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youandtom2 · 2 years

Note

Since requests are open

I would LOVE for you to write about Tom Holland or him as Peter Parker (however u like).

Maybe something like, him being pretty rich and like 10 years older than the reader and so one day she visits him at work and they kinda end up making out in his office

Ty🥰😄

a/n: OOOHHH I got CEO!Tom vibes from this so I hope that's okay :) Also followed the prompt but altered it very slightly. Also this was written in a day so may be sloppy with mistakes. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the request :)

Addicted to Power (CEO!Tom Holland x Reader)

Themes: pining? CEOtom being nice :) light smut at the end (fingering)

w/c: 3.5k

MASTERLIST

It felt like an accomplishment of yours being where you were in the world. The stereotypes and conventional attitudes towards those who were creatively-minded, such as yourself, were broken the minute your idea for a marketing campaign flourished. You stamped on your parents’ idea that being able to draw, to write, to play music or actively indulge in reading would get you nowhere, and proved that indeed, creativity did have its place in the working world. And by completely innovating the company’s advertising formula gained you that success you craved. It was a huge risk, but it paid off.

You remember the nerves of the day you presented all your prototypes, your demos, your portfolio of ideas that you and your team had devised in order to win the bid against rival teams. Your audience was that of three people, none of which actually made the decision, simply those who would take notes, ask questions and relay relevant information back to their employer; the CEO of the company whom you never got the chance to meet.

Regardless, it was a success. And you couldn’t be any more grateful.

You and your team were swiftly hired, greeted and welcomed into the company, and in time you all found your places rather quickly, working away nine to five, Monday to Friday. It was a relatively easy place to work in, your superiors and higher-ups had granted you their trust and the flexibility to use your initiative, trust your instincts and do what you think you needed to do. No one was overbearing, thankful for the ‘working with’ rather than the ‘working for’ attitude the workforce adopted, and your creativity was allowed to flow. You absolutely loved your job.

Until the day you were called into the CEO’s office.

“He probably just wants to ask you a question, or get your idea on something…” The only other person with you in the elevator was his assistant, who had admitted that this meeting with you was unscheduled, completely spontaneous, and that even she didn’t know why you were being sent up. She tried to reason with you that it wasn’t anything to be worried or concerned about, but you couldn’t find any comfort in her words when her face told something of a different story.

You hummed, not fully convinced. You were shortly chaperoned to his office where you took a seat at the square of leather couches, surrounding a glass coffee table. He wasn’t here yet, and you were instructed to wait for him until he arrived and you complied with a shy nod. Before his assistant left, you just had to ask her a question.

“Hey, um, look, I’ve never met him before. Is…is there anything that I should avoid saying or doing? I just don’t want to cross boundaries or make him mad.”

She stopped in her tracks and pursed her lips, eyes dancing around the scenery of the office as if she was taking the time to carefully construct her answer.

“Honestly, he’s a nice enough person as long as you tell him what he wants to hear. Yes, he can be intimidating but only if you let yourself be intimidated by him.” Great. Why did you think that her warning was easier said than done? You smiled in acknowledgement, your stomach stirring inside you. “You’ll be fine,” she said once again before promptly closing the door behind her.

It’s fine, it’s cool, just breathe. You’ve done nothing wrong. You aren’t in trouble. It’s all completely fine. Don’t panic.

The office was clean, sophisticated with sharp edges yet simplified by monochromatic colours that compliment both the dark leather couches and the pristine white desk perched at the far end of the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with natural light, and offered a stunning viewpoint of other buildings, both old and new, in the business complex. Holland Incorporated was one of the newer buildings in the area, a fine demonstration of its willingness to innovate, to reinvent itself to fit the modern era. It was an aspect you saw in yourself, and perhaps it was because of that you were hired by the company.

The door suddenly swung open and walking towards you with booming confidence was Chief Executive Officer Tom Holland, the entrepreneurial tycoon.

Holy fuck. This man was gorgeous. He had the features of a Greek God; humble brown eyes with defined prominent features. His skin glowed with a certain radiance, wrapped neatly in a Giorgio Armani double cashmere coat which hid a midnight blue suit of similar extravagance. There was a splash of gold decorating his fingers, your eyes taking sight of the ring curling around his pinky shining as the light hit it. He emanated wealth in a manner that you had never seen before; he was the physical embodiment of gentry and nobility married together. It fed into the curiosity of wondering just how rich he was, and given that he conducted himself in a calmly dignified manner left no doubt that there wasn’t a single thing bothering him that his money couldn’t solve.

In other words, he had way too much power than he knew what to do with. You were overpowered in rank, age, experience, wealth and status. It was terrifying to feel so vulnerable.

You took a swift intake of breath, subconsciously noting the delicious Burberry scent, and stood shakily on your own two feet.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Tom.” You knew, and he was totally aware you knew, but it was relieving to know he still felt obligated to introduce himself. You responded likewise, your voice just that little bit quieter than his. He took your hand, shaking gently before pulling to kiss your cheek. It was courteous of him and it completely threw you off, not because you didn’t welcome it, but because you were expecting him to be anything but.

You realised that you had completely misinterpreted his assistants warnings; he wasn’t intimidating because he was strict or demanding, he was intimidating because he was too attractive for his own good. You internally winced, for as fortunate as you were that he wasn’t the former, you didn’t know how to stop yourself being intimidated by the latter.

He took a seat beside you on the leather couch, an arm slung across the backrest, informal and open.

“I appreciate you coming to see me at such short notice, I’m aware that you weren’t expecting it and I hate to put you in that panic-” Jesus, beautiful and caring, how is this man real? “-but I promise you’re not in trouble.” He softly chuckled, casually resting a hand on your forearm to ease the strain. Did you really seem that nervous? You didn’t seem to do yourself any favors by sitting quietly at the other side of the couch.

“What I wanted to do was congratulate you and also apologise to you. You’ve been working for the company for a couple of months now and I feel terrible for not seeing you sooner to say how impressed I was by you and your team. Your idea for the marketing campaign bid for our new line of products was outstanding and because of that, our exposure to social media was increased, public interest was through the roof and our revenue for the quarter has surpassed $1 billion for the first time-”

“Fuck, seriously?!” Your body twitches with sincere shock, hands covering your mouth and you hope to god that he can see the apology in your eyes as easily as he saw the nerves. “I’m sorry, that was really unprofessional of me…” But this man kept continuing to surprise you. He tore down yet another brick in your wall of CEO stereotypes and laughed with genuine amusement, eyes wrinkling just ever so slightly.

“No, you’re right. Fuck indeed. I’ve been in this position for ten years and I’ve never seen that happen, so I want to say thank you.”

What you had to do to stop yourself swooning over his earnest words was extreme. It felt nice to be recognised, to feel appreciated and not let your efforts be dampened by class and position. It felt nice for someone such as Tom Holland, billionaire extraordinaire, to say ‘no it wasn’t me, it was my employees’ and be open about it. You could understand how easy it would’ve been for him to claim your success having wealth and power, but he didn’t, and the very thought gives life to a certain attraction to not just his looks, but his overall personality. And it was very, very addictive.

He sunk further into the couch, narrowing his eyes to observe you. They swam down your figure, noting all your little nervous tics you exuded. He couldn’t help it; there was something about his presence that brought out the cowardice in people, and it didn’t take long to pick up the consistencies in people’s behaviour whenever they were around him. Your palms were sweating, your stomach was flipping hurricanes and you couldn’t keep your bouncing knee at rest. The crack in your voice when you spoke again was proof enough that you were failing in not being intimidated by him.

“I’m glad,” you said, short and sweet. On second thoughts however, it didn’t seem merely as grateful as you should be. “And thank you for taking my team and I on. We really enjoy what we do and it’s a pleasure working for your company.”

“Good, because…” his hand rested upon your bouncing knee, his thumb curling around the joint to cease your movements. “I won’t be letting go of you anytime soon.”

Holy mother of fuck.

“Which brings me to the next thing I want to discuss…” You watched sadly as his hand lifted from your knee growing distance as he walked over to his desk, sitting proudly in his chair and spreading out paperwork across the surface in an organised map. He beckoned you over with the curl of his fingers; innocent in his mind, but completely lecherous in yours. Shit, not now. You’re working!

Tom explained to you that he wanted to branch out on a new line of products targeting a certain niche of clientele, meaning that he didn’t want its production or advertisement publicised and gain unnecessary attention. You were mesmerised as he talked through logistics, in awe of his wisdom and expertise that he had gained throughout his career that he was happy to pass onto you. You were envious of his confidence in this new product, speaking highly of its design, its efficacy and what it will do for the future of the company, and from a business standpoint, you couldn’t deny it was a revolutionary idea. As he continued to talk, your mind kept bouncing out of conversation to relish the intoxicating Burberry scent seeping into your nose, falling deeper into the memory of his hand perched upon your knee, only to spring back to reality when his eyes met yours.

As fascinated by the idea as you were, you couldn’t discern why he was explaining this all to you, a 23 year old newbie who got lucky with her choices, until he made a proposal that made your mouth go dry.

“I want this to be covert and therefore I want the marketing to be discrete. And given your past success, I think you’re very capable of coming up with a way of doing that.”

“I…um…thank you. I appreciate the offer, I’ll have to talk to my team-”

“You won’t be working with your team on this one. Believe it or not, my background is marketing, so you’ll be working on this with me.” Your mouth hung ajar, blood rushing to your cheeks. He visibly snickered watching you readjust yourself beside him. Nevertheless, he pretended not to notice. “Your timetable will alternate between mornings and afternoons. Mornings you’ll be working on the developments on our main line with your team, like normal. Then in the afternoons, you’ll work up here with me.”

There was a brief moment of silence. In your peripheral, he promptly stood, buried his hands into his pockets and you held your breath as he sauntered closer to you until you could feel the soft sweep of his chest against your shoulder. The inches of height difference between you couldn’t hide you from his gaze. The subtle tilt of his head was a calling and as he waited for your answer, a modest hand rested against the curve of your spine: friendly, supportive. Yet it was the only thing your mind could focus on.

“I think it will be quite fun; coming up here every afternoon to work on our little secret.” Those whispered words sent a chill down your spine, shaking you so fiercely that you were certain he felt it against his hand.

Your conscience screamed. Was he taunting you? Were you that so easy to read? Did he know what effects he had on you? Well, whatever they were, you wanted more.

“Okay,” you finally beamed up to him. “I’ll do it.” Tom, riddled with achievement, smiled back even wider.

