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mamayanasblog · 2 years

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Riversong! Put a smile on your dial.

Riversong:

Put a smile on your dial!

You can’t always customize your day or your situation and mood. From the office, important dates or even while relaxing there are always interruptions, inner or outer influences that affects us all. The sun rises, the rain falls, the sky clouds over and so does your disposition. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes you just wish for a little consistency in your life. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could be contented with one thing that could reflect your temperament and attitude? Something that would make you beam something to put a smile back on your dial? A Motive 3C smart watch from Riversong allows you the freedom to choose the watch face that suits any and all vibes.

You may think that only a few preset watch faces are just not enough but in conjunction with apps from your phone, you can choose from a multitude of faces that can match your mood. Consider your day, your morning, the weather or even the news then choose a watch face to suit your mood.

Creativity is now as simple as a touch on the wrist. There are multiple customized dial facades to choose from. From a down to earth planet, to the orbiting moon, quirky, practical, and plain watch faces that echo your thoughts. How you feel at any time and the aura you project can simply be complimented by the look of your dial.

Of course all of the real world information is still displayed and easy to read. Always keep time and date at the end of your wrist. Worried about counting calories during the lunch break, simply set a façade and tune it into your fitness apps. Keep an eye on your heartbeat, stress levels and blood pressure while exercising or just moving around at home and the office. Now you can track every move, every step you’ve taken.

With a large 1.28” TFT-LCD screen you’ll be able to stay focused on the time and date, your calories, your weight. Easy access touch screen convenience and 240*280 high definition resolution that will enhance your touch and visual experience. Daytime or nighttime your dial, like your smile will light up automatically as you raise your wrist. Large battery capacity and ease of charge means that your watch is always ready to go when you need it most.

A stylish watch for both guys and girls with elegant and comfortable wrist bands that will suit the most lady-like or macho of forearms. There are a variety of dials and DIY dial designs. You can also choose your favorite pictures, such as your family, baby, pet to customize the dial to show your unique personality. Ensuring you are close to loved ones through every minute of the day. Specifically designed, customized software to make you appreciate and value your individuality and uniqueness.

Guys whether you’re a craftsman, tradesman or a blue collar worker there are so many faces to choose from. Select a motif for your Motive series watch, ranging from technology, sports or even cartoon themes that will replicate your seriousness or imitate your playfulness. If you’re at the gym working out simply pair with fitness apps and a sporty watch face to keep track of your performance. An eccentric watch face can brighten even the most strenuous training session.

The Riversong Motive 3C watch is compatible with i-phones and androids which allow for stress free pairing to all messenger and other SNS apps. Messages can be redirected and read directly from your dial and all at the touch of a screen. Be reminded of special occasions, important business meetings and those romantic dates by being prepared and connected. Although you can’t take your phone everywhere your watch is always with you and ready to keep you in contact. And a bigger dial means it’s easy to see and read, so put a smile on your dial.

A Few Words from Riversong:

Customizable Wallpaper

Customizable wallpaper and time display feature makes our smart watch stands out from so many bracelets, which can be a better way for you to show your personality.

Some Customer Feedback:

Phnxstorm

5.0 out of 5 stars Surprised

Reviewed in the United States on April 26, 2019

Verified Purchase

As you know I am big fan of my watch. Yes I would buy this watch or this brand of watch. Now the surprise I got while at work while mixing paint for a customer. The handle on the can broke while i was moving the can to put the lid on. Needless to say my watch got a paint bath. Well it was 30 minutes before I could clean my watch. I thought it was ruined. I washed the paint off and found to my surprise my watch was still working and is still working without any hiccups. So to Riversong kudos on a well-made watch.

#riversong smartwatches

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the-walls · 3 years

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𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 🌀

#wallpaper #lockscreen #background #aesthetic #vibes #wholesome #quotes #thoughts #goodvibes #motivation #self care #self improvement #aura #energy #heart #kindness #beautiful words

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caworx · 2 years

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stop shrinking to fit places you’ve outgrown. (1080x1080)

#arabiquestudio #wallpaper #motivating quotes #wellness #lifestyle #aura #aesthetic #typography #visual art #graphic design #mental heath awareness #design #minimal #typeface

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papijean · 2 years

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cherries chapter two

previous - series masterlist - next

chapter summary: connie was pleased to notice you were in the same class as him and that you agreed to study with him.

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 4.1k

a/n: heheh cackling with myself for what’s to come heheh

Whether or not either of you realized it before, you and Connie shared a class together.

Monday mornings were always a slow start. There was no motivation, tiredness creepy through you, and especially this boring lecture to start your week off. However, as Connie sat beside you bright and early, with a cheerful smile on his face, you were caught off guard. Truthfully, it was a surprise he even recognized you.

The rest of the party was uneventful. Armin was busy mingling with his guests all night and Sasha quickly got far too drunk to stay all night. It was only a couple of hours at most you were there before having to take your friend home. Not to mention you hadn't seen either Connie or Jean after their first appearance.

cWhich was why it was more of a shock than anything when he sat down in the desk next to yours. The class was just an elective for you, nothing important which often led to either skipping or not paying attention while you were in the room. However, with a midterm coming up, you felt obligated to show up to class - and apparently so did Connie.

"Oh, um, Connie, right?" You tried to hide your startled appearance - and the sudden gaze of eyes on you. Connie caught the attention of everyone in the room, it was clear now.

"It is," Connie smiled. It looked genuine, though it was hard to tell with the stories behind it. Connie had short hair, just barely long enough to see curls peeking through. Captivating grey eyes nearly made you stutter over nothing as they locked in with yours. "I never got your name, Sasha's Friend who she's never mentioned."

You introduced yourself to him, properly this time without the chance of getting whisked away by one of your friends. You'd never thought you'd end up alone with him after your initial meeting. Without the alcohol lingering on his breath and the worrisome aura Armin gave off with his presence, he seemed much brighter.

You still didn't understand why Armin held such a grudge against the shorter-haired man. Maybe they didn't like the same kind of things or held different standards when it came to who they befriended, but it wasn't like Armin to be so hostile towards someone. Maybe it was how much he had to drink that night, or maybe - you hoped it wasn't this case - Connie had done something in the past to enrich such anger from him.

Whatever it was, every time you met Connie's big grey eyes, you were only reminded of the frustration running through Armin's beautiful blue ones.

"I didn't know you were in this class," you pointed out. It must have been some chance to actually find out you were in the same class together after meeting for the first time this past weekend. Then again, maybe you had subconsciously seen him in the lecture hall before and never put the name to the face.

"To be honest, I'm usually not," Connie joked. He laughed to himself for a moment before pulling out his laptop. No stickers, case, or anything was personalized on the device - even the wallpaper seemed pretty generic. By the way your friends talked about him, you didn't expect his laptop to be so bland. Then again, you didn't know what to expect from him aside from bad news.

You were hesitant to keep conversation with the man after knowing what your friends were like around him. According to Armin, the one person's judgment you trusted most, he wasn't someone you should get involved with.

Connie certainly gave the appearance of someone who caused trouble. Between the piercings lining his ears, the thin silver chain dangling from his neck, and the edgy clothes he wore, he didn't look like the kind of person you'd normally befriend. Then again, appearances were most often deceiving.

"But we have a midterm next week so I figured I'd see what he has to say about it," Connie had the same thought process as you. The professor would hopefully make this class worth your time. However, you figured if the class went to shit, maybe Connie could entertain your time instead.

"To be honest," you mimicked his words, leaning in closer as you lowered your voice. "I'm not usually here either. This class is pretty slow, and the prof-"

"Talks so slow," Connie finished your sentence. This time you couldn't help but laugh yourself, the taller man joining in as well. You two really did think the same. "Would you perhaps be interested in studying with me this weekend? Maybe our combined forces can figure out what the hell is going on in this class."

You could hear Armin's voice in the back of your mind. He'd tell you to avoid any chance of being alone with Connie, especially if he's the one initiating it. Even Sasha would be hesitant for you to be hanging around her friend. However, you couldn't rid the smile on your lips while sitting next to him.

He seemed so easy to talk to. Only for five minutes had you been sitting next to him and it felt as if you could spill your life's story and he would listen to every second of it. Connie leaned towards you with every word from your lips. He made you want to tell him things without even realizing it.

"How does Sunday sound?"

Studying with Connie didn't go nearly as bad as you expected it to be. He seemed to be genuinely interested in the class and tried hard to understand the concepts he missed out on the days he was missing. It was easy to understand how he felt about the class - even with an interesting course load having a terrible professor made it nearly impossible to concentrate.

It was hard paying attention when the professor said a word a minute, you couldn't blame him for not wanting to go.

You decided to meet at the library at the university. It was the easiest place you where you both knew about. Connie, surprisingly, showed up earlier than you with two coffees in hand and his laptop ready to go. Right away he was ready to jump into the studies, barely giving the time for chit chat which only made you feel like he regretted asking you to study with him.

When he first asked you to study, you assumed he wanted to hang out and get to know you more than he cared about going through the textbooks and notes. For some reason, seeing him want to study right away left a pang in your chest.

Nonetheless, when the two of you were tired of reading the same chapters over and over again, he became more chatty. Once Connie started talking, it seemed like he was unable to stop which could have been the entire reason he didn't speak with you much early.

