get stuck, and go back and reread something... and then you'll run across one of those details, and it will be the answer to your problem. Sometimes readers will pick up on those details, and voice their own thoughts on them, which might give you an idea for a plot point to bring up later. Sometimes those details wind up being the link between two plot points that you couldn't figure out how to tie together.

Even if they don't wind up doing any of those things, they can just be something to add more life to your story, and make it more memorable for your readers.

4) If your source material has voice acting, keep videos/sound files featuring characters' voices handy. Something I've found that helps me get into a character's head and voice is to just listen to them. In video game fandoms, you're likely to find videos that consist of a character's entire library of voice lines. For show/movie/podcast fandoms, you can of course find videos or sound files in which the characters are talking. If I'm about to write a character for the first time, I'll listen to them talk for a while before I start writing them. Other times, if I'm not certain a line of dialogue sounds like something the character would say, I'll listen to some of their canon dialogue for a bit in order to "refresh" their voice in my head, and see if I can clearly hear them saying the line I wrote.

Sometimes if I'm writing quickly and don't want to stop to listen to their lines, I'll add in a phrase they usually say to the dialogue I'm currently writing--that way I can immediately hear the way they say it in my head, and that will carry to the rest of the dialogue.

In general, it's just a useful thing for making sure you're getting a character's voice right. (Plus, listening to the dialogue is fun just by itself!)

5) Before posting a longfic, make ABSOLUTELY sure you want to finish it. So, I've written... a lot of longfics. And as a kid, I had a problem where I would get this FANTASTIC IDEA for a longfic, and I would immediately start writing, and immediately start posting, because feedback! Excitement! Gratification! ... and then a few days later I would lose interest and move on to something else. Oops.

When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I decided that sort of behavior wouldn't do, so for a while I would not start posting fics until the entire rough draft of them was complete, and then I would post one chapter a week. And while that worked for a while, it, uh... could only last for so long, because my stories kept getting longer and longer and man you can only go so long writing on your own without really, really wanting some of that sweet sweet feedback.

So... I figured out a compromise.

I would start my longfics. Maybe write out the first few chapters, or write out the notes, however I decided to do it. For some, I would determine that the longfic would be "short" enough that I could finish it before any excitement I had for it burned out. For all the others, I would continue to write them without posting for a while, seeing how long they kept my interest, and maybe show them to some friends. If I started to get really invested in it, then I would (attempt to) create a buffer of chapters, and start posting on a schedule. That schedule... did not always last, but by that point I was usually able to determine that yes, I absolutely did want to see this fic through to the end. Otherwise, the WIP would stay unfinished and unposted until the end of time.

Naturally most of my finished longfics are the epitome of self-indulgence, but hey, that's what fic is for, isn't it?

Speaking of...

6) Always remember that writing fic is FOR FUN. My previous point there? Completely disregard it if you are not having fun writing a story anymore. I've had fic series I started out with full plans to complete them, but after a few years, I lost steam, moved onto different fandoms, and really could not go back. But... that's okay. This is for fun. If I'm not having fun anymore, why should I push myself to keep writing?

Not to say that you should quit writing at the first sign of trouble! Wracking your mind trying to figure out the next part of the story isn't the same thing as losing all enjoyment writing it (unless it is). Usually once you figure out what to write next, you feel that much happier, and can keep going.

Regardless, never lose sight of what you're doing. Writing fanfiction is a hobby, and hobbies should be fun. If you're not having fun, move onto something else. Your readers may whine, but they'll get over it. Sometimes even the feedback isn't enough to keep you going, and that's okay. This is not your job (unless you're actually getting paid for it). This is a hobby. Write what you enjoy.

Well... that's all I've got for now. I may add more stuff to this list later as I remember other things. But there you have it!

Again, you absolutely don't have to take any of my advice if you don't want to. There's no single right way to write a fanfic! Do what works for you. If you find this stuff helpful, I'm glad. If not, that's okay! Either way, good luck with wherever your pen or keyboard leads you, and have fun writing!

#writing #writing advice #long post #I dunno #this is just stuff that's been bouncing around my head for a while

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somethingmissingthiswaycomes · 3 years

Text

Hey y’all, since it’s pride month and I’ve been trying so hard to share other people’s funds and needs (boom, bam, bang), I think I feel like I can try and reach out again and ask for help paying my sister back for entirely covering my top surgery without insurance and the first revision. (Revision was with insurance.) She’s also probably going to pay for my second revision as far as insurance won’t cover, and she’s gonna have to change jobs soon and she’s stressed out, and I really want to help her.

I have some money saved up but I need most of it for myself because I can’t work right now and probably won’t for a while, so I’m going to say I’m at $60/$10,000 because we did manage to get that much out of the initial gofundme. Of course, I’m going to put in my own money too, and it’ll probably be a while before I can save that much, but some help giving her back some of it would be... nice.

Quick edit: Additionally, I may have some future unrelated medical expenses coming up, so... yeah, help would be good.

I don’t think I expect much from this, especially given it’s just tumblr and I don’t have TONS of followers, but this is my biggest platform and I would deeply deeply appreciate it.

Andd uhhh, if you want, you can make it a commission for uhhhh any kind of thing we do! We write but only short things bc joint pain (one of those medical things to address and pay for), we’ve learned to crochet little plushies that’s super cute (and bags, and pillows, but we’d have to ask for shipping for physical things), and we’ve got some fun digital paint designs we like to put combinations of pride colors all over. Here’s a showcase post I made earlier purely to link back to lol

If you want to help... here’s our paypal. Make sure you leave a note saying this is what it’s for. If you can. If you do. If you wanna. (Edit: Oh, I should add that we have a business PayPal purely bc we want the link to be our preferred name. If sending donations, folks should send anything as friends/family so there's no fee or issues with taxes.)

And!!! Because I don’t like feeling selfish! If you do decide to! You should take a dollar off the amount you were gonna give, and give that to someone else linked in the first paragraph. Even the smallest thing from one person is going to make a difference.

I don't feel comfortable asking for help without also helping others. I hope I've had a positive impact on some people's lives and I hope I can continue to do so.

#transition fund #trans fund #trans pride #Trans #Bi #lesbian #nonbinary #Transfemme #Transmasc #I'm adding tags that apply to both us and our sister #Ace

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adudelol-reblogs · 2 years

Note

hello. here is an infodump ask. you can infodump about anything in its answer.

go. be free. be free to infodump adl

OH MY GOD THANK YOU OKAY OKAY I HAVE SO MUCH UHHH okay first ill talk about my recent project im doing, and it’s a suprise DND game for two of my irls with our characters!!!! ill be dming the game and im making the plot around our own character plot!!! WAWAWA JFDKLSFJ its taking so much out cause ive never dm’d before lmao but also the research is so fun??? like idk i have like two or three pages of notes already and now i have the base of a map done i just need to add like landmarks and just bbbbbbb okay okay uh . i can infodump about the actual characters i suppose! they’re called the “Royal Rebels”, or the RR for short. The four characters are named Ryan, Star, JC, and Mia! in the dnd compain here are theyre classes and races -Ryan: Paladin Tiefling -Star: Cleric Fairy -JC: Sorcerer Human -Mia: Rogue Changeling in their canon the reason they all have these certain powers and races, is cause ryan lives with his grandparents, who are a priest, hence the paladin class. in the canon, ryan is essentailly born with a demon possesson type deal, and so i choose a tiefling to give him that ‘demonic’ kinda look! star is the daughter of the mayor, and so i made her a cleric. the fairy idea i stole from one of the irls cause the picture i used was great (if i remember ill reblog this with some images?). jc is a fire witch (there are multiple different types of witches in this universe, like time, fire, nature, necromancy, water, ect), and so i made her a sorcerer so she is natually able to just do magic ! and then human cause she just fit the bill and finally, mia. her bloodline was cursed so the women couldn’t have children and that they’re bodies can tear itself apart painfully. But! the women found a loophole to still have children, but the curse seemed to be genetic. thats why Mia is able to shapeshift! so! i made her a changeling in the dnd game! and i made her a rogue because she’s sneaky.