“Atta girl.”

~~~~~

You wish you could say that the most challenging part of those few months was coming up with a solution to Tom’s targeted but discrete marketing campaign, but it wasn’t. Having worked alongside your incredibly attractive CEO meant that you constantly had to find an excuse for your blushed cheeks, or think of reasonable explanations as to why he caught you staring at him in your least self-aware moments. You couldn’t put into words how you were a completely different person in the morning than you were in the afternoons. You definitely couldn’t tell him that every time he was near, your heart would pound, that every sweeping touch of his hand, whether intentional or not, would set you ablaze. Hell, you had a new fixation each month you worked with him.

It was so fucking hard to keep it at bay. You knew you had to banish the thought; he was your boss and was at least 10 years older than you, but it made it all the more tempting to keep wanting him.

Launch day had arrived and it was unarguably the most nervous you had ever been. Because of its discrete nature, none of you could tell how well the launch would go. The targeted clients were few in comparison to the entirety of the general public which was a big risk to take, and the reliance on how well you advertised this product was overwhelming. It made you feel sick to the stomach.

You arrived normally, finding your own desk, checking in and distracting yourself with other work. It was only a matter of time before Tom’s assistants found you and sent you to his office, but before then, you had to figure out how to compose yourself no matter the outcome.

It was exactly twelve o’clock on the dot before Tom’s assistant found you. Her face was blank, but her stare bared an emotion you couldn’t decipher; pity? Sympathy? Apprehension? You couldn’t tell.

Deja vu followed you into the elevator as you both stood side-by-side.

“Do you know?”

“I don’t. He’s been watching the sales all morning. Hasn’t left his office once.”

“Fuck,” you breathed. The elevator doors dinged, sickly sweet and positive.

“Good luck.”

You inhaled, exhaled, then chapped his door. “Thanks.”

When you walked in, he was standing behind his desk clad in a black Ralph Lauren plaid cashmere suit, his brown curls untamed as he props himself against his chair. God, even vexed he looked fucking magnificent. What you wouldn’t give to feel him. His eyes whipped from his Mac desktop screen to you who stood coyly by the wooden door, too anxious to move. Tom didn’t say a word, rather he tensed his fists at the sight of you, his silver Rolex twitching on his wrist and you gulped. Wordlessly, he lifted his hand and beckoned you over like he did when you first met, stepping just one pace to the side and motioning where he wanted you to stand. You followed like a lost sheep. Everything was silent, uncomfortable. The air became harder to breathe the closer you got to him.

He waited until you were mere inches from him to point to the screen, and when your eyes saw green, you gasped. Sales were through the roof, stocks rising higher and higher as everything was decorated with a small but meaningful plus sign. Your shoulders dropped in relief, the tension slowly unwinding.

By the time you turned back round to Tom, he was sporting a mischievous smirk, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip with a smug arrogance that is well and truly deserved. His eyes caught yours, making the hairs on the back of your stand with a wink.

“Oh my God, Tom! My heart was in my mouth, I can’t believe this!” Tom chuckled loudly when you had to check the screen again, and he felt the urge to join, head sinking low next to yours. “Fuck, those sales are better than we projected, and look! International interest! Tom, that's huge, congratulations. You must feel relieved. I definitely am…” You peered over to your right and saw Tom standing poised, arms folded with a complacent smirk on his lips. It astounded you that he had just made millions, his wealth no doubt worthy of the Forbes list and yet he stood calm, composed…

Powerful.

“Please say something you’re making me nervous.”

Annoyingly, he continued to say nothing. With your back against his desk, he elected to perch himself in front of you and slowly lean forward, watching very carefully for your reaction as he rested his hands on the desk at either side of you. In that moment, your breaths were shallow, struggling to swallow the air he was suffocating you with. There was an impulse itching your brain and you tended to it immediately; a quick fleeting glance to his lips, and that was all he needed to figure out what had been going on in your mind over the last few months. It was all he needed to know the real reason why you were so nervous.

“T-Tom…” you whispered, but he hushed you. He took his hand, firm and commanding, and combed it through your hair to pull you into him. You melted the moment his lips touched yours, and they were just how you imagined them to be: soft, pliant and passionate. They moved slowly at first, relishing the taste of you, discovering what you liked just so that he could overwhelm you with it. Eventually, he worked up a passion so strong that he became domineering, hands latched firmly around your waist to bend you into him and you obeyed. When you ran out of breath, he deviated along the line of your jaw, kissing and licking until he found the spot that made you tick, or rather, whimper. He found it in seconds, hidden just below your ear and he latched onto it like a parasite.

Your eyes sprung open with the weighted realisation that yes, your attractive CEO, the one you had been wrongly crushing on for months was making you feel this way, satiating the cravings that had been haunting you from the start. Your hands grappled onto the lapels of his Ralph Lauren suit for stability because your knees were wobbling, weakening with each hot, burning kiss Tom planted onto your skin.

“You’ve made me a very rich man, darlin’” he murmurs against your neck. “I should thank you.” Before he said another word, his teeth grazed your earlobe, telling you to listen and listen well. “But I think I’d rather show you than tell you.”

You had no words left in you, nothing but a weak whimper and a shaky nod. Tom wasted no time and pulled the seam of your dress up to rest above your hips, gently traced the rim of your underwear where he deliberately pressed the cool metal of his ring against your skin, before snaking in. You let him, having the sudden freedom of not caring where you were, what you were doing and who you were doing it with, all you cared about was him making you feel this way.

His finger dipped further to lightly feather your clit and it was incredibly tantalising, you wanted to buck your hips so hard, but the weight of his own stopped you.

“You want this?” He tapped your clit as he grumbled in your ear.

“Yes, please!”

“Atta girl.” At first sign of submission, he began swirling your sensitive little bud around in circles and drawing out strained moans and sighs from you. Preoccupied, you barely noticed him reaching over to his office phone, buzzing through to his assistant who answered with a preppy tone, all the while playing with you.

“Can you cancel any meetings and phone calls I have today. I’m afraid I won’t be available all afternoon.”

#tom holland #ceo!tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #addicted to power #request #tom holland fluff #lemon #fluff

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takahero · 3 years

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in honour of finishing inkspell, here are some basta observations I picked up along the way. also, inkspell spoilers warning! i also have MANY MANY thoughts so i’d love to hear what you guys think to some of the questions raised

“He hadn’t changed: the same thin face, the same way of narrowing his eyes, and there was an amulet dangling around his neck to ward off the bad luck that Basta thought lurked under every ladder, behind every bush.” — pg.138

“Basta’s left hand was bandaged, Elinor noticed when he took his fingers away from her mouth.” — pg.139

“‘I’d have been here much sooner, believe you me, but they put me in jail for a while on account of something that happened years ago. No sooner was Capricorn gone than all the people who’d been too scared to open their mouths suddenly felt very brave.’” — pg.140 (see they never tell us WHY he was in prison, do they? the possibilities are endless. we know he committed atrocious things, like arson, but imagine if he got put in jail for something completely different…LOL)

“‘You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve told him there’s nothing to be ashamed of in going to jail, particularly when your prisons here are so much more comfortable than our dungeons at home.’” — pg.140 (OHHHTMGOD MEME IDEA)

“Basta flung his arm so roughly round Orpheus’ neck that his glasses slipped down his nose.” — pg.141

“‘Hold your tongue, Basta!’ Mortola interrupted him abruptly. ‘You’ve always liked the sound of your own voice.’” — pg.141

“‘Well, Silvertongue, I’m sorry it’s taken some time,’ he said in his soft, cat-like voice.” — pg.180

“‘My son always said revenge was a dish best eaten cold,’ observed Mortola.” — pg.181 (question. did basta find out about mortola’s true identity between inkheart & inkspell? do u think he realised it when mortola cried when capricorn died?)

“Basta passed a finger over his throat and winked at him.” — pg.186 (wink 2 LMAO)

“Basta bent down and picked up a rusty helmet lying at his feet. ‘What do you expect me to say?’ he growled, throwing the helmet back into the grass with a gloomy expression, and giving it a kick that sent it clattering against the wall. ‘Of course it’s our castle. Didn’t you see the figure of the goat on the wall there? Even the carved devils are still standing, though they wear ivy crowns now — and look, there’s one of the eyes that Slasher liked to paint on the stones.’” — pg.190

“‘So Basta was right after all. He’s dead, here and in the other world too.’” — pg.191 (interesting….so Basta knew Mortola’s plan wouldn’t work? he just wanted a ride home?)

“‘I’d really like to know what happened!’ he muttered. ‘I always said Capricorn wasn’t here, but what about the others?…What are we going to do if they’re all gone?’ Basta sounded like a boy afraid of the dark. ‘Do you want us to live in a cave like brownies until the wolves find us? Have you forgotten the wolves? And the Night-Mares, the fire-elves, all the other creatures crawling around the place…I for one haven’t forgotten them, but you would come back to this accursed spot where there are ghosts lurking behind every tree!’ He reached for the amulet dangling around his neck, but Mortola did not deign to look at him.

“‘Oh, be quiet!’ she said, so sharply that Basta flinched.” — pg.192

“‘You’re going to leave them here?’ That was Basta’s voice.” — pg.193 (at first I was like oh so he has a heart….but then he was mean to resa straight after this 🙄)

“‘Sorry, but he must have overlooked me, shut up in that cage as I was,’ purred Basta in his catlike voice.” — pg.377

“‘Wasn’t it Mortola who had you put in the cage to be fed to the Shadow?’ Basta just shrugged his shoulders and flung back his silver-grey cloak. Of course, he had his knife. A brand new one, it seemed, finer than any he’d ever had in the other world, and undoubtedly just as sharp.

“‘Yes, not very nice of her,’ he said as his fingers caressed the handle of the knife. ‘But she’s really sorry.’” — pg.377 (okay so it SOUNDS like he threatened/made some kind of bargain with his knife, but I strongly doubt that considering how afraid he seems of her?? i know he’s technically working for the adderhead but even by the end of the book, it seems he is far closer to mortola than adderhead. what is their relationship? or does he sincerely think she’s sorry/has deluded himself into believing such? UGH SO MANY QUESTIONS)

“Basta had always liked describing his own and other people’s abominable deeds in detail.” — pg.378

“‘But we’re not going to shoot you.’ Basta came a little closer to Fenoglio, his face as intent as that of a stalking cat.” — pg.378 …. living for all the cat references tbh

“‘He wants you to crawl on your belly to him, that’s what our noble lord and master likes. But never mind, he pays well!’” — pg.378 (yes basta all abt getting that bread LMAOOOO)

“He slowly drew the knife from his belt. Its blade was long and slightly curved.” — pg.379

“‘Hey Basta, I know you like the sound of your own voice.’” — pg.379 (AHAHAHAHA HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE CALLED OUT BASTA ON THIS NOW? IVE LOST TRACK)

“With a regretful sigh, Basta put the knife back in his belt. ‘Yes, very well, you’re right,’ he said in surly tones. ‘I need to take my time with this sort of thing. Questioning people is an art, a real art.’” — pg.380 (LMAOOOOOOO HE IS SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN)

“Basta. The same thin face, the same twisted smile. Only the clothes were different. Basta was no longer wearing his white shirt and black suit with the flower in his buttonhole. No, Basta now wore the Adderhead’s silvery grey, and he had a sword at his side. With a knife in his belt too, of course. But he was holding a dead chicken in his left hand.” — pg. 455

“‘Yes, they are!’ purred Basta. ‘The little witch, and the fire-eater into the bargain. It was well worth the wait. Even though I’ll probably never get that damned flour out of my lungs again.’” — pg.455 (ok….so who’s gonna draw basta sitting amongst the flour AAHHAHA)

“‘Servant? Who’s a servant here? Just listen to him. As bold as if he’d never felt my knife! Have you forgotten how you screamed when it cut your face?’” — pg.457 … don’t call basta a servant…..noted

“‘Oh, don’t look so disbelieving, little witch, I still can’t read and I don’t intend to learn, but there are enough fools around the place who can, even in this world.’” —pg. 457 (i wonder how much capricorn influenced basta’s views on reading. because capricorn said that he learnt how to read from a maid, right? so basta certainly wouldn’t have trash-talked reading in front of him. and even after living in OUR world for nine years, I’m still surprised that he never attempted to learn, given how dependent we are on it. anyway my headcanon is that he secretly wants to, but doesn’t want to give others the satisfaction of knowing they have something he doesn’t. also nobody he knows would be willing to teach him (unless he threatened them) bc of his obviously violent and short-tempered nature…and learning requires so much patience. still, though, would love a fic of basta being taught how to read in secret and having some kind of positive interaction)

“‘You’re even more talkative than you used to be, Basta.’ Dustfinger’s voice sounded as if he found this tedious.” — pg.458 HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH IM DYING. honestly the animosity between them was just. A+++

“Basta was in an even worse state. He was sitting close to Mortola, his face so red and swollen that Meggie almost failed to recognise him. But he had escaped death once again. Perhaps the good-luck charms he always wore worked after all.” — pg.526

“The sunlight falling into the room made Basta’s face look like a boiled lobster.” — pg.575

“Basta put his hand to the amulet hanging around his neck. It was not a rabbit’s paw, as he had worn in Capricorn’s service, but something that looked suspiciously like a human finger-bone.” — pg.581 (THIS STILL IRKS ME SO MUCH)

“The Piper straightened his back, as ready to attack as the viper on his master’s coat of arms…He was a good head taller than Basta.” — pg.582 WHY DO I KEEP FORGETTING HES NOT TALL LMFAO

“The two men were standing so close that the blade of Basta’s knife wouldn’t have fitted between them.” — pg.582 HAHAHAJAHAAJAHAHHAAHAHAHAH PKESJENE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH … IMAGINE BASTA SQUARING UP W HIS NOSE JUST SMACK BANG IN THE MIDDLE OF PIPER’S CHEST OR SOMETHING

“The Piper struck Basta in the face so hard that his head hit the door frame. Blood ran down his burned cheek in a trail of red. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. ‘Take care to avoid dark corridors, Piper!’ he whispered. ‘You don’t have a nose any more, but one can always find something else to cut off.’” — pg.582-583 THIS SCENE WAS SIMPLY……CHEF’S KISS

are you serious is he dead??? WHAT. okay I knew dustfinger’s love for farid would be the end of him and basta being the instrument to rip that away from him was totally heartrending. i WISH it had been more climactic? like dustfinger unleashing his fury and fighting basta, blind with anger and grief. THE DIALOGUE POTENTIAL BETWEEN THEM AS THEY FINALLY TALK ONE-ON-ONE, and then some revisiting of the scene where dustfinger has the opportunity to kill basta but AGAIN withholds because killing is not in his nature….THEN MO IN SHINING ARMOUR SWOOPS IN TO DO THE JOB

now, off to inkdeath!

#inkspell #inkspell spoilers #basta #inkheart trilogy #BASTAAAAAA

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hopeaterart · 3 years

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PMTOK HORROR AU: INTRO

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO! Nearly four thousand words! (I’m trying to get back into writing, so if you guys want to see another part of the games translated into the Horror AU, send me an ask!)

The circle was completed.

The Craftsman took a deep breath, raising up and putting the vial of Blue Paint on his nightstand. The blue lines were glowing slightly on his floor, the circle just big enough for one person.

Good enough for him, it was an emergency anyway. The Sailor was already too late by a few days. He walked to it’s middle, bit his thumb, and let the blood drip upon the lines. They glowed brighter. “Flipflopside.” He muttered, and his world was engulfed in blue.

When colors came back to him, he was at the gate of the town. He entered town, and sighed as he recognized the decorations all around. Had circumstances been better, this festival would’ve been Olly’s first exposure to the outside world.

But Olly having disappeared a week ago, along with some very important supplies, was the reason the Craftsman had scrambled to gather and create the necessary blue paint to teleport.

He stopped at the town square. Where... was everyone? He frowned at all the decorations strewn around. It was like an hurricane had gone through town. He groaned in exasperation, before continuing his way toward the Lady’s Castle. If the town was having problems, then she would be too busy to offer help with finding his son.

He... honestly doubted anyone would’ve been generous enough to help in the first place, which is why he had prepared arguments about why his worry over his son going missing wasn’t just a parent thing (which it wasn’t, but it was the main reason, and they didn’t need to know that), but rumors had it that the current human lord- or in this case, lady- was a generous and kind one.

Yeah, if she was anything like her uncle, then he wasn’t holding onto hope.

He finally arrived to it’s front door, knocking once. He was expecting to have to knock more, and then for someone to come open the door. Instead, the door grinded open, having obviously been left as such. He hummed in concern, looking around, before entering, on-guard.

And just as he entered, the door slammed behind him, making him jump. He hurriedly turned back toward it, trying to open it again in vain. Door locked. He groaned in exasperation. He was getting rusty.

He slowly walked through the corridor, his footsteps echoing around him as he looked around. The place was strangely... dark and silent. For some reason, he felt like he was the only one there. He reached the end of the corridor, opening another door (this one properly closed, but not locked) and arrived at what he could only assume was the lobby.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and out came the Lady. Long blonde hair, dark skin, and pink eyes... yep, no doubt, it was her, even if there was something... off about her that he wasn’t sure he could place. He had never formally met her, after all.

“How good... to see you...” She said in a discordant voice, and that immediately squashed any doubts the Craftsman had about this being her normal self. There was, at least, hypnosis involved.

“Answer me this... shouldn’t this miserable kingdom be unfolded... and be refolded unto glory?...” He shook his head, a hand reaching into his apron to get his paper scoring tool, the sharper end gleaming like a shiv. Better safe then sorry.

“And what of those... humans?” The venom dripping from her voice surprised him, even if he wasn’t a fan of other humans himself. “Shouldn’t they be silenced forever?” Oh, he didn’t like were this was going. Whoever was pulling the strings on her, they were the kind of scum that would make even the former Count recoil in horror.

“... I see... Last question.” She started as he grind his teeth together. “Will you crease yourself and be reborn, like me-”

“Lady of humans,” He started as he took a step forward. She didn’t react at that, freezing and keeping lifeless pink eyes on him. “You’re not in your right mind right now. Please, let me try to undo whatever magic is making you act like this-”

“Wrong answer.” She started, and the Craftsman realized he had made a mistake. “Right answer. It matters not.” She said, tilting her head in a stilted manner that exposed her shoulder and the thick silver lines on it. No doubt, powerful binding magic was at work. “Your replies are all paper thin.”

The floor suddenly opened under him, a discordant goodbye accompanying the fall. And then his world was wrapped in pain and darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a cold ground, and five faces -or at least what he assumed where faces, what’s with the loss of his glasses- were looking down on him. “Oh, he’s waking up, he’s waking up!” One of them said, making the four others back up as he sat up.

He blinked, blurry. “Have any of you seen my glasses?” He asked. “They’re round with black frames. Their lenses are thick, and they have a retainer with purple and yellow beads.” The retainer was especially important to him, a reminder of the only relationship he remembered fondly. “If any of you are well-versed in magic, they’re also imbued with some pretty powerful protection spells.”

“Is that why they didn’t break?” Someone asked, handing him an object that shone under the dingy dungeons light.

He nodded, taking them in hand on pushing them up his nose. “Yes, thank you.” He then blinked as he regained vision, and looked around. All of those people... “You’re all monsters?”

One of them flinched at that, while another took a defensive stance. “Is that a problem, old man?”

“No, of course not.” He answered, bringing his knees to his chest. “If anything, I sympathize more with monsters than humans. We’re terrible.”

One of the monsters, who looked pretty young, came nearer. “So you don’t hate us?”

The Craftsman chuckled, patting the little plant monster’s head. “When you get my age, you don’t have much energy left for hating everything in sight. So I keep it for people who are truly deserving.” Like the chucklefuck who broke into his home, kidnapped Olly, stole most of his magical supplies and half of his Origami ones.

Suddenly, the door opened. More monsters, but those ones moving just as stiffly as the Lady earlier, entered. “Come with us...” The one standing at the front, who wore a ancient demon mask, ordered. The Craftsman got up, groaning as some of his bones popped, as everyone exited the room. He was about to follow them, when the masked monster held a hand up. Restrained fury was radiating off of the monster. “Not you.”

And just like that, he was alone again. He sighed, sitting down on the ground. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? The wall over there seemed pretty brittle...

He got up the inspect it, gently dragging his palm across it. Hello? A little voice suddenly asked, making him jump back in surprise. Oh no, please don’t leave! It said again. Was it coming... from the wall?

He caressed the wall again, frowning. “Are you... trapped inside?” He asked, feeling dimensional magic weaved into the wall.

Oh, yes I am! The voice of the young girl started again. I’m in a very strange place, like I’m trapped in-between dimensions!

“You will be delighted to hear to your situation is nowhere that severe, then.” He snarked. “You’re merely the victim of a dimensional spell. Nothing that can’t be broken.”

Really!? The voice exclaimed, it’s (her?) happiness evident. I think there’s some Paint nearby, could you use it to draw a magic circle? I can use my own magic for the rest. He hummed non-committedly as he got up, heading for the boxes pilled in a corner.

After a strong enough push, they toppled, their content spilling. Mostly empty vials of Paint, beside one that seemed to hold enough for one circle. But more importantly, a crack in the wall that was big enough for him to slip through if he tried was there. But just as he was about to leave, the little voice made itself known again. You... you’re not leaving, are you? She asked in a tearful tone.

He stayed frozen for a moment, before groaning in exasperation and turning back toward the wall. He quickly made his way there, emptying the vial over his fingers and drawing a circle around himself. It then started glowing a golden color, the image of a hand appearing within it. “Shapeshifting magic, uh?” He picked at the wound on his finger, opening it again and letting blood drip once more.

The Craftsman watched, bewildered, as his arms flattened and folded like accordions. He then gathered himself, and ripped the wall away, shaking his arm back to normal as whoever was trapped in the wall detached herself. “Whoo! I’m finally free from the wall!” She exclaimed cheerfully as the Craftsman’s eyes widened in disbelief. Blonde hair, golden hair, the hat with two points... and those eyes... “Hi, my name’s Olivia! You-”

“I know who you are, girl.” The Craftsman interrupted, bringing a hand up. “I’m the one who designed you.” That seemed to shock her, her hat flying of her head as her eyes sifted sizes.

“What!?”

“And I must admit, whoever folded you did an excellent job. Almost makes me jealous.” He wasn’t jealous, but fucking furious, but not at her, and that wasn’t important right now.

“But- you- I-”

“Look, for now, let’s focus on getting out of here before those guys come back, alright?” He proposed, grabbing Olivia’s small hand and squeezing them gently. She nodded, an adorably determined pout on her face as they went through the secret passage. “Stay behind me, don’t make a noise, and above all else, do not tell anyone your name, got it?”

Olivia nodded, following the Craftsman as they slipped through the crack. They quickly walked out of the cell, both of their eyes shifting around to make sure no one was coming. The corridor seemed closed off, magic keeping the dungeon isolated from the rest of the castle.

“Unhand me!” As they heard a voice come from the other room, they quickly hid amongst the boxes near said room. The Craftsman flushed himself against the wall near a small crack, chuckling to himself as Olivia imitated him, before peering inside

The sight of the notorious Count folded into what was basically a wet floor sign would’ve made the Craftsman laugh if it wasn’t for the implications behind the type of magic needed to restrain him. There was also the fact that he was being held up by multiple clothespin, and the shadows. Two of the deformed monsters were holding up another above their head, the creature obviously struggling.

And then it stopped moving, almost flattened as it was folded, powerful magic shifting and contorting it’s body. And then it was brought to a truly humongous shadow, a beast that opened it’s mouth with a mechanical sound. The outline of two sharp fangs was visible as the poor soul was placed within it’s mouth. And then...

KA-CHICK

The Craftsman looked away just as the beast closed it’s mouth, a metallic sound similar to the one of a stapler stapling sounding out. Well, at least he knew where that binding magic came from now, and where one of his supplies went. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to enchant a stapler!?

Poor Olivia was shivering in fear next to him, and he offered her a hand to hold just as the door opened. A horde of monsters, the last one being the demon-mask wearing one, got out. “Alright.” He started. “That was the last of them. Now, there’s only that old bastard left...”