"There's no way Sasha did that," Connie laughed. He had a hearty laugh, deep from his chest and genuine. The kind of laugh that made your palms sweat and the urge to join along. Connie was kind, he was nothing like you imagined by the way Sasha stuck her nose up to them at the thought of the two of you hanging out together.

It made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he was being his real self around you. No facade, no ulterior purpose, just someone who wants to befriend you. Sasha was your closest friend just as she was to Connie and Jean, it made sense for him to want to befriend you as well. This was the real Connie, a friend to study with and to hang out with - nothing more.

You wanted to befriend him. Connie was so entertaining and thoughtful, you were annoyed at Sasha for not introducing him to you sooner.

After spending the whole day with him, you couldn't think of a single reason for her to detest the idea of you being friends. He gave you no need to worry about anything that might be scuttling in the back of his mind.

"I can't believe she never told you about it," you joined his laughter. The textbooks and laptops before you were long forgotten, only caring about the conversation you held. Your mutual connection with Sasha made it easier to bond than you could have imagined. Connie allowed a conversation to flow so easily it was unbelievable.

He ran a hand over his short hair as his laughter finally tamed. The action showed off the muscles in his arms, drawing your eyes directly to them. Long, boney fingers rested at the back of his neck before dropping back to his side.

"I'm going to have to tell Jean about this, he's going to find it hilarious."

It took you a moment to remember who Jean was - the tall man at the party. At a glance, it seemed like he was the kinder of the two but after spending the day with Connie, it was hard to believe that anymore.

He glanced down at his laptop, eyes widening at the time. It was hard to believe how quickly your hours passed by with him. Truthfully, it made you more nervous than the test you were studying for.

"Shit, I'm supposed to be back home soon," Connie cursed. He didn't explain why he suddenly needed to be back and you didn't feel like you were close enough to ask. Whatever the reason, he didn't seem too rushed. "Did you need a ride? Or did you drive here?"

"Oh - no I just took transit. I can take it back, you're in a rush," you assured him. Connie quickly packed up his items into his bag, just as you were. There was no point in sticking around when he wasn't there to pass the time with you. "Thank you, though."

"No, it's okay, I have time to drive you home," Connie told you. He patiently waited for you, a small smile toying at the corner of his lips as he watched you bend over to grab your bag. "Besides, it's just Jean waiting for me, I promised him I'd cook today. Nothing to worry about."

"Thanks," you smiled at him. It was refreshing being able to drive in a car rather than in transit. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself about how his need to get home was simply to cook a meal for his roommate. "You and Jean seem very close."

"We've been friends over ten years now," Connie explained to you. He seemed to really care about his close friends. "We met in middle school and later met Sasha in high school. The three of us were inseparable back then. It was lucky for all of us to want to come to the same university, I guess. How did you and Sasha meet?"

"We were in some of the same classes together in our first year of university," it was a pretty boring story, but you were thankful for meeting Sasha. She was a great friend to you - which was why you couldn't understand why she refused to let you and Connie meet before this previous weekend. "Now we're roommates."

"Sasha never lets us come over, I guess you're why," Connie scoffed to himself. You felt your face flush at the comment, a frown quickly overtaking your features. "Sorry - I didn't mean it to offend you. I mean she doesn't let us meet any of her friends. Sasha could never be embarrassed by someone as beautiful as you."

"Oh-" You weren't sure how to respond to his comment. It was true you struggled to meet many of Sasha's friends. Armin, Eren, and a few others were the only exceptions. Her spheres of social life were always kept separate. It seemed more likely it was just Connie and Jean she forced you to avoid. The rumors of the school were nothing but critical of the duo.

Connie was known for taking girls' virginity - innocent girls like you who fell so easily for his trap. Jean was much the same - though he didn't particularly care if someone was a virgin or not. He was a heartbreaker, they both were. Nothing good would come out of playing their little games.

Luckily, you weren't interested in Connie in that way.

Nonetheless, you couldn't help yourself but wander back to the thought of Armin. He hated Connie. Armin refused to put his hands on you in anything but an innocent way because he knew you were yet to sleep with someone. Maybe, Connie would solve your issues, maybe he's the reason you could be closer to Armin.

No. You couldn't start thinking like that.

You didn't want to admit to yourself that maybe Armin simply just wasn't interested in you in the first place. He was content being your friend and if that's the way it had to be, then you couldn't do anything about it.

The two of you walked side by side towards his vehicle, passing by students who you didn't know the name of, and yet they stared at you as if they'd known you for years. It was Connie who was getting the looks, you were nothing but an obstacle for their view. He was good-looking, tall, strong build, intriguing grey eyes that could make anyone swoon. He deserved the stares his way and it only made you want to shy away.

What if people start thinking the wrong idea? What if they think I'm nothing but a slut trying to dangle off his arm? What if someone gets jealous at the sight of us together and starts harassing me?

The glances you received didn't get noticed by Connie, or more likely he was so used to them it wasn't an issue to blur them out. He bumped your arm with his, catching your attention as you actively avoided the ongoing looking.

You were grateful for the small action, pulling you out of your thoughts whether he realized something was wrong or not.

"We should study again together for the final," Connie offered. He pulled the keys out of his pocket as you approached what you assumed to be his car. It wasn't anything fancy but it was far nicer than what you could currently afford. "It's not very often I can say I had fun studying."

"I did too," you agreed. Your fingers balled into a fist just for a second to rid the final moments of anxiety from your body. You couldn't think about what other people decided to think when you knew the truth. "Nice car."

"It's my dad's hand-me-down, guess I can't complain too much about it," Connie chuckled. It was clean on the inside. A duffle bag was in the back seat filled with god knows what and some reusable shopping bags on the opposite side. There wasn't any trash aside from the half-empty water bottle in the cupholder and it smelled like the air fresheners inside.

The glove box before you was calling to be peaked inside but you were sure you weren't going to like whatever it was. Condoms, trash, polaroids, you didn't want to know what was hidden behind the plastic.

The car started without any issues and since it was the weekend, he had no trouble pulling out of campus. Your apartment wasn't far away and yet you craved for him to take the long way there just to be able to spend a few more minutes with him.

"You're a lot different than I expected," you blurted out. As true as it was, you didn't intend for the words to be said out loud. Connie didn't look surprised, though. "You seemed very stuck up when I met you at Armin and Eren's party. No that I'm trying to be rude, or anything, it's just -"

Connie's laugh cut you off. "You don't need to apologize, I get that a lot," he waved your explanation off, "The rumours about me are a lot crueler than the truth."

You were so eager to believe those words coming from him but it was impossible to deny the way your friends acted. Sasha kept you away from her lifelong friends for years because of them, even Armin had his own distaste when someone mentioned Connie. There had to be some truth in the sea of cruelty.

It wasn't shocking he heard what people spoke about him. However, he made no attempt to hide who he was or what he had done to the full extent. Connie didn't seem ashamed of his life.

The car ride was silent for the rest of the way, his music playing low on the speaker. It was less than ten minutes and that desire to have a longer time with him diminished the moment he brought up those rumours. Connie knew well about what the school thought of him and he wore it with pride. His actions all day ran a different path than everything you thought about him and yet you couldn't help but want to trust your gut.

The familiar street of your home came to view. Connie didn't need you to tell him the way even after stating that he'd only been to your home a very few amounts of times - times you couldn't even recall. Sasha must have invited them over when you were out of town.

Shamefully, you couldn't help but wonder if Sasha had slept with either of them - before her relationship with Niccolo started.

If she had been friends with them for so long, she must have had the through at least once. Connie - and from what you could remember, Jean - were both very attractive men. You couldn't blame her for wanting to if she had.

"Thank you for the ride home, and giving me a hand studying."

"I should be the one thanking you, there's no way I would have studied for that long on my own," Connie put his car into park after pulling up to the curb. Sasha was probably home unless Niccolo or one of her friends dragged her out of the apartment. You didn't tell her you were going to study with Connie, just that you were going to go to the library.

He watched as you undid your seatbelt, and even more intently as you hesitated to get out of the car. You needed him to leave before Sasha realized you were with him the whole day - you were bound to get an earful after she told you to stay away from him. However, you felt like staying longer. You wanted to make Jean wait back at their apartment and Sasha to continue wondering where the hell you were.

Mostly, you wanted to spend even more time with this mysterious friend of your roommate.

Connie rested his arm on the console between you, leaning closer to you with a smug smile on his face. He was close enough for you to smell the hours-old cologne lingering on his skin and the gleam in those grey eyes of his.

"Did you need anything else?" He toyed.

"N-no," you shook your head. Too close, he was too close for you not to get flustered. You could see every freckle, mole, and flaw on his skin. Acne scars from his teen years were suddenly on view and the chapstick on his lips shone. "Sorry, I should let you get going."

"It's okay," Connie leaned closer, his voice lowering in volume and octave. Close, he was so close it made your chest burn and your lips ache. "I don't mind making Jean wait a few more minutes."

His lips were soft. The taste of his lip chap was so prominent you could barely feel him against you. Connie kissed you slowly - and with such gentleness, it barely felt as if he was there at all. It was as if he was waiting for you to pull back or to kiss him harder, letting you decide the fate of your newfound friendship.

You wanted more, wanted to feel the harsh pressure of his lips against yours until they were bruised and swollen. You wanted the taste of him to be engraved on your tongue for all eternity from just this one kiss. Connie was addictive, and you'd gotten only a hint of him.