okay hmmm what else okay okay uhhhh i suppose i could talk about the man in my pfp, percy de rolo the 3rd! i love him so much he’s wawawa i dont actually have any thoughts on him its like the pondering the orb no think meme lmao he’s just rotating in my mind he’s from a show called the legend of vox machina, imo it’s very good BUT IT HAS A LOT OF TRIGGERING TOPICS like a lot. so if any of yall reading this wanna watch it be warned it gets very serious at times

okay okay ill talk about this a guess im currently attempting to like write my own original book! (you can find some of the chapters out already on @adudelolwriting cough couhg). It’s called Last Generation, and it’s essentally like a post apocolypic world where the main characters, Solace, Zoya, and Nieko all live together. I won’t get much inito the plot cause i dont wanna spoil it, but its gonna be found family >:]

speaking of orginal books, i can talk about my other one along with LG (Last Generation), I’m also writing another book called The Powers Within (TPW for short). This one has been in the works muuuuuch longer than LG (which I started this year, I think? I’ve been trying to write TPW for about five or six years now). I’ve never been quiiiite happy with how it turns out, buttt oh well lmao It’s a mystery story about a group of kids who live in a school. They’ve always lived there, since they have powers, or as the school calls them, ‘gifts’. Each student has different powers, and a certain group of kids come together once they figure out somethings up with the school principal...

and uhhhh yeah i think thats it ! i can’t think of anything else to talk about rn buuut oh well lmao. you can actually probably see some of the TPW characters in @adudelolocinfodump but im not sure which ones as i havent updated it in forever lmao fjkdsjk

#adude.talks #long post #i spent all class period writing this LMAO ill reblog with pictures when i get a chance in like an hour or so jkfdkjl

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

Story P1

REAL LIFE COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: ADORABLE AF

I sat in the comfy chair sipping my cup of tea as they set up the mics and such and such the magazine interviewer sat in her own chair and finished with her notes.

"We good?" she asks

"Yeah were good to go Lina" the sound engineer nodded

"Okay, hit me up" she smiled "sorry, are you good" she asks

"Yeah I'm good" I nodded putting my tea down "It's alright I'm use to it" I shrug

"Okay, two... one" the engineer nodded and I could tell the set up was all now on.

"Okay, today in the rambling corner we have an very special guest, Welcome to the corner Mr Thomas Brodie Sangster"

"Hello" I smiled "Pleasure to finally be here, we've been talking about this for like six months"

"I know, I am very happy to have you in my corner. shits been busy"

"It has, yeah"

"Frist things first as always on the rambling corner, the rules. You can swear, you can talk about whatever you want, you can tell a question to fuck off if you feel like it"

"Good. those are good rules" I laughed

"But I think we both know what is going to be discussed"

"Yes I do"

"Good, then lets get started. Now you are coming up to your one year wedding anniversary, My first question is. Do you still feel like a nnewly wed?"

"Uhhh... sort of, I think I'm getting use to it" I smiled fiddling with the ring on my finger a little "There are things I'm not use to yet. This is a primary one" I said showing my hand "I have never been someone to wear jewellery well.. I do, but not on my fingers and its something you strangely do have to get use to, it's a very physical weight you now carry around with you it's very much a constant reminder of her which I do like"

"Have you already lost it?"

"Yes. I lost my ring once. we had been married... ooohh about a month and I was working in our garden I was doing some weeding and general gardening and I took it off because I thought I'm not use to it yet, I really don't want to get it dirty, or damaged, or even worse loose it. and when I was done I had forgotten where I left it and Yeah I lost it for about half an hour"

"How was that? did y/n kill you?"

"No she didn't know. I didn't tell her I couldn't find it" I laughed "I don't think I have ever in my life felt... such intense panic, it was literally the heart racing panic when you pat your pocket and you don't feel your phone or you don't feel your keys but times a hundred"

"Obviously you found it?"

"Yes. It was on the windowsill. where I left it"

"Anything else your not use to? I imagine living together was a big adjustment" "Uhh yeah sort of. We hadn't live together before we got married which I know is a little... yeah my mate jack actually said I was nuts when I told him ohh me and y/n are engaged he sort of looked at me and went ' Thomas you haven't even like lived together yet how the fuck are you engaged', and I had never lived with a partner before, she had I hadn't. But luckily we had always spend to much time together it wasn't like odd for the other to be around." I explained "Her stuff was odd. that's something I think because I've never lived with a partner before and she moved in with me it was just sort of... ohh I need to move all my stuff and rearrange my house because it's not my house anymore it's our house"

"So do you still feel like a newlywed"

"No. I don't think I ever really did. Luckily we are very similar people and I think we have just... always been an old married couple, People have been saying that about us before we where even dating"

"Do you think the honeymoon phase is over? are you like in your sweats around each other and all that?"

"Uhh We are but we have kinda always been like that, I literally think sitting in her flat in our sweats watching lord of the rings was our second date"

"was it?"

"Yeah, extended editions as well, But no I don't think the honeymoon phase is over, I don't think we really had one, I mean the honeymoon was but we had a very long honeymoon."

"Where did you go on honeymoon?"

"we went down out of London, to the coast and then around the west side of the UK went up to Scotland explored all the islands up there then came back down the east side of the UK visited all her family, visited all mine, and then back home. and we did all of that on the motorbike stopping at little hotels, it was amazing but that took us several months to do"

"that sounds amazing"

"It was, it really was, so much ice cream though, every sea side town we stopped in we had to get an ice cream and it got to the point I kinda hated ice cream and I still don't love it as much. Ice cream is nice, twenty ice creams over the course of a week is... too much"

"If there is one thing you could change about your wedding day what would it me?"

"Oooh.... I have no idea. I wish I had seen her before the alter. which I know is bad luck, But I wish we had a little seeing each other first because I was extremely nervous and I think it would have calmed me down a little, plus I got dressed with my guys and then because we had to weight for the guests and such to sit and get sorted we both ended up sat in hotel rooms for an hour or hour and a half just like chatting shit and playing videogames because we where waiting around for everyone so It would have been nice to have chilled out together again it would have calmed me down a little"

"what's a wedding secret?"

"Uhhh a wedding secret? Okay this isn't a secret from y/n, y/n knows this obviously. but it is a secret from our wedding parties."

"Ohhh?"

"The secret is, that the day of the wedding as previously mentioned I was in no polite terms shitting myself. and we where about... an hour out from what we called open doors when they where going to start letting everyone into the venue, still a good couple of hours out from the actual wedding, and I was very very nervous. and for contest I'll add, Me and y/n hadn't seen each other in almost a month, she went to stay with her family and hung out with mine and then we went on our respective parties. she went to Napa in Cali they stayed in a villa on a vineyard with all her friends. which as well was a way better party then mine. I just stayed in London with my mates," I laughed "But we hadn't seen each other in almost a month, we hadn't really spoke because obviously all my friends where like 'oohh no Thomas put your phone away your not chatting with y/n that's the whole point of us partying, because your two aren't married yet' and her friends obviously didn't really want her to talk to me very much for the same reason 'Ohh you have forever to talk to Thomas, you guys can talk forever after this, this is your last big party being unmarried' so we hasn't really spoke either and I got very very jitteray about this time, and I did.. a bad thing"

"Ohh? what did you do?"

"I said. to my party. Look guys I need like five minuets you have fun with your game and stuff I just need like five minuets on my own" I explained "and I went and locked myself in the smaller of the two bathrooms in our hotel suite, and I rang y/n."

"You what? on your wedding day?"

"Yeah, I rang her, and she luckily wasn't in her dress yet so she also went and locked herself in the bathroom and we just kinda cried at each other. I basically did a smaller more teary version of my vows over the phone in a hotel bathroom to her, I don't know what anyone who might have heard us thought. I think if someone heard us they would have thought we were breaking up or something. but that's a secret know one knows we did that"

"what is the best image from the wedding in your opinion?"

"Ohh thats easy, we had such amazing photographer and videographer. yeah we have a full wedding video off all the parties, all the prep, the ceremony, and the reception, it's really long I think I've only sat though it once all the way though, but the best is this perfectly timed picture that I think Maggie got? or make luke I don't remember who got it. but they stood at the doors so the bottom end of the isle and they managed to get this huge wide shot of everyone in there seats, the groomsmen and bridesmaids all looking perfect there not even like a blink on anyone and our wedding parties each had six people, and its right at the exactly you may kiss the bride it looks like a photo from a set, like from a film. It looks staged because it looks so good it but just was so perfect and it's very proudly on the wall in our house, above or dinning table."

"any others?"