As they left the corridor to go “fetch” him, he quickly made his way inside the room, relieved to find the door unlocked with Olivia still holding his hand. He made his way to the folded up Count, who had a miserable expression on his face. “Sir?” He asked.

The Count opened his red eyes. “Oh, a human!” He exclaimed, a surprised lilt to his voice. “My apologies, with all the chaos happening around here, I forgot that my beloved’s castle was on human grounds.”

“Your beloved’s castle is the middle of Flipflopside.” The Craftsman remarked with a raised eyebrow as he neared, taking the clothespins off. “If she wanted to live amongst humans, this wouldn’t be the place.”

“Ah, touché...” The Count commented as he fell to the ground, quickly figuring out a way to move. He then turned toward Olivia with squinted, and she squeaked. “And this young lady would be...?”

“My daughter.” The Craftsman hissed, not missing the sudden animosity in the Count’s tone.

To his credit, the Count immediately backed off. “... My apologies. Now, I do believe there’s another exit here,” he started, turning toward the other end of the room “but it’s hidden by an illusion spell. I would dispel it myself, but...” He shuffled a bit.

“I’m on it!” Olivia cheerfully declared, floating up to the wall and gently caressing it. Immediately, the surface fell away into Paint particles (which the Count was quick to waddle to and absorb, no doubt he wanted to collect enough magic to try and break out of his binds) as the young girl turned toward the two men.

The Craftsman nodded in approval as Count congratulated her, waddling up to her. “Incredible job, miss! Now, we can get out!” Olivia beamed, bouncing up and down in the air to a rhythm only she could hear as they made their way to a spiral staircase.

Just before they started climbing, the folded monster turned toward the Craftsman. The older man frowned. “What?”

“You have a very talented daughter.” The Count answered him as he started making his way up the stairs as fast as his body let him. The Craftsman smiled to himself.

“I know.” He started making his way up the stairs, Olivia’s hand back in his, when he noticed that she seemed unfocused. He stopped. “Is there a problem, girl?” He asked, turning toward her.

The younger girl looked up at .him, smiling. “I’m your daughter?”

A few seconds, then a shrug. “If you want to be,” He wasn’t the one who had folded her, but he was the one who had made the initial plan and cut out a piece of his soul for her, and he couldn’t be much worse than Olly’s kidnapper.

They finally made it back outside, the Craftsman shielding his eyes from the sudden light. They walked along the long balcony for a bit, until another door opened. Out walked the monster from earlier, the one with the demon mask, and the Lady. He heard the Count gasp behind him.

“Why are you still so... flat?” The brainwashed woman asked him. “Why won’t you join me in folded glory...” She weakly reached her hands out to them. “Come, we can reshape you...” The fear shining through her eyes was yelling at them to run, run as far as you can, and never turn back.

The Craftsman was very tempted to follow that message, ready to grab Olivia and jump over the balcony fence, before the masked monster opened their mouth. “Patience, Lady. This will do just fine. So...” They turned toward the Craftsman. “Why did you come to this castle, Craftsman?”

His eyes narrowed, pulling the paper scorer out again. “Someone stole what’s mine. I came here to ask help to get it back.” And it seems I’ve found my thief.

The masked monster made a sneering sound. “Is that how you see your son? A mere possession?”

“Wha- don’t talk about what you don’t know!” The Craftsman snapped, hand tightening around the tool in his hand.

“... Last chance, Craftsman.” The monster started. “Volunteer yourself to my cause, and let me fold you into something greater. Simple offer. Yes, or no.” The only thing that stopped the old man from going ‘go fuck yourself’ was Olivia’s presence. He instead shook his head. “Of course, I didn’t expect any less. And I wouldn’t have it any other way...” The monster snapped his fingers.

Another mind-controlled monster came into view. The Craftsman recognized him as one of the monsters from earlier. The Count snarled behind him, a surge of powerful magic catching him off-guard. “What have you done to my people!?”

“Folding them to my will. Look at your precious Lady.” The monster started, gesturing to her. “She’s better this way, don’t you think.” The only answer was a hiss. “Now...” The mask-wearing monster turned back toward the Craftsman, one violet eye glowing. “Prepare to be Folded!”

The monster jumped the Craftsman, hissing and snarling. Caught off-guard, he went down like a sack of potato, falling on his back and barely keeping the monster off-of him. He dropped the scorer, weakly moving his legs as his arms came up to hold the monster’s claws away from him. Olivia gasped in horror. “Dad!”

“Wait, miss.” The Count started as he watched the Craftsman successfully move one of his hand to the monster’s throat. “I do believe that your father as the situation in hand.”

The Craftsman continued to hold the monster away from him, his hand tightening around his throat, before grabbing the paper scorer and stabbing the monster through his eye. Dark purple blood stained his hand as a pained noise came out of the monster, the scorer getting wringed out.

The monster was then knee-d into the stomach, the Craftsman successfully throwing the monster off of him and over the fence. He got back up, groaning and doing his best to ignore Olivia’s horrified look. “Is that all you got?” He asked the masked monster, who sighed.

“Of course, how stupid of me. You did go by Mercenary when you were younger.” The masked monster noted as he started floating ominously. “I suppose there’s no point in maintaining this charade any longer...”

The monster shook, his arms raising in the air, before suddenly flattening and unfolding. Colors faded away as the illusion spell was uncast, revealing violets and yellows as a little boy wearing a crown revealed himself. The Craftsman’s eyes widened in disbelief, the Count made a noise of confusion, and Olivia gasped. “BROTHER!”

No... no, no, no, NO! It couldn’t be... “Wh- what are you doing here?” The Craftsman asked, putting his scorer back in his apron as Olivia started shaking.

“Please, brother...” She sobbed. “How many times have I told you you needed to stop? Please! You can’t do this!”

The boy simply sighed. “Why couldn’t the Craftsman have simply left you in that wall where I put you... Sister, I am afraid that if you stand in the way of my ambition, we will not be able to share my glory as family.”

“Brother-”

“I am not your brother anymore.” He stated, flipping his hair. “I am KING OLLY!” He then floated up and out of reach, floating in the sky as he cast a disdainful look to Flipflopside. “By the time I’m done, all those miserable humans will be folded... and those flimsy monster subjects shall be reborn as Folded Soldiers, serving me!” He then turned his look upon the Craftsman and Olivia. “And I shall fold, crease and bend this world to my whim... the birth of an Origami Kingdom!”

Olly snapped his fingers, a bright violet light emanating from his hand. It took a moment for the Craftsman to realize that was a signal, but he quickly dragged Olivia to the floor when he realized. And just in time too, as something yellow and charged with magic razed right past where his head used to be a second ago.

He quickly got up, scanning his surroundings as Olivia held onto him for dear life, the Count screeching right behind him. Streams of binding magic surrounded them, all controlled by Olly, all coming from different directions. “Follow me, you two!” The Count yelled over the rush of magic, hopping on the fence and then on a lower part of the roof. The Craftsman quickly followed him, hand tight around Olivia’s.

“GRA-BLAGH!” The Craftsman turned toward the voice, confused as he saw what was possibly one of the ugliest man he’s ever seen come to them at high speed in a rocket-propelled hot-hair balloon. The Count quickly jumped in, followed by the Craftsman and Olivia. “A’m ‘ere, Count!”

“Thank you, Warrior.” The Count started, smiling for what was probably the first time today. The Craftsman decided to give them as much privacy as he could as he turned toward the Lady’s castle.

There was five streams of magic in total. The red one came from the North, the blue one East, the yellow one South, and the purple one West. As for the green one, it seemed to come from the clouds. They seemed to take material form as they tightened over the castle, similar to shiny ribbons.

To his horror, the Castle was then ripped right off of the ground, the stone floors breaking away with it as it was lifted in the hair and above them. He blankly registered something lilac and yellow falling off of the castle as the other man with them (the Warrior, he thinks?) and the Count shrieked.

He sat on the floor, Olivia joining him and hugging him close as the Warrior yelled something incomprehensible. They then felt the machine machine shake. “What’s going on?” He asked the Count, who had slid next to them.

“They magic streams ur giein’ use some problems.” The Warrior answered for him. “Sae hing oan tiiiiIIAAAAAH!” The machine had collided with the red ribbon, making the Craftsman, Olivia and the Count fly out, with only the last one getting caught by the Warrior. He then tried to reach for the other two, but they were already too far away.

And as they fell, the Craftsman could only look as the ribbons carried the castle away. He closed his eyes as he saw it being placed upon the top of the dormant Sulfur Crater, a single thought circling in his head.

What the fuck did I get myself into this time!?

#writing #My writing #pmtok #pmtok horror au #pmtok olivia #king olly #origami craftsman #count bleck #lady timpani #paper mario #Paper Mario The Origami King #tw violence #tw blood #tw death

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jade-doodles-questionmark · 4 years

Text

On Alexander, Angelica and Eliza

Heres some long-ass personal interpretation based on the musical that nobody following this blog signed up for lol. Not gonna be touching on history coz i’m no expert and there’re ppl way more qualified for that. and it’s good to keep things separated.

there’re obviously many similarities between the two A’s. Both are witty, outspoken, center of attention, and a bit of a flirt. To me, the most interesting trait shared by both is their awareness: They know exactly where they stand socially, and subsequently, how to play by the rules to climb up. This clear awareness is where I got the idea for the staircase drawings. “i’m a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich/ my father has no sons so i’m the one who has to social climb for one” is a demonstration of Angelica’s awareness, just as “As a kid in the Caribbean I wished for a war/ I knew that I was poor/ I knew it was the only way to rise up” shows Alexander’s.

it’s different for Eliza - i know as the show proceeds, she gradually becomes more ambitious and active, but in Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story, what she asks, instead of how to rise up, is: “Have I done enough?” this quiet insistence is why i always see her as someone who does things because she thinks it’s a right thing to do, no matter whether that thing in question would benefit her personally or not. sure, she gives off "cinnamon roll" vibes, but girl’s no less strong or badass than Alexander or Angelica.

More under cut coz I’m incapable of being concise:

Angelica:

what always strikes me as interesting about Angelica is the contrast of what she says vs. what she does.

In The Schuyler Sisters, the majority of her lines are about empowering women, which, I think, is where the depiction of Angelica as an angry feminist comes from in some fanfics. But in Satisfied, we see she plays squarely by the rules of patriarchy and social classes (the three fundamental truths part).

Similarly, in TSS, she says "so men say I'm intense or I'm insane", seemingly unbothered, if not lowkey proud, by these comments, but in Satisfied, she talks about the resulting gossip if she were to marry Alexander.

I saw a post which expressed that Angelica thinks like Alexander but acts like Burr, and I agree. She has a sharp mind and is unafraid to speak out, like Alexander, but she’s also got things to lose, like Burr. Having family responsibilities means that she does not, and cannot, act without restrictions and hesitations like Hamilton. She doesn't necessarily wait it out like Burr, but she does think things thru, because the important decisions she makes carry enough weight to not only affect the future of herself but also of her family.

I had mentioned in an old post that Satisfied is basically Angelica assessing cost & gain for each of the options she has, for all the parties involved. even though that song's ending has mixed feelings and it's DEFINITELY a heartbreaking song, Angelica's choice did maximize the gain for everyone at the time: She was able to maintain her bond with Alexander and married rich to ensure her material comfort. Alexander was able to marry a Schuyler and elevate his status. Eliza got the boy she loved and was happily married. She even foresaw some possible challenges the newly wed Hamiltons were likely to face (“He’ll never be satisfied”).

She knows she lives in a world of patriarchy; she isn't happy with it, but she knows how to take advantage of the system as much as she can. She knows how to be the center of attention, be charming, and appeal to ppl. She knows what kind of husband is beneficial to have. She knows how to influence politics in her own way (take a break). Part of why I found Satisfied so sad is that her mind and her heart wish for two different things. Angelica is a realist, over everything else. She can be a feminist, but definitely not an angry one.

Alexander:

I talked a bit abt him in an older post on Maria - and a lot of what I said abt Maria applies to him. If the challenge Angelica was facing is invisible societal restrictions on women, what Alexander faces is purely regarding survival. Having needed to fight and compete for resources, I imagine he's at least somewhat influenced by the philosophy of social darwinism. I also said, in the same post, that I don't think he'd be really inclined to help ppl in the same difficulty he used to be in, for the same reason. If he could make it this far with his own hard work, how would it be fair to make things easier for others now? Would those ppl even deserve their success now the bar has been lowered? It's not exactly a right way of thinking, but it's also hard to blame him. after having to compete for resource w others in order to climb up, it’s hard to change the mentality.

I've seen a music analysis (by Howard Ho on YouTube) on Hurricane, and it concludes that when Hamilton was singing that song, he wasn't exactly recalling the past - he's been mentally living in that reality and never truly left. (There's similar remarks that Hamilton's past in the Caribbean had always plagued him despite his power and position in Chernow's biography, but we're only analyzing the musical here.) He never fully turned off his survival mode.

To clarify: by survival mode, I don't literally mean he fights to survive. He didn't exactly show a strong will to survive and was quite willing to give up his life for noble causes, up until he met Eliza. What I meant is, he remembers being destitute and helpless, he remembers seeing deaths of trivial importance, so he fights to be as far away from destitution and helplessness as possible, he fights to have the opportunity to die a glorious and noble death. Because to be able to die for something matters is still a privilege. No matter how high up he rose to position, his insecurity that he may end up losing those never faded away. This raw energy, I guess, is what gradually turned the others in the musical to be more like him.

Eliza:

Eliza seems to be the one who's the most content abt their situations out of the three. After all, one of her motifs in the musical is "look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now", and the other one is “that would be enough”.

ppl usually say Helpless and Satisfied should be listened back to back (and nothing wrong with that), but comparing these two songs, Helpless doesn’t explore as much of Eliza’s character as Satisfied does Angelica. Throughout Helpless, she’s spent most of the song narrating what happened and falling head over heels for Alexander. As for her first appearance in TSS, she doesn’t have as much of a voice and show of character in comparison to Angelica, Burr, other Peggy either.

The first moment we truly see her thoughts is in That Would Be Enough. It’s also in this song, her two other motifs (”that would be enough” and “narrative”) are introduced. Unlike Alexander and Angelica at that point of story, she’s happy with her life, wants it to remain that way, and doesn’t ask for more.

i dont mean she’s not ambitious like the other two - she’s driven, but by other things. she doesn’t think of legacy, material comfort, status, position, etc. as important as Angelica and Alexander, as we can see in Burn. it’s not that she doesn’t know the rules - girl’s not playing the game at all.

unlike the two A’s, Eliza’s growth happens in the second act. Angelica’s barely in the second act, and in the same act we see Alexander’s most trusted weapon, writing, contributing to his downfall. but for Eliza, she turns from the observer in Helpless, the supporter in That Would Be Enough, to the only one on stage in Burn, and to being the center of stage in Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story. in the second act we see her going thru the series of most crushing heartaches: Reynolds Pamphlet, death of Phillip, and death of Alexander, but we also see her strength. she’s a good person, but ppl usually forget that being nice takes energy and strength too. it takes strength to support, to forgive, to mourn the passing of your loved ones, and to preserve their memories and legacy. she shines and grows after overcoming the loss and heartbreaks. Angelica says in Satisfied “she’d say 'i’m fine' but she’d be lying”, i don’t think she’s giving Eliza enough credit for her mental strength there lol.

side note: this is where i got idea for the eliza art from a few days ago - kintsugi represents the idea that your wound becomes your history and forms part of who you are, rather than something ugly to be ashamed of. I think it fits well with Eliza’s development.

Congrats! you’ve made it till the end! don’t know why u’d do that, but thanks!

if u’re reading this feel free to send me a simple art request to compensate the time u took reading my bullshit

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #hamliza #eliza schuyler #eliza hamilton #Angelica Schuyler #hamgelica #the schuyler sisters #character analysis #long post #*cough* Excuse me my lit major is showing #jades weird ideas

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fresafresitawrites · 3 years

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paloma’s cards and water

my latest creative writing assignment! adding onto the next series of my vignettes! involving my oc andrew as the main boi. u can find them all here this one is a lil long but my prof really liked it so im happy w it. rest is under the read more! id be so happy if anyone reads this slkajf inspired by tarot reading, my grandma, and that one chapter in the house on mango street w the tarot reader

I was on the first floor of my building getting the mail when I heard my downstairs neighbor sweeping her entrance mat.

“Buenos días, m’hijito.” Her voice was like the strum of a guitar.

“Buenas, Señora Paloma.” I replied. I gave her a quick glance as I skimmed a letter about my academic probation from last semester.

She set the broom aside and looked up at me.

“Ah, so formal now that you’re older, and taller too. You’re always getting taller and taller.” I’m only five foot six, five foot eight when anyone asks. “I haven’t seen you too much lately.”

“Oh, disculpe.” I crammed the envelopes into my messenger bag. Most of them were junk anyway, like dollar store advertisements or auto companies offering me a car loan. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind, a lot going on with school and work and everything.” I closed the mailbox unit.

“Ay, perdón, Señor Ibarra,” she teased. Somewhere after I turned eighteen, I went from calling her Mama Lola to using formalities. “Do you have some time, actually? I need help with something, si puedes.”

I checked my phone. I had work in an hour. “Sí sí sí, yeah, whatdya need?” I cracked my knuckles. Usually, she just wanted me to move furniture or get something from the top shelf of her kitchen cabinets, like the blender she used during the summer to make watermelon juice. Her oldest son also bought her an iPad for Christmas three years ago when he visited from Buffalo, and I’ve memorized the passcode after troubleshooting it for her so many times.

Paloma waved me inside her one-bedroom apartment, two floors directly underneath my family’s. We lived in an old house with four floors that probably used to belong to one rich family in the nineteenth century but was now broken up into several apartments. Paloma’s door was the first one on the ground floor across from the staircase. Her apartment always smelled like dryer sheets, and the television was always on some Spanish talk show, and water was always boiling over the kitchen stove because she didn’t trust the pipes. The yellow walls were adorned with Mexican folk paintings, plastic floral garlands, and family photos attached with Scotch tape. In every corner there were figurines of Catholic saints.

A few years ago, I asked Paloma to watch Sofi and Eli for me. I had tickets to see The Strokes at Madison Square Garden and only that morning did I double check the date of the concert. My mom was at a student’s piano recital, and I agreed a week earlier to watch the girls that night.

I was carrying Eli in one arm and held Sofi’s hand with the other outside Paloma’s door. The girls were four at the time, so I just gave them each twenty bucks to never say anything.

“Hmm!” Paloma lifted her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “And you think your momma won’t find out?”

I thought about it. “Well, don’t tell her.”

Paloma laughed, squinting her dark eyes like a fox.

Thankfully, Ma’s train got delayed on the way home that night.

In Paloma’s kitchen, two Devil’s Ivy plants sat in the sink with their vines trailing over the edge, hesitating to touch the tile floor. On the left was the glass door to her own small patio, where a few stray cats lay across the concrete. Paloma pointed to her wooden breakfast table, leaving her broom aside, so I pulled out a chair.

She sat down across from me, laying a purple and gold silk cloth between us and placed two tea lights on each side.

“Oh, is this what you wanted me for?” I sat up, surprised. She tied her long, gray-brown hair into a bun.

Paloma has never tried to use her cards on me before. I was never interested in these things. Hemera was the one who came to visit often after her break-up during freshman year with this film studies major, Vladimir, who played the accordion and was originally from Portland. Hemera and Paloma would lean over the tarot cards, speaking low, like candleflames. I usually sat on the couch and watched Looney Tunes, since Boomerang was one of the only channels on Paloma’s television other than the news or Telemundo.

“How’s your friend?” Paloma asked as if she read my mind. “Is she your girlfriend yet? Or has she found someone?” She pulled out the deck of cards from her apron pocket and shuffled them.

“Oh, no, she’s okay. She’s doing okay.” Hemera told me two weeks ago she was “focusing on herself” which meant she deleted Tinder and would reactivate it within the next week. “And nah, she’s like a sister to me. That’d be weird.”

Paloma watched me. “You cold?”

“What? No…” Well, now that she mentioned it… ‘Actually, yeah, kind of, maybe.” I zipped up my wool sweater. Was there a breeze?

“Good.” She spread the cards out with her delicate hands. “That means the spirits are here.”

“Uh, okay. Sure, Paloma. They are.” I tried not to sound too sarcastic.

I closed my eyes and hovered my left hand over the fanned-out cards, mimicking how Hemera used to do it. I tapped three random cards and Paloma flipped them over.

She read them out loud. “El ermitaño, la rueda de la fortuna, y la muetre.”

The late February sun casted a soft glow over the kitchen like a dream.

“Your past, present, and future cards.” Paloma’s tone shifted into something softer, as if her words descended from the clouds. “Ah, look at you. Always keeping to yourself, always, always. Like the old man here on the card… alone on the mountain, holding a lantern trying to illuminate his path.”

I tilted my head.

“Right now, you’re in a critical position. It’s a marvelous position to be in! See all the arrows on the wheel going in all directions? They can lead you anywhere. You just steer the wheel like the helm of a sailboat and go wherever the wind takes you. How exciting!”

I leaned forward. I examined the card that depicted what looked like a large, gold coin covered in strange symbols and surrounded by hybrid animals and angel figures.

“And here, look, don’t be afraid of this last one. Everyone’s always afraid of this card, but don’t take it too literal. This card means transformation, it means upheaval, it means purging, it means endings.

I picked up the card, fixated on the small boy kneeling before the skeleton-knight riding a white horse. I put the card back down.

“This sounds… vague.” I leaned back in my chair, half skeptical and half on edge from her reading, but I didn’t want her to know the last part. “I thought you’d tell me something terrible would happen, or something like who I’m going to marry or whatever. Not that I would believe it, but I’m just wondering why you wanted me here right now.”

Paloma smiled and crossed her arms. She’d been expecting this reaction. “It’s not like that. It’s not a math test, like in school. There are no right or wrong answers here. I know you don’t like that. Frustrating, no?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Half of the work is you. It’s like looking at art or reading poetry. You’re participating. You’re drawing your own conclusions.” She placed the deck back into her pocket. “You have to marinate on the words, m’hijo. Everything will reveal itself.”

I took a deep breath, swung my bag over my shoulder, and checked my phone.

I had work in five minutes.

16 notes · View notes

es05l2k5sl · 4 years

Text

I'll never understand why WB had to redesign the Batcast for the new Bat adventures. Some characters took getting used to. But as for the villains, I'm roasting they asses cus they're ugly. Can't change my mind.

These Oswalds together look like 2 different people bruh. But we're here to talk about new Oswald. This Wimpy x Olive Oyl fusion snoody looking ass bitch. I'd like his outfit if it didn't have that lazy drawned bow tie looking like 2 triangles glued together & those fake ass MJ gloves. Also when tf did he have 10 fingers in dis universe? Also fuck that hair. Rocking a balding Mullet like ponytail before. Now it's just a boring cut down. Got dat snooty ass bitch look on face like his bird shit don't be stinking. I'll rock tf out u. Lookin like a whole ass Looney character or sum mf from the 30s.

Wot da fuck dey got Selena wearing here? Sis looking like a whole ass alien. Kid vs Kat looking ass bish. And her skin white af too? Did sis fall in some damn Joker acid too? Sis whole lower face is white as shit! Dat shit paler than crack. Like sis got the white slapped outta her and she just turned whiter. Das probably what happened. Her ass probably got on my mans Bruce last nerves one night and got da shit backslapped out her ass.

So my dude Matthew got turned a different color pal & got his neck privileges revoked? Lazy af but not the worst revamp.

You kno that meme: "upgrade, upgrade, FUCK GO BACK!"? Dis pre much sums up Jonathan here. My mans jus looks so dirty here. Looking straight outta da trash bin. Like literally dirty. Nasty ass teeth probably got dat hot ass breath blowing thru them bitches. Das a real fear toxin right there. Long ass black as shit dirty ass hair. Tryna copy off my girl from the ring w dat shit. Need to take dat dirty ass wig and mask and Amish hat tf off my dude. It is not rocking you. Dat whole worn out trashy ass outfit ain't working for you either hoe. You need to take yo ass a bath bitch cus your arms looking brown and ashy as a bitch. You can not even THINK about borrowing anything from me w yo dirty creepy stalker lookin ass. If you don't put down that damn stick like yo ass need help walking and shit I oughtta bitch ya ass with the shit fo going around dressed like dis. Take that damn rope off your neck bitch fo I do something Bruce won't do.