The palm of his hand was large enough to make it feel like you were suffocating from a gentle touch. It was hot against your skin, encasing your jaw, grazing your neck and cheek. It was a gentle pull towards him, edging you for more. Connie's kiss deepened, pressing firmly against you without hesitance this time.

Your chest was tight with the need for air, but the desire of this kiss forced you to trudge through. His tongue dragged against your bottom lip, waiting not-so-patiently for you to grant him what he wanted. How were you one to say no to such a pleasure? He hummed with content, pushing past your lips and invading your mouth in such a delightful way.

The console between you was quickly becoming annoying, digging into your side and preventing you from getting any closer. It seemed Connie was having the same thoughts. Without breaking your kiss, his hands grabbed at your waist, encouraging you to shuffle from your seat to his lap.

With his help - and a couple of awkward moments of shuffling that only enticed a beautiful laugh of his to emerge, you straddled his lap. The driver's seat was pushed back, giving the two of you more room and less fear of leaning against the horn.

He quickly became more rushed. Lips becoming sloppy, full of desire against yours. His hands run against your thighs and up your torso, burning through your confidence in an instant. You were a virgin, full of inexperience in so many ways it made your heart race. It wasn't as if this was the first time you'd been in a man's lap, but it was who you were perched on who made you nervous. The king of cherry poppers, Connie Springer.

As if sensing your worries, he slowed. His kiss was still desperate, but no longer filled with such rush. Your fingers toyed with the short hairs at the back of his neck, sending a chill down his spine and through his body. His fingers pressed tightly into your hips before sneaking the tips of his fingers beneath your shirt.

Connie bit into your bottom lip, tugging it as he pulled away to look at your flushed face. He watched your reactions as his hands went higher, higher until reaching the bottom of your breasts. His cheeks were tinted pink, whether it be from nerves or excitement - though you assumed the latter.

"You're very beautiful," Connie complimented. His words took you by surprise, though they made you far more flustered than any of his previous actions. "I should let you go before you start to get the wrong idea that I asked you to study so I could sleep with you. That wasn't my intention for today."

"Right," you nodded. Although hearing his words of not intending to sleep with you today calmed your racing heart, you couldn't help but feel disappointed for a moment. Were you not worthy of Connie wanting to take your virginity? No, if that were the case he wouldn't have kissed you at all.

Before you could try and shuffle yourself out of the car, his palms were on your cheeks once more. He was quick to pull you in for another kiss, smiling against your lips as he dragged it out until your lungs screamed for him to stop. You weren't sure if he realized it, but that last kiss made your heart flutter more than the rest.

A boyish grin covered him as he watched you walk towards the front door of your building. A small wave was directed your way as you entered your building - not driving away until he was sure you were able to get in.

An excited smile turned into your whole nervous system getting riled up. Truthfully, you didn't expect your day to end on such a note, though you couldn't find a complaint if you searched the globe. Connie's kiss reminded you how you craved such a simple touch. You dragged your tongue over your swollen lips, tasting his chapstick all over again.

"Tastes like cherries."

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#cherries #connie springer x reader #connie springer smut #conny springer x reader #conny springer smut #connie x reader #connie smut #conny x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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ivyveil · 3 years

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Mary Me

the one where he proposes aka the 1940s installment of The Soulmates Verse, Sign of the Times

A/N: Bringing this back from AO3, hope you guys enjoy! I wanted to create a series of ‘soulmate’ Harry/Y/N where they try to make it work each decade, and fate hasn’t seemed to get the memo. Here’s my Tumblr masterlist, and my AO3 hub! Thank you for reading, hope everyone is staying safe.

The room was swathed in a deep maroon. Curtains draped against the windows, curves forming around the sills and down the gold columns on either side.

It was a nice restaurant, with expensive-looking candles and fresh-cut flowers on each table. The bar wasn’t fully stocked enough for the crowds milling about, having yet to find its balance of supply since Prohibition ended a few months ago. It was a rough adjustment for everyone, with the prices taking a jolt and the people having to remember what a drink tasted like without poison.

While the idea of a fancy restaurant would allude towards privacy, this dinner was anything but. Granted, it was a personal room but the numerous crowds of friends and family around the table led the mood towards something more lively than dim lights and slow jazz. Tables were pushed against the walls, only a handful actually sitting down, and the band had taken its land near one of the corners, setting up an orchestra to dance for.

It was a gathering, a party.

Nerves were knotted against the floor of your stomach, and despite having a glass of champagne in one hand and hooch in the other, nothing was easing the clench. Perhaps it was residue from hardships that had only ended a few years ago, or it could be the more instinctive nerves - holding alcohol without needing to look over one’s shoulder was still new for everyone. Even now, you saw Nick stealing a glance at the waitstaff, as if sussing out which was the cop.

“‘lright, love?” Harry spoke low, his hand briefly resting against your back as he came around from behind. It wasn’t far into the party, enough time having passed for his entrance to be marked by everyone already feeling tipsy, but not raising an eyebrow at his late arrival.

His suit was understated, a black with minimal design. His mother would tailor all of his suits, resulting in most of them being the absolute extravagant pieces for all the parties he threw - the magnificent ones where the moon grew twice to try and be an inch closer, where the ocean glittered around his villa and you could strain to taste the rose-colored smoke in the air. They were alive with people and spirits and spirited people, and the types who would disappear in the morning and you’d question their existence, but never their stories.

His suit was fine, but his hair was a proper mess. Harry had insisted to you a few days ago, a dopey smile on his face as he leaned against your shoulder, that it was a rebel of the highest degree. You knew the words were bullshit, but the way he spoke sounded like a home you’d never known, so you listened.

“You need a haircut.” The words came out before you could properly hold them back, the liquor having moistened your throat and disconnected your mind from your choices.

Harry broke into a smile, this time shaking his head slightly so the curls danced, delighted, in the dim glow.

“You like it?” he asked, and you made a sour face in response. He took one of the drinks from your hands, making the low noise in the back of his throat to signal disapproval. Where Harry managed to gather his rebellious streak of societal indignity, but still manage to believe that women should be held up on pedestals and protected, eluded you.

But you were still dizzy with him. Drunk in the way he said your name, caught up in his eyelashes, a fatal swoop in your chest that felt like laying in bed after a long day’s work. You were simply infatuated, but insistent on the fact that the feelings drifted no farther. Infatuation could be controlled, but love.

Love would be an entire beast that you couldn’t battle. It would include leaving him, leaving him because Mary was cemented down in his roots. Not that you’d agree with it, but she was, and it was a reality you lived with.

They’d been sweet on each other for the first couple months. You hadn’t kept up on the details too much. But time had worn their feelings thin, wafering holes poking through in the way they loved. Which was a wrong, horrendous source of comfort to you - but it terrified you, as well. Harry was the embodiment of love, with how he danced and moved and swayed into the moonlight, and yet there was something off in the way he loved Mary. It felt like a commitment for the sake of, rather than motivated each day, and the failures of love haunted you.

“Where’s Mary?”

Harry shrugged, taking a swig of the drink and looking against the crowd. The two of you were propped against the wall, as if only existing in the plane of the party by the physical constraints. If you had your way, your souls would fall through the wallpaper and into something more exquisite.

Harry had a way of making the dullest parties exciting, and you wondered what he had up his sleeve. But his face showed no signs of telling, a crease along his forehead denting in his sudden gloom and moodiness.

“Dunno. Was gonna find her, thought she’d be with yeh.”

That was his mistake, his constant mistake, of seeking his love around you. It was there but not where he expected - it was manifestation he sought, the woman he called ‘darling’ on late nights out, not the friend he called ‘love’ because it meant nothing.

Words didn’t quite fit your mood, so you merely shrugged and shifted your weight between legs. The music had picked up but your feet had been worn to the bone by running all over town the previous night, so you prayed Harry’s stance next to you would dissuade any men from approaching.

“Think I’ve got to end things with Mary, yeah?”

It was a loaded question, especially with Harry’s eyes staring into yours. It was a rush, how the lights cascaded down the side of his face and his hair was a horrible mess, an unsightly vision for anyone in town, but he was utterly angelic nonetheless. It was a weird sensation against your throat, seeing him tragic and sad, and not knowing how to respond that wouldn’t be an attempt to benefit your own tragic and sad.

“Why’d you say that?” you asked.

“It was never right, was it?” He spoke thoughtfully, scanning your face for agreement, and apparently finding some, for he continued. “It’s reached an end.”

Silence befell the two of you, yet it was heavy with the implication of further words against his tongue. They weren’t spoken yet, but you felt with one more moment-

“I’ve got somethin’ I need to say to yeh. After it’s done.” His eyes had swept to his feet, the dirty tips of his shoes from the soil around the town.

You both were misplaced, you felt it in your soul and the way you two would wrap in each other’s auras, clasped at the hands and promising you’d escape this hellhole of a town one day. And it only was proven in how Harry’s eyebrows sloped together, a defiance in the order of things prominent in his pursed lips.

“Okay,” you drawled it out, but Harry didn’t seem to find anything humorous. With a tilted neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing and drawing your eyes in like flies to honey, he downed the rest of your champagne.