"Uhh there's one that's on the video that we stopped and like basically screen shoted from the video of y/n, behind the isle doors so not in yet, of her dad helping her fix her dress so she wouldn't walk on it, holding her hand ready to walk in and her mum like fixing her vail a little and I think it's such a beautiful picture and she really like it as well, I don't have one like that. I think the only picture of my dad at my wedding without it being burry or just like the side of his head, is either our actual posed pictures or one at the recipient of him doing his toast with a bottle of jack Daniels in his hand"

"Did you like her dress?"

"I love her dress. it was so beautiful. and it still baffles me that she made it"

"did she?"

"Yeah she went around lots of stores and just couldn't find what she wanted at all, she said no dress she could find matches what she dreamed off and what she had in her head so she literally just went bout got lots of fabric and she made her wedding dress" I explained "which was amazing because it means truly there is no dress in the world the same as hers and it fit her perfectly, and more then anything she was happy, she didn't have to settle for a dress."

"How much did it cost?"

"I think she said, taking out like her time to make it. I think she said it cost her maybe like one hundred maybe one fifty for everything, the fabric, the cotton, the lace, and everything else. that's all it cost her. Yeah it is more then that if you could the man hours it took for her to sit and sew it but she took it before we got married to her friend who worked at a wedding dress shop and they valued the dress for something like sixty to seventy thousand pounds that's what they would sell it for at a minimum. so I think she did good"

"that's impressive"

"she tailored my jacket as well, she like measured me up and made sure it fit right, that was just before she went to Cali, I think literally the night before she flew to Cali for her party, she was sewing my jacket making sure it fit me right."

"What wold you have done if she hasn't?"

"I would have had a suit jacket that was slightly too big. which would have been a bit awkward because it was way too long in the arms for me, it fit... okay in the body it wasn't massive It did need tinkering with but doesn't everything. but the sleeves like my hands where were the forearms where meant to be I had like a full twenty centimes between my hand and the end of the sleeve"

"What was your party like?"

"we just went out and got beer, got a take away, watching break bad, went on a motorbike ride. it was very boring compared to y/ns party in a vinery. Kinda' wish I'd gone with her"

"How did you and y/n start dating?"

"Aw this is a fun story."

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ilguna · 4 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter Fifteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 10.7k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

uhhh long ass chapter jfc

–

You tap the end of the spoon against the table, “Maybe more gasoline?”

Beetee gives you a look, “I’ve engineered these perfectly--”

“I’m literally from District Two, I manufactured weapons. Just add a bit more gas, and see what happens, it can’t hurt, can it?”

Beetee readjusts the glasses on his face, “I suppose not.” he gets to work, and you scoop some of the carrots onto your spoon, trying not to make a face when you force them down your throat. They’ve gotten cold from how long you’ve been stalling, “You’ve made molotov arrows before?”

“Well…” you make a face, and he turns his eyes to you, “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve… experimented that’s for sure.”

Gale laughs, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve illegally made weapons and sometimes started bush fires because of it,” you laugh, “And I’ve never been caught, either.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be in here.” Beetee mutters.

You roll your eyes, “As if I would willingly do work now. Just telling you to add more gas was a bore.”

Beetee screws the top back onto the arrow, being careless with it to see if it’ll explode or whatever. Which means that you should definitely put some distance between you and the psychopath here, you’re not too fond of being inside of a molotov. No matter how small that arrow is, there will be a ton of fire.

“Give it a shot.” you motion at Gale, “Seriously.”

“It won’t set the studio on fire?”

“You’re talking to the two engineers, here. Go ahead before I do it myself.”

Gale picks up the crossbow, and then takes the arrow that Beetee is offering him. While he prepares everything, you swivel around to face Gale, while Beetee has to turn the entire wheelchair to see.

“I’ve been trying to make a trident for Finnick.” Beetee begins, the two of you watch Gale prepare, the people on the other end of the room have fire extinguishers ready to put the fire out as soon as the arrow is fired.

“Don’t make it look like an actual trident, keep the design as close as possible to the one he had inside of the arena.” you scoop up another spoonful of carrots, “And make it hollow in the middle, it’ll be easier to move around--and you can make it compatible that way too.”

“Ready?” Gale asks.

“We’ve been ready.” you eat the cold, slimy carrots.

Gale fires the arrow, and right when it hits the bullseye, it explodes into fire. The entire target, the wall behind it, mostly the floor and some get onto the ceiling too. The crew runs forward, putting out the fire before it can spread across the entire room.

You look at Beetee, “See? Not too shabby.”

“Know any ways to make them waterproof?”

“Wax, water rolls right off of it. Don’t lay it on too thick, and you’ll be just fine.” You set the empty tray onto the table, “

“They should have sent you down here sooner.” Gale says, coming back over, “Imagine how much faster all of this would have been made.”

“Beetee would have gotten fed up with me, if he isn’t already.” you say, stretching.

“You’re not too bad to be around.”

“You only like me because I make your weapon engineering much easier. I’m able to catch your mistakes before you even make them.” you tuck your legs in.

He ignores what you said, moving on to Gale, “How’s Katniss doing?”

Gale doesn’t give much of an answer, “Recovering.”

“Let me guess, she’s still mad at you?” you raise your eyebrows. For this, he tells you to shut up. You shrug, getting back to the sketch you were working on for your own personal weapon, “Hey, if you can’t see how out of line you were, then that’s your deal.”

“How was I out of line?”

You place the sketchbook on your knee, “Dude, you called her fiance weak for doing what he could to stay alive. Obviously you two are still pretty close after that, but I wouldn’t have made a comment like that.” you pause for a moment, looking at Gale, “Then again, you don’t know what it’s like to be under a microscope, you can run your mouth all you want, because you were nothing but a coal miner.”

Gale practically rolls his eyes, “I know what it’s like, Katniss had to start calling me her cousin.”

“Katniss was the one being watched, don’t flatter yourself.” you go back to what you were doing.

“She’s right.” Beetee chips in, “(Y/n), I mean.”

“Right.”

The sound of boots on cement makes you look up, expecting Gale to be the one walking away. He doesn’t normally like to take shit from you or Beetee. Coming down here is like a safe place, allowing him to vent and blow steam when he gets to test out the new fancy weapons.

Gale stands right where he was before, which means that it’s someone else. And since Beetee can’t walk, you turn around in the chair to see who it is.

It’s Finnick. His hands are in his pockets, with a gleeful smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”

Gale is just as suspicious as you are, “What are you up to?”

“What was I up to.” he corrects, coming to a stop behind your chair, “It’s a surprise.”

Beetee makes a face, and then wheels himself around so that he’s facing the table again. As he gets back to work, you resume critiquing Gale, and Finnick finds where he wants to be.

“Gale, don’t get me wrong, I can sorta see where you’re coming from, but you need to see it from our perspective too.” you drop your leg, “Let’s compare you to Peeta, since you were doing that already by saying you’d never say what you said.

“He had absolutely no clue what the fuck was going on. Peeta didn’t know that there was a plan to get him and Katniss out of the arena, he didn’t know that Coin was planning on using Katniss as a symbol. The only things he did know was what the Capitol fed him to get him on their side.

“And if you still can’t see eye to eye with it, imagine a gun pointed to Katniss’ head. If you so much as step out of line in a way that Snow doesn’t like, he’ll shoot her. It’s not his family, friend or girlfriend that he’s killing, it’s yours. And if you don’t cooperate after Katniss, he’s grabbing the next dearest thing to you.” you lean back in the chair, “And before you say shit, Snow literally did that to me twice. First was right after I won my games and he killed my entire family, and the second time was when we found Tanith dead in a chair. It’s a little different for Tanith, because she was already dead, but he still tried to use her against me.”

“Okay, but what were they threatening Peeta with?”

“His life, for starters.” Finnick says, “And likely his family too.”

Gale doesn’t say anything after that.

“How’s this design?” You offer the sketchbook for Beetee, and he takes it.

“We could probably start this now.” Beetee says, “Mind doing something for Finnick, too?”

“Sure.”

He hands it back, but Finnick takes it before you’re able to grab a hold of it. Sighing, you look up at Finnick, watching his face as he looks over the page, “These are swords.”

“Sai’s.” you correct.

Finnick gives you a look, “But it says right here--”

“--that it’s basically a sword, yes, I know. Normally they’re used to disarm someone--as I showed you before. But I want some that are actually sharp. Blunt force trauma is fun, but what’s even more fun is spilling someone’s guts in front of them.”

Finnick hands the book back, “Sword.”