Bruh, you can not go up to my face and tell me these niggas are the same person in the same mofucking universe! Jervis What da fuck did they DO TO YOU MY N**GA?? N**ga looking like a damn leprechaun with special needs and shit. Rocking all dat dookie green swag but you got no swag anymore my dude. It's shit like you clothes and yo breath! Yo shits wasn't perfect and white before but them hoes looking hella worse now. What you get drinking all that damn tea my n**ga. Ol Tiny ass n**ga. Like wot. HOW?! HOW TF DID YO ASS SHRINK??? LIKE SOMEBODY TOSSED YOU ASS IN A LAUNDRY DRYER AND PROBABLY FORGOT TO TAKE YO STUPID ASS OUT. PROBABLY WHY YO HAIR WHITE AND SMALL AS SHIT YA UGLY ASS LUCKY CHARMS LOOKING ASS CRACK FEENY. If you don't hop yo ass back under a rainbow with dem skinny ass broken heel lookin ass tap dancing shoes.

Victor, bruh, they dem did yo ass so dirty in the new adventures. I ain't gonna lie that new suit kinda ok. But you looking like a whole skeleton and shit. Lookin like a young Palpatine & shit. Ol Frisky dingo looking ass! Need to put those goggles back on. The least yo (spoiler) 2003 Baxter Stockman ass can do now.

Yo ass probably looking mad as shit cus ya can't jack it no more n**ga. Dats all gon now. Long with yo unloyal ass wife. How tf she gon bounce on you after everything you did for her? After all the years and bull you had to put up with & she leave yo cold ass for another nibba? Fuck DCAU Nora. Just fuck her.

Scarface lookin like a damn Fanboy & Chum Chum character & his boy over here lookin like Chode. Next.

UUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHGG.

Just. UAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHH. Bruh I will never understand who tf thought this shit was a good idea?! Like who the fuck, was drawing dis nigga. Drew DIS Sus af shit. LOOKED at dis shit. And said to deyself: "Yeah dats da Riddler aight". HELL TO THE NAH DAT AIN'T NO DAMN DAS A (dick) FIDDLER! HE LOOKIN SUS AS FUCK NOW WITH THEM TIGHT AS GREEN SPANDEX AND THAT DARK AS HELL EYELINER. Looking like gay Christmas elf! Looking like a gay ass ballay dancer with them Spider Gwen ballerina shoes. You can't dance for shit nigga! Yo shit is SOOO DAMN TIGHT like I can get a good sight and shape picture of yo "Question mark" I'm telling y'all. sSSSUUUSSSSSSS. Looking like a bigasss lima bean. Skinny ass Jack skeleton moFucka. Like. They did my boy Eddy so freakin dirty with this. My mans had class, style, a nice look, HAIR. Now he. Whateverthelivingfuckdisbaldasspeterpanlookinmofuckasupposestobe. And i hate how that's how he did be lookin in almost every new Batverse when why tho? Nigg(m)a look stupid as hell. How tf he expect to be tooken seriously dressed and lookin like dis ? If I saw dis fucker in real life and he threatens me, imma laugh at his ass and beat him with his cane. Get ya Richard from Allen Gregory looking ass away from me. I can't!

Bruh it don't look that much but they did my mans Harvey dirty too. LOOK AT MY MANS FACE. good half i mean. Yall nigs kno. THESE MUHFUCKERS STRIPPED HIM OF HIS PRETTYNESS! Man. Dis version of Harvey was a pretty muhfucka. You can't deny dat shit

Even when he became Two-Face he still got dat 1 side of pretty. And that deep af panty soaking voice to go along w it. He dat half and half package.

Now HE LOOK LIKE DIS

WHOEVER TF DID DIS NEED DEY ASS WHOOPED! SQUARE TF UP NOW. NIGGA LOOKS LIKE EYEBROWLESS VERSION OF DOC FROM SECRET SATURDAYS. FAT ASS BLOCK NOSE MUH FUCKA. His eye looks like traingle with a Nike logo on top of it. Lookin like a poorly drawn Dwayne The Rock Johnson. And ya other half ain't lookin that good either. Dat 1 eyebrow putting Helga Pataki to shame! I mean the shit didn't look good before but it was somewhat tamed, now the shit looking like full grownass caterpillar. And that lip black as hell. Kno that side dirty as fuuhck!

I don't even know what tf I'm sposed to say about DIS except (kinky..)

Angelica pickles looking ass. Bigass blonde captain coconut looking ass hairstyle. Looking like a blonde creepy ass Wednesday Adams. Dem black as fuck Kim possible lips. She actually looking like a family guy character with that bigass head and small body. I SWEAR she ded looking like one of Stewie's ex's right now my dude! Got tiny ass flat ass guitar chip shoes. Looks like sis wearing fucking Zippers as shoes. Sis got that "i got something planned fo yo ass" smile. Sis look like she plotting something or did some evil shit already.

. . .

Bros I'm sorry but I'm just as confused as you like. I can't find a single thing different about Harley. Like literally nothing. Her makeup at night be looking blue sometimes, looking like a fakeass Livewire, but nah. They didn't even touch homegirl. Why tf is Harley the only character that stayed the same?????! Niggas was playing favorites. They had plans for that ass since day one. They was probs like: "Aye y'all. DO NOT TOUCH HARLEY. SHE STAYS THE SAME!" "why?" "JUST LISTEN TO ME BITCH!" "Wha bout her mans?" "Oh hell yeah fuck his shit up!" ...sigh.. Yep. It's that time...

UaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHH what else is dere to be said about dis ugly ass nigga? Dis nigga look like Yakko Warner & Freakazoid's love child! Dis nigga look like a random Tiny toons or Animaniac character! With that dookie green shirt and flower. You and Riddler's gay ass both matching them Dexter's laboratory Gloves. Why tf yo eyes eyes black as fuck tho?! How tf does one do that to theyself?! Yo ass probably snorted some shit and ya shits expanded and that's prolly yo pupils with ya cracked out ass. Nigga don't even look like a clown no more. Hell Jared Leto Joker atleast had the lipstick down. Dis nigga got dem ashy ass lips hanging out. Nigga think he owning too. Nigga you don't own shit! Broke as hell now. And yo design broke too. Joker? Man more like Broker. Got dat fairly odd parents hair. Got that Cosmo and Wanda in one. Like bitch if you don't. Just like Riddler i can not take yo animaniac looking ass serious. You do not scare me bitch! Bye!

Now see dis? DIS is Aight! A lot more fitting and & faithful to the character. No over the fucking top redesign, you can actually tell it's the same damn character as before, a little bit of swag for personality

So that's the tea. Ivy & Croc are the only good rogue redesigns in the whole series, evBody else ugly as shit.

353 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 4 years

Text

How Does One...? 101.

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Sinju x Reader

Warning: NS/FW fail? Jk, suggestive.

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: (light ns/fw maybe) Hello Lancer-senpai! I really adore your writing, especially for BSTS, so I wanted to request an one shot with Sinju! The scenario is; the two of you have dated for a bit and now Sinju is feeling it is time to go all the way, maybe (the s/o ofc really wants it too!)? It can be crack, fluff or NS/FW I just want to see what you come up with because I love what you do! I hope this isn't too vague :'D

A/N: Your request is not vague at all! I had so much fun writing this request. So, I decided to make it comical and include the Starless members in the start. I am SO sorry that reader enters much later on, but I couldn’t stop writing the first “half”. 😂

Word Count: 3,892

———————————————

Sinju shifted back onto the park bench, but his eyes remained fix on the shimmering water in front of him. He paid no heed to the people walking by nor to the conversation of the couple sitting next to him.

'What should I do?' The young boy kept asking himself again and again. 'We have been dating for a while, but..'

Shaking his head vigorously, he sighed, "Maybe I should ask someone for help."

He tightened his grip on the white paper cup in his left hand and stood up. Taking one last sip of his vanilla latte, he tossed the cup into the trash can and headed towards Starless.

"Hey, Rindou?" Sinju couldn't think of anyone better to ask for help than his trusted leader.

"What's wrong, Sinju?" Rindou gave him a warm smile, "Did something happen?"

"Do you have a few minutes? I need your advice on something."

The older male nodded and motioned his teammate to sit on the chair across him. Though he trusted his team leader, the young boy was nervous to talk openly about such a sensitive subject.

"So, I have a girlfriend, and we have been dating for a while now. Um...I-I have been thinking about...um, taking things one s-step further." Sinju shyly glanced at Rindou while drawing circles on the table in front of him. "I have n-no experience, so how do I go about it?"

Rindou tilted his head slightly, "Go about what?"

"You know." Sinju hoped that his team leader would catch on but seeing Rindou clueless, he had no choice but to say it, "How do I k-know that she'll be okay with me getting close to her? And...how do I properly m-make lo-love?"

The green-haired man's face turned bright red as he bit the corner of his lower lip. "U-uh...w-well...S-Sinju, I am not s-sure how to answer that..."

The usually cheerful boy lowered his eyes and mumbled, "I a-am sorry."

"Please don't apologize," Rindou spoke in a timid voice, "It's difficult for me to answer such a question, but...you could try asking the others?"

Sinju nodded, not wanting the moment to get any more awkward, "I will do that. Sorry again."

"Please don't apologize. I'm sorry for not being able to help."

Sinju smiled and thanked Rindou again before quickly walking out of the restaurant area. He stopped near the rehearsal room and placed his hand on his chest, drawing in deep breaths.

'Who do I ask now? Menou?'

The orange-haired man's expressionless face appeared in his mind, causing his eyes to widen.

'Maybe not him. Yakou?'

The memories of his trainee group flooded his head - his excitement, the company excusing him, his decision to leave without telling his group, his fight with Yakou, and his friend's attempt to overthrow Rindou.

He let out a heavy sigh and mumbled under his breath, "No way, I can ask him. Then, what about Ma-"

Before he could say the singer's name, a vivid image of a hole in a wall flashed in his mind. A chill ran down his spine, "I don't want to die yet."

"Why are you standing here talking to yourself?" A gruff voice called out behind him, causing the young boy to jump.

"K-Kokuyou, s-sorry." Sinju nervously tugged at his jacket's sleeve, "Say, can I ask you something?"

The taller man looked at his questioningly but waited for him to continue.

"U-Uh, well, I-I..."

"Stop stuttering and say whatever the hell you want to say!"

Sinju raised his hands in defense and shook his head, "Nothing! Sorry!"

With those words, he ran down the hall while Kokuyou stared at his back, confused. "What's his problem?"

Sinju ran out to the back alley and leaned his back against one of the walls, catching his breath. While waiting for his racing heart to calm down, he thought about who else he could ask.

'Akira might know, but what if he tells the other cast members about this? They won't let me live it down. Taiga may find this topic awkward. Sin...' Sinju paused and thought of the conversation he had with Sin a few days ago.

"Hi, Sin! How are you?"

"The waves sway to the wind's command even if they sought freedom."

Sinju tilted his head to the left and blinked, "What does that mean?"

Sin gave a smile and added a spoonful of tea leaves to a light blue teapot, "The moon may light the darkness, but a single cloud possesses the power to engulf the light."

The young boy felt blood rushing to his brain as he tried his hardest to decipher the poetic male's words.

"How does Team W understand him?" Sinju blinked away a few tears trying to escape his eyes. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, "Maybe I could try asking Takami later."

"It's rare seeing you in the back alley."

"H-Hey, Sotetsu." Sinju watched as the tall man sat down on one of the steps and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"Did you join the dark side and start smoking?" He chuckled and lit one of the cigarettes before taking a long puff.

"N-No." Sinju followed the smoke lazily and sighed, "If I ask you a question, will you charge me for it?"

Sotetsu started laughing, "You know me too well." He carefully analyzed Sinju's reaction before speaking again, "What's your question?"

"I can't pay you anything right now." He lowered his gaze, kicking a gray pebble in front of his shoe.

"Don't worry. I am asking to satisfy my curiosity."

"How do you know what woman want? I mean...are there specific signals or signs?" Team P's member mumbled, keeping his gaze on the ground.

He failed to notice an amused smirk forming on the older man's lips, "What do you mean?" Though he knew fully well what Sinju was insinuating, Sotetsu decided to test the water a little.

"I mean, how do you tell if a girl wan-" Sinju suddenly froze when it hit him that asking Sotetsu may be just as bad as asking Akira. 'What if he tells the others?'

"I just remembered that I have to...uh...go help Rindou. See you later." Sinju quickly walked past Sotetsu without glancing at him once.

Team K's member laughed to himself, "You can't even lie properly...you're too honest for your own good."

Once again lost in thought, Sinju absentmindedly turned a corner and nearly ran into Ginsei and Gui, but ended up losing his balance and fell on his behind.

"S-sorry, Sinju," Ginsei held out a hand and helped the blue-haired boy onto his feet, "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Actually, no, I am trying to figure something out but can't find an answer."

"What are you trying to find out?" Team K's second inquired.

"Ginsei, how do you properly treat a woman?" Sinju asked, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

"Well, that depends on the woman, but you have to be nice to her, listen to her words, treat her with respect-"

Shaking his head, Sinju interrupted, "T-That's not what I mean. How do you know what women want?"

"That again depends on the woman. Some like attention, some like their space," Ginsei paused after seeing a disappointed expression on Sinju's face, "Is that not what you're asking?"

Sinju shook his head and drew in a deep breath, gathering courage, "Is there a proper way to have s*x?"

Ginsei's jaw dropped at hearing Sinju's question as his face turned various shades of red. Not expecting such a bold question, Ginsei was at a complete loss of words, "U-Uh, I-I...w-well...um..."

Seeing the silver-haired man stuttering, Sinju bit the bottom of his lip, "I am sorry for being so straightforward." He hung his head and dragged his heavy feet out of there.

"Ginsei?" Gui called him but got no response. He shook his team member gently, "Ginsei?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"What does s*x mean?" Gui asked innocently, leaning his head to one side.

Ginsei nearly dropped to the ground. His eyes grew as wide as they possibly could while his cheeks kept getting redder. "Gui, don't EVER ask that question to anyone. Actually, forget that you ever heard that word."

Back to square one, Sinju trudged his way through the empty halls of Starless. As he made his way back towards the rehearsal room, he heard a faint sound coming from inside. Taking a peek inside, he saw Mokuren stretching his muscles.

"Mokuren." Sinju cautiously stepped inside, but as soon as he saw Moku's glare, he retreated out of the room, "I am sorry to disturb you!"

"Someone seems frazzled."

Sinju swiftly turned around to see Zakuro and Hari standing behind him. He pondered for a second but decided that he didn't know them well enough to tell them his issue. "I'm okay."

Heading into the locker room, Sinju ran down his now nearly depleted list of who to ask. 'I don't want to ask Rico...he's most likely going to make fun of me. Asking Ran and Mizuki is out of the question. Heath might get embarrassed.'

He plopped onto the chair in front of the makeup vanity and stared at himself in the mirror, examining his dark circles and pale face. Sinju slouched further into the chair and closed his eyes. 'That leaves Kei, Takami, Qu, Kasumi, and Kongou.'

----

It was a new day, and Sinju decided to try his luck once again, hoping that he will get an answer or answers this time around. He poked his head into the management office and spoke in a shaky voice, "Kei, do you h-have a minute?"

Kei glanced at him and nodded, motioning him to come inside. "Why do you sound nervous? Did your team members get into another fight?"

Sinju closed the door behind him before shaking his head. "Thankfully, no, but I wanted to ask you something. I h-have a kinda personal question," he raised his hands in front of him, "not personal as in prying information about you."

"What do you want to know?" Kei asked in his signature baritone voice, maintaining a straight face.

"H-How do I know my girlfriend is...um...ready to get c-close to me? And how do I...ma-make love properly?" Sinju couldn't meet the older male's eyes after those words left his mouth.

Kei's lips slightly parted, and his eyebrows rose a notch. Though he was astonished, Kei quickly gathered himself. A smile soon appeared on his lips. Sinju slowly drew his eyes up to see Kei smiling, much to his surprise.

"If your girlfriend wants you to get close to her, you will be able to tell from her body language." Kei paused to allow Sinju to ask any new questions.

"Body..language?"

"Yes. Each female has her way of hinting that she's ready. You will have to figure this out on your own, but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?" Kei studied Sinju's expressions before continuing, "To answer your second question, there is no proper way of making love. But, make sure to pay attention to her needs."

"I see." Sinju rubbed the back of his head, taking in the information piece-by-piece, "Thank you, Kei."

Bowing slightly, he turned on his heels and headed towards the door, overjoyed that he finally got an answer to his question. Meanwhile, Kei quietly chuckled and whispered to himself, "How sweet."

Sinju skipped to the locker room but stopped upon hearing his name. Spinning around, he saw Takami walking towards him. "Someone is happy today."

The young boy gave a grin, "Hey, Takami."

"Did something good happen?"

"I finally got an answer to my question." Sinju leaned against the door to the locker room and spoke in a quiet voice.

"What question would that be?" Takami asked curiously, pushing his glasses closer to his face with his index finger.

Sinju pressed his lips together, thinking whether or not he should ask Takami as well. 'More opinions won't hurt, right? After all, Kei said there's no right way.'

Before asking, Sinju looked up and down the hallway, making sure that no one was around. "Takami, do you have any tips for...my f-first time?"

"First time?" He asked in a whisper.

"Yes, first time...getting close to my g-girlfriend."

Takami smiled at Sinju's nervousness, "Follow your instincts and have patience."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Takami. I need to get ready for floor duty."

Team W's member smirked a little as he watched his co-worker disappear into the locker room. "That was unexpected."

----

Once Team W started their show, Sinju followed Qu and Kasumi back to the locker room for a short break. He sat on one of the benches and stretched his legs, "That was hectic."

"It's pretty busy for a weekday," Kasumi chimed in while nodding in agreement.

Qu finished touching up his foundation and gazed at Sinju through the mirror, "Sinju, did something happen yesterday?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Hari and Zakuro were saying something about you not looking too well," Qu said in a concerned tone.

"Oh, that? Can I ask you two a question? You promise to keep it a secret?" Sinju asked, looking back and forth at the friends. They nodded in unison.

"I am thinking about taking my relationship with my girlfriend one step further. Do you two have any suggestions?"

A gentle smile danced on Qu's lips, "Well, you could try to set up the mood. Soft music, roses, candles..."

Kasumi leaned back on the bench and added, "You could start by watching a romantic movie."

The corner of Sinju's lips rose little-by-little as he began to picture the date in his mind. "Sounds perfect."

"Good luck, Sinju." Kasumi patted his shoulder as Qu nodded in agreement.

"Now, shall we get back to our duty?" The silver-haired beauty chuckled and warned the men that their break was coming to an end.

----

The day was almost over. Sinju was one of the last ones left in the store. He opened his locker and started gathering his belonging, humming to himself.

"Sinju, you are still here?"

"I had to finish cleaning. Are you locking up the store today, Kongou?" Sinju closed his locker and made his way to the ex-wrestler.

"Yeah. Are you heading to the train station? If so, mind if we walk together?" Kongou asked politely.

"I'll wait for you at the entrance." Sinju smiled and excused himself.

Locking up the store, the two men walked past a crowd of tourists, giving each one of them a smile. Even at a distance, they could hear the females in the group giggling.

"So, how was your day?" Kongou asked, "I heard floor duty was an adventure today."

"Yeah, there were so many demands. I am sure you were super busy in the kitchen."

"It was busy, but at least there were no accidents." Kongou laughed.

Silence filled the air as the two men walked past a usually busy park. A light breeze ruffled a few of Sinju's loose hair strands. "Hey Kongou, do you have a girlfriend?"

Surprised by the sudden question, the tall man turned his head towards Sinju, "Well, n-no, but why do you ask?"

Realizing that he may sound nosy, the young boy quickly apologized, "Oh, s-sorry. I have received a lot of good tips today about how to treat my girlfriend, but I want to ask you for your opinion as well."

"Treat as in?"

"Get c-close to her." He whispered and puffed his cheek.

Though Kongou was taken aback by the question, he found Sinju's expressions to be quite cute. Clearing his throat, he spoke calmly, "Since it sounds like your first time, I suggest you pay heavy attention to foreplay to get both of you ready. Also remember to use protection."

Sinju nodded and thanked Kongou for his advice before parting ways with him. While on the train, he took out his phone and texted you.

Sinju: Are you free the day after tomorrow? You: I have all the time in the world for you.❤️ Sinju: 😀 Then, do you want to come over to my house? Um...in the evening?

Not seeing an immediate reply, almost made Sinju regret asking you. ‘Did I scare her off? Does she think I’m moving too fast? Maybe she isn’t ready.’ DING. DING. DING.

Sinju was startled to hearing his notification going off. He scrambled to unlock his phone, nearly dropping it in the process. An elder lady sitting across from him even asked him to calm down. Apologizing to her, the nervous boy opened your messages.

You: I would love to come over. About time you asked. You: AHHH I can’t wait!!! You: See you in two days! ❤️❤️❤️

Though you sent him three messages, Sinju’s eyes were glued to the first message. He kept reading it over and over.

“...but ask yourself, is she doing anything out of the usual?”

Kei’s words echoed in Sinju’s ears. ‘What does she mean by ‘about time I asked’? Does this mean...she has been waiting for me to make a move?’

----

Sinju spent the entire morning jumping from one shop to another. He wanted to make the date night as perfect as he possibly could. After all, this was going to be the best night of your life as well as his. After nearly spending three hours picking out items, he returned to his home and began to decorate the living room.

Evening came around, and Sinju got dressed in his finest white shirt and black dress pants. He dabbed a bit of your favorite cologne on his neck and fixed his hair.

Knock. Knock.

Sinju nearly ran to the door after hearing the knocking. He took a deep breath and opened the door, "Hey, (Y/N). How-"

The words got caught in his throat when his eyes landed on you. Sinju slowly moves his eyes downwards, taking in your short plunging V-neck, spaghetti strap, red lace dress. No one told him that you would dress this way for the date.

"So? How do I look?" You asked, twirling around, causing the ruffle hem of your dress to lift a little.

Sinju quickly averted your eyes and mumbled, "You look g-great. Come in."

As soon as you stepped in, you were stunned by the effort your boyfriend put into the decoration. Candles were methodically placed to create a pathway leading to a petal covered coffee table. Amidst the red rose petals laid a dark green wine bottle, a pair of wine glasses, and a snack platter. To add to the atmosphere, Sinju had closed the curtains and shut off the lights.

"Beautiful..."

A grin appeared on Sinju's lips as he took hold of your hand, leading you towards the living area. Sitting you on the sofa, he opened the wine bottle and poured the aromatic dark red liquid into both glasses.

Once you were comfortable, Sinju turned on the TV and started the movie he had picked. A few minutes into the movie, Sinju's gaze meandered over at your legs. How he wished that your dress would slide up just a little more so he could get a glimpse of - he caught his wandering mind and forced his attention back to the TV screen.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, making him smile. He leaned over to kiss the top of your head when he saw an unavoidable view - your pushed up mounds nearly spilling out of your dress. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't avert his gaze. His pants were becoming too tight for his liking.

'Patience. Have patience.' He reminded himself, tapping his foot in a rhythmic pattern. You felt his eyes on you but decided to ignore it for the time being.

Then it came on - the scene Sinju had been waiting for. The actor and actress drew near, pressing their lips firmly together. Not a moment later, their clothes were flying left and right. Both of you were speechless as you gawked at their naked bodies melting together. You slowly shifted your eyes to meet Sinju's orange ones.

'This is my chance.' He leaned down closer to your face, eyes staring straight into yours. You eagerly waited for his warm lips, but instead, his nose collided with yours, causing both of you to pull back.

"S-sorry." Sinju had never felt more embarrassed, but your giggle gave him the courage to try again. Once again, leaning in, he tilted his head and met your lips.

The kiss that started sweet had now turned passionate. Sinju rested his hand on one of your exposed legs, not breaking the kiss, and began to stroke up. Rip. Sinju broke the kiss and looked down at your dress. His bracelet got caught on the lace and managed to rip a small portion.

'Why does this keep happening?' Sinju apologized to you, but instead of getting angry, you started laughing.

"Don't worry about it. Forget about that." You whispered and helped free his bracelet, "Where were we?"

Sinju smiled shyly and peppered your face with kisses while running his hand to your back. Not being able to control his excitement, he tried to untie the strings holding up your dress.

"Sinju, what's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

"You dress is a little complicated to remove." His voice had a range of emotions.

"It's okay, take your time. Meanwhile, let me have a little fun." You whispered playfully and pushed him back on the sofa.

Sinju stared at you with wide eyes while you climbed on top of him, blushing deeply. Running your hands up his chest, you began to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feast your eyes on his muscles.

Being too shocked to move, Sinju ran over the list of things the members had told him. Patience, foreplay, pay attention to her needs, follow instincts, and mood. No one warned him that you would attempt to seduce him. No one warned him that you would be undressing him. NO ONE warned him. He was far from mentally prepared for this.

You stopped when you realized that Sinju was not reacting to your touch; instead, he was staring off into space, looking like he saw a ghost.

"Sinju? What's wrong?"

He shook his head and sat up with you, "N-nothing."

The room went silent. Neither Sinju nor you moved from your place. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but everything was far from perfect. Both of you were disappointed.