“See her over there,” he mumbled, slipping back into the throngs of the party. He was still incredibly visible, a mess of hair and clunky shoes passing through the sea towards his girl. She was sat, pretty and prim, but you could tell she felt only half. Mary had an odd sense about her, a jealousy towards you for sure, but a feeling around her sphere of influence that she wasn’t full unless Harry was there. Half-dazed without, only focused on him with, there was seemingly no win.

The pair of them slipped out into the night together, with your eyes trailing behind. Mary was oblivious as to how the conversation would go, and for that, you were conflicted.

It must have made you an awful person, how the nerves crashed against giddiness. The drinks may have kicked into effect, because before you knew it - you were swaying and dancing against the moonlight, around the tables with the rest of the folk, pained heels clipping against the floor as they did every night, dancing out the mundanity of a town life crippled with the distrust of life. It would be a conversation for the rest of the night, how Harry would retell the dramatic discussion with fire in his eyes and a sadness plunging into his heart, because he always felt guilty and you’d never understand why.

You glided out of the mass, panting with how the dance took your breath away, feeling the redness built up in your cheeks and the sweat on your brow. You passed Nick with his wide eyes and bursts of laughter, and noticed how he winked at you when you left the room. The restroom was calling.

The main hall of the restaurant was bustling with normal activity, waiters dashing around with massively weighed trays balanced against their shoulders. There was a coat rack near the entrance, huddled with pounds of jackets, hats, and scarves, and a lone Harry Styles squatted next to it.

He looked up when you passed by, the hollows of his cheeks straining purple in the grotesque lights.

You paused next to him, almost dashing around to head and pee, but his expression caught you off guard..

He looked in another world. His eyes, blue with morose, opened to look at nothing. Eyelids heavy with almost boredom, but his posture offered enough to let you know his demons were free once more.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, and once he shifted to the side, you took the cue to sit beside him, crossing your legs and ignoring your body’s protests.

His mouth open and closed, his fingers spread wide in front of him to grasp onto his senses, but they were nowhere to be found. His lips were glistening, perhaps from him licking them continuously, but a small streak against his cheek made you think otherwise.

“Was she upset?” It was all you had to offer, but it seemed like you hadn’t struck gold. He continued to mime whatever words that were escaping him, but your attention had been caught elsewhere.

In one of his hands, you had thought he was holding onto his pack of cigarettes. At second glance, however, it wasn’t. It was terrible.

The fact it wasn’t, and the fact his mouth was gaping, and the fact his eyes were glassed and that his shoulders were quivering – it all accumulated into a story you never expected.

A blue velvet box, iconic in its time, holding only one thing inside.

“Harry, is that-”

“She’s pregnant,” he managed to choke out, not glancing at the box, his voice cracking in its sudden revival, “Mary’s pregnant.”

“She’s what.”

“Couldn’t break it off, would she gonna do? Can’t go back to live with her parents, the town’s too far off-” he continued to speak, words that made sense when combined but gibberish with how he stringed them. It was a rant that had been built into his lungs and found a small stream to blow off, with only your collection of stammers breaking through the dam.

“Did you–’re you–is that–”

“Proposed. Bit rushed, didn’t get on a knee, but it did its duty. I did mine, anyhow,” he said, a desperate gloominess clutched your dress as he presented the box. His fingers fumbled against the velvet, nubbed fingertips and signs of bitten skin surrounding the nails.

Opened, the box was empty. The contents were stuck on Mary’s finger, presumably back at the party showing off the latest development in her life.

“Congratulations.” It didn’t feel as if it were you who said anything, the voice too breathless and at ease to have come out of your body, with its thundering heartbeat and screaming mind.

“Gotta get a job, gotta call up Howard ‘n see what’s not ‘n the papers. There’s gotta be something, yeah? Need a crib, now, too.” It was clear his mind was far off, into what he needed to do, in the adult-life that neither of you had never quite fit into, but was now thrust upon him.

All your mind was on, was the trip you two had been planning for the past year. Harry had promised train tickets across the country, down towards where the sun always shone and the waters were constantly warm around your ankles, even in the dead of night. Maps and notebooks had cluttered your office for months, with strings attaching your future endeavors in a maze of findings. It had started out as an escape from the Depression, the one that had seemingly ended but never quite had, the one where your throats were aching for more than speakeasies could offer.

It wasn’t going to happen. It simply couldn’t. You’d never see how he would look, dozed off across from you on your hundredth train, his backpack used as a makeshift pillow. You’d never feel the brutal mountain winds with him. You’d never be able to wander around the greatest cities of America, you’d never explore all the lives you could’ve lived, in towns you never knew existed.

The realization brought you to another moment, another question, one out of place with Harry’s rant but in tune with how your blood ran cold.

“Where’d you get the ring?”

That snapped Harry’s attention, and his bloodshot eyes managed to find you in their blur. Perhaps it was an expectation, for you to ask, but the surprise against his lips, how they parted with a slacked jaw and a sharp inhale, said otherwise.

“Wha’?”

You repeated yourself, and he staggered into a motionless statue of himself, a final shake of his shoulders until he ceased to move. Just stared at you, haunted.

I’ve got somethin’ I need to say to yeh.

“Harry.” To your surprise, it almost sounded admonished.

His eyes were pleading for you not to speak. For speaking would bring it into existence, and he could never juggle it all. Neither of you could, it was a mortal flaw that ran deep into your flesh, and now against your heart, where it felt it would stay forever.

You felt compelled to speak anyway, motivated slightly by the intoxication and the exhaustion and the bitterness in which life was taking from you continuously, without ceasing, and this was the one chance to take something back for yourself. To give a bit of yourself back towards him, to offer a glimpse of the life that could’ve been.

“I would’ve said yes.”

It was quiet.

You thought Harry was being quiet, as well, but his hands reached up to wrack against his scalp, collecting at his hair and his head went between his knees.

He gave a nod, a gentle movement from your perspective, and a choked cry. It was stifled by the sudden uproar within the restaurant – perhaps another fight, perhaps another birthday, you didn’t care – and your arm went around his shoulder, bringing him into your chest.

You cried. Tucked away, hidden behind swaths of clothing that had belonged to the rich and now hung off the poor, surrounded by lights and glamour that suddenly became cheap and instrumental, compared to what you two had deserved. He felt warm against your skin, his forehead now pressed against your shoulder as his body pushed forward in distress. Time stretched to allow for you both to have one moment, a solace against the blazing sun of normalcy. It was one minute until Anne would burst through the party doors, searching for her son, perhaps having caught a glimpse of the truth and knowing where his heart truly was.

But for that minute, his heart was in your chest, the beats matching up, the pair united for a last breath.

The box slipped from his fingers and landed on the floor, half-open and completely empty.

It was a reality you’d have to live with.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles blurb

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fuckwallpapers · 2 years

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alittlefrenchtree · 3 years

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Helloooo! Guess who’s back? The Dune notes! yaayyyyy!

ok, chill.

SPOILERS BOOK 2 : MUAD’DIB (Chapters 1-4)

Chapter 1:

I’m still struggling to get all the politic aspects and understand who’s on which side but that’s not what I’m focusing on right now. Once I’ve read the whole thing and had the whole picture, I’ll study all the details of this part of the story.

I loved this quote:

in the French translation, and thought it was beautiful to see Arrakis through Paul’s mind and eyes only to find out that the original quote said stuff like Cheddar-colored. Damn you, American people.

Chapter 2:

Bless you, Muad’Dib, your father and Princess Irulan. Might your words be heard loud and clear on every planet of every universe.

I love, love, love this chapter. This whole conversation between Hawat and the Fremen, the world building made through it and through the Fremen is really good. I don’t think the Fremen has a name because he’s exactly what he describing of his people. He’s only one to serve the whole clan.

Many interesting stuff about the conversation and the scene.

First, I wonder if the Mentat’s abilities can work on Fremens? This part seems to say that they can’t : "But still he did not know what this Fremen wanted and this rankled. Mentat training was supposed to give a man the power to see motives." Then here again : "He said worm. He was going to say something else. What? And what does he want of us?" It’s funny to see how Hawat’s powers seem to be limited after we saw part of what Jessica and Paul were able to do.

"You must make a water decision, friend."

is my favorite quote of the chapter. The whole chapter is built to make Hawat and the reader really understand how primordial the water is. Blood doesn’t exist in the Fremen’s mouth, life is all boiled down to water. They doesn’t seem to care about the Spice either. When he’s thinking in terms of currency, it’s not about the Spice or money, it’s still about water:

"You think we have the Byzantine corruption. You don’t know us. The Harkonnen have not water enough to buy the smallest child among us."

It’s one thing I find fascinating about sci-fi/fantasy writers who are creating whole new worlds in different universes. It’s not only about thinking about crazy new technologies or super powers or anything like this. It’s when they shift the whole logic because context is different and you see it in the smallest details, in ways of speaking, in turns of phrases. It’s where you find so much richness for a fandom. And get so easily immersed in the said new universe. Every time I'll get really thirsty in the future, I'll think about this chapter. And the water decision.

I’m guessing water is one of Dune’s real plot? Every stranger coming to Arrakis comes for the Spice, thinking it’s the goldmine of the planet, the way to conquer it and truly owns it. But it’s not and the Fremen are still the one owning the desert powers because they’re the only one seeing that Arrakis needs to be ruled by water and not by the Spice? I don’t know. But that’s where my guesses are heading at the moment.