“Sure.” you cross your legs, “What are you here for, other to annoy me?”

“Keeping an eye on you three for the next couple of hours.” Finnick pulls up a chair of his own, mirroring your stance.

“Sounds exciting.”

Everything falls back into rhythm. Beetee goes back to tinkering on arrows, having Gale use the decoys. And the times he’s not shooting arrows, he’s sitting in a chair talking to you guys. You cough up a couple of sketches for Beetee, hoping that it’ll be good enough.

You might be the one from District Two, but that doesn’t mean you actually put things together. The legal age to actually get into the warehouses is eighteen, and since you went into the games at sixteen and won, you never really had to work. You’ve sat on money for your entire life. The only people that worked were your parents, aunts and uncles and some of your cousins.

Those same cousins taught you how to put things together before your games--obviously. During family get togethers, you’d all disappear for a little while, which is when they’d take the chance. They always thought it was so cool to pass on forbidden knowledge, and have it all be a secret between you guys.

They had this secret stash of gadgets inside of a log, and they’d fuck around with it until it turned into something dangerous. Honestly, the first thing you learned from them was the molotov, and when you threw it on a rock, it exploded and the dead grass around it caught fire.

Cue you all scooping the gadgets into your shirts and taking off behind the houses to get as far as possible. Your older cousin had a backup spot not too far away, you dumped all the shit there and got back to the house in record time. Before the firefighters had even left their stations.

It’s a wonder why you weren’t caught, cause that wasn’t the first time that area specifically had been set on fire, and it wouldn’t be the last either. The firefighters definitely had an idea of why it would always set ablaze, but never pursued it. After a while, they started to monitor the place on extremely hot days, thinking that it was the sun that was starting the fires.

If only they had known that it was a bunch of teenagers doing that shit for fun.

After a while, Beetee gets tired of the arrows and starts over to the crew to begin making the sai’s. While they’re heating up the metal, he gets to making the hilt.

“I feel like we’re doing more work than we have to.” you look at Beetee.

“Do you want it to be fucked up, or do you want it to be done right the first time?” He raises his glasses above his eyes when he looks right back at you.

“The first time.” you sigh.

When you get back to work, Finnick moves in closer, curious as to how you’re designing his new weapon. Every now and then he’ll point out the practicalities, and weighing in on how he would rather it be built.

“This doesn’t even look like a trident anymore.” you hold the journal away from your face, and turn it so it’s long-ways since the entire trident spans over both pages, “It’s basically the opposite.”

“But think of it this way.” Finnick reaches over, touching where the blades of the trident are, “Initial stab, right? But the rest of this does more damage.”

There’s a spear point at the top of the trident, which isn’t the problem. That’s pretty normal when it comes to the design. However, instead of wanting all the other blades facing up and towards it, he wants it downwards.

“And you can even make it compatible!” Finnick grins.

“At least we agree on one thing.” You pass the journal to him, “Go ahead and show Beetee, he’s the one in charge.”

Finnick goes over, and it’s basically halfway across the room, since Beetee is hovering over the crew’s work like a hawk. He wasn’t playing around when he said that he would like it to be perfect the first time around.

“Finnick’s into you.” Gale says.

“You say that like he’s not my soulmate.” you give Gale a look, “Also, I’m not into Finnick.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a teenager and I don’t date people right after they broke up with their girlfriends.” you turn back to Finnick to see that he’s discussing the weapon with Beetee and a crew member.

“If there was no Annie, would you have dated him then?”

You squint, “No.”

Gale laughs, but doesn’t say anything because Finnick is heading your guys’ way again. He drops the journal in Beetee’s workspace on his way over, “Beetee will start it tonight.”

“Cool.” you get up, picking up the lunch tray, “Am I free to leave now?”

“Yes,” Finnick says, but he makes a point to stay in front of both you and Gale.

“See ya later, Beetee!” you shout, “Send someone if you need my help.”

He waves, and then goes back to hovering.

Finnick starts up the staircase first, and Gale walks beside you, “Any progress on Peeta?”

Gale rolls his eyes, you can feel it, “Same as he was before. I saw him before coming here.”

“Katniss still saying no?” you look over.

Gale nods.

“That’s reasonable, I wouldn’t want to go near him either…” you trail off for a moment, and then laugh to yourself.

Finnick glances over his shoulder curiously, “What is it?”

You chuckle a bit, “Out of everyone, I’m definitely last on the list of people he wants to see.”

“Why’s that?”

Your smile is small as you look at your feet, rather than up at Finnick, “I nearly killed Peeta.”

“After the birds? I know--” Finnick says.

“No, after. After you had been pulled out of the arena, did I tell either of you that story?”

Gale says no, which is expected, but Finnick thinks about it before answerings, “We talked about emotion when you first got here, and how intense it was.”

“Well, after I left the lightning tree, my real goal was to go downhill and straight for the cornucopia. I thought that if the jungle were to burn, I would need to take my chances in the middle. On the way, I found a livid Peeta, and a strangely calm Johanna.” you smile, “Peeta started screaming at me instead, and Johanna urged me not to do anything.

“But then Peeta backed me into a rock, so when I got up, I punched him twice. Kicked him a couple of times while he was down, and then Johanna stepped in--” Finnick has slowed down now, he watches you, “--and naturally I knocked her out with a single right hook, since she’s… weak to say the least. She hit her head on a rock on the way down, and I thought I’d finish her off later.

“As for Peeta, it was just him and I.” the smile develops into a grin, “I was about to rip him apart--and I mean minutes from doing it. But then the peacekeepers came and I thought that it would be better to leave the situation as it was.”

“You’re… sadistic.” Gale says.

“I’ve heard it all before.” you say, looking at Finnick.

“At least you didn’t kill them.” Finnick says.

“Peeta knew that I was about to. Doesn’t matter if I did it or not.”

Gale laughs now, “You should go visit him to see what he says.”

“He’d probably get mad at me for not killing him when I had the chance. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle me in that hovercraft.”

“The tracker jacker venom fucked with his head, he probably barely recognized you.” Gale says.

At the top of the staircase, Finnick stops you, “We’ll see you later, Gale.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m going to see Boggs.”

You salute as a joke, getting an eye roll in return. Finnick purposely waits until Gale is gone, and then he moves out of your way, “You’re getting better.”

“At making people like me?” you ask, giving Finnick a look, “You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I think.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows, “A genius you say?”

“Maybe not a genius.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in, “So what were you up to?”

“You’ll see in a couple of hours.”

“Is that why we aren’t getting off on the floor we normally do?” you stare at your feet.

“We’re heading straight for the medical floor to Johanna.”

You stop on the stairs, and Finnick gets a couple of steps above you, “Did you not just hear my whole story?”

“The worst Johanna will do is run her mouth about the fact that you didn’t kill her when you had the chance. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask one of the nurses. We’ve heard her speech a couple of times now.”

“Then can I opt out and go to the dorm instead?” you start up the stairs again.

“You’re really going to leave me to talk to Johanna?”

Your eyebrows draw together, “You’re the one that wants to see her!”

“Come on, we see Johanna and then we go to the dorm right after, I promise.” Finnick says.

You hold out your pinky for Finnick, and with a slight chuckle, he pinky promises you. The two of you resume your journey up the stairs, and then he says, “Unless we talk for too long.”

You press your lips together, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. He laughs anyway.

When the two of you reach Johanna’s room, you hang by the door, not really wanting to go inside. You don’t like the look of the room, much less the idea of being back inside of it. Ever since you’ve been granted the freedom, you’ve made a point of not coming back to the hospital--or infirmary--floor, no matter the reason.

The other day, you cut your hand on a blade down in the workshop. The crew had wanted to call someone down to come and take care of you, and you barely stopped them in time. Over your dead body, would you be brought back here to sit and wallow in white for a couple of days.

Especially over something as childish as a cut. So, you found the first aid kit, cleaned out the wound and Beetee stitched it up for you. The crew was a little surprised how calm you were during the entire procedure but the only thing you had to say was ‘high pain tolerance’ after all your years of bullshit.

So being back here makes you nervous. As if someone will pop out from one of the walls and tie you down to a bed for absolutely no reason. You’re perfectly healthy, and the nurses and doctors knew this. Even after you had tests that came back negative for poison in your system, you were required to stay.

Finnick and Johanna’s conversation is surprisingly normal and boring. There was absolutely no reason for you to tag along, except for Finnick’s own request. The only reason why you’re here is to be nice.