Not wanting to face you anymore, Sinju went to get up but accidentally poked the side of your waist, earning a yelp from you.

"Sinju!"

A playful smile slowly appeared on his lips.

"What's that smile for? Sinju? What are you planning to do?" You shifted back on the couch in apprehension.

Out of nowhere, Sinju dug his fingers into your sides and began to tickle you. No matter how many times you asked him to stop, he refused to listen. Grabbing a pillow near you, you began hitting Sinju with it.

Laughter echoed through his apartment. Sinju chased you around his home, trying to tickle you while you grabbed any soft item you could and threw it at him. What was supposed to be a perfect, romantic date night had now turned into a cute date.

Though this was far from what Sinju expected, he knew there was always next time.

#bsts #bsts sinju #blackstar theater starless

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xthelastknownsurvivorx · 3 years

Text

Hamilton!firstprince au

(cross posted from twitter with a couple of edits b/c i couldn’t make them there)

in which i loosely follow the plot of hamilton except its firstprince and alex and henry get a happy ending. inspired by the striking similarities i noted between our favorite first son and his namesake hamilton in the broadway musical

the similarities:

both have/will have a political career

both often talk too much/don't mind their words

both began as lawyers

both extremely motivated but overwork themselves (“nonstop” + “you have a fire under ur ass for no good goddamn reason)

both had some sort of sex scandal that impacted their career plans

hamilton speculated to be bi

the story

the setup of the colonized country alex lives in is similar to the usa vs england but fictional bc alexs race would have limited his opportunities in america's early years

idk names for either of these countries so its now the colony and the motherland

alex + his mom live alone in the poorer southern part of the colony

but his dad + june live elsewhere + they dont rly contact e/o (tho they do know of e/o’s existence)

june becomes a journalist who writes important pieces abt independence

when alex comes of age his mom reveals she used to be part of the rebellion

thats actually why his dad left to raise june bc it was too dangerous

his parents met in the rebellion but oscar left first for june while ellen stayed until she realized she was pregnant w alex

ellen still has some rebel contacts but she mostly sheltered alex to keep him safe

now tho alex decides to join too + the rebellion sends him up north to the capital for an education bc he's smart + they need people like that

he attends uni + meets like-minded people there

tension grows btwn the colony in the motherland, and alex + his friends write/speak out often and this goes on throughout their schooling

they’re also troublemakers in general too, much to the annoyance of the motherland soldiers stationed in the capital to prevent rebellion

henry is one of those soldiers

he's from a noble family in the motherland but was sent overseas as the sort of black sheep of the family due to his sexuality

the idea was to let him be in charge in the colony + reestablish a reputation there w/o embarrassing the main family back home

henry hates his job + feels bad for the colonists but still does what he's told anyway

alex + fhis riends like to bug motherland soldiers for fun

nothing enough to put their lives in danger too much (although yes that too esp when drunk)

henry becomes a favorite target of alex's bc he's awfully stoic + statue like + on the way to uni - overall fun to antagonize

there's also the fact that alex is angry at all the soldiers for oppressing the colony + holding up the motherland monarchs tyranny (but also alex just is the type to fight literally everything and anything)

it becomes almost a daily ritual for them to argue

henry wonders why this colonist keeps on picking a fight w him but soon almost looks forward to it

many of the other soldiers know or speculate why henry is in the colony but none make the effort to get to know him; some even call him arrogant or undeserving of his position

alex doesn't

of course alex also doesn't know him

and alex hates him

but he doesn't whisper behind henry's back

henry comes to read some of the essays alex publishes speaking out against the monarchy + also hears alex speak to crowd in the square

alex is a talented + charismatic public speaker

henry finds himself growing increasingly sympathetic to the colonists cause

at the same time he and the other soldiers are order to be stricter and dole out more punishments

the others gleefully do so which makes henry concerned about alex's safety bc alex often seems to have no self-preservation skills

henry asks alex for a word when he's alone

“am I in trouble?” “no but you bloody will be if u keep going on like this”

“this is serious” “so am I” “you can't go around saying things so openly you'll get yourself killed”

alex tries to leave at this point “I think I'll be ok” but henry shoves him against the nearest wall

“listen to me! stop acting like this is a game! ur putting ur sodding life in danger! I dont bloody care what ur opinions r but why must u declare them around enemy soldiers? how is this helpful 2 ur cause? u cant fight if ur dead”

“you'd b surprised how effective martyrs are”

cue enraged henry noises

alexs gaze turns hard “listen i appreciate/the advice” he says sarcastically “but I dont need an enemy telling me what to do. I can take care of myself”

there's a stirring in alexs chest after he removes henry's hand and stalks off that he's pretty sure is anger

like it can't be anything else

while alex is trying to convince himself of that, the tensions boil over + soon the two sides are on the brink of war then the fighting starts

henry + alex don't talk much for a while bc they're both busy on their sides preparing

school is on hold during the war so alex + his friends are looking to serve + bring glory to their names

alex esp is recognized for his intelligence + becomes the recognized general rafael lunas secretary

luna is the george washington figure in this case who is impressed by alex wants him as his right-hand man

alex is disappointed his role is not on the battlefield bc he knows he has a good tactical mind + he could change the tide of a losing war + gain honor and status thru it, which would put him in a good position to be elected in the future

as secretary, alex is in charge of a lot of important correspondence eg for more supplies + men, so the motherland soldiers figure ambushing him off the battlefield would make things hard for the colonists

henry overhears this plan + immediately worries for alex's safety but he's cornered by another soldier to talk strategy + misses the chance to take out the men then

henry manages to catch that they're going to attack alex at night when he leaves + henry arrives just in time to kill them in a panic

alex hears the gunshot + yells “drop ur weapon”, drawing his own gun

henry obviously does + alex inspects the scene he keeps a gun fixed on henry

“what's going on?” he asks, eyeing henry w/ suspicion

henry explains everything + looks positively terrified bc he just betrayed his side even tho the motherland and his family has treated him like shit since he came out but still.

becoming an outright traitor is not something henry ever planned + leaving behind everything he's ever known w no hope of ever going back is terrifying

but he also doesn't regret protecting alex

alex questions henry but can quickly tell henry is sincere + is telling the truth

henry explains his change of heart + they have a heartfelt moment in/just outside luna's office.

alex almost died + henry just switched sides, emotions are running high and they escalate into a kiss. the moon is out + it's all very romantic but they don't admit their feelings yet

soon after they go to luna, explain the situation + talk w the other generals/people in charge

henry is sent away on an assignment + is watched closely at first but he proves his loyalty quickly

henry and alex write letters back + forth that turn into love letters

besides managing correspondence for luna, some of alexs ideas of sneak attacks/stealing supplies help turn the tide of the war andhe also writes to other countries for foreign aid

eventually the colonists win in this huge up start that no one anticipated bc the motherland is known as the most powerful country in the world

he + henry reunite in the capital of once the war is over

alex finishes up his studies + practices law + soon is chosen to be part of the new lawmaking body

things are going pretty well for alex w his legal + political success and his relationship with henry

they dont live together but theyre dating tho no one else knows

alex pretends to be single instead + says he doesn't want to be tied down

it works while he's still in his early 20s but as he gets closer to 30, people start to find it strange + tell him he needs to settle

being married to his work is also not a valid excuse anymore

it turns out alex made quite a few political enemies due to his strong opinions that he always vocalises + can be unwilling to compromise on

they don't like his ideas or more often hate him and hence his ideas too

they look for some dirt on him bc atm he has lunas support which has a lot of sway + decide they need to find out why he hasn't married

they manage to find out about henry + threaten to tell the public

alex is obviously distraught re the consequences personally + politically

so alex and henry discuss what to do

henry is willing to put alexs political career 1st but firmly explains their relationship can't continue if that's the case

henry gave up his whole life + any possibility of going back to his family so he's not willing to be someone's dirty little secret

alex doesn't know what to do so he goes to consult luna who he's become very close with over the years

luna is not quite old enough to be his father but he's like an uncle + he always calls alex “kid”, much to alex's annoyance

but alex knows he'll have some good advice

alex + luna end up having a long conversation

like washington luna has always been very vocal abt his regrets re his naivety + desire for glory back in his youth

hes always said that this was his greatest regret in life. but then he tells alex like he had another great regret in life- letting go of the love of his life

alex is surprised bc luna's never mentioned anyone special

“who is she?”

“he” luna corrects “he was my best friend. we had something a relationship but it was short-lived bc I decided I wanted to join the military + attain glory. i thought thats what i wanted in life. turns out that stuff is meaningless w/o anyone to share it w. nor did I even achieve it. perhaps i did accomplish some things but now in my retirement I have no one by my side. i have found that life is meaningless without love and family.

“i tried to find my friend to reconnect after all these years even as simply friends but he died in the war. alex, I see many similarities between us. don't make the same mistake that I did, alexander. glory + lasting legacy mean nothing if you're alone in the end

“if you make choices that are motivated by love and family you will be a lot happier”

alex takes his advice even though he kind of hates sort of giving up to his enemies

he decides to choose henry and his own happiness over politics bc in the end he's done a lot of good work and that much is enough

also his enemies probably would try to blackmail him throughout his career if he was doing something against their interests

so he + henry leave the capital and move uptown and the two of them have a quiet retirement + engage in philanthropy for the rest of their lives

separately they've amassed a decent amount of money - henry kept a portion of his inheritance despite being unofficially disowned and alex made a lot of money as a lawyer and then politician

as it turns out alex still has a tangential role in politics when some of his former allies go to him for advice

all in all, alex happy with his final decision to be with henry and step away from politics

the two of them live happy and full lives together

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #alexander claremont diaz #rwrb fic

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter seven

[ao3]

did i just pull this entire chapter out of my arse tonight? maybe! not that i don’t write these chapters all in one sitting at like 9pm-1am every single time don’t get it twisted i’m not organised i am a binge-writer

i always do my long ass a/ns on ao3 i dont know why feels more REVEALING to do them here because i know people actually read them and i think probably one person on the whole planet has ever read my ao3 a/ns its a safe haven so i’m just going to say my brief thank yous: thank you to @clumsyclifford for literally everything you do always, thank you to @ashesonthefloor for listening too me bitch about this fic and having the most wonderful thoughts and ideas about it, thank you to @kaleidoscopeminds for motivating me to keep writing this fic w your kind words, thank you to @allsassnoclass for always being so wise and understanding of authors dilemmas and encouraging me w your lovely words, and thank you to my spoiler anon for being so lovely about this fic and holyverse and also for asking about another chapter because i swear to u i would have kept putting it off were it not for u. also big thank you to noel and liam gallagher for writing the SMASH hits i wrote this entire chapter to and for being [redacted] and also to richard madden because i just fancy him and feel like i should thank him for existing and allowing me to perceive him

It’s a twin room, thank God, because Luke would have rather slept in the hallway than shared a bed with Ashton for four weeks.

“I’m taking the window bed,” he announces, before Ashton has a chance to say anything, out of pure spite, because he knows Ashton likes sleeping by the window. Or knew, maybe. He’s not sure anymore.

Ashton opens and then closes his mouth, nods curtly, and puts his carry-on bag on the bed nearest the bathroom. Luke puts Clifford down on the bed first, muttering at him to stop fucking yapping (which Clifford, of course, ignores), and then drops his suitcases next to it with a sigh.

“So,” Ashton says, and his voice fills the entire room, too loud and too much, a jarring reminder that Ashton’s here, in Luke’s space, and Luke’s got no option but to live with it. “Should we go out?” Luke blinks at him.

“What?” he says.

“Well,” Ashton says, with an uncomfortable shrug. “Study doesn’t start ‘til tomorrow, and it’s only nine. Thought we could spend the day exploring?” Luke stares at him.

“Think I’d rather spend my last day of freedom alone,” he says, a little harshly. Ashton blinks, and Luke doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses his face, but then he nods again.

“Have you still got my UK number?” he says, and Luke hesitates, and then nods. He’s not sure why it feels like he’s giving something away by admitting that he’d never deleted Ashton’s numbers; he’d been the one to text Ashton about the tattoos first, so clearly Ashton already knows that Luke still had his Australian number, at least. “Well. Text me if you need anything?”

“Don’t think I’ll need anything,” Luke says, and Ashton sighs, and Luke feels a little small, a little stupid, like Ashton’s a patient parent putting up with a melodramatic teenager.

“I’m going to head off, then,” Ashton says, a touch awkwardly, and Luke just nods, busying himself with getting Clifford out of his travel cage, thinking he’ll ask at reception for directions to the nearest park and let Clifford stretch his legs. He steadfastly doesn’t look at Ashton as Ashton gathers his things together, patting his coat pocket to make sure he’s got everything, and then slips out of the room, door clicking shut behind him.

As soon as Ashton’s left, Luke suddenly feels simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed. He feels like he can breathe a little easier, think a little clearer without Ashton in his personal space, making him feel like he has to be alert, on edge, but the hotel room feels strangely empty without him. Luke shakes his head, tries to get the latter thought out of his mind, focusing on Clifford’s insistent yaps to draw him back to reality and distract him.

“Alright, little man, we’re going,” Luke mutters, fumbling around in his bag for Clifford’s lead. Clifford jumps around at his feet, already panting, and Luke rolls his eyes, clips the lead on, checks he’s got his room key and phone in his pocket and heads out of the room.

He decides to take the stairs, since he doesn’t think Clifford’s got the patience to wait for the lift, which proves to be the right decision when Clifford’s straining at his lead trying to bound down the stairs, giving Luke reproachful looks whenever he tugs him back. They’re only on the second floor, so it’s not long before Luke’s back in the lobby, and Clifford finally pulls himself together and trots smartly at Luke’s heel, giving other people milling in the area imperious looks as they pass.

“Hi,” Luke says, and the receptionist smiles politely up at him. “I’d like to walk my dog. Can you tell me where the nearest park is?” She nods.

“Of course, sir,” she says, and pulls out a brochure. Luke mentally pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s going to look like a massive fucking tourist walking around with one of those. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get mugged.

“You just need to turn left out of the hotel, take a right at the end of the road, take the second left after that, take two rights, and you’ll be at the park,” she says, trailing her pen across the streets and ending it with a flourish, circling a rectangle of green on the map and smiling at him again. Luke smiles back, having taken absolutely none of that in, thanks her, pockets the map and decides he’ll probably just walk around the nearby backstreets for a while until Clifford’s worn out to lower his chances of getting lost.

Clifford, it turns out, is surprisingly tired, having apparently spent all of his energy on pestering Luke to take him out. He only manages about half an hour of walking up and down a few streets around the hotel before he’s flagging, sitting down and staring up at Luke beseechingly when Luke tries to pull him along. A passing couple throw Luke an amused look and titter to themselves, and Luke sighs.

“C’mon, little man,” he says, tugging again. Clifford refuses to budge, just stares up at Luke with a look that Luke knows all too well. “Come on, Cliff, you’re embarrassing me. It’s two streets away. You can walk that far.” Clifford stays put, and Luke rolls his eyes, but bends down and scoops Clifford up into his arms. Clifford immediately nuzzles into Luke happily, licking at his neck, and Luke pulls back, wrinkling his nose. “Gross, Cliff, don’t do that.”

Luke pretty much speedwalks back to the hotel because little though Clifford is, he’s surprisingly heavy after a while, and Luke’s much weaker than he looks. He throws the receptionist a polite smile on his way back up to the room, unclips Clifford from the lead as soon as he’s in there and rummages around in one of his suitcases for the bed Michael had shoved on top of all of Luke’s warmest clothes. Clifford watches him patiently, and hops into the bed as soon as Luke’s unfolded it, curls up and closes his eyes. Luke can’t help but smile fondly down at him, bending down to press a kiss to the top of Clifford’s head and scratching behind his ears.

“I’m going to go out again, little man,” he tells Clifford. “I’ll be back to give you your dinner, though.” Clifford just sniffs, which Luke takes to mean ‘yeah, sure, now fuck off and let me sleep’, and Luke straightens again, throws Clifford one final fond look and heads back out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

He decides it’s probably fine if he wanders aimlessly, since the brochure in his pocket has the name of the hotel on it and Michael had paid for his phone plan to cover the UK for six weeks so he can look it up when he inevitably gets lost. Having spent half an hour in the streets surrounding the hotel already, he decides to get on the tube and head somewhere new, picking a stop name he recognises - Leicester Square sounds vaguely familiar.

Leicester Square, it turns out, sounds familiar because it’s a tourist hotspot. Luke’s ducking and weaving between people, mumbling apologies as he slips through gaps that he doesn’t actually fit through and splits up groups (but seriously, he thinks, slightly irritated as he smiles politely, who the fuck walks in a row of five?). There are countless little side alleys and back roads leading off the main street, but even those are difficult to walk through, filled with the native Londoners who know their way through the labyrinth of twisting streets and know better than to be anywhere near Leicester Square in the first place.

Eventually, half to get out of the crowds and half because he’s actually pretty hungry, Luke ducks into a Costa and buys himself a ham and cheese toastie, balking at the price when the cashier rings it up. Five fucking pounds, what’s that, ten dollars? For one sandwich? Fucking hell. He’s definitely going to be demanding those reimbursements from the university.

He’s waiting for his sandwich to come out of the toaster, only two baristas serving a queue of at least twenty, when someone taps him on the shoulder a little tentatively, making him jump. He whips around, wondering whether he’s in the way or something, and comes face to face with-

Ashton.

“Are you serious?” he demands, before he can think about it. Ashton shrugs, and looks a little uncomfortable. “Are you following me?”

“I was already here,” Ashton says. “I’ve got a table.” He waves his hand in the directions of an empty table in the far corner, and Luke can see Ashton’s coat bunched up on one of the chairs.

“Oh,” Luke says. Ashton gives him a look, simultaneously sad and calculating, and for a brief moment, Luke thinks fuck, his eyes are pretty. Jesus Christ. Maybe he should have stayed at the hotel and napped.

“D’you want to sit with me?” Ashton says. Luke hesitates - not particularly , is the first petulant thought to cross his mind, before his rational side kicks in and tells him sleepily that he won’t find a seat anywhere else - and then nods.

“Ham and cheese toastie?” the barista calls, and Luke steps forwards, takes it from her hand and heads wordlessly in the direction of Ashton’s table, Ashton in tow.

“Sorry,” Ashton says, when Luke picks up Ashton’s coat off the seat and holds it out for him. He takes it from Luke and his finger brushes against Luke’s, and something like liquid gold rushes through Luke, making him giddy from head to toe. It’s the sleeplessness, he tells himself, averting his gaze and snatching his hand away. God knows he’s felt even more unexplainable things on the same amount of sleep.

“‘S alright,” Luke says, sitting down to avoid thinking about the warmth of Ashton’s finger brushing against his own and the way his finger is still burning from the contact. “You didn’t know I was going to be here.” Ashton hesitates, and then busies himself with tucking his coat behind him, like he’s looking for something to do that isn’t stare across the table at Luke. Luke’s not going to complain about that, and takes a bite out of the first half of the toastie so he won’t have to say anything else.

They sit in silence for a moment, Luke eating his toastie, Ashton fiddling with the bracelet on his left hand. The silence is uncomfortable, oppressive, and Luke kind of wishes he’d just sat on the fucking floor or something. Nothing makes him wish that more, though, than when Ashton opens his mouth and says: “I wondered.”

Luke swallows his last bite of toastie with a frown.

“You wondered what?” he says. Ashton shrugs, tension and discomfort visible in the movement.

“I wondered whether we’d bump into each other,” he says. Luke rolls his eyes.

“Not this again,” he mutters, but it’s more tired than anything. Ashton sighs, and drops his hands onto the table.

“Look,” he says carefully. “I don’t think us bumping into each other all the time is a coincidence.”

“Fucking hell,” Luke says, but there’s no heat behind the words. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes and squeezes them shut. He’s too fucking tired for this.

“Luke,” Ashton says, like Luke’s being unreasonable. “We’ve lived in the same city for years-” Luke opens his mouth to interrupt, because Ashton was always away half the time when they were together, and he can’t imagine that’s changed much “-okay, on-off, because I’m in LA sometimes - but we’ve not once bumped into each other. Then we get the tattoos, and suddenly I’m seeing you every other week?”

“What’s your point?” Luke says, a little irritably. “You think this is some grand plan from the universe to make us fall back in love? What, I’m Cathy, you’re Heathcliff?” Ashton bites his lip, and Luke’s mouth twists bitterly in a humourless smile. “This isn’t fucking romantic, Ashton. You leaving me was-” he cuts himself off. He’s not quite ready to tell Ashton that , yet. “Awful,” he says, eventually. “This isn’t part of some, like, big romantic redemption arc for you. You fucked up, and you fucked me over, and we’ve just got to find some way to live with the tattoos. That’s why we’re both here, isn’t it?” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and if Luke’s not mistaken, looks a little paler than he had a minute ago, and then nods.

“Can we at least be civil?” Ashton says, and then, seeing the look on Luke’s face, adds: “We’re stuck together for four weeks, Luke. I know you don’t like me, and I’m not asking for- for friendship, or anything. I’m just asking for you to be civil with me.” Luke exhales heavily.

“Fine,” he says tiredly, before he has the chance to think too much about it. “Civil.”

“Civil,” Ashton agrees.

(Luke’s pretty sure civil doesn’t involve thinking God, I’d forgotten how long his eyelashes are, and the way you can see a hint of his dimple when he speaks, but he’s also pretty sure that’s entirely to do with the exhaustion, and nothing to do with him.)

-------

Ashton talks Luke into going down to the Houses of Parliament, with a combination of a sincere look on his face, big, serious eyes as he says look, we don’t want to risk another bumping-into-each-other tattoo, and it’ll just be civil, and the fact that Luke just doesn’t have the energy to argue. Plus, he thinks, Ashton seems to know where he’s going, and Luke had forgotten to take his charger with him so he’s kind of fucked if he gets lost.

The walk down from Costa to the Houses of Parliament is only about twenty minutes, but feels so much fucking longer, both of them all too aware of the awkward silence hanging between them, amplified by the noise of the city surrounding them. They walk through Trafalgar Square, and Ashton tells Luke something about art installations and the fourth plinth and Luke just nods along, trying his best to do this whole civil thing by quelling his instinct to snap I don’t fucking know what a plinth is and you know full fucking well I don’t care about art. Ashton seems to sense it from him anyway, though, because he falters and then says, with an uncomfortable laugh, “You probably don’t care about this anyway.”

“Not really,” Luke admits, because they’d said civil, not dishonest. Ashton smiles wryly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry,” he says, and Luke just hums, and they fall back into an awkward silence.

It’s easier, Luke finds, when a man in a suit shoulders into him and keeps walking without so much as a mumbled apology and Ashton turns to him, outraged, and says Londoners really are cunts, if they interact with each other through their surroundings. Talking about people, things, even the fucking weather, adds a sheen of superficiality, a layer of removal that they can both look at and pretend there’s nothing more to it, no years of hurt and pain bubbling beneath the surface.

“How is it this sunny yet this cold?” Luke grumbles, shielding his eyes and squinting up at Big Ben.

“You should be here in April,” Ashton says, stabbing the button at the traffic light repeatedly.

“I’ve got no intentions of being here any longer than I have to be,” Luke mutters. “What are we looking at, again?”

“It’s parliament, Luke,” Ashton says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Luke.

“So?” Luke says. “We’ve got a parliament.”