About this,

I’m really curious about how they’re going to handle on screen the deep religious roots of a large part of the story. We all know how tricky it can be. Is it going to be tone down? Are we going to see people living in the desert worship a young white male? We’ll see.

Chapter 3:

It’s cute to see how, even if Paul sees himself as a some kind of monster or as something else and undefined, he’s still sensitive to what he sees with his powers of prescience. But it's difficult to get a grip on what he is exactly, and how he feels.

Ok-- wait a minute. Last time I’ve heard about Liet, it was supposed to be a local divinity and now… Liet is Kynes. Ok. If you say so. — does it mean there going to be some kind of competition between Liet and the Muad’Dib? About who has the biggest divine aura? About who’s supposed to lead?

Anyway, what Kynes says, it goes with what I mention earlier. About how all the different people who came on Arrakis have failed to make it a Paradise because they were all focused on the Spice instead of the water.

I love how convenient Paul and Jessica are as characters to introduce the descriptions of every room they step in. You can go wild on details and just be like that’s not me, the bene gesserit/mentat/whatever Paul is things are calling for all. the. details. I should do that. Only write characters who allow me to naturally waste 7 lines of words on the pattern of a wallpaper. Frank Herbert doesn’t do that, but I definitely would.

Again, it’ll be interesting to see how Tim is going to handle the Paul and Kynes’ confrontation/conversation. We’ve seen him touch on these kind of feelings and behavior with The King but Paul seems to require a lot more of everything. So I’m impatient to see.

And I’ve already leaked the quote but let's look at it once more time. Quickest way to prove Timmy is the right cast for Paul.

"In this moment he'd give his life for Paul, she thought. How do the Atreides accomplish this thing so quickly, so easily?"

Because that’s what Timmy does, right? Makes people ready to give their life for him.

Ok about Duncan… We’re back at it, right? He’s not dead until I’ve seen the body. And I didn’t see the body so, he’s not dead. I think? Paul’s abilities don’t seem to be 100% reliable (at least not yet) so even if he believes Duncan’s dead, he might not be. I certainly hope so. My boy Jason deserves more.

I still wonder how the power of prescience is working. Are the blind spots blind because Paul is living through them at the moment and can’t have knowledge of the immediate future OR would they have been blind even if he had looked in their direction long before?

I was also wondering if Paul was going to rely too much on the new dimension of his abilities and how long it was going to take until he realized he made that mistake. It was… quick but I guess it’s Paul, so it shouldn't be surprising.

And that fear litany ❤️ I could kill to write something as iconic and powerful. I could read it every day and still got the chills each time.

Chapter 4:

The Baron is like me, he needs to see bodies to believe in death. I’m delighted to have common ground with that creepy, disgusting asshole. Delighted. To be honest, I’m not that interested with the Baron himself. So far, he’s been nothing but clichés over clichés and really not the best ones. He’s the evil character so he's all the kinds of evil. Shocker. I usually like evil characters (very often more than I love "good" ones) but not him. Really not him. I hope it'll change but I’m afraid he’s too far gone and beyond redemption.

I’m very interested by what’s Hawat is going to become though. Will he turn his allegiance to the Baron? It kind of remind me of Teal’c in Stargate SG-1, but the other way around. The Baron opposes two things : Hawat’s loyalty and his admiration towards those who calculate without emotions. Based on what we know about Mentats and how the human part carried by the human body overpower the Mentat’s education and training, I’d say loyalty should win? And the part of me who is part Mentat agrees on the loyalty so, we’re all good. But it can be an interesting storyline, so I’m waiting for it.

What’s funny about this quote

is that he could very much be talking about Paul and still be right. Or the baby sister. Or Lady Jessica. All Harkonnens are waiting.

And what’s also funny is how The Baron thinks of Feyd-Rautha. In addition of being absolutely disgusting there are some similarities between what the Baron wants for Feyd and what Paul is meant to be/already is.

I wonder if Feyd is meant to become some kind of opposite alter-ego to Paul. A better, more subtle opposant than the Baron. Could be fun.

You know what? Every time I start this kind of post, I said to myself: I'm pretty sure I haven't that many notes this time, it should be quick. And then here we are again 🤷🏻‍♀️ See you next time! 🌖💛

#DUNE FIRST READ

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ermbabyel · 3 years

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hi hi hi !! may i please request a personality ship with bts and ateez !! i apologize in advance bc it's super long </3

I’m a 5’9.5 (basically 5’10) girl with dark skin, jet black hair (currently in long twists rn!!), and i’m on the curvier side (esp hips and my thighs) !! some of my favorite features are my plump lips (and i have a beauty mark on my bottom lip!), my long legs (that look so so so so good in skirts and dresses), my kempt and pretty fingernails, and my eyelashes !!! i’m a virgo (and surprisingly i get along with all the signs, i cant think of a sole zodiac sign i DONT mix well with), and i am an i/enfj (i got 51% extravert 49% intra the first time, then 50% for both the second time!! ) and i honestly agree—i’m an ambivert all the way! i often come off as cold/shy when meeting new people (one of my closest friends avoided me for a month before meeting me because i looked so intimidating LMAO), but once you get close to me i turn into a bundle of warmth and love: i will never stop texting them the <3 emoji every morning or buying my friends/s/o their favorite starbucks order when they need a little cheer-me-up.

i’m extremely passionate about the issues and people i care about and the goals and dreams i have. I’m creative, patient, an extremely good listener, caring, a social butterfly, and extremely hardworking. my friends always told me of my heart of gold and how perceptive i am of the people around me—noticing immediately when something is wrong and trying to make them feel better. I’m also very headstrong, detailed, and determined!! my friends also call me a nerd since i’ve had all a’s since kindergarten—i LOVE school and would describe myself as intelligent. i really like that i’m empathetic and motivational to those around me. it’s really easy for me to show my affection, adoration, and support for someone because i just want everyone to feel loved and safe :( i HATE seeing my loved ones sad, and when people usually have problems about anything (from family to just school), i’m the one they come to talk to because of my warm and openminded heart. I love sharing happiness with my friends in their goals and always hype them up no matter what, and it makes me so so so so happy seeing my loved ones content. im also really, really funny (my fave personality trait of mine tbh)!! I’m always cracking jokes and laughing (sometimes for no reason LMAOO). i would be in the library at like 7 am with my friends and struggle with stifling my laugh from jokes i told </3

I also love to go out and explore—whether trying out a new restaurant in the city or a newly opened amusement park or trying something new, like skydiving (or some other crazy but fun idea), trying recipes from around the world, or trying sledding for the first time! at the same time, i like really chill, mellow spending-time-alone-or-with-one-other-person activities like baking (my favorite treat to bake is red velvet cupcakes and cheddar bay biscuits) and dancing !! (i’ve been a dancer for more than 12 years!!). i can also speak more than 5 languages (including korean!) and i’m always saying random phrases (like thank you, i love u so much!, gtfo my face, that sucks ass) in a random language too LMFAOOO. i often think being a coffee/cafe lover is a personality trait (i love love love love love coffee) i also love accessories (earrings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, rings, etc) and would die of happiness when the day i can wear matching accessories with my s/o comes.

besides being my bestfriend who i can kiss and whatnot (hehe), my ideal type is a TALL (THEY DONT HAVE TO BE but 5’9+...i’m already tall but pls .5 of an inch taller would be enough) man who has eyes for me and only me !!! they may look cold/cool/mysterious/laid back at first glance (like “i dont like u lol” or “yeah haha 🙂" to any other girls but “hi baby what can i do for u today to please the loml” with me <3) but turn into the sweetest, warmest, cutest honey bun once i get to know them! (kinda like me)!! ALSO a man who can pull off all black outfits like those are my FAVORITE omg. he needs to have a BIG sense of humor (like i want to laugh every second i’m with him and laugh so hard that our stomachs start hurting and we beg each other to stop making jokes type of humor), fashionable (so i can learn fashion pls and wear coordinated outfits with him). i just want a boy who i could talk to and listen to for HOURS. like i would follow him into the bathroom as he showers and sit on the toilet and just listen to him talk about his day or vent to him, but also a boy that loves comfortable silence!! like just cuddling with each other or im studying, and hes working on a personal project so that just being with him makes me feel warm <3 i want a s/o who’s willing to go out and travel with me so i could take off guard pics of him and make him my wallpaper until he begs me to change it. im also not good at conflict so if conflict arises, id love a boy who knows how to talk me down and open up the room for conversation and make me feel safe and not as if im confronted or wrong, someone where we can just talk, resolve our problem, and make it up with a hug or night out!! this kinda leads to me wanting a relationship where we both help improve each other and our flaws (for example some of my flaws are callousness, taking things to heart sometimes, and not opening up easily, etc), so i’d really appreciate a relationship where my partner and i can help each other grow as people. i also love love love to cook, so i’d love an s/o that loves cooking with me and teaching each other how to cook each other’s cultural foods (i would love to teach my bf how to cook jollof rice and have a cookoff one day). I like ALL 5 of the love languages but my top 3 tied for 1st are quality time (THIS i want to spend everyday with my bf at chinatown or a new city exploring), words of affirmation (someone who reaffirms me of their love continuously, supportively, and in sweet ways), and acts of service (cooking my favorite food when i’m down, doing chores that i cant do when tired). men who are really expressive through touch are also ideal <3 i'd shy away from pda, but inside the house i’d be so happy yet so shy and flustered when they express their love through touch (like laying in my lap so i can play with their hair, holding my hand while watching tv, cuddling while talking about whatever). OR like the SLIGHTEST compliment or act of love (LIKE BACKHUGS OR HOLDING HANDS OR KISSING MY BEAUTY MARKS OR FOREHEAD KISSESJSJSJSJ). i love a man who's goal oriented, know what he wants, and makes the move first (kinda like taking control of the relationship!!) in all, i’d just love to be really appreciated and loved and also show the same love, support, warmth, closeness, and happiness to my bf <3 tysm <333

Hi hi~! You sound like such a sweetheart and so cute 😍💕 I’ll be super happy to ship you~!