As if Finnick’s read your mind, he looks at you, “(Y/n) been helping Beetee out in the workshop lately, designing weapons.”

Johanna’s eyes drag over to you, bored of it already, “She’s being helpful for once?”

You stare at her.

“She’s done quite a lot, Johanna.” Finnick says, looking back at her, “She’s the one that opened the conversation about rescuing you and the others from the Capitol.”

“For her own benefit.” Johanna laughs, “Because she can’t stand being alone. It’s why she’s kept you around so long, you know? Not because she likes you, but because she needs another soul to harvest. She’s like the fucking grim reaper.” she looks at you now, “A heartless murderer.”

You take a deep breath, and then a smile spreads over your face, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. At least then, there would be one less leech on the morphling supply.” you spit, “You deserve everything that Snow gave you, the waterboarding, the near-drowning. It’s a shame that he only kept you alive so you’d suffer and become nothing but another downer on everyone around you.”

Finnick’s head whips in your direction, clearly not expecting the outburst. You’ve been so good for so long, but there’s something about Johanna that just gets you steaming.

“I should have stomped your head into that fucking rock in front of Peeta.” you seethe, “And then I should’ve beaten Peeta to death, because you two weren’t nearly worth sacrificing my life over.” you shake your head, “You’re nothing but another morphling addict. Another victor that couldn’t take the fucking heat. If I were you, I’d just kill myself from how embarrased I’d be.”

Johanna’s been smiling at you the entire time, like she wanted this sort of reaction, and so you finish it off, “It’s probably how Blight felt too.”

Her smile drops, and her hand is reaching towards the needles in her arms before her feet have even hit the ground. You stand your ground, allowing Finnick to get her to stop because she does some real damage to her veins.

“(Y/n)--go!” Finnick’s angry, and he glares at you over his shoulder.

“My fucking pleasure.” you spit, leaving the doorway.

It was worth it. Every word that left your mouth was fucking worth it. Being nice to people is such a fucking chore, especially when it’s towards people who don’t deserve it.

You stand in the stairwell for a moment, thinking about where you’d want to go. But there’s really no place that’s safe if Finnick comes looking for you. The workshop and dorm are an obvious place, as well as the stream you stumbled upon. He’ll check with Boggs and Gale--and there’s no one else here that likes you.

You hate it here.

You thought you would be able to make this place feel like a real home and maybe even like it, but it’s not worth it. This whole place isn’t worth it to you.

Everything inside of you is a frenzy.

You have to go home.

You start up the staircase, knowing that seeing Plutarch and finding a ride would be the place to start. He might not be happy about it, but there’s really no need for you here. You’re not doing anything besides designing personal weapons that Beetee likes and doesn’t like.

Occasionally you’re genuinely helpful with dumb shit, but that’s the extent of it. Other than that, you’re miserable. The freedom you have isn’t actual freedom.

You hop up the last couple of steps, and round the corner to the door to the control room. You practically throw it open, nearly letting it hit the wall, when your hand appears between the crack to stop it.

At your appearance, a few people look over. The only eyes who stick are Boggs, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch.

“Where’s Finnick?” Gale asks.

“Not his owner,” you go down the steps, eyes on Plutarch, “I want a ride to District Two. Your next hovercraft is mine to take.”

Boggs stands up, crossing his arms, “What about the workshop?”

“Boring, Beetee has it under control.”

“And Finnick?” Haymitch asks, “I thought you were just liking it here--”

“I’m a liar.”

Gale sighs, “Tell us what happened.”

“Johanna and I are going to end up killing each other the next time we come face to face.” your eyes land on Plutarch to see he has an eye on his watch, “So unless you feel like cleaning up a dead body, I’ll take one free ticket to District Two.”

“The next hovercraft is leaving in fifteen minutes.” Plutarch looks up now, “I’ll call in and let them know you’re going.”

“Does Finnick know you’re doing this?” Gale asks, “He’s going to be upset if we have to tell him--”

“It’s his fault for getting attached to me.” your face is serious, and then the smile spreads over your face, because of the irony of that statement. After what Johanna had said… “He’s your problem now, good luck.”

You go up the steps, heading right out the door you came in. You can’t take the staircase to the top, so you make your way to the elevator instead. You press the button, waiting patiently with a smile on your face.

The hovercrafts that they’re using to get the supplies to and from District Two are the slow type. District Thirteen is in no rush to get the crates there, so it won’t be a surprise to you if it takes more than just a couple of hours for you to get there. Or if it makes stops along the way.

The elevator arrives, you pull up the safety bar, and then step inside, pulling it back down. You punch the top floor button with your thumb, then you go to stare as the floors disappear beneath your feet.

At least back home you don’t have to act and lie for the happiness of others. Especially if your first and only stop is going to be your house in victor’s village. And if you need groceries, it looks like you’ll be hunting for food to eat. Or you might actually have to go into town and ransack the already destroyed buildings.

Most of the people that used to own the shops are probably dead, or they won’t be returning back home for a while. The entirety of victor’s village is going to be a graveyard--there might even still be rotting bodies inside of the houses. If the smell is too unbearable, you could always bury the corpses yourself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

At the top, there’s someone waiting on the ramp. You don’t bother waiting for them to tell you to hurry it up, you start jogging immediately. The faster you get on, the faster you can take off.

“I’m ready.” you say when you get to the ramp.

“Good, take a seat and strap in.” the man follows you in.

The whole district is in ruins.

The last time you were here, everything seemed to be in near perfect condition, apart from the obvious looting that had taken place. The broken windows, and the wood splinters in the gravel could be easily looked over. But it’s much harder to see this place as it once was.

Most stores and houses that were made out of wood, and had been passed down from generation to generation have been burned to ashes or their cement flooring. There’s nothing left of them, not the furniture inside, and definitely not the foundation. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that they were vacant lots.

If they couldn’t burn, then they were bombed. Chunks of cement and brick have now joined the mixture in the gravel. The roofs have long since caved in, and just one gust of wind makes the walls shudder. All it would take is one more bomb dropped in this area, and it all would come crashing down.

The air around you is hardly breathable too. Before you had stepped off the hovercraft you were given a mask--not the same gas mask that you’d used during the tribute center invasion--and a pair of sunglasses that would help you see through the debris and smoke.

It’s almost like fog, but so much worse. It’s smoke from fires that can’t be put out, and it’s from the bombs that are from your own district. The loyalists and the rebels are still fighting over this place. Katniss’ visit here hadn’t done much good, in fact you’d say that it made it a lot worse.

As you wander through the streets towards victor’s village, you come up with a lousy plan that’ll likely get you killed.

Coin had thought that sending Katniss here was a good idea, but it wasn’t by any means. Katniss got a bullet to her ribs, which bruised a ton of them, and put her right back into a hospital bed. They clearly didn’t think about what would happen if you mix people who don’t mind the games, with someone who’s leading a rebellion.

You’ve seen the speech, and as heartfelt as it was, it’s not what they want to hear.

Here’s the way you saw it at first; this girl from the poorest part of District Twelve is kicking up a rebellion that’ll likely destroy the system that’s making District Two rich, and the favorite. District Two thinks that they’re going to get everything taken away from them. Their houses, nice clothes and furniture, the good paying jobs.

You would all much rather send in the two kids a year--mostly because your children are prepared ahead of time, and therefore the career districts have nothing to lose--than take the risk of getting everything taken away. The Capitol absolutely adores you guys, with all that you supply them.

So, instead of having the girl that’s leading the rebellion try and convince the loyalists that they’re on the wrong side. You have someone who’s lived in the same luxury as them do it instead. How is Katniss supposed to understand how you all feel? She despised the games, while the rest of you adored it.

The outsider districts don’t understand the need for luxury and favoritism. They’ve lived on the hated side of the Capitol for a long time. The Capitol expects them to underperform in the games, so that’s why they don’t ever see the spotlight until they get a winner.

Anyway, you’re going to get to your house, change into something that says ‘living in luxury’ and then march your way to the justice building. There, you won’t ask for any sort of protection but an escort there instead. You won’t carry any weapons, you won’t pull on a bulletproof vest.

If they shoot you, then they’ll have made their choice very clear.

The gate entrance to the village is all sorts of broken. You barely push the metal door open, and the entire thing falls apart in your hands. You have to prop it up against the fence, being sure that it won’t fall over before you move on to go inside. Then, you waste no time with a quick jog through.