“And? Have you ever seen it?” Ashton says shrewdly, and Luke scowls, biting back the scathing retort on the tip of his tongue. Civil and Ashton are two concepts that he assumes will take a while to marry in his mind.

“Whatever,” he says, stepping out into the road as the light turns green. “Just don’t get why I’m supposed to care about some random country’s government, is all.” Ashton doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that, jogging to catch up with Luke, and they walk the rest of the distance to the buildings in silence.

It’s quite imposing, Luke thinks, up close. The buildings are sort of dirty - or maybe they’re meant to look like that - and incredibly intricate, bordering on fussy. It towers over them, looking more like a palace than a place of governance, Big Ben casting a long shadow across the road. He’s not sure he’d want to be governed from this place.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“Really?” Ashton says, squinting up at the buildings. “I think it’s kind of pretty.” You would, Luke thinks darkly. Old, ornate and overcomplicated? That’s exactly the kind of thing Ashton would get excited about and find unwarranted symbolism in.

“Yeah, well,” Luke says instead, because he’s pretty sure that thought doesn’t count as civil. “Think it’s just a bit too elaborate.”

“It’s Gothic Revival,” Ashton says, like Luke’s supposed to have a single fucking clue what that means. Actually, Luke thinks bitterly, he’s probably fully aware that Luke doesn’t have any idea what that means, and is hoping Luke will take the bait and ask so Ashton can demonstrate his massive intellect, or whatever.

“Right,” Luke says, a little shortly. Ashton glances at him, looking a touch taken aback, but then looks back at the buildings.

“We can go somewhere else,” he says, and it’s an offer. An olive branch.

“Yeah,” Luke says, because annoyance at not knowing anything about architectural styles aside, looking at an old building is just pretty fucking boring.

“There’s an aquarium not too far away,” Ashton says. “I remember you-” he stops himself, and Luke swallows. Yeah. He loves aquariums. He loves them so much that Ashton had taken him to the Sydney Aquarium for their third anniversary, a month or two before he’d broken up with Luke.

(Two months on the dot. Not that Luke has both dates seared into his mind, or anything.)

“Yeah,” Luke says again, to fill the silence of both of them thinking back to that day. “Let’s go to the aquarium.” Ashton hesitates, and glances at Luke like he wants to say something else, a sort of semi-pained expression on his face, and then he sighs, shakes his head, and throws Luke a tight smile.

“Let’s go to the aquarium,” he agrees.

-------

The aquarium, it turns out, is a much better choice.

Despite the odd screaming child, the aquarium has a calming silence to it, an almost pensive quiet that pierces to the depths of Luke’s soul. It settles the air between him and Ashton, means they’re not silent for lack of civil things to say, but rather because they’re both caught up in the muted beauty of the ocean.

They don’t walk together, because Ashton likes to pore over every single placard and study every creature in minute detail and Luke’s drawn to the pretty, colourful fish. It’s Luke, though, who’s always the last to move on, and Ashton waits for him before they head to the next room. It’s almost nice, Luke thinks, as he heads for the door and sees Ashton slip through it when he sees Luke’s ready to move on, that they don’t have to have awkward conversations about it, that they can just understand and fall into it.

(He tries not to think about why.)

They spend hours in the aquarium, dawdling in every room, because they spent so much fucking money on it and they’re both going to be damned if they won’t milk it for all it’s worth. Luke spends an extra long time looking at the clownfish, for some reason, hypnotised by the way they can weave in and out of the anemones. There’s some kind of symbolism to be found there, he thinks, something about toxicity and safety, but he’s too tired to come up with it himself. Ashton would probably correct him if he tried, anyway.

Ashton’s particularly taken by the sharks, it turns out. He’s already staring at the huge tank in awe when Luke gets into the room, barely even blinking as his eyes follow one shark after the other. The room itself is dark, like the rest of the aquarium, but the tank’s so huge that Ashton’s bathed in light, rippling and shimmering and Luke, for the briefest of moments, feels something sharp stab at his heart, something he remembers feeling the last time he’d stood in an aquarium with Ashton. It makes his stomach clench, twist in on itself, because he knows exactly what he’d identified that feeling as before.

“They’re fucking beautiful, aren’t they?” Ashton says, interrupting Luke’s train of thought before it can take the leap off the cliff edge of panic, and Luke looks up at the sharks.

“I guess?” he says, because he doesn’t really see it.

“You used to like them,” Ashton says, sounding a little surprised.

“I used to like a lot of things,” Luke says. I used to like you, he adds spitefully in his head, and sort of hopes Ashton’s telepathic.

“Guess I’ve got to get to know you again,” Ashton says, and it’s a little wistful, a little sad. Luke doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what would sum up I’m not sure I want you to, I don’t think I’ll give you a chance and Good fucking luck in a civil way.

They stand there for a while, watching the sharks, and people filter in and out of the room behind them. It feels oddly hypnotic, being stood there with Ashton, the only two static parts of a moving whole. He wonders if the sharks feel the same, swimming aimlessly in their tank, watching the world pass by and powerless to move with it.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton says quietly, after at least ten minutes have passed. It’s so quiet that Luke thinks he might have misheard it - maybe it was the family behind them, or just the sound of the tank - but he can sense Ashton stiffen next to him, like he’s preparing for backlash of some sort.

“What?” Luke says, just to make sure he’s heard right.

“I’m sorry,” Ashton repeats. Luke pauses, waiting for Ashton to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t really have to, though, Luke finds, because he knows what Ashton means.

“I know,” Luke says eventually. Ashton swallows, but says nothing, just carries on gazing at the sharks, but out of the corner of his eye Luke can see that Ashton’s gaze is fixed now, not following the sharks around.

They stand in silence until an announcement blares through the system telling them that the aquarium is closing soon, making them both jump.

“What time is it?” Luke asks, just for something to say.

“Uh,” Ashton says, pulling his phone out. “Five.” Fucking hell. It feels much later than that. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Ashton adds, like he knows what Luke’s thinking. Luke nods.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” he admits, as they head back up the steps away from the sharks and towards the exit.

“Me too,” Ashton says. “I wanted to stay up until at least ten, but…” he trails off, stifling a yawn, and Luke can’t help but snort. Ashton smiles, small but genuine. “Fuck off,” he says, but it’s good-natured.

“Yeah,” Luke says, as they traipse out into the little shop. “Think I’m just going to crash when we get back.” Ashton nods, pushing open the door to the exit. Luke’s expecting the glare of brilliant sunlight to hit him, squints in preparation for the onslaught of light, but it’s pitch fucking black.

“What the fuck?” he says, sounding kind of perplexed and kind of outraged.

“What?” Ashton says. Luke gestures up at the sky with one hand, and uses the other to pull his coat in closer towards himself, because fucking hell, it’s freezing.

“It’s five o’clock,” he says. Ashton looks up at the sky, and then at him, an amused expression on his face.

“Wrong hemisphere,” he says, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Fucking miserable place,” Luke grumbles, tucking his arms in and huddling in on himself. “No wonder they invaded the rest of the fucking world, Jesus. I wouldn’t want to stay here either.” Ashton says nothing, but when they pass under a streetlight, Luke sees the corners of his lips tilted upwards, and something warm and pleasant spreads from his stomach outwards.

“D’you actually know where you’re going?” he asks, when Ashton takes a sharp right turn onto a bridge.

“Of course I know,” Ashton says, in that infuriating, I’m-Ashton-Irwin-and-I’m-an-intellectual manner that Luke had never liked. Luke rolls his eyes, not entirely playfully, and jogs to keep up with him.

Ashton leads them across the bridge, past the parliament buildings again, up a long road that a lot of people are ambling down, and then cuts into a small alley on the right.

“You definitely don’t fucking know where you’re going,” Luke says, standing at the mouth of the road, something uneasy in his stomach. “I’m not going down here.”

“I know where I’m going,” Ashton says.

“Where are you going?” Luke says sceptically.

“Charing Cross.”

“Why is that down an alleyway?”

“It’s just a shortcut.” Luke stares at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Why can’t we walk on the main road?” he asks, because it feels right. Something about the alleyway feels wrong.

“We can,” Ashton says. “But it’ll take longer.” Luke makes no indications of moving, and Ashton sighs, and it’s tinged with sadness. “Come on, Luke, are you serious? You think I’m going to, what, murder you in an alley in London?” Well. Not specifically, but something’s telling Luke not to follow Ashton into that alley. Much more than that, it’s telling him not to let Ashton into that alley, but Luke’s trying to ignore that part of it.

“I just don’t want to go that way,” Luke says stubbornly. “Let’s just go on the main road.”

“It’ll take much longer that way,” Ashton says.

“I don’t care,” Luke says. “We’re not exactly fucking wanting for time, are we?” Ashton takes a step further into the alleyway, almost out of Luke’s line of vision.

“Come on , Luke,” he says, and takes another step, and Luke’s stomach tightens uncomfortably as he does.

“Don’t,” Luke says, before he can stop himself.

“Why?” Ashton says, sounding exasperated. “Look, the longer you stand here arguing, the longer it’ll take us either way.”

“I’m taking the main road,” Luke says. “Just- let’s fucking walk on the main road.”

“You don’t even know the way,” Ashton says. “I know the way.”

“I’m not going that way.” Even in the darkness and despite the distance, Luke can see Ashton roll his eyes.

“There’s nothing fucking down here, Luke,” Ashton calls, taking another step into the alleyway, and Luke edges forwards without even thinking about it, needing to keep Ashton in sight. It’s not really working, though, because Ashton’s walking further in and Luke’s at an angle to the alleyway, and it’s making him panic a little.

“Don’t fucking go down there,” Luke says, through gritted teeth. “Ashton, seriously. Just fucking come on the main road with me.”

“What’s your problem?” Ashton says, and even though he sounds genuinely surprised and curious, it makes a flash of anger flare up in Luke.

“Can you stop being a cunt for, like, two fucking minutes?” he bites out.

“Luke, I-” Ashton cuts himself off with a shout, and the anger’s gone, replaced with pure fucking fear and panic and protect protect protect running through Luke’s mind, and Luke’s barely even aware of his surroundings as he takes off, sprinting as fast as he can to the alleyway, getting to the entrance to it just as Ashton comes running out, wild-eyed. He doesn’t stop or say anything, just grabs Luke’s hand as he passes and tugs him hard in the opposite direction. They run to the main road, Luke’s heart pounding in a way that definitely isn’t just from the exercise, and then they run up it, and they don’t stop running until they’re outside the station. Luke doesn’t even realise that they’re still holding hands until Ashton drops his hand to lean on his knees, panting, hair completely windswept as it falls into his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” Luke spits, fury beginning to set in between the racing heartbeats and gasped breaths.

“Someone fucking-” Ashton waves a hand, like it’s going to explain what ‘someone’ did. It doesn’t fucking matter, because those two words alone are enough to make Luke’s heart tighten, to make his stomach clench

“I fucking said-”

“I know, but it’s fucking five p.m., and I always go that way-”

“I told you-”

“I know, Luke,” Ashton says, breathing almost back to normal, and he straightens and gives Luke a look that looks almost sad. “Why d’you think that was?”

“Why do I- are you fucking insane? Because it’s a creepy fucking alleyway? Anyone would fucking know not to go down there!” Luke says, throwing his hands in the air.

“You were so fucking adamant,” Ashton says.

“Yeah, and if you’d fucking listened-”

“Luke,” Ashton interrupts. “I didn’t sense fucking anything.” Luke stops.

“Are you trying to say this is another fucking soulmate experience?” he says. “We don’t have three. Most people don’t even have one. ”

“No,” Ashton says. “I think it’s the same one. The first one. The protecting one.”

Oh.

It’s kind of a blur already, even though it’s only been like, three minutes, but Luke remembers the haze of protect protect protect that clouded every single other one of his thoughts, that stopped anything and everything else - including his own safety - from mattering, that made him move without even thinking, running straight fucking into the alleyway he’d been so uneasy about because nothing mattered more than Ashton.

“Fuck,” he says, and Ashton nods grimly.

“Yeah,” he says. Neither of them need to say didn’t realise it went both ways, because it’s both written clearly across their faces.

“You got this on the fucking phone?” Luke can’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Ashton says again. Luke rakes a hand through his hair, trying to organise his thoughts. All he can really focus on is the what the fuck and Jesus Christ and fucking hell swirling around in a mess in his mind.

“Well,” he says. “Shit.” Ashton huffs out a shaky laugh, raises his eyebrows, and nods, and Luke thinks that about sums it up.

-------

They don’t talk much on the journey back to the hotel. Luke snipes at Ashton when Ashton tries to show him how to use his contactless card on the barriers, because he’d much rather use a paper ticket, thank you very fucking much, and Ashton calls Luke back when he heads down the wrong escalator. Luke asks once what their stop is and nods when Ashton answers him, and then they don’t speak again until they’re in the safety of the brightly-lit hotel lobby.

Luke’s not entirely sure how to take the silence between them in the lift up to the second floor. It still feels awkward, stilted, uncomfortable, but there’s something grander now, something bigger than the both of them that they can both feel but neither of them want to acknowledge.

Luke fusses over Clifford when they get back into the hotel room, pulls out the pack of dog food he’d brought with him because he hadn’t been sure what brands the UK would have, and Clifford munches his dinner happily while Luke carefully removes his coat and plugs his phone in to charge, not looking at Ashton. It feels overcrowded, even though the room is made for two people and certainly big enough to accommodate both of them.

He takes his time washing up Clifford’s bowl, refilling his water, but Clifford seems perfectly content to doze back off to sleep after his meal, leaving Luke with nothing to do but think about how fucking tired he actually is.

“I think I might sleep,” he says, even though he doesn’t really have to announce it to Ashton. Ashton looks up from where he is on his bed, book in his hand, and nods.

“I think I might too,” he says. “Do you want the bathroom first?” Luke blinks at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.” Ashton nods, and turns back to his book, but when Luke turns his back to get his things out of his still-packed suitcase, he can feel Ashton’s eyes on him.

He makes quick work of putting his pyjamas on and brushing his teeth, only hesitating with his hand on the bathroom door handle to leave as he throws a quick glance at himself in the mirror, because he looks so fucking disarmed in his pyjamas, so strangely small and vulnerable. Whatever, he thinks, forcing himself to push the door open, because what the fuck else is he going to do, sleep in the bathroom?

“Bathroom’s free,” he says, because it feels like what he should say, turning his back to Ashton and making a show out of putting his clothes in his suitcase. He should probably just unpack it, he thinks - he is going to be here for four weeks, after all - but not tonight. He’s too fucking tired for that.

“Thanks,” Ashton says, and Luke hears the sound of a book closing and then feet shuffling as Ashton heads for the bathroom. He waits for the door to click shut behind him before tucking himself into bed, drawing the duvet close to his chin to try and keep the cold out. Why the fuck is it so cold in England, seriously?

Ashton doesn’t take long, or maybe Luke falls into microsleep, or something, because it feels like it’s about two seconds before he’s coming out of the bathroom, placing his clothes on the chair opposite his bed, and getting into bed. He’s got plaid pyjama bottoms and a casual t-shirt on, and he looks just as disarmed and vulnerable as Luke had in the mirror, which makes Luke feel simultaneously better and worse.

“Can I turn the light off?” Ashton asks, and Luke nods. Ashton reaches over, clicks the light switch, and they’re plunged into darkness.

“Night,” Ashton says after a moment, and there’s a shuffling sound from his bed.

“Night,” Luke says, suddenly wide awake. He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall opposite him, willing the exhaustion that he’s felt all day to return. Even if he hadn’t slept, like, three fucking hours, he should be tired; it’s the middle of the night in Sydney.

He feels the time passing, times it by Ashton’s shuffling and Clifford’s even breathing and the noises from the street outside, and he’s sure it’s been at least an hour before there’s what sounds like Ashton flopping onto his back and sighing.

“Are you awake?” he whispers. Luke debates saying nothing, but knows if he evens his breathing out now it’s going to be pretty fucking obvious he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he says, a little reluctantly.

“I can’t sleep,” Ashton says.

“Me either.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Ashton says-

“We could push the beds together?” Luke squeezes his eyes shut, and Ashton takes the silence as hesitation. “Just for tonight. We’d sleep much better, and we probably need it for tomorrow.”

“No,” Luke says. Civil is one thing, but spending an entire night pressed up against Ashton? That’s something else entirely.

“Luke, I-”

“Ashton, I said no.” Ashton’s silent for a moment, and then sighs.

“Okay,” he says, and it sounds a little small. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like. Push.” Luke inhales deeply, exhales heavily, and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s fine,” he says.

Ashton says nothing, but Luke doesn’t hear his breathing even out until Luke himself falls into an uneasy, dreamless sleep, and when he wakes up in the morning, exhausted and grumpy, Ashton’s staring up at the ceiling again (or maybe still).

taglist: @sadistmichael @callmeboatboy @clumsyclifford @angel-cal @queer-5sos @haikucal @tirednotflirting @cthofficial @tigerteeff @i-am-wierd-always

if you want to be added to my taglist pls fill in this form!

#lashton #malum #5sos fic #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfic #i am so exhausted i am gonna answer messages tomorrow i'm so sorry #but i hve seen and appreciate all of them and i LOVE each and every one of u #and i do not deserve any of u #u are all so lovely and sweet to me and then in return i give u This #hmm...helen is cancelled #its confirmed

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mikiruma-art · 4 years

Photo

4 14 20

i’ve seen human aus on my dash recently and i thought, since i’ve been tossin my own ideas around by myself for a bit, i’d throw out what i got (solidified/so far)!!! notes under the cut

🏆 commissions 🥊

strong bad

as much as i’d honor his canon skin color, i figured i’m not really honoring anyone else’s (paper white > bright orange > blue??) so i decided to make him mexican, mainly bc of the wrestling mask & accent. so like u can tell i was ready to Not see another white strong bad lol

the other brothers strong aren’t more solidified yet so there’s no real “scale” but sb is the shortest. strong sad’s about homestar’s height and strong mad is gigantic. also yeah they arent white either

top surgery scars bc im smart free easy reason to go around topless all the time

round/oval face ofc. i didnt put the mask on for this but i did make his eyes green

not shown: i was tooling around w an embarrassing middle school version where he dyed his hair stinkoman blue. i should draw that too

homestar

ok honestly i thought it’d be cool to model his hair a lil more after tbc but then i was like. oh wait then technically i have to do that to every other male character. but i couldnt shake the thought of curly hair homestar (even if its kinda hard to tell under the hat) so theres that

another nitpick: homestar’s an athlete and i haven’t seen ppl honor that outside of various sports uniforms... which is super cute mind you and im very gay for that but i plopped a bit of muscle, its more noticeable in the leg regions since he. runs.

i gave him a more square-ish face, that was mostly based off the cutoff for his flash rig’s head

#my art #digital #digital art #homestar runner #strong bad #fanart #human au #bare chest -#scars -#i love how the shoes came out but also i never wanna draw shoes ever again christ #its rly late i hope the notes arent too rambly lol

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kayascodelorio · 4 years

Text

"palette” gif tutorial

hi everyone!!! so i’ve gotten countless requests to make a tutorial for my lara jean gifset, more specifically this gif:

so today i’ll be showing you how i make this gif right here:

as mentioned in the original post, this whole gifset was inspired by one of my favorite mvs of all time: palette (hence the creative name lmao). i essentially used screenshots of the mv to make my own similar template to work off!

disclaimer: i suck at explaining things, so you’re all gonna have to bear with me and my 100000 screenshots and poor attempts at explaining wtf i’m doing. hopefully you can manage to understand what i’m on about!!

if you’ve never made a gif, check out this detailed tutorial i made some time ago:

how to make gifs + color gifs (this tutorial includes links to download ps)

tutorial under the cut (i’m sorry for how long this is rip)

first, screenshot the mv. (timestamp 0:38)

here is my screenshot:

now, we’re gonna open ps and go to file > open to open the screenshot on there. this is my screen rn:

notice how my timeline is there (little box on the right side of the screenshot). we’re going to need the timeline for the gif later. if u don’t see the timeline, go to window > timeline and it should show up!!

time to crop the screenshot. using the crop tool, (left sidebar, 5th icon from the top) remove the black parts of the image (top and bottom) until all you’re left w is the white area. final product:

now it’s time to change the size of the canvas we’re working it so it can be the dimensions we want it to be! go to image > canvas size

a window like this should pop up:

we want our gif to b 540px by 400px, so just fill that out and press ok:

this is what your screen should look like after (aka super zoomed in):

we’re gonna fix that rn!!! making sure the layer (right sidebar) is selected (you can tell it’s selected when it’s in blue), press command + t, which will leave you with this:

okay, so i’ve covered this before in my previous basic gif making tutorial and not much has changed since then aka i’m still shit at attempting to explain wtf i’m doing. BUT basically this part involves using the top bar (pictured below) and changing the % of the W and the H to make the image the amount of zoomed in i want it to b (if that makes sense)

again, i usually just play around w the %s, depending on how zoomed in i want my image or gif to be, its dimensions, etc. the higher the %, the more zoomed in it is. basically, putting in 50% would make it way more zoomed in than 20% and so on. for this, i’ve tried out several % and decided to use 39%, but of course you can pick the % you prefer. so write in your chosen % in these two boxes in the top bar like this:

click the checkmark at the right of the top box and voilà! this is what you should have rn:

see how all the 9 squares fit perfectly inside? wow, powerful. anyway, let’s keep going djfhdkfd. now we’re going to make our own squares aka the squares in which the gif is going to be. start by creating a new layer (at the bottom of the right sidebar, the second to last icon before the trash icon). give it a name so it’s easier to keep track of: i picked s1, since this is going to be the layer where the first square is going to be (and so on). also make sure the new layer is above your image like this:

time to actually make the first square!! select the rectangular marquee tool (left sidebar, 2nd icon from the top) and select one of the squares in the image (113px by 113px) like this:

select the paint bucket tool (left sidebar, under the eraser tool) and make sure the color is set to black (#000000) before you click on the square you just selected. very important: don’t forget to have the s1 layer selected (should be in blue) when you do this or else it will fuck up.

this is what your screen should look like after:

as you can see, we have one square done, but there are 8 more left. right click on your s1 layer in the right sidebar and click on duplicate layer. name that layer s2. making sure the s2 layer is selected, drag it to the place of the second square:

keep doing the same thing until all the squares are covered with black ones like this:

now i’m going to hide the black square layers by clicking on the little eye icon (left of layer) for each of them bc i want to include the little dark pink doodles on my gif as well, but you don’t have to, so if you don’t wanna include it in your gif, you can skip over this part!!

there are technically 3 ways you could do that (well maybe more lol but these 3 are the ones who came to mind:

method #1: use the brush tool to draw your own doodle (or trace over the existing one with a new brush)

method #2: use the magic wand tool to select the doodle and use the brush tool over your selection

or method #3: look up doodles on google and drag them onto your image

i don’t have an ounce of patience rn, so i will b using method #2. select the magic wand tool (left sidebar, 4th icon) and make sure you select the first doodle the best you can. don’t forget to make sure your screenshot (image with the doodle on it) is selected while you select the doodle or it won’t select anything!!! like this:

create a new layer (bottom of the right sidebar, the second to last icon before the trash icon) and again, make sure it’s above all the other layers. with your new layer selected (in blue), select the paint bucket tool (left sidebar, under the eraser tool) and pick a color (i used #e1b5c4). click on your selected doodle. this is what you should have:

repeat for the other doodle with another layer.

final product:

it looks a bit Rough, but hopefully you get the idea?

now we’re going to merge all the little squares into one layer of little squares. if you have doodles, remove the eye icon (left of layers) for both of them to hide them and make sure all of your eyes are there for the square layers. select the s1 layer and then the other layers up to s9 while keeping one finger on the shift button until all the square layers are selected (in blue) like this:

right click on the s1 layer > merge layers. all you should be left with is:

now that this is done, we need to fix the background.

create a new layer that you will drag above the screenshot (layer 0) but under the s9 layer. i named mine bg (background). i want to keep the barcode in the original screenshot, so i won’t select that part. using the rectangular marquee tool (left sidebar, 2nd icon from the top) and with the bg layer selected, draw a square at the right of the bar code so you have this:

with the paint bucket tool (left sidebar, under the eraser tool) and the color set to white (#ffffff), click on the selection.

and that’s your template!!!

with doodles:

now onto making sure the gif is going to actually move properly.

click on the little arrows at the right side of the timeline to expand it until you have this:

and then click on create frame animation. your screen should look like this:

notice how it says once at the bottom of the timeline? make sure to change that to forever, or it will not play:

click on the convert to video timeline icon (the one on the left of the forever). this is what you should be left with:

now, time to make the gif that is going to go there*

*if you have no idea how to make gif and are lost af, i suggest you check out my previous tutorial where i explained this part with more screenshots and more specifically bc i will be more vague here regarding this

also i’ve said this again and again, but remember to ALWAYS USE 720P OR 1080P FOOTAGE WHENEVER POSSIBLE FOR YOUR GIFS or else they will be grainy and extremely unpleasant to work with.

i’ll be using a video from youtube for this. i suggest converto as a converter, it works really well and allows you to download youtube videos in 720p and 1080p!! once you have your footage ready, go to file > import > video frames to layers. use the markers to select the part you wish to gif, and, once you’re happy with your selection, click ok.

to select all the frames, click on the icon on the right of the timeline (4 lines with an arrow) and click on select all frames. then, go to select > all layers in the top bar. everything should be selected (in blue) like this:

now, fixing the speed of the gif.

super helpful post explaining gif speed right here

i’ll personally be using 0.06 here.

click on one of the frames in the timeline > other. write in the speed you chose and then press ok. go to convert to video timeline icon (the one on the left of the forever).

you should have something like this:

go to filter > convert for smart filters:

the time has come to drag your gif to the canvas:

make sure the gif is above the s9 layer (layer with the black squares) like this:

to make our gif fit inside the squares, we’re going to make sure the gif layer is selected. then, press the option (alt) button and click between the gif layer and the s9 layer to create a clipping mask (like this). this is what it does:

this is where i usually play around trying to find a size for my gif that looks nice. press command + t and, like we did earlier, find a % you’re happy with. i’m going to go with 20%. after moving my gif around and making it less zoomed in, it now looks like this:

this is usually where i would sharpen my gif, so, with your gif layer still selected, go to filter > sharpen > smart sharpen, and then ok.

these are my settings:

we have to fix the length of the gif, since there’s a lovely limit on this amazing site. i suggest you pick something to gif with not much movement, or you’ll have to make it even shorter. there’s no magic formula, just try not to make it too long, especially since the gif is large in size, so the smaller the better in this situation. this is what i have:

notice how the layers in the timeline are all of different lengths, so make sure you make them all the same like this:

once you have a psd ready, go to file > open and when it loads, drag it onto the canvas, above the gif. i added one of my psd on mine.

for the text on the top right, i can’t remember the exact font i used, so i picked another font different from the original.

these are my settings:

what it looks like with the psd + doodles + text:

and we are DONE!!! all that’s left is to save our gif!! go to file > save for web

these are my settings:

SUPER SUPER IMPORTANT: make sure your gif is set to forever in the looping options at the bottom right of the window or else your gif will absolutely not play properly!!

also, CHECK YOUR GIF SIZE (bottom left). with this website changing its gif limit every 2 seconds, better safe than sorry!!

here’s the final product:

thanks for sticking around and reading all of this!!! i hope it was somewhat helpful even though i suck at explaining how i do stuff! :)

#stupid tumblr crashed so i had to start over but here it is finally!!! sorry for how long it took!!#gif tutorial

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x1protector · 5 years

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imperial crossroads : prologue 1

p a i r i n g: none for prologues; will be x1 x gender neutral reader

g e n r e: fluff; a little dark; choose your own adventure; otome themed au

w a r n i n g s: mentions of slight violence; weapons

w o r d c o u n t: 2.9k

s u m m a r y: You are a dancer who gets the chance to perform in front of the royal family, and accidentally stumble into the lives of five very powerful men. Who will you choose to lead you though your time in the palace?

Author’s note: historical setting close to the Joseon dynasty but there’s no (current) set name for the kingdom; this is only the prologue!! each boy has their own storyline!! this one is written by the whole admin team!

There will be two prologues with two different protagonists. If you haven’t read maknae-line prologue (Junho, Dongpyo, Minhee, Eunsang, Hyeongjun, Dohyon), click below.

hyung prologue || maknae prologue

It was the peak of summer when you stepped foot in the palace for the first time to hopefully start your provisional contract as a court dancer. You’d been dancing for years, from small scale dinner hubs to the main town square where you had been scouted by a palace attendant, and have seen many discerning eyes among your spectators, yet the gazes of the royal family and attendants have never felt so cold to you. It was no wonder you were more nervous than usual, sweating up a storm in your most upkeep dancing laces.

You felt the heat and excitement swirling around in your bloodstream, creating a concoction that caused the blood in your veins to buzz as sweat rolled down your lace-draped back. As you waited for your turn, you were reassured by one of the palace’s main attendants, Minhee, that everything was going to be alright, that the royal family wasn’t nearly as scary as the rumors.

And Minhee was right because as soon as the dancer before you finished his routine, everyone roared with applause. One of the princes even stood up, beaming at the guy as he exited the stage area.

You had to admit he was marvelous. Kim Wooseok was a renowned performer, even in your tight-knit circle of dancers. His techniques were unmatched across the lands, backed up by unrivaled talent and years of training.

There was something about him that seemed to draw your eye along his body, from the tips of his fingers down through the balls of his feet. He had a sort of presence on the stage no one could deny, not that they wanted to in the least. It didn’t help that he was extremely handsome and possessed a beautiful dance figure; a slim face and a lithe body with lean muscle peeking through his laces, betraying a hidden power within his small frame.

Wooseok fixed his dance laces over his shoulders and let his hair fall below his cat-like eyes. As he bowed to the royal family, you thought of all the years you spent looking up to him, hoping to one day be at his level.

You didn’t see a hint of sweat as he glided past, but for a second you thought you saw a flash of annoyance etched in his beautiful features. Before you could read into it, Minhee wished you a quick “good luck!” before guiding (read: pushing) you towards the stage.

It was your turn now.

The light was a little too bright and you couldn’t help but cover your eyes as you stepped on the podium, and despite performing for years prior, you could feel your heartbeat thump in your ears and hear your breathing reverberate against the still buzzing air.

From where you were standing, the royal family was in full view atop the viewing deck of the outdoor theater.

The King and Queen sat high on their thrones, looking down at their subjects without malice in their gazes, a sort of warmth that wasn’t quite loving, but not apathetic either, tinting their features. It was a form of caring one can only possess in the presence of those they are sworn to protect. Next to the King sat Crown Prince Seungwoo, heir to the throne and rumored to be as gentle as his mother, the Queen, but also as cold as his father, the King. It really depended on who you heard it from.

His features were soft and kind, with the only sharpness being hidden in his eyes and the point of his nose as he stared you down on the stage. His aloof expression alone made him appear almost disinterested in the entire ordeal, which set you at ease in a way. It was like he couldn’t care less if you did well or didn’t perform at all.

Beside the Queen sat Prince Seungyoun, more commonly known as Prince Youn, the second oldest prince and grand diplomat of the kingdom. There was a sweet grin spread across his face, the affection and excitement clear in his features as you readied yourself for the performance. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and you briefly wondered how it was possible to see the twinkles from his eyes all the way from where you were standing, but decided it was better not to question such things. His features were almost the opposite of his brothers, with sharp edges all around and gentle, saccharine eyes.

Behind the princes were two gentlemen whose names you couldn’t quite recall. They were very well-dressed, not unlike the royal family, and they seemed to carry a certain aura that you couldn’t place. Not quite royal, but above others in some way regarding status. Their faces were obscured by the shadows they hid in so you paid them little mind. You concluded that they were probably relatives to the family, but royalty or not they have their gaze fixed on you like the rest.

As you started dancing, you didn’t know why but you felt your nerves begin to slip away as you moved through the familiar routine. But the longer you danced, the higher your movements transcended, the more you felt as if someone was watching you.

Of course, everyone was watching you. You usually thrived off the awe and attention because it’s what made you want to become a dancer in the first place.

But you could feel one specific energy focusing on you, seemingly anticipating your every movement. You glanced at the princes, the Queen, the King, the dancers waiting in line to perform, yet you couldn’t quite locate where it came from.

It wasn’t a terrible feeling, but it was also not a friendly one. It settled heavily, like an anchor weighing in your gut. Even as you finish your routine and bowed to the royal family, the strange feeling never left you, sitting dormant just under your skin.

At the end of your routine, you chanced one last glance at the royals and felt a chill run up your spine at the sight.

Prince Seungwoo had shifted forward in his seat, forearms resting on his knees as his expression changed to match one of intrigue. He let out a silent chuckle and smirked before leaning back in his throne, seemingly disinterested in you once again. It seemed you had caught the attention of the younger prince as well, as his grin widened to encompass his entire face. He seemed more than pleased with the performance you had put on, scrunching up his nose as you looked at him.

The dancers after you were all excellent, each one with a unique routine and skillset, so it was almost a pity when the show ended and it was announced that only two dancers would be picked.

It won’t be me was all you could think until the announcement came nearly an hour later, with your mind flashing back to the two princes and their reactions. Even if the princes had seemed interested in your performance, the other dancers were far more skilled than yourself and would make better pairs at the palace anyway.

Wooseok was the first name to be called. Of course, no one was surprised. He stood up with a blank expression and accepted the contract scroll from attendant Minhee with a small bow towards the royal family.

It wasn’t until your name was called that a few of the contestants stood up to be able to see your face. You froze, not quite believing you had been picked until you felt another dancer nudge you towards the stage once more. You stumbled forward, stunned, but regained enough composure to gracefully walk towards Minhee. He beamed as he handed you the remaining scroll, wishing you good luck once again and telling you how much he enjoyed your performance.

Mindlessly, you bowed and stood next to Wooseok as an attendant ushered out the rest of the dancers. Wooseok’s blank expression melted and for the second time, he scowled, but like the first, it went away in a second.

“Congratulations,” Wooseok spoke for the first time with his original blank expression, but not without sincerity.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Seems like you’re here by your own free will,” he added quietly.

Your smile faded, confusion colored your face.

“What do you mean ‘my own free will?'” you asked.

He scoffed and didn’t say anything else, so you knew better not to pry especially while waiting for your audience with the Queen.

The amiable woman looked barely a year over fifty as she eyed you and Wooseok warmly. She had a small round face, with delicate features and bright, lovely eyes. You could see where the younger prince got his looks from as she smiled. She spoke lightly as if her words glided on water, her laughter a hearty, elegant melody that resonated within the chamber.

“I do apologize for the sudden notice, but there were two goals to fulfill in this competition. One was to find a new court dancer, and the other to find my boys a suitable dance instructor.”

Wooseok stiffened, and soon both his gaze and the Queen’s were fixed on you as she chose you to become the princes’ dance instructor

“M-me?!”

“Yes, my dear. Your grace and passion on that stage along with your headstrong and witty mind, so I was told, made you the most suitable candidate. The only task left is for you to choose who to instruct first.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Instructor? Most of your skills were self-taught from watching many exceptional dancers like Wooseok, so how could you instruct anyone when you had no experience teaching?

And choose who? I don’t know anyone here!

As if on cue, the two princes and the two gentlemen from earlier entered the queen’s chambers, talking and laughing amongst themselves

“Hey, Mom!” Prince Seungyoun boomed in his usual cheerful voice.

Prince Seungwoo sighed and smiled sweetly, “Youn, please behave in front of our guests.”

“That’s just how he is, hyung,” one of the two men you didn’t know spoke up in defense of prince Seungyoun, his voice a lot deeper than the other two even though he had a youthful air to him.

The last man looked on in silence, observing you and Wooseok with curious, friendly eyes. He seemed about the same age as the other man you didn’t recognize and, seeing them side by side, you noticed their frames were both similarly built, their shoulders slightly wider than the princes.

“Quiet down, my boys,” the Queen spoke. As gentle as she sounded, the entire room stilled in an instant. “As you have heard, Wooseok will be your new court dancer in the prince quarter, and the talented dancer beside him will be your dance instructor, assuming they choose you.” The Queen paused and extended her warm gaze to you, “one of these boys will become your student, I trust that you choose well.”

“Your Majesty,” the man who had stayed silence finally spoke. “Why would we need a dance instructor? What good would that do for us at our age?”

My thoughts exactly!

The Queen gently approached and touched the man’s cheek as she spoke, “Yohan, my dear boy, even though you are skilled in martial arts, dancing is about discipline and self-control. Soon you’ll learn that there are a certain set of skills that both a good dancer and a good ruler possess.”

At that, Yohan seemed convinced and asked no further questions, nodding and following along with the Queen’s rather ambiguous explanation.

“I’m not sure I understand,” the unnamed man who’d spoken earlier asked. “Why would I need lessons? I’m not a prince.”

At this, a strange and sad look crossed the Queen’s features but vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the youngest prince.

“Hangyul, I’m sure mother has her reasons,” Prince Seungyoun spoke, seemingly stroking at his non-existent beard.

Prince Seungwoo shot his younger sibling an icy glare at his interruption, making prince Seungyoun throw his hands up in surrender. The Queen smiled at her sons, then looked at you as if the only thing left is for you to choose.

“Of course,” she spoke again, spotting the hesitant look in your eyes,” if you are still unsure of your skills, you can choose to study under Wooseok for some times before starting your official position.”

You looked around, scanning to see who would be the safest option. The last thing you wanted was to offend any royalty with your zero to none teaching experience.

Wooseok would be the safest option, he was another dancer like you and studying under him would be an honor. However, this would be admitting that your skills were lacking, and he didn’t look too excited to have anyone as a pupil.

Then there was Yohan, who looked pretty open to the idea of having a dance instructor. To be quite honest, he would be easiest to teach since he seemed to have experience in martial arts. You had a feeling he would catch on pretty quickly to anything you’d showed him.

The gentleman named Hangyul looked at you with narrowed eyes. He seemed like the most scary, but also the most calm among all the boys. Maybe you were mistaken, but you thought you had seen his smile distinctly among others earlier during your performance.

Prince Seungwoo was also an option. He was known for being gentle and looked like someone who would never mistreat his servants. But the idea of teaching the future king was… a little scary, even for you. Plus his ice cold demeanor hadn’t vanished for a second in your presence, so who’s to say you’d ever see the warmer side of him?

The final option would be Prince Seungyoun–known to be the most outgoing prince among the lands, a social butterfly, the friendliest royal you will ever meet. Though there was a personal reason why you were the least bit wary of the second prince.

The Queen seemed to notice your dilemma and offered to give you more time in the princes’ quarters, which you gladly accepted. After all, this was a lengthy contract and you couldn’t be expected to make such a decision without much thought.

Thank god Minhee was still there with you because once the Queen was gone, the room suddenly became quiet and all eyes were on you

Prince Seungyoun was the first to break the silence as he smiled and extended his hand to you. His chocolate brown eyes radiated with warmth the moment he looked at you.

“Don’t be afraid, we don’t bite.” His voice was softer and quieter than when he had spoken earlier with the princes. “Mother has been trying to get us to relax and pick up a hobby for a while now. I just never thought she’d pick dancing.”

“Wait, Yohan, don’t you already have a hobby?” Hangyul spoke, his voice a deep sound that resonated in his throat. He had on an easy, casual half-smile at Yohan, showcasing a pair of cute bunny-like teeth. He might sound scary, but he seemed to be a big teddy bear in the end.��

“Yeah, we both do, don’t we?”

“Swinging a sword around every day is not a hobby.”

You were surprised to hear Wooseok speaking up–was that even allowed? Weren’t there courtesy customs and honorifics for these people who seemed like royalty?

“Yes it is!” Yohan interjected, a goofy grin pasted on his youthful face as he put both hands on his hips. His eyes crinkled up at the edges, and you noticed him sporting the same bunny teeth as Hangyul before. You found it adorable that both the intimidating young men had such cute smiles.

“Don’t be jealous, hyung,” Hangyul reached over and clapped Wooseok on the shoulder. “We’ll teach you one day.”

Confused by this sudden exchange, you looked towards Minhee for help and was grateful he was already leaning over.

“They all know each other,” he whispered. “They’re good friends. It’s fine.”

That didn’t make you feel any better. Now you realized you were more of an outcast than before when you still thought Wooseok was simply a performer and nothing more.

Prince Seungwoo noticed your discomfort and walked towards you, extending his hand in the same manner as Prince Seungyoun and offering you a sweet smile, his icy stare softening slightly.

“Pardon the boys, we haven’t had any newcomers to the palace for a while.” The prince’s smile was almost too sweet and barely reached his eyes as he spoke. “No matter who you choose today, you’ll be okay. I promise we won’t trouble you.”

“Speak for yourself, hyung!” Hangyul said, a small laugh escaping him. Prince Seungyoun joined with his genuine, hearty laughter that was so refreshing to hear, dissipating the stress you’d faced the moment you entered the palace and placing a small smile on your face. It was impossible not to smile when those two laughed.

You looked over at Wooseok, who didn’t even bother to hide his annoyance, sighing as he started folding his laces and putting them into his sling bag.

“Are you going to choose today or do we have to keep standing here?”

Wooseok’s words to you were blunt and to-the-point. You can kind of see why your peers thought of him as cold and unapproachable, but his voice was soft and his words didn’t seem cold to you.

All eyes were on you once again. You felt like you were ready to make the decision. Taking a deep breath, you decided this person was the only option for you.

“I choose–”

——————————————————————————————–

c h o i c e s: Seungwoo, Seungyoun, Wooseok, Yohan, Hangyul

Read maknae prologue.

Click here to vote on whose story you would like to see first!

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stonedwitchery · 5 years

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📜 Sigil Magick 📜 this is a long one...

• I highly recommend not doing any magick of any kind without first performing the LBRP

What is a sigil?

• A sigil is a statement of intent/order given to your subconscious mind to manifest into reality

How can a sigil be used?

• stand alone or in a spell

Cons of a sigil

• on its own, it only works for small things such as a money (depending on how much you currently make and how much you’re asking for), change of habits, ways of thinking, minor illnesses

• you need to be VERY specific but you should be as specific as possible in all your magick workings anyway.

• you can’t do ANY magick out of desperation, sigils included.

• unpredictable (what do you expect? It’s chaos magick)

Pros of a sigil

• relatively fast acting

• easy and simple

• can be used in and on everything

• can be redone

• can be discrete

How to create a sigil

•pick any alphabet, I just use the English alphabet. A lot of witches say you need to use a dead alphabet but that’s wrong. You can use whatever the hell you want and it’ll work, EXCEPT RUNES. Runes are a complete magick on their own.

• create a statement of intent. Never use “never, don’t, won’t, will not, cannot, can’t” and always replace them with “avoid, or without.” ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS add “without harm” to the end of your statement. If you don’t, you or someone else could get hurt or die. This is not a joke.

• Be specific in when you want it to happen.

Example: “I successfully avoid smoking cigarettes without harm within three moon cycles.”

• assign your sigil a zodiac sign or planet. In this case, I’d use mercury. Mercury is the planet of health and is also the best planet to use when you’re unsure of where your sigil fits in. Pisces or Saturn would also work fantastic in this sigil, but i didn’t use those symbols in this sigil example.

• cross out any vowels. A, E, I, O, U, and Y.

Example: S C C S S F L L V D S M K N G C G R T T S W T H T H R M W T H N T H R M N C C L S

• cross out repeating letters

Example: S C F L V D M K N G R T W H

• at this point, a lot of people say to scramble the letters. I highly recommend you don’t do this until after you have taken note of your sigil. You want to keep track of the sigil you’ve made and when. I’ll get into this a bit later.

• create your sigil with the letters you now have and the symbol of mercury, then simplify that as well. You can create the sigil however you’d like. There’s no absolute right way to create a sigil. My way is to mash together all of the letters and keep it as simple as possible.

• I M P O R T A N T!!!! if you can see that a letter can be masked by another letter, for example, an R, C, D, M, W, or F in the letter B, then you don’t need to add those letters in anywhere else.

• at the end, your sigil should look something like this. *if your statement of intent is this exact one, at least create a sigil that looks different than this.* your letters can be partially detached from the rest, upside down, sideways, all sorts of funky, as long as they’re touching. As you can see, I used the symbol of mercury, and formed most of my letters into other letters that they can hide in. I always add a circle around the sigil I created and cut a square around the circle. I’ll talk about the symbolism behind the square and circle another time.

• time to take note of your sigil. I do this on my computer. Now, this may be a bit confusing. I wrote down the statement of intent on a word document, then save it to a folder specific to this sigil. It is usually titled with “sigil *date of creation/date of disposal*”. Then, I add the picture of the sigil, create 5 more pages of random text or images and then add the statement of intent. This makes it easier to keep track of what sigils you’ve gotten rid of without remembering what sigil is created for what. This method makes it easier to keep track of your sigils and is more forgiving if you accidentally open the wrong one. Just to be clear, it’s okay to check the drawing but not the intent of the drawing. You want to be able to keep track of what ones you are disposing of without remembering what it is for. It’s essential to forget your sigil, and if you look back and remember what sigil you created for what intent, you’ll fuck it up. HOWEVER, if you think the sigil may have worked, and you want to check back to see if it is indeed one of your creations, or even to see what changes could be made to a failed one, it is fine to do so. KEEPING IN MIND that if you look at a sigils intent that you remember, and therefore it will not work. Sigils ONLY work when forgotten. In the words of YouTube’s FreakyPhil1309, “Sometimes, thinking that you’re sigil has failed is when the sigil may actually happen.” This quote says to me that you shouldn’t check your sigil for a few months after you think it might have failed because it’s easier to forget when you think it hasn’t worked. This method makes it easier to keep track of your sigils and is more forgiving if you accidentally open the wrong one. Just to be clear, it’s okay to check the drawing but not the intent of the drawing. You want to be able to keep track of what ones you are disposing of without remembering what it is for.

• charge your sigil. There’s a few ways you can do this. The cool thing about charging your sigil is that it could work within a few hours to a few years, depending on how good of a job you did with charging and how specific you were.

1) staring. You will hold the sigil in your right hand, stare at one point on the sigil, vividly imagining that you already have exactly what you want (use your 5 senses), and keep staring and imagining until the sigil has a bright outline or “aura.” Keep going for a little longer after this has happened. It should be about 10-20 minutes. Your charging is done at this point.

2) sex magick. You can stare at your sigil while masturbating and imagining your outcome until you orgasm or are on the brink of orgasm. Then you’re done!

3) this is the one that usually takes the longest but it does work. I recently charged a sigil this way for better health since I was showing symptoms of an oncoming cold, and it worked within a few days, so you never know! What you’ll do is place it or write it in/on a spot you walk by everyday. I wrote my sigil very small on the corner my whiteboard. You don’t want it to be big enough for you or anyone else to notice, but enough for your mind to catch it. You don’t want to go out of your way to look at it. You want to forget that it’s there completely.