Bts

Yoongi 🥳

I thought of Yoongi right away while reading your submission. You sound like such a sweet and supportive person that I think Yoongi would benefit from being in a relationship with you. You also remind me a lot of hobi when I was reading your description so I think you two would be best friends too~! Yoongi would be intrigued by your appearance, your intimidating aura around you would make him want to know you more. Surely there’s more than meets the eye...and Yoongi was correct. After getting to know you more. He soon learned how such a happy and sweet person you are. He would love the duality of you. It’s keeps him on his toes and yearns to learn more o about you~! Yoongi is a very passionate person as well, especially with his career and his members. And I’m sure he’d be passionate with you too, but he’ll show you in his own little ways. For example, writing songs about you for bts’ new comeback, getting you your favorite foods and drinks when you both have had a long day...he just loves you so much. I can see you, and sope being the three musketeers of bts, you three would do SO much together. Yoongi can be a silly and goofy person as we’ve seen, but only certain people can drawl that aspect out of him, so you and hobi would do SOO well at making him feel comfortable to let loose and have fun~! I can see you and hobi goofing around at the studio with each other and Yoongi would shake his head and act unimpressed, but we all see right through him and he truly adores you in that state~! Yoongi would also think it’s super adorable how flustered and shy you get when he gets touchy with you 👀💜. Just a very cute and wholesome relationship~! 🥰

Ateez

Seonghwa 🥳

You love when your partner takes control? You don’t need to tell Seonghwa twice! The boy would LOVE to take care of you and take the lead in the relationship. I think he’s also naturally dominate, so it would be no problem for him~! I can see you two going on cute coffee dates to local cafè shops close by. Seonghwa would absolutely adore how excited you are about coffee~! He would also think it’s hella attractive that you’re a dancer 👀. He LOOOOVES to watch you dance for himself maybe he would create a dance for only you two to perform. Your legs and lips are how absolute favorite physical traits of yours. Seonghwa would always have a hand on your leg or knee whenever you guys are sitting down. And if you’d let him, Seonghwa would kiss you all day long~! He just loves the feeling of your soft lips against his 💜. Seonghwa also adores how happy and cheerful you are. Especially on hard long days full of practices and performances, your cheerful and loving nature always makes him feel better and soooo much more relaxed. I can see both of you mothering the other members too~! He appreciates you taking care of him at times, but he’s also take opportunities to take care of you too~! Overall a very sweet and loving relationship~! ❤️‍🔥

Again, I am very sorry for the long ass wait 🥺. I hope you enjoy your ships love~! Stay happy and healthy~! 🤗💜

#kpop ships #ateez #seonghwa #Bts #Yoongi #submission

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rotworld · 3 years

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Seven Years of Bad Luck

a kind anon said:

oooh im not the anon who asked abt ur hxh ocs BUT i did just start watching the show recently and would be very interested if you did post more about them! i love ur character designs for them too hehe

and i appreciate that more than i can say! this is a teeny bit old (about as old as the art lol) but i tried to tidy it up a bit. this is some of that elusive “personal oc writing” that i generally don’t post lol but if you like my writing and you like hxh, you might like this.

in which illumi zoldyck gets cursed on a job and has no choice but to visit one of the worst-reviewed exorcists in the hunter association.

->featuring illumi/oc. contains mild gore.

It’s a messy killing, leaving Illumi knee-deep in carnage and disappointment. There was an error in the assignment details he received, perhaps clerical, perhaps wilfully negligent, and someone will be getting fined, fired or executed for this. The bottom line is that the target wasn’t supposed to be a nen-user. Deliberate concealment to avoid the extra fee, or genuine ignorance? It’s difficult to say. The job is done, of course, but it brings no satisfaction. He’s spent a shameful amount of time, effort and nen here, and the result is an insult to the Zoldyck name.

The foyer of his target’s home is nothing short of a bloodbath. Every inch of lace, every porcelain and gilded surface, every fine velvet sheet and curtain is stained with dripping crescents of arterial spray. Inexcusably sloppy. It drips steadily down the floral wallpaper and cools on Illumi’s skin. None of it is his, but the perfectionist in him is seething.

It’s always civilians who refuse to die with dignity. Not martial artists, not seasoned criminals, not even other assassins, because a professional knows when they’ve met their match. But civilians? They’ll writhe and scream and do all manner of ugly, desperate things when met with their own mortality. Illumi has been offered all manner of goods and services in exchange for human life; family heirlooms. Deeds to land. The names and addresses of business rivals. None the least bit enticing. Worst of all, they’ll keep getting back up no matter what’s done to them.

The legs have to go first, he’s learned. The quicker he can sever tendons, the better. Otherwise, things like this happen. He frowns at the red spatters staining his shoes. He clicks his tongue at the dead woman sprawled in the foyer. “This didn’t have to be such a mess,” he tells her. Predictably, she does not reply.

An employer’s motives are never relevant. Illumi usually refrains from curious musings, but jobs like this one sometimes conjure stray thoughts. The target had been Ecila Hargraves, a middle-aged woman, sickly, wealthy and paranoid. She had been an eccentric who kept thousands of mirrors, dozens in each room and lining each hallway, smooth panels of glass observing all the goings on in her estate. Most dismissed it as vanity but Illumi suspects something purposeful in their number and positioning. Ecila had been latent, after all, her aura nodes half-open. She’d sensed him coming, though too late to do much about it.

Illumi retrieves his needles from the human pincushion of a corpse. He doesn’t spare her a second glance except to check her pulse and pupils for any lingering signs of life. Nothing. Time to report back and go home. The Zoldyck personal transmitter lights up with a soft electronic beep when he presses the button on top. Illumi waits, glancing to the side and finding his reflection gazing back from a tall, wall-mounted mirror. He sees blood caked in his hair and frowns, pinching a drying clot between his fingers.

As he’s looking at it, the mirror cracks. A jagged line cuts across his reflection’s face. Illumi glances back at the target, but she hasn’t moved. Something in the air shifts.

His father’s voice comes through the transmitter, gruff and distracted. “Hm? Illumi?”

“Job’s finished,” Illumi says, or starts to say. He gets a prickling feeling in his throat and coughs, startled by the sudden stinging sensation and the taste of blood. He spits up a mouthful of glass shards into his palm, slick with saliva and a faint, cloudy red. Illumi lets them slip between his fingers and they tinkle like broken bells across the marble floor, vanishing into light. “Huh,” he says.

“What’s the matter?”

“Slight problem,” Illumi says. His voice catches at another painful itch in his windpipe. Something snags on the soft inner lining of his throat. He coughs up more glass. He can feel the sharp press of it under his skin, in his stomach, gathering in his lungs like icicles on a roof. Breathing becomes an agonizing chore.

“I thought the job was done,” Silva says, but the confusion in his voice quickly hardens to a stern sort of concern. “How long has it been since you killed the target?”

“About four minutes. She’s definitely dead.” He’s been counting. He always does, just in case. It’s important with nen-users, even the informally trained, to check for vitals several times within the first four minutes to ensure a shielding technique isn’t in use to feign death. Another sharp prickling feeling makes him cough again, the sound harsh and wet as he dislodges a tangle of glass and shredded tissue.

“Tell me exactly what you’re experiencing right now.”

Illumi glances down at himself, assessing his condition. “Chest pain, moderate to severe. I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, and now I’m coughing up glass.” He has to pause when he feels another jagged shape coming up his throat. When he holds the glass up to inspect, it starts to fade in his palm. “Conjured, by the looks of it. It doesn’t hold its shape long. I’m certain no one else is in the house, though.”

“It must be a post-mortem nen technique. You’ve been cursed,” Silva says gravely. Illumi can just make out the faint sound of his father’s footsteps echoing down the long, dark halls of the Zoldyck manor with a hurriedness he doesn’t often hear. “Your condition is going to deteriorate too quickly for you to make it home. There are several exorcists I can send to you, but they’re not close to your position and you need treatment immediately. See if you can find one in the area before then.”

Illumi recognizes the order in his father’s tone. He says, “Understood,” or tries to. The word breaks apart on more glass and he coughs into his hand. He’s never been cursed before, but he recognizes the signs he’s read about; the disharmony of his nen, the gradual erosion of his aura from the inside-out, an unnerving coldness creeping up from the pit of his stomach. If he isn’t already bleeding internally, it’s only a matter of time.