The fountain in the first part of the village is dry. The cement is no longer grey, it’s black from the amount of fire that must have washed through here. On the tiles that line the bottom, there’s melted coins. You’re tempted to reach in and pick one out when you realize just how bad of an idea that is.

You continue down the stone brick path after that, taking in note of every house that you pass. The doors are slightly ajar, most windows seem to be shattered, and a couple are burned down to the foundation. Most still stand though, Sorcha, Enobaria, Brutus, Tanith and Zavian’s seem to be in good condition.

As for Lyme, her house is completely gone. You have an idea that it might be because of the fact that she’s helping the rebels, and some of the loyalists must’ve gotten behind their lines to come and burn hers down specifically. As for the others, there must be a bigger story behind it.

As you come into the third part of the neighborhood, you cross your fingers as you hope it’s not like Lyme’s. You just want a moment inside of a clean house, to be able to go upstairs and find out that there’s running water. Then you’ll take a shower, get dressed in fancy clothing and put on makeup as if there isn’t hellfire around you.

It takes you a moment to find it, because all the houses in this section are still standing. And then you realize that your house is the only one that looks fresh. It hasn’t been touched by all the ash and smoke, it’s still as bright white as the day you received it. Perfect condition.

No windows are broken, the wood and cement show no signs of it being on fire at any point in time. The door is shut tight, a little stuck so you have to rattle the handle until it comes loose. You swing the door wide open, standing in the doorway as you wait to see a mess.

But it’s clean. Of course, the house has collected dust, but there’s no blood. There’s no broken vases, or stuffing all over the floor. It’s how you left it.

You shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. As you go inside, you can’t help but to look around and gape like you’re on a house tour. Nothing has been touched, which is the part that baffles you the most. Both the inside and outside are great.

For a moment, you’re not sure why you’re so surprised that nothing had happened--apart from the fact that the whole neighborhood is disgusting. And then you remember the last time you came home from the games. With the house torn apart with dead bodies frozen in time.

“He seriously fucked me up, didn’t he?” you ask, laughing to yourself.

The house does smell pretty bad though, and the scent only gets stronger the more you head towards the kitchen. You have to plug your nose, strictly breathing in and out through your mouth, blinking away the tears that form in your eyes. It’s just so strong…

Going through the doorway, you take your time to look for anything that might be off. There is nothing, but you’re sure that it was coming from here specifically, and the second that you test the water with a breath of air through your nose, you gag. You go back to breathing through your mouth, even though you can taste the toxicity.

It’s not gas, that’s for sure. It’s something else…

The kitchen, the smell, the fact you haven’t been here--it’s the fridge. The food inside of the fridge and the cupboards are likely rotting. You can picture the mold in your mind already, and you shiver a little. Deciding that it’s better not to investigate further, you head straight upstairs instead.

On the way to your room, you can’t help but to pop open the doors and take a look inside. It’s just the paranoia now that’s making you do this. You don’t think you’ll find anyone in here, it’s just the thought of someone maybe hiding and waiting for you. A house like yours shouldn’t be in perfect condition, not after everything that’s happened.

And yet, there is nothing. Not even in your master bedroom, and not in the bathroom either. Despite this, you also lock your bedroom door, stripping on the way to the bathroom. And when you get inside of there, you lock that one too. For a second, the water in the shower runs cold, but then it turns warm.

While you let it heat up a little more, you take a look at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a couple of weeks. The mirrors that they have in District Thirteen are practically useless, they might as well not have them at all. You can barely see your face in them, and they’re permanently fogged over. At first, you thought that there was a protective film, until you realized that they were just shit quality.

Your fingers dance along the scars that cover you from head to toe. You turn your body to get a better angle, only to be disappointed when they continue. You force yourself to lean onto the counter, even though you’re so incredibly uncomfortable now, but curiosity is what’s fueling it all.

Then you’re able to see that the spider bite scars exist on your face too. They’re faint though, not too noticeable. What is noticeable, is the fact that there’s a scar that’s right beneath your eye. It’s so small that you can see it, even with you leaning over the counter.

You wipe the fog off the mirror, hopping onto the counter. You’re basically pressed against the mirror with how you’re seated as you desperately try to see what the fuck is beneath your eye. Wiping the mirror again, you take your chance to see.

C.S.

Your face twists as you back up, trying to think of who has those initials. Much less who would leave it on you like they’re marking their territory. You slide off the counter, rubbing beneath your eye, wishing that it’ll just go away, but it won’t.

Then it clicks, and you almost wish it hadn’t.

Coriolanus Snow.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, mouth hanging open as you watch the fog take over the mirror again, and your naked figure is covered up as a result.

He marked you. Snow fucking marked you like you’re his pet.

Your hand has swiped the vase off the counter before you’ve realized it. It isn’t until it’s shattered, when you’re jumping out of your skin. Even then, you’re still captivated by the amount of rage that’s running through your veins.

“Motherfucker!” you yell, digging your nail into the spot, gritting your teeth when it hurts. But it has to go. It has to be defaced. You won’t be seen as his. You don’t belong to Snow.

It’s a relief when your bare nail breaks skin. Though, more pain spikes in that one spot, and even in your eye a little bit. You lean on the counter, squeezing your eyes shut and giving yourself a moment to recover before you head into the shower.

You can’t fucking believe this.

You had always told yourself that you would be saving this dress for an occasion that you’d never be able to replicate. No weddings, funerals or parties. No victory tour, no get together, no reaping. You had to save it for something that would be groundbreaking, something that would change the game altogether.

At first, you didn’t want to pick it up for even this. Then you remembered that you have a chance of dying, and thought that was an event you’d never be able to replicate. Because you’d be dead.

And now that you’re walking to the justice buildings, holding the dress up so that it doesn’t get caught in the gravel and what lies inside of you, you’re beginning to see that you’ve got to make it count. Not the dress, but this entire encounter. If they don’t end up killing you, they’re definitely not going to let you come back again. Not peacefully, at least.

All you have to do is make them hesitate. Make them think for the rebel’s side for a second. That’s all you need. A moment of apprehension that they’ll never be able to take back. And since you’re pretty good at playing devil's advocate, this will be a walk in the park.

Seeing a sudden blast of dust and dirt heading your way, you make a home behind a building, aiming the umbrella you’re holding towards the corner that’s closest to you. It takes a moment before the dust storm comes through. The rocks pelt the plastic, and they attack your bare legs.

Since the umbrella is see-through, you’re able to tell when it dies down. You don’t wait to make sure that it’s over completely, because you never know when another gust will roll on in. At some point in time, you recognize the streets that the scouting group had brought you through, so you take that carefully.

You’re still fairly surprised that Paylor and Lyme hadn’t taken your statement of a survey group into consideration. And if they did, then that didn’t last as long as you thought it would. It’s literally only been two to three weeks since you were here last.

You guess that just means that they can’t spare the people as much as they could before. Which says a lot--that they’re losing the battle they swore that they’d be able to win. Coin said in one of her speeches that it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a while. And here you are, thinking that you’ll be able to change their minds in a day.

“Watch this.” you smile to yourself.

You go around a corner, only to stop dead in your tracks. Standing right in front of you are some pretty armored people, holding a gun pointed straight at your chest.

“State your name and business.”

“I see Lyme’s upgraded her shitty guards.” you give him a smile, “(Y/n) Rosecelli.”

He lowers the gun, “You’re supposed to be in District Thirteen.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems.” you say, continuing your way down the alley, “Quite boring. Is Lyme in the justice building?”

“Yes, I can bring--”

“I’ve got it.” you cut him off, leaving him behind you.

“I wouldn’t recommend going that way.”

“Whatever!” you shout, going right out.

The steps to the building are pretty wrecked, but there’s just enough stone for you to be able to go up them. You hike the dress up a little higher, stomping your heels when you step, as you try to get the gravel and glass off your shoes. The people standing outside the building seem confused at first.

“Excuse me.” you say, moving right past them as you head through the doors.

You take the stairs up, still having an iron grip on the dress. You won’t let it down until you’re standing in front of rebels. You swear on everything.

You pass a third set of guards on your way inside of the meeting room that they had used the first time. When the door pops open, you can see a familiar face on the hologram screen. Alma Coin.

Paylor and Lyme look over simultaneously to see who’s entered the room.

“(Y/n)’s here.” Lyme says, standing up now.