* EXTRA POINTS: this is when you can scramble your simplified statement of intent. Scramble them to the point that you can make a sort of sentence from it. Then, chant it as you’re charging your sigil.

How to store them

• I keep envelopes of all the zodiac signs and place the cut-out sigil into the envelope with the zodiac sign that I had assigned the sigil to. In this case, I assigned it to Pisces. Why Pisces? Because Pisces rules over the subconscious mind. The subconscious mind rules over addictions and habits. Therefore, we use Pisces. I’ll make a post on zodiac signs and how they can be used in spells another time. Just place the sigil in the sign you chose. This is the sign that the moon should be in when you dispose of your sigil.

Disposal

•I always write in the back of my sigil what moon phase and what element to dispose during. For this case, we will dispose during the waning moon and we will run it under running water until it dissolves.

• waxing moon vs waning moon. Waxing moon brings things in, waning moon pushes things out. If you want to bring in a new habit, which you should always do after banishing one, you’re gonna use waxing. Yes, this means two sigils. Example: a waning moon sigil would be “I avoid smoking” and a waxing moon sigil would be “I workout instead of smoking.” If you banish, you must invoke. If you want to get rid of something, as is this case, we want to use the waning moon.

# fire moon sign - burn and dump ashes anywhere you’d like EXCEPT your sink or toilet (NEVER DUMP ANYTHING MAGICKAL DOWN YOUR TOILET OR SINK. You’ll thank me later. You may want to also avoid throwing it anywhere on your property)

# earth moon sign - bury (again, preferably not on your property if banishing)

# air moon sign - burn and throw ashes in the air

# water moon sign - run it under water until it dissolves. Don’t do this with your sink. Get a few cups of water, go down the street (preferably to a storm drain) and keep the sigil in your left hand and keep pouring the water over the sigil until it’s gone.

EXTRA POINTS: dispose while burning a candle of the color of the planet you are using with the sigil carved into the candle, and/or during the day and hour of the planet your using, with the candle rubbed in relating oil and herbs. These aren’t necessary but do add an extra oomph.

KEYS

•first rule of magick is to tell no one about your current or future magical workings, or even ideas, but you can tell them about what you’ve done in the past or when they’ve worked.

•making a big deal out of a good outcome will make your next spell work less. If you are working with a habit, that habit can come back. You need to be nonchalant about a successful outcome. The reason being is that getting excited means to your subconscious that you didn’t believe that it would actually work, and then won’t work again in the future. Being nonchalant tells your brain that you had complete faith and keeps the magic going. This is essential.

• FORGET ABOUT IT!!! No magick will work without forgetting about it. You know when you are trying to remember something, but you can’t, so you move on, and THEN it hits you? That’s how it works. It will only manifest after you’ve forgotten about it. This is also why desperation magick doesn’t work. If you’re desperate, you can’t forget.

I know this was extremely long but I really hope it was educational and helps those who need it. There’s a lot of information given on this page that can change your life. There’s also a lot of information that isn’t fully explained such as what signs can be used for which spells, how the moon phases work, how the different elements work, etc.. I promise I will go over those another time.

TLDR; jumble letters into an image, stare at it for a while or masturebate to it, take notes, FAGETTABOUTIT, 🌋

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to drop it in my inbox.

#mine #postofdee #witch #witchcraft #eclectic witch #chaos magic #chaos magick #traditional magic #magic #traditional magick #witches #sigil #sigils #candle magick #magickwithdee #magick #stonedwitchery #witch tips

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zombriekid · 5 years

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“A Drunk Man’s Words...” [Alucard/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Hellsing

Summary: “...are a sober man’s thoughts.” aka you shove your whole foot in your mouth while drinking with alucard.

Warning: dialogue about virginity and sex; brief mentions of sexual activity (nothing explicit, however)

“Is vampirism really determined by virginal status?”

It’s over a bottle of wine that this question finds its bravery.

The drink itself has some boujee French name that you can’t even hope to pronounce, and its age dates back at least fifty years before you were born- probably worth twice as much as you too. And though your palette is accustomed to the four dollars a bottle variety the wine’s color reminds you of your drinking companion and admittedly it’s rather damn tasty, fruity and light and sits sweetly on the back of your tongue, so when the drink was offered you accepted a glass graciously.

Then you accepted another glass, followed by one more... three and a half glasses in and you’re ready to discuss all of the subjects that are considered conversational taboo where you’re from. Instead of politics and religion, however, you opt for something He’s a tad more familiar with than most.

The stemless crystal pauses a hair’s width away from His lips, and though He doesn’t spare you a glance it’s obvious that you have His attention. Obvious in the way the slight heat of His breath fogs the clear, glossy surface just a little, obvious in the way His scarlet eyes seem to flit over the scene of the drink, and in the way the arch of His brow tugs up in tandem with a broad shoulder.

“That’s the theory, though I suspect that there are more conditions beyond one’s sexual experience.” Alucard replies, His tone suggesting an air of casual aloofness. “It seems that it’s the most plausible, however.”

From the back of your throat comes a thoughtful hum before you wash it down with more wine. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Him do the same, though far more elegantly due to the fact that you can’t even hear Him sip, and you take this moment to... consider Him.

Consider His impossibly long legs, and how one crosses over the other with such poise- trapped, caged, restrained by them; consider the generous expanse of His chest, nearly too large for the dark vest that conforms around His slim waist- on top, weighing down, or underneath, firm support; how slender His fingers are, artistic, almost like spider legs in the way they curl around the glass’ globe- gripping flesh, neck, in between thighs- pianist fingers; you watch the sharp cut of His chin tilt back to allow more sour grapes to pour down His milk white throat- which bobs with every subtle gulp. Your drunken brain craves the visuals of clean bed sheets and sticky skin and the weight of His body, and it doesn’t tell you to peel the dried layers of skin from your lips with your teeth but you do it anyways cause it’s hot and stuffy in this room and you’re wearing far too much clothing.

Alucard is... attractive. Terrifying, and awful, but attractive nonetheless.

This is a reality that you’ve come to accept, yet even on your best days do you refuse to let that thought linger, refuse to let it fester and chafe your already confused emotions. However, now... here, in a recreation room with plush cushions at your back and a bottle at your side, you might be tempted to...

...maybe it’s the wine talking, or maybe it’s the sharp peak of His large aristocratic nose... but you’re attracted to Him. Sober Murray would deny that, shut that shit down immediately and remind yourself of all of the torment He’s hurled you way, however you’re not sober Murray right now. You’re drunk Murray, and drunk Murray can only think about how well versed this creature is in salacious pleasure.

Wait... is He? He has to be- well, no, He doesn’t have to be, just seems like He would be. How much experience does He have? Does He have any?

...is He still, and you hesitate to ask yourself this because the concept of “virginity” makes your eyes roll, but is He still a virgin?

When your mind, unfortunately, finalizes that thought it supplies you with the following information: Alucard is looking at you, direct eye contact being made and maintained, with the drink in His lap and both of His dark brows pushing into His hairline.

He looks... shocked? Which in turn surprises you cause you ain’t never seen Him caught off guard before. Perhaps you’re wrong? After all what could be so alarming to startle fucking Alucard?

The corners of His lips twitch as the rest of His handsome face relaxes, red eyes no longer the size of dinner plates, and He regards you with a quiet, droning chuckle. “And why do you wish to know that, little hunter?”

...what? Know what? Did you ask Him something? What did you ask Him?!

Ya asked if He’s a virgin, jackass, whatever remains of your sobriety reminds you, and though you could’ve swore that all of that internal dialogue was just that, in your head, apparently your sloshed brain is slower than your mouth and now you’ve opened up rather personal dialogue with a very powerful vampire.

It’s time to back-pedal kiddo and you had better be quick about it.

“W-well you’re vampire,” you blurt, ears and cheeks and neck feeling hot. “And if virginity is the determining factor here than obviously you were before, and I’m just curious if you are still.”

The eye contact doesn’t break; you notice that His are moving, studying, though never leaving you, and your memory jogs with the numerous instances you’ve suffered when you have had His absolute, unwavering attention. Instincts haywire, brain sending confusing signals to gut because neither can determine what the threat genuinely is, heart pumping so rapidly that it nearly seems like it’s not even beating... In all twenty six years of your human existence you’ve never encountered anyone or anything that’s tapped so intimately into your primal monkey brain, so when He finally removes His graze it honestly feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Crisis averted, Murray.

“To answer your question, no I am not a virgin,” Alucard says. Not one moment later, a smirk slithers across His lips until it blows out into a full grin, and it’s wide enough to reach from one ear to the other, and any relief you’ve might have felt starts to fade. “Now that I’ve indulged you...” He glances at you out of the corner of His eye, “... it’s only fair that you return the favor.”

There’s a heavy pressure wrapped around your right shoulder, a hand, judging by the fingers squeezing tight on your collarbone and the thumb gripping the back of your neck. It’s not coming from your vampiric fantasy companion- He’s still sitting in the lone chair, one hand cradling His nearly empty wine glass and the other on an armrest- yet instinctively, whether it be from generations of evolution or from years of mediumship, you know that somehow He’s involved.

This is confirmed when you watch Him lean forward in His chair, fangs on display, and a small puff of hot air ghosts across the corner of your jaw.

The gasp that’s forced out of your chest isn’t born from fear.

“So riddle me this, my curious little revenant.” The grasp on your shoulder stiffens a fraction, the fingertips curling into the bone while another cloud of breath passes down the pulse in your neck; His own fingers tighten around the glass, and His grin spreads some. “If I were to bite you right now...” another rush of hot air, this time on the curve of flesh and muscle that connects neck to shoulder, and you resist your body’s natural reaction to flinch, “... would you turn?”

Your lungs expand as you draw in a deep breath. A tingling sensation erupts all over your body, goosebumps from head to toe with every single fine hair standing on end, and your heart pounds away at your ribs- a response that sends blood battering into your head, into your ears. You feel dizzy. And, again it might be the wine talking, yet you’re not scared. You’re not afraid.

Drunk Murray is not afraid of Alucard.

(Well... not entirely.)

And drunk Murray wants to rise to the challenge.

It takes every inch of your spine to do this, but you manage to straighten your posture with squared shoulders and your chin tilted up. And after clearing your throat, albeit not exactly quietly, you dared to look directly in to His eyes and say “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

You didn’t think it possible but the smile stretches across His face even more; for the first time ever Alucard looks pleased with you.

a/u: strong start weak finish, that’s how i feel about this. but considering the fact that i’ve been in a writing slump as of late, along with my arm recovering from the tat session this past monday, i’m just proud that i’ve managed to finish something, ya know? also i wanted to try a slightly different writing style, along with doing a saucy piece, so hopefully you guys will like it. if ya did, then please show your support through them likes, reblogs, comments, and criticisms! and if ya wanna request something, my inbox is always open. thank you for taking the time to read this!

#hellsing #hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x you #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing fanfic #hellsing fanfiction #writing #hunter murray

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tanyuu · 5 years

Text

end-eavor

Hi! This is my first article-style theory. It’s obviously not like an actual article, you can tell by the deteriorating quality and fact that I used my own headcanons in place of canon information, but I’d just really love to see an article written by a sleep-deprived reporter bashing Endeavor.

That’s… all this is. It’s just a 7-page rant on why Endeavor is a terrible parent. And then it quickly dissolves into a theory on why Dabi is Todoroki Touya, so… good luck.

The reporter who writes this (Ella) is me! I’m not actually a reporter or writer at all, but I work around books. So. I’m gonna call bullshit on myself and get INTO THIS!

YEEHAW!

Todoroki Enji, also known as Endeavor (#1 in PHR, but #-7,000,000 in our hearts), has at least three children. They are known as Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Fuyumi, and Todoroki Shouto. Shouto has been in the public eye for a while now, especially after he was accepted by recommendation into UA.

Shouto was confirmed to be previously the victim of an act of domestic violence. His well-known facial scar (over his left eye), covers a quarter of his face. The cause was confirmed to be his mother's unstable and rapidly declining mental health.

All three of the Todoroki children released statements in the following years to plead their mother as not guilty (and worthy of single custody.) Endeavor harshly refused these claims, and insisted that their mother had endangered his children. (though he did not call Shouto his child. the term used was 'masterpiece,' which implies... certain things.)

In all fairness, Endeavor's stance on the topic is expected. The safety of your children is important. It's a touchy subject though, so all you need to know is this:

- Rei Todoroki (ice quirk), mother to the Todoroki children, poured boiling water onto her youngest child (Shouto)'s face.

- The cause was deteriorating mental health, but the cause of said mental state has not been released. Ever.

- Endeavor has potentially harmful opinions regarding his children, as well as near POSSESSIVE qualities with and to his youngest child.

Moving on.

Todoroki Natuso (quirkless), has cut ties with his father, for unknown reasons. Speculators and theorists claim that his father MADE him, as to not interfere with Shouto's "training."

He is now working as a doctor near Shizuoka Prefecture, and has saved many lives. His sister and brother are very proud of him. (and we bet his mother is, too)

Todoroki Fuyumi (sparking ice quirk) works as a preschool teacher. Though Natsuo moved out of Endeavor's "estate" (look up the square footage. we DARE you), Fuyumi has not. According to THIS (link) article, she will not until Shouto has graduated from UA. When prompted, she gave no answer.

Now, you're probably wondering: "Hey, Ella? If there's some kind of scandal, why don't you just go right out and say what you think is going on?"

That's the fun part! I legally CAN'T. Todoroki Enji (Endeavor, your #1 PUBLIC HERO) has ordered that no reporters are allowed to comment on 'how he runs his family.' And honestly, I value my job just a LITTLE too much to run the risk of the Hellflame's wrath.

Onwards, I suppose. And time for some (LEGAL) speculation.

If you recall, I mentioned how there are three confirmed children. That's because (and i did some actual digging here) there are FOUR legitimate Todoroki children.

Does anyone else remember the sports festival 6 years ago? The kid who had a CRAZY blue fire quirk? And then there's the fact that five-ish years ago, all of the footage from the semi-finals was deleted. Almost all of it.

Now, (I say with a grimace, here) I found one photo, and anyone with an eye on the news regarding high-profile villains would recognize THOSE piercings.

Why am I bringing up this blue fire quirk kid, anyway? Blue fire, blue fire, blue fire.

Todoroki Enji, ENDEAVOR. THE NUMBER ONE HERO. Lied about his kids. I'm definitely losing my job now, so... might as well just go with this, I guess. How do I know this?

We're familiar with Endeavor's ultra-move, the jet-stream style fire blast. He used it in the Hosu attack earlier this year, just before he captured the villain 'Stain.'

What color is the fire in that crazy powerful attack? B L U E.

Sports Festival mystery kid? Blue fire, spiky RED HAIR, turquoise eyes. It's like... younger, amped-up Endeavor.

I brought up piercings already, right?

The boy from the sports festival (let's nickname him v2 for now, short for Version Two of Endeavor. because I would pay SO MUCH to see this kid kick Endeavor's ass. i'll be linking a kickstarter for that later, too) has four piercings on his ears, and a triangle of nose piercings on both sides of his nose.

Blue fire, spiky hair, turquoise eyes, a FUCK TON of piercings, and just LOOK at this smirk: <IMAGE ATTACHED>.

Now, who does this remind anyone of?

The leader of the Vanguard Action Squad of the infamous League of Villains (LoV). The villain's name is 'Dabi,' which means 'Cremation.' Coincidentally, I looked up what v2's quirk was named. After a HELL of a lot of digging, I found both v2's name AND the name of his quirk.

Cremation.

And as for the name, well, I'd like Endeavor's official and public reason for keeping his FIRST and OLDEST child out of the public eye.

Todoroki Touya.

What am I implying, here? That one of Endeavor's children became a villain? A high-profile villain, involved with the kidnapping of a minor and attempted murder of at least 19? A villain with a criminal record longer than Shiozaki Ibara’s hair?

I'll provide a list of reasons why I (personally, and definitely not free of bias) think there's way more going on in this picture. Thank you for reading this far, by the way. It really does mean a lot, especially considering that this will likely be the last thing I'll... ever write, at least professionally.

To answer my own question, I'm telling you that Todoroki Touya became the villain 'Dabi.'

Now for the REALLY fun part. Why on Earth would Touya even become a villain? And especially as one of the children of such a well-known (but, frankly, not well-liked) hero?

I have a short list of reasons why this may have happened.

- Todoroki Enji kicked Touya out (reasons unknown, date unknown, all unconfirmed)

- Touya ran away (reason unconfirmed)

- Pressured by villains (honestly? unlikely)

But, drawing attention to the scar patterns on Dabi (Touya?)'s arms and face. It's a fire burn, but not a REGULAR fire burn. From the looks of it, it wasn’t caused by an external force (you can tell b/c of his fingers). But this implies that Dabi did it HIMSELF, which... is a whole new can of worms.

(I swear all of this is relevant. I'm just... speculating. Diligently.)

In order to do so much self-inflicted damage, you would need a few key things.

1) High pain tolerance. (30% of Dabi's skin is scar tissue. That's... a lot. Have you ever accidentally touched a flame? It hurts, and keeping it there would hurt a lot more. Doing something like that and holding the flame there requires a lot of control.)

2) A high sensitivity to your OWN quirk. Now, quirk biologists have talked about how people usually have a natural immunity to their own quirks, especially emitter-types. But, if Touya THEORETICALLY had a body made for an ICE QUIRK (see where I'm headed?), it would explain why he was so easily burned.

But why would he have such a pain tolerance? And especially... towards burns...?

Well, I'll let you decide that one for yourself, there. I'm not allowed to talk about that, remember?

GREAT! We've answered some questions! (some meaning, like, two)

Now onto a Fun Part™! (It's not fun. Honestly, writing this makes me feel horrible. The things pro heroes cover up, no kids should EVER go through ANY of what I'm writing about.)

So far, Enji's been in the wrong... probably 80% of the time? Some of it (20%) can be marked down as 'concerned parent,' but the rest... yeah.

Anyway! Let's address a concerning topic. There are a few things I'm going to be talking back and going back to QUITE a bit:

- Shouto's refusal to use his fire in the Sports Festival last year (earlier this year? time is a concept, and i'm not familiar with it)

- The difference in personality with the Todoroki trio. (i'd say quartet, but my boss says i'm not allowed to interview a villain, and also. all of these. are still speculation. please pay me)

- How Endeavor (#1 hero. i keep bringing that up just to reiterate who exactly is the current face of the hero world and WHY THE FUCK IS HE STILL TH-) addresses his children

Where were we again? Let me check.

Oh yeah, before I start yelling about Enji being a piece of shit, I'm going to say a few things about myself. This article is very unorthodox, and I shouldn't... technically do this? BUT I'm already gonna lose my job! So, onwards and upwards, y’all:

- My name is Ella.

- I work for a really well-known (and lovely) publishing company, as a writer and editor.

- I get paid XXXXX a year. Which is okay, and better than some other companies, but I'm still... not getting anything out of this, so you can't say I was paid to write this. If anything, I'm LOSING money by writing this. (but i'm in too deep to stop now, so...)

- My hands hurt a lot from writing this. I've written it all in about an hour, but the research has taken me WEEKS. W E E K S, I TELL YOU-

Todoroki Shouto (15, Half-Cold Half-Hot emitter quirk, aptly named) is a student at UA. He is in class 1-A, the Hero Course. He's been involved with many mainstream villain attacks, such as the USJ invasion, the Stain + Hosu event, and All Might's last stand.

Shouto's personality can be seen as cold and standoffish, and the media likes to depict him as an aloof pretty boy. Please keep in mind, he's... been through a lot. And I'm speculating that he's been through more than anyone's actually THOUGHT about before. Kudos to him.

In the Sports Festival in Shouto's first year, his fight with Midoriya Izuku was ALL OVER THE NEWS. The green haired “no bones about it” kid had gotten Todoroki "I'm not using half of my power" Shouto to use his fire. Nobody knows the exact content of the fight, but it's worth mentioning that Shouto smiled during it. Full-on GRINNED.

(the more i think about that... the sadder it is? kid didn't look like he’d smiled very much. ever, actually. WHY COULD THAT BE-)

Speculation as to why Shouto didn't actually use his fire during the first events (and according to his classmates Asui Tsuyu and Kirishima Eijirou, he hadn't used it all YEAR. not even during the USJ invasion) was rampant through hero forums. Popular theories included:

- Shouto didn't want to one-up his classmates, so he restricted his power to make it fair. (which is understandable, but.... hon.... how likely is that. the damn MOTTO is ‘plus ultra’)

- Shouto was told not to by his father, and didn't, as some kind of rite of passage. (which is a whole NEW kind of 'what the fuck, enji' and i'm just. not touching that theory)

- My personal and biased favorite: Shouto was rebelling against his father after being pressured to surpass him and be even greater. (which, fair. honestly, any kind of intense pressure ESPECIALLY from a high-profile parent is stressful. take music lessons, for example! kids are gonna give up if they're forced to do shit! come ON, endeavor)

Endeavor (in MULTIPLE) interviews, has referred to Shouto as 'his masterpiece,' or 'his greatest work,' or other terrifying names. Honestly. Children aren't property, and although quirks are tossed around like clothes in a washing machine, their uses don't justify the treatment of their people. Especially with all the stigma surrounding "villainous" quirks. (WHICH IS BULLSHIT, OKAY? quirks aren't inherently villainous. sure, some are a little less flashy and virtuous, but fear is irrelevant! it's what you choose to do with what you have that matters. choices affect content of character, not predetermined morality)

BACK ON TOPIC. I'm not sorry. I feel like I could write a whole separate article on why villainous quirks don't actually exist? Should I? Hell yeah. I will, eventually.

Endeavor's blatant favoritism of Shouto is highlighted by the way he talks about his other children. By that, I'm referring to the fact that he outright DOESN'T. Not one WORD on Natsuo's confirmed cure for quirk burns. Not ONE WORD on Fuyumi's (SIX) teaching awards.

And, most concerningly?

Endeavor has refused to allow Todoroki Rei to leave the mental hospital she was put into (10 YEARS AGO) although she's passed EVERY SINGLE examination. (fuck, i'm not allowed to talk about that. OH WELL if i go i'm going OUT)

Shouto has affirmed that he doesn't want to work under his father, and will likely be joining a separate agency in the event of immediate hero work after graduation. He sort of implied that his father didn't know when to stop, but then left the interview.

"Didn't know when to stop? Stop what, Ella?" Remember how I mentioned some kind of 'training' way early into this? Mmm-hmm.

I'm going to do some extreme hand-waving here. This is ALL speculation, and as of now it's ILLEGAL speculation.

Back to Touya for a second. The records I found said that he won his match, but lost the semi-final due to intense quirk backlash. The time of the first match was INCREDIBLE.

6.3 seconds. Holy... SHIT.

(great job, touya! we're all really proud of you!)

Honestly! That's crazy! Record-breaking, even. Second only to... Shouto.

Second to Shouto. Maybe that's... not the first time Touya's heard that phrase.

Anyway. Training plays a role in this, because the difference in control between Shouto and Touya with fire is barely noticable. They both copy a move (left hand swing and then a full-fire short range blast) from each other. Well, maybe not from each-other.

Let's look into the Hosu fight. Endeavor uses a blue-fire jet-flame attack (can't remember if it has a name, only that it's INTENSE and I would NOT like to be on the receiving end of it), but later with the LoV's monsters (they're called 'noumu'), he uses a very familiar move.

Left hand swing. Full-fire short range blast.

Only this time, there's no eye flinch or subtle shoulder tense. Only cold, hard, fury.

What am I implying?

Well, I can't legally talk about THAT, now can I?

Thank you very much for reading this! I picked up this style from a few meta posts in other fandoms; the writer has access to information the reader does NOT, in this case the lack of canon information regarding Dabi’s background and/or schooling. I added headcanons:

-Natuso being quirkless

-Touya going to UA

-Touya being a badass (that’s not really a headcanon, though. he’s related to fuyumi. of course he’s gonna be a badass)

#dabi is a todoroki #786653328 #thats my tag for fics i WROTE #ya YEET #wooooo #bnha #todoroki touya #dabi is touya todoroki #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #speculative fiction #character study #todoroki family #all handwaving! none of this is canon!#im a shit writer but IDC #thanks for coming to my ted talk

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