He can’t die here, not like this. Not even in combat but choking on his own blood from a latent nen-user’s last act of defiance. That would set a terrible example for Killua. He consults the Hunter Association Affiliates Database on his phone and filters for exorcist services, his fingers starting to shake involuntarily. He has to widen the search radius a couple times but one finally shows up within the city limits. The reviews left by other hunters, however, give him pause.

“Cured, but fucked me up for a few days. Avoid at all costs. 1/5”

—Mizaistom

“A reliable option in life or death situations. Bedside manner could be improved. 3/5”

—Satotz

“Sent a student here to teach him not to get cursed again, worked like a charm. Would not recommend to colleagues. 2/5”

—Morel

“Pretty sure I got exorcised in a pawn shop parking lot. Exorcist didn’t have any painkillers. So excruciatingly painful I briefly lost consciousness and was left on the pavement to wake up by myself when someone almost hit me with their car. 5/5”

—Ging

“Will not kill you, but will make you wish you had died. 2/5"

—Kite

Illumi would like to weigh his options but he doesn’t have many. The curse is progressing quickly. There’s glass in his lungs and every breath takes like rust, and the next closest exorcist is in another town. Even an inefficient exorcist could buy him some time, so he makes his decision, tells his father not to bother sending anyone, and starts moving.

He keeps his stride slow and natural to ease the burden on his lungs, but the prickling burn of nen glass builds with each passing second. It feels like he’s swallowed hot coals and a handful of his own needles by the time he’s navigated the zigzagging streets. A makeshift settlement of tin roof shanties and bender tents stretches along the banks of a river. The location marker on his GPS nearly overlaps with the dot indicating his destination. Illumi approaches a local, a bearded man in a ratty coat, and says, “I’m looking for the exorcist.”

“Here for the witch herself, eh?” the man says sourly. “I’d keep your distance, friend, she’s more trouble than—”

Illumi flicks his wrist and lodges five needles in the man’s face, making him gargle in pain as he clutches at his distorting flesh. “Where’s the exorcist?” he asks. A shaky fingers points further down the riverbank.

“T...tent,” the man tells him, voice thick with pain and the contortion of his mouth. “In the...the tent with all the creepy shit out front. Can’t miss it.” Intensive childhood training to boost Illumi’s pain tolerance is the only reason he’s still on his feet. He picks up the pace.

The exorcist’s tent is a foreboding sight, a patchwork of mismatched fabric in many shades of red. There are ritual implements out on display, an incense burner giving off pale, sweet smoke and various personal belongings carelessly lying about, but Illumi doesn’t have time to look around. His ears are filling with static and his vision is narrowing to a small tunnel as the curtain of unconsciousness begins to close in around him. He rips the tent flap out of the way and steps inside.

“Oh dear!” comes a gasp of surprise. The exorcist is a young woman and she regards him with shock, a straw doll clutched in her hands. “Dear, oh dear,” she murmurs, slinking closer. “You look terrible. Come in, let’s have a look at you.”

There’s a black cloth stretched across the ground, stained with discolored splotches of what Illumi recognizes as dried blood. A wide circle with runic inscriptions is stitched into the fabric in stark white thread, and she gestures for him to step inside. When he passes her, he feels her nen; irregular, thick and clotted as though diseased. It’s not flowing normally.

“Oh dear,” the exorcist seems to say over and over, staring openly at him like a new, exciting toy. She’s fortunate that Illumi is on death’s door and riddling her with his needles would drastically limit her exorcism capabilities. “Your aura is rotting. Does it hurt?”

“Quite a bit,” Illumi says blandly.

She steps into the circle with him and it’s only now, with the sudden flare of her nen, that he really looks at her. Defensive reflex. Nobody gets this close to him without a proper assessment. Illumi has seen exorcists before. The Zoldyck family has a roster of the most notable and talented on their payroll. He’s seen them scurry through the halls in their elaborate ritual garb with their tools of the trade since he was just a boy. He’s never seen one like her.

She’s dressed asymmetrically, one sleeve long and billowing, the other rolled up to her shoulder. Her left hand is gloved and the right covered in black velvet that exposes only her middle fingers. Her nen only seeps from where her skin is uncovered, and Illumi frowns when she misinterprets his curious stare and smiles like she’s flattered. Green hair and red eyes—striking and familiar somehow, but Illumi can’t quite place it.

“Do you remember much about the person who cursed you?” she asks.

“They were latent,” Illumi says. “A conjurer, if I had to guess.” He coughs and there’s more blood than glass now, streaming through his fingers. He lowers his hand to show her and she makes a thoughtful sound.

“Oh dear,” she says, fiddling with the doll in her hands. Illumi sees more of them scattered around the tent with nails driven through them, dressed in small clothes with their little mouths stitched shut. The one she’s holding is plain and featureless, but he sees cloudy nen leak from the exposed middle finger of her right hand and slowly engulf the small figure. She conjures a replica of Illumi’s clothing and long black strands of stringy doll hair.

Illumi wants to ask if she’s going to get on with it, but he’s cut off by a sharp pain just beneath his sternum. The glass is growing, getting caught in his windpipe and slicing up his insides. Illumi’s vision blurs but he thinks he sees the exorcist smiling. Faintly, he’s aware of touch—a hand on his shoulder, fingers clamped down in a firm and bruising grip. he feels that strange, unnerving aura caressing him, and then an explosion of pain.

It feels like he’s been turned inside out, his delicate, vulnerable parts raked by sharp sensation. His aura is split apart in ways he didn’t think possible, and it’s like dying, like a training exercise where he had to escape a burning building with his hands tied and his nen sealed, and it almost killed him, all that smoke and burning in his lungs. Breathing and blinking and being, everything is agony. He’s too hot and too cold all at once. The pain is enough to elicit a flinch, something he hasn’t done since childhood.

Illumi’s nen is ripped out of him in raw, tangled knots where it’s been infected. He can see it, the dark, heavy swirl of nen dancing along the exorcist’s bare fingertips. She took off her glove at some point, let it fall to the floor, and she shivers as the curse ripples around her fingers, guided by the flick of her wrist into the doll. Wordlessly, she drives a nail through the center of Illumi’s straw effigy, and just like that, it’s over. The pain stops. The glass vanishes all at once. Illumi’s nen smooths into its natural flow and he takes his first deep breath without being sliced apart from the inside.

“Oh dear,” the exorcist says breathlessly. She wobbles, her knees shaking as she bends to pick up her discarded glove. “Feeling better?” she asks. Illumi glances at the doll she’s clutching, his tiny double that frowns back at him with its thin, threaded mouth.

“I’ve never seen an exorcism like that,” he says. “It’s in there now? Will it dissolve on its own?”

“Of course not,” the exorcist says, smiling. “I was careful to extract it intact. It should hold its shape perfectly, even in a new host. Ah, you probably want something for the pain, right? I can’t imagine all that glass felt nice.” She takes a step and immediately pitches forward, falling face-first. Illumi catches her with an arm around her waist. “Awfully kind of you,” she says slyly.

“It’s nothing personal,” Illumi says. “Good exorcists are worth their weight in gold. You just demonstrated your value.” Mother’s exact words. There had been a curse that nearly killed his father when Illumi was young, and they’d paid the exorcist who saved him enough to buy a small country. “You should know your limits better. You’re drained. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” she muses. She lets him help her over to a cushioned seat against one of the fabric walls of her tent.

“Stay here,” he says. “I don’t need painkillers, just something for the bleeding in my throat. Just tell me where you keep it.”

“There’s ingestible clotroot in the jar by the birdcage.” There is, indeed, a birdcage at the back of the tent, and another straw effigy inside, this one with a cloth wrapped tightly around its head. Illumi wonders what isn’t crammed in here somewhere. He’s rummaging through the exorcist’s haphazardly scattered and unlabeled herbal supplies when he hears her say, “What’s your name?”

“Illumi Zoldyck,” he says.

There’s a long pause. “Those zoldycks?” she asks carefully.

“Yep.” The clotroot is wedged beneath a pile of glass vials and jars. He strips the leafy herb down to its small, bitter core and bites down. The taste is nauseating but it soothes the ache and heals the lacerations quickly. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to kill you. I really did just need an exorcism,” he says mildly. “Honestly, it’s your lucky day. I’ll pay you double for seeing me on such short notice.”

“That’s very generous, but…” She trails off. Illumi turns and finds her peering up at him through her lashes. “You’ll only have to pay me half if you let me keep it.”

“Keep what?”

“Your curse,” she purrs.

Illumi blinks, staring at her, and then at his smaller double on the floor. “What are you going to do with it?”

Her smile widens. “Whatever I want.”

“Hm. I don’t really care, I guess.”

She claps her hands together. “Perfect, thank you! It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Zoldyck. I’m Porpora, by the way.”

Illumi didn’t ask and doesn’t care. He’s looking up rates for airship tickets and moving to leave, but she stops him with a protesting sound.

“You’re leaving already?” she says.

Illumi stares back at her. “Yes? Why would I stay?” Ah, he realizes, she probably wants to make sure she gets paid. “You’re listed in the Hunter Affiliate’s Database, aren’t you? I’ll send payment directly to your account.”

“I appreciate it, of course, but…” She hesitates. “Well, where are you off to?”

So she wants to make small talk. Illumi dislikes extended conversation with non-family, but the Zoldycks are not known for shunning those who are useful. He indulges her, saying, “A hotel for a few hours, just to clean up, and then home. I just finished a job and I need to report back to the client.” And then, as he’s been taught for the purpose of easing targets into a false sense of security, he asks about her. “What are you doing out here, living in a tent? I thought exorcism was lucrative.”