“Good.” Coin says, “Won’t you join us?”

You make a face, stepping inside and shutting the door. You don’t head that far inside, sticking rather close to the door, but still in sight of the camera.

“Finnick’s been looking everywhere for you.” Coin tells you calmly, “We just broke the news to him.”

“And?” you ask.

“He’s disappointed that he went through all that trouble to throw a party for you.”

So that’s what he was doing earlier. Throwing you a party, and for what? God, you can’t imagine the headache you would have had through the whole thing. Fake a smile, pretend to like it. The only parties you do like are the types that go on inside of the Capitol.

It’s all lavish there. The foods are delicious, the sweets and the sour foods. The drinks they have that you swear are going to make you dehydrated, but you drink anyway. The people there are always so friendly, even when they aren’t. They’re so stupid and naive that it makes it enjoyable to be around them.

Not to mention they worshipped you.

“Am I supposed to care?” you ask, crossing your arms, “Can’t be a very good party with your district. The entire thing is probably being attended by a total of ten people, and the food and drinks are twenty years old. I’m not missing out on anything, trust me.”

Coin bites her tongue, smiling, “Maybe it’s best that you’re back in District Two, then.”

“I’m done talking to you.” you give her a mock smile, turning to Lyme and Paylor, “I’m going to solve this whole loyalist problem for you in a second. Do you want to send a camera crew with me just in case it works?”

Lyme’s confused, “No offense, but what makes you think it’ll work? Especially with your mouth?”

“Cause I know you guys have been approaching it all wrong, and rather than having a second person fuck it up for you ingrates, I’ll do it myself. I may be selfish but I’m also open minded and have a way of words when I’m not being a complete bitch.” you look at Coin, “And if it does work, you don’t get to say you planned it at all. I’m not Katniss, and I won’t be easily manipulated.

“On top of that, you’ll also owe me a shiny, brand new apartment in the heart of the Capitol. Otherwise you can take that propaganda footage and shove it up that ass of yours.” you point to Lyme and Paylor, “Camera crew, now.”

You leave the room after that, and Paylor approves the camera crew, asking one of the people in the room with them to go ahead and gather the people. In the meantime, you take a look at yourself in the nearest bathroom. Your makeup and hair are still how you left it, and the dress isn’t that dirty either.

When you get outside, there’s people already waiting to take you to the tunnels. And for their protection, they’re bringing volunteers with them. As for you, you’ll be out in the open just as you asked for.

“I live in luxury.” you tell yourself, raising your head a bit, “I belong in the Capitol. I am a loyalist. These rebels have no idea what they’re doing.”

You take the train tracks straight to the tunnel. The mountain has long since collapsed, which drew out most of the loyalists. And with Katniss’ speech after, a few surrendered. But there’s still plenty of people inside of there.

“I don’t know if we can follow you inside.” one of the girls tells you nervously, “It’s dark and unhealthy in there. If they begin firing, we’ll be the first to be brought down.”

“No, I will.” you say, “They’ll likely let you all live. If those cameras zoom well, keep as much of a distance as you can spare.”

The girl nods, “We trust you.”

You press your lips together, because it’s a first, “If I reach for my dress and turn my body like I’m going to run, you should take off immediately. I don’t plan on running, but I will if it gets too risky.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, I promise.”

Inside the tunnel, it’s even dirtier than you expected. Nonetheless, you all push through. The camera crew and the couple of armed people have masks over their face, but you work right through the dirt and smoke filled air. Even if you put a mask on now, you’ll have to take it off to talk anyway. There would be no point to it, you’re going to breathe in the air whether you like it or not.

“Stop!” A voice shouts, and you all come to a halt.

“Stay here.” you tell the crew.

Lights turn on, you cover your eyes for a moment as you blink through, trying to get adjusted to them. When you lower your hand, you can see that there’s several people ready to shoot you, and what looks like hundreds of people ready to back them up. The lights are coming from the train right in front of you.

“My name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I’m here to speak to whoever is in charge, face to face.” you move forward, but stop a little bit after that, not wanting to push your limits.

Someone appears on the top of the train, an automatic rifle in his hands, “You shouldn’t be in here.”

You drop the dress down now, “No, I shouldn’t. This place is unfathomably filthy, and I can’t imagine how hard it is to breathe the air in here. What’s your name?”

“Jovian.”

“You know why I’m here, right?” you ask, crossing your arms, your eyes wandering over all the people waiting to see what happens.

“It’s pretty obvious, which is why I should let you know it’s not going to work, and you should leave while you can.” he tells you, “Or I’ll just make an example of you, just like how we did with Katniss.”

“Except Katniss is still alive in District Thirteen, you didn’t actually kill her.” you tell him, “Healthy as a horse, she was up on her feet the same day, ready to come right back here and give you guys a second chance.”

They won’t know you’re lying.

“We should’ve gone for her head.”

You ignore that, “There’s a big difference between Katniss and I, though. Katniss grew up in the poorest part of twelve, and I grew up in what was arguable once the richest parts of District Two. And then I won the games and got more money than I knew what to do with, and she didn’t have any time to get to realize her luxury.

“Because of this, she’ll never understand what you’ll have to sacrifice if you do take part in the fight. You’re putting everything up for a gamble. Your house, your clothes, furniture, a family. And you’d have to do it without knowing the outcome of a rebellion.”

Jovian nods slowly, “You get it.”

“Of course I do, I was once a Capitol pet too, and then Snow ended up killing my family, and then my friends on top of that.” you motion with your hand, “And I saw the type of people that we were supporting all this time. They’re nothing worth supporting, Jovian. I can promise you that.”

Jovian shakes his head, “What if you lose, huh? The district is already in deep shit because half of us are rebels, what if there’s a chance that the people who don’t fight with you, get rewarded?”

You snort, “You think he’s writing down names? You think he gives a shit if some of you were helping, and the others weren’t? All he’s going to see is that District Two had tried to help the rebels, and suddenly we’re all fucked. So why not give in? You know what will happen if there are no more hunger games, no more districts, no more districts versus the Capitol bullshit?

“You’d be able to live wherever you want--the Capitol, here, any of the other districts, places that were off limits, maybe even in some of the arenas that had gone untouched. You would work if you want to, and have a million kids without worrying about teaching them how to fight.

“There would be no more worries, Jovian. You’d still get to live the same, but it would be that much more freedom. And even if you wouldn’t want to live in any of those other places, you’d be able to visit them whenever you want. Take a vacation to the Capitol and come home to a sturdy house. And for anyone who hasn't found their soulmate because they exist in a different district, you’d have a greater chance of finding them.”

The silence that fills the tunnel is surprisingly calm, it isn’t as tense as you thought it would be. Jovian is obviously thinking all of this through.

“But we can’t win this without District Two. If we get those warehouses pumping out weapons, we’ll win this, guaranteed. It’ll be difficult, as all wars are, but we’ll win for once. We’ll get the justice we deserve, Snow will pay for all the shit he’s done.” you insist, “If you guys come with me now, there’s no hard feelings.

“There’s food, water, clothes, medicine. All you’d have to do is come with us now, and we’ll get you cleaned up, one at a time.”

Jovian looks down at you, “And you can promise us this?”

You look behind you, straight at one of the guards, “Get Paylor to confirm this.”

It takes a moment, but when her voice comes over the tunnel, echoing, saying all of what you said is true, you can’t help but to give a hopeful look to Jovian.

He takes in a deep breath, “Okay.”

“That’s just you, though.” you look to all the others, past the lights, “How about you guys? Are you willing to fight?”

“Will you be fighting with us?” someone yells to you.

This question you weren’t expecting, but you find yourself nodding before you can catch it, “Every step of the way.”

“Then sign me up.” A girl starts coming forward, behind her trails a couple of kids, they come in a line, all holding hands. She walks right past you guys.

It takes a moment before others start breaking off in groups. Jovian gives you a look, “These are my people.”

“They’re our people now.” You correct him, “And they’re going to be safe. Pack the hurt into the train and get this baby moving out here.”

You turn around, heading towards the camera, “Is it still running?”

“Yes.”

You look straight into the camera lense, “Twenty-three kids have died every year for the past seventy-four years. That’s one thousand, seven hundred and one kids that have died in the hunger games. Nearly two thousand of your kids have gone into an arena, scared and alone.