“Surprised?” she says, beaming. “The money is decent, I just don’t see the point in spending it on a house or apartment. I grew up like this, going from place to place. I can’t imagine being tied down to anywhere in particular.”

“Ah,” he says.

Finally, her smile falls. “Not the talkative type, are you? Well, I won’t keep you. Just be careful. Take some time off work, if you can. A week should do it to make sure you’re all healed up.”

Illumi nods, perfectly content to disregard the advice. A week is ridiculous. He’ll be back in the field tomorrow once he’s had a checkup at home. He pays her—double, like he first promised. He has no use for a wandering exorcist but he was taught better than to undervalue their services.

“Take care,” she tells him, lifting the little doll’s arm so his straw double waves. “Hopefully, you won’t need to see me ever again.”

“Hopefully,” Illumi agrees.

#rotpeach writes #fanfiction #hxh #illumi #oc #this was intended to be the first chapter of a longer story #hisoka features prominently as his usual terrible self #weirdly enough i actually have some new content on the way and its all dead by daylight #two months ago i was like lol look at silly old me writing for a game i dont play #now im a claudette main

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littlehastingsliar · 5 years

Text

Hunted- part 3- Pack imagine

A/N: it seems I do a part every 2 years! This part isn’t as horror-based as the others, hope you enjoy!

Words: 1670

part 2 here

part 1 here

Part 3:

You had been walking for hours through the gloomy forest, following the stars so you were sure you weren’t going around in circles. Your feet ached, blisters undoubtedly forming as your shoes rubbed against your skin over and over again.

“I’m so thirsty” stiles moaned. You hadn’t had a drink of water since before you went to sleep. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to continue, there were buildings back there, shelter. It was scary but let’s face it, we could have defended a room, and we could’ve taken shifts sleeping and kept guard. If there was someone there, surely they’d have water to drink. Maybe even something to eat.” He continued, slowing his pace, fatigued.

“Stiles we’ve been walking so long, if we turn back you know it’s going to take hours to get back. Plus there was a reason we left; the eyes, the shed, the man over our tent, the creepy house and the person watching us from outside”

“what shed?” stiles cut you off, thinking maybe he was so delirious he’d completely blocked that out of his memory.

“Before any of this happened me and Liam came across a shed. It was old. Eerie. Nothing compared to everything else but I suppose looking back it was almost a warning we should’ve moved camp.” Stiles stopped walking, choosing a tree stump to collapse dramatically onto, mouth agape as he pulled his shoes off his feet like they had been glued on. “Easy to look back and say that now though” you had no interest in stopping, knowing if you did your muscles would tense up and continuing would be impossible. You’d gotten used to the pain in your feet and it was now background compared to the thoughts in your head.

“What if the others can’t find our scent? What if we’ve gone too far?” obviously you were both considering the same outcomes to your situation. Starvation. Dying of thirst. It was all a possibility.

“How about we set up camp here? If someone was watching us there’s no way they would’ve followed us this far. We also haven’t seen anything other than bark and brambles for miles, maybe in the daylight it will all seem different and we can form a proper plan.”

You both agreed that was the right decision, the exhaustion was overwhelming. Using sticks and leaves around the forest floor, you made a flimsy tent-like structure, not enough to protect you from rain but enough to vaguely camouflage you. It was a tight fit but you didn’t mind being close to someone, it was comforting. Before either of you said a word you were asleep, the world outside your small creation fading away as your eyes dropped.

It could’ve been hours since you’d fallen asleep or it could’ve been minutes, but the rising sun cast beams of light that woke you from your slumber. Not bothering to crawl out of the makeshift tent, you whacked it with stiles’ baseball bat, leaves and branches falling on him, waking him up.

“Rise and shine” you laughed, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you went into a crouch, testing your feet.

“Very funny” stiles grumbled, starting to stand up as well. This part of the forest looked different in the light, the dark bark no longer seemed menacing and the thick brambles looked as if sweet berries grew on them, giving it an enchanted aura.

“I feel like hansel and Gretel” you joked, tossing his baseball at him. His reflexes were surprisingly fast and he caught it mid-air, flipping it to his other hand as he beamed at you with new energy.

“Pity we didn’t leave a trail of breadcrumbs” stiles added, the realisation hitting that without the stars, neither of you knew which way you came from. “If we followed the North Star and the sun rises in the east, north must be that way” stiles pointed, but all directions looked the same to you.

“ok scout leader stiles” you kidded, his idea was the best you had and so you continued on foot, not noticing your pocket knife lay by your destroyed tent, having fallen out of your pocket in your sleep.

Only a few metres further and your foot sunk into the ground, covering your boots in mud. You turned your nose up at the squelching noise your foot made as you pulled it out.

“Well this is gross” you commented, noticing half of the other boot was caked in mud as well.

“This is good!” stiles smiled, scanning the floor. “It means there’s water nearby”. Sure enough you found a small stream of running water.

“Finally something to drink” you said, aware animals probably washed and urinated in the water. But it was something to drink and by now you felt like blisters were forming in your throat, rather than your feet. And so you and stiles drank the water, refreshing your senses, giving you a new burst of energy and motivation.

“Let’s keep going. We have nothing to store the water in anyway” Stiles suggested. Once more you trekked through the woods, the familiar bark surrounding you until the ground was dry and crunched under your feet. The air became thicker again, only allowing you to see a few feet ahead. Stiles froze as he looked up into the distance. You followed his gaze to a parting in the crooked trees, where a little dark window could be seen, surrounded by a pale tree that curved around it.

“That isn’t what I think it is, is it?” stiles muttered. “We went north, we kept going north, how are we back here.” he waved his arms in front of him as he spoke.

“Maybe it’s not a bad thing. You said last night you wished you were here, maybe there’s food and water. We haven’t got anything to survive in the woods, this is a good thing. Plus its daytime, maybe we were in shock from the white eyes and the shadow over the tent. The human mind can hallucinate when under stress and panic.” Stiles didn’t look convinced by your speech and neither were you, but it was all you had in this maze of a forest.

You walked up to the front door with determination. The house looked pretty much the same in the day time as it had in the night except the golden chandelier which was covered in dust had a more brassy texture and you could see the faint floral pattern on the wallpaper that was hidden by the darkness before.

“Ok this place doesn’t look as threatening now” stiles assured himself. “There must be a kitchen somewhere” you could hear the growl of his stomach at the mention of food. Both of you stuck together, still uneasy after your last visit but calmed by the sunlight that exposed every corner of each room.

The house itself seemed like a labyrinth, corridors with random, small staircases intertwining with one another. You hadn’t noticed this last time. Eventually you found what resembled a kitchen, a small table was placed at an odd angle in the centre of the room with one chair positioned at it. Stiles wrestled with the first jar he saw, the seal unbroken for so long it was impossible to break. He kept digging, until he found some old, unlabelled tins. Pulling them open he discovered soup.

“Lunch?” he cheered, not bothering with a spoon and placing it straight to his lips. He gulped down the thick liquid, sighing with relief when he finished. He opened another, passing it to you. You copied him, drinking it down.

“I feel a lot better already” you said as you emptied the tin. “Let’s see if there’s any glasses or bottles to fill with water.” You rummaged through each cupboard, finding small glasses coated in cobwebs. “These will do for now, ill wash them while you look for something we can take with us when we leave.” You walked over to the sink, twisting the tap. It squeaked but nothing happened. Furrowing your brow, you twisted it some more causing the pipes underneath to groan. Suddenly the tap spat out a chunk of brown mass, followed by what looked like clean water. You investigated the mass, picking it up. It was hair. You threw it back in the sink, shrieking as you wiped your hand on your top multiple times. “Hair just came out of the pipes!” you gasped at stiles, who had found two glass bottles for you to take with you.

“Let’s see” stiles chuckled in disbelief. But you were right. He peered over your shoulder at the clump. “Odd, but the water that’s running now looks fine, just don’t touch it again”.

You filled the bottles up, inspecting them in the window for any hair, the clump making you paranoid. Both of you decided it was a good idea to return to the study, the natural light allowing you to search properly. Stiles entered the room, grabbing a handful of notes from a nearby shelf, spreading them on the empty desk. He mumbled to himself as he flicked through a bunch of unpaid bills and warning letters.

“Do you remember where we put the picture of the couple?” you questioned, wiping the dust off a couple of old books on the bookshelf. You tried to read their titles, but they were all in Latin.

“I can’t find it here and I don’t know where we put it” he replied. “Come look at this” stiles held up on old newspaper clipping. “1830. Could be to do with the couple, after all, whoever lived here kept it for a reason…” you carefully took the clipping off stiles.

“February 4th 1830-

FIRE SPREADS THROUGH MINE, SEVERAL BELIEVED DEAD.”

You looked at the picture below the headline, a rickety mine stood in ruins. A shiver ran down your spine as you read the last sentence of the article “out of 155 employees, several have been confirmed dead, the rest unknown as they are trapped beneath.”

#pack imagine #mccall pack #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan sprayberry #liam dunbar imagine #liam dunbar #Holland Roden #lydia martin #kira yukimura #malia tate #scott mccall imagine #Scott McCall #Tyler Posey

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