“They wouldn’t know where their next meal would come from, they didn’t know if they would get sponsors or if they were worthy of them. They likely shivered and starved and were dehydrated down to their very last days. And while it was happening, all they could picture was their blue face in the night sky, signaling another fallen tribute.

“And you’re telling me, that now there’s a rebellion happening--one that will stop a cycle of heartless and meaningless murder--you’re not going to help? You’ll finally be able to have kids, and not worry about training them the moment that they’re born. No more staying up all night worrying that it’ll be your kid picked during the reaping.

“But we can’t get there if you don’t help.” You then lean a forward, “And Coriolanus, if you’re watching, I’d like to let you know that I found the scar you left on my face. You can mark me all you fucking want, but I haven’t done your bidding since I was sixteen. How’s this for calming down District Two?”

You stand up again, “For those of you who don’t know, my name is (Y/n) Rosecelli, I won the sixty-sixth hunger games when I was sixteen. I’m from District Two, and I have to admit that I have lived in luxury since the day I was born, and coming to terms with a rebellion that has ruined my whole lifestyle, isn’t easy.

“However, if I can see past all my greediness to realize that it’s unfair that I can live in luxury and others live in dirt, then you can too. There will be no more inequality, everyone will be able to live in a stable environment, and if you don’t want that, then you’re just as ill as Snow is.”

You turn to leave after that, hiking up the dress in the front so you don’t end up stepping on it and make a fool out of yourself in the process. It’s a couple of moments before the others are scrambling to follow.

“Are you really going to fight with us?” The girl asks.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

She’s quiet for a moment, “You just don’t look like you’d been into that type of thing.”

You look at her, “Don’t be fooled by the dress and makeup. I’m a lot more than a pretty face.”

“We’ll have to get you fitted for clothing, then. You can’t march to the Capitol in a dress.”

You end the conversation, not saying anything else to her. What she said is obvious, you know that you’ll have to be dressed properly. Hell, you know what’s happening in the Capitol at the moment.

Nothing slips past you. You hear everything when it comes to secrets. You knew Johanna had been waterboarded because she failed some sort of swimming test, nearly took down a couple of people during her panic. And you knew that her and Blight were a little more than friends too.

Just like how you know that the Capitol is turning into a whole trap. Snow is planting these pods—as Beetee called them—that are near impossible to keep track of. Snow is pulling in the Capitol citizens closer, allowing him to plant more pods. Hundreds of them, every single day.

Which means that if you go out there with the other volunteers, there’s a good chance of a million things happening to you. You can’t even think of what the gamemakers would put into the streets of the Capitol. All you know is that it can’t be good.

They might as well throw in every single project that they’ve ever created since they won’t be able to use it against you all in the future. And in that case, you might not want to be in the streets of the Capitol after all.

Right when you leave the train station, there’s a giant dumpster waiting for the people leaving the tunnel. They’re forced to give up their weapons so that they can pass into the team of medics that are waiting. As you get closer, you’re able to see that there’s no struggle. Most give up their weapons without a fight, but some are a little hesitant to do so.

You and the camera crew pass by it easily, none of you are holding a significant weapon, and if you are, you’re all rebels anyway. They’re not worried about you guys turning on them, it’s more like the newly rebels that are just coming out of the tunnel.

Past all the disarming, is the group of medics that wait for everyone who makes it past the tunnel. It takes a bit for you and the camera crew to get through the dense crowd that only gets bigger. Just before you break the last line of people, you can hear the train’s horn, warning everyone that it’s coming.

Then, you get through.

Waiting on the other side of the crowd is Lyme, with a particularly impressed look on her face.

“Maybe we should have sent you in, initially.” Lyme says, “You did it effortlessly.”

“If any of you had bothered to tell me before sending Katniss in, I would have told you it was a bad idea.” You take a look behind you, “And by the way, this is a perfect example of what you should do when it comes to the Capitol citizens.”

“Want to be put in charge of that?” Lyme offers.

Your head whips towards her, “I will not play devil's advocate for them. That’s your fucking problem to sort.”

“It was just an offer.” Lyme says, but you’re already leaving towards the justice building again. Lyme’s quite taller than you, so it takes basically no effort when it comes to catching up with you, “While you were gone, Coin had someone flown in.”

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Oh, whoever should that be?”

After what you said to Coin, it’s no surprise to you. She would pull some bullshit like this to make you angry. It’s just her little form of payback.

“He’s waiting at your house.”

You look at her, “You had him escorted to my house?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him basic instructions to get to victor’s village, and then told him yours is the only one that hasn’t been touched.”

“Speaking of which, why is that?” you fix a curl that’s fallen into your face.

“Honestly, no clue.” Lyme says, “Good luck with Finnick.”

“Right.”

Lyme and the camera crew break off when you reach the justice building. From there, one single person brings you as far as they’re allowed to go into the town part of District Two, and then they head back to where they had been standing before you stumbled along.

You’re nearly home when your feet start to ache from the heels. And if it weren’t for the fact that the dirt is mixed in with glass, you might have taken the heels right off and walked barefoot the rest of the way. Before the rebellion, you definitely would have done that. Regardless of how people would feel about it.

Victor’s village still looks shitty, there’s not much to expect from it in the first place. It’s not like it’s going to have changed in the past hour or two. Although, you thought that you might find Finnick poking around in the abandoned, charcoal black houses.

Through the first arch and into the second reveals your perfect house. The door is shut--so it looks like Finnick knows his manners--and you don’t waste time going inside.

Swinging the door open, you make a point to slam it shut when you get inside. You don’t even move from the doorway before you’re tearing the heels off your feet, massaging them one at a time. Then, you head upstairs to your room.

If Finnick wants to speak, Finnick can come and find you. He invited himself to District Two, he was able to find your house, he’ll be able to find you.

Or rather, the other way around.

Finnick’s lounging on your bed when you walk in. In his hand he holds a book with your face on it. You can’t help but roll your eyes--that book was forced on you by Snow. He thought it was a good idea to draw in more attraction to you. And unfortunately it worked, and after that, you spent a couple more weeks than you were meant to, inside of the Capitol.

Of course, it ran short when everyone heard about your sour attitude, no matter what time of the day it was. People revoked their… reservations, and you were forced to go home.

“Welcome.” you say bitterly, opening the wardrobe doors and tossing your shoes inside, then you unzip the dress from the back with little to no problem.

“So the friendliness didn’t last long.” Finnick sounds amused, but when you turn to look over your shoulder, you can see that it’s not how he’s feeling. There’s a hint of a scowl on his face, maybe some touch of annoyance.

“Thank god.” you hang the dress up, then you close the wardrobe door and move onto the bathroom.

You tear off everything that you wouldn’t normally wear. The bracelets, earrings, rings. The only thing you leave is the necklace Tanith gave you, otherwise it’s all gone. And as soon as you get into the bathroom, it’s tossed into the jewelry drawer, which is absolute hellfire to sift through.

Finnick follows you to the bathroom, and watches as you remove the makeup, unphased by the fact that you’re half naked again, “Did you actually mean any of it?”

You pause for a moment, “Mean what? What I said to Johanna? Every word, she fucking asked for it. Antagonizing me and all that, she should have seen it coming.”

“The apology.” Finnick clarifies.

“I meant that, yes.” there’s no hesitation.

“That’s all I wanted to know.” he turns and leaves the bathroom.

“So now what?” you call, “You’re going back to District Thirteen?”

Finnick laughs, “Dream on.”

You roll your eyes, “It was worth a shot.”

“Your house smells like shit, by the way.”

“It’s the kitchen, feel free to clean it out if it bothers you that much. I just figured that this house would be blown to bits the second Snow gets a chance because of what I said.”

“Speaking of which.” Finnick comes back, he’s got some clothes for you hanging over his arm, “The front lines?”

You scowl at him a little bit, “Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone’s clothes? And yes, the front lines.”

Regardless, you pull on the shorts and shirt after tossing the makeup wipes away. You unpin your hair, letting it all fall into place unnaturally, which causes you to just pull it right back up into a ponytail anyway to keep it out of your face.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

You side-eye him, “Let me guess, you’re coming along?”

Finnick smiles, “You know me better than I thought.”

“No, you just have a thing for following me around, so I figured. Just like how Lyme didn’t even have to say your name, and I knew you came.” you grin a little, “How was the party, by the way?”

“Surprisingly boring without you there.”

“You’re saying that I’m entertainment?” you ask.

“The best.” Finnick smiles.

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fifteen

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