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ok-boomerang · 3 months

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YOU DID WHAT?! for the drabble prompts!

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Zuko had waited until Katara had fallen asleep at his bedside—which she had scarcely left since she dragged him away from the scorched courtyard—before he slowly and gingerly slid out from under his blankets. His bare feet touched the cool floor of his bedroom, and he stood for what felt like the first time in days, though really it had only been a handful of hours since he last carefully got up used the restroom.

He tiptoed across the room, sparing a glance at Katara, only to see she was indeed fully out—he knew she was exhausted from constant healing sessions, even though she tried to hide it. The dim glow of the torch on the wall revealed how she'd fallen asleep with her head against her hand; a piece of curly hair swayed in the breeze of her breath each time she exhaled.

Unfortunately, Zuko had taken too many steps just watching Katara, and he forgot the small circle of chairs the sages had set out to use when they visited him. This is how Zuko woke Katara: yelling "Fuck!" loudly as his knee painfully collided with the corner of a chair.

Katara at once jumped awake and launched herself from her sleeping position, water already flooded around her hands as she surveyed the room in a panic. But there was no would-be assassin—just Zuko, clutching his knee and finding it suddenly hard to breathe from the energy he expended by yelling.

"What are you—what?!" Katara exclaimed before she was on him, her water-clothed hands now surveying his knee. "It's the middle of the night! What were you doing?"

"I was—uh—" he stuttered, which was his downfall. Couldn't he have said "I was going to the bathroom" instead of hesitating like the terrible liar he was?

Katara crossed her arms in front of him and frowned. "Were you by chance, going to visit a certain palace sage?"

Zuko huffed, annoyed he was so transparent, but even more annoyed at the sage who had insulted Katara. "He has to know what he said about you was out of line! You've been healing me non-stop, you already fully saved my life—"

"I appreciate your concern, Zuko—believe me, I'm angry too—but you can deal with him when you're better, right?" She laid a cool hand on his chest, as if surveying for more damage. "Why a midnight rendezvous in the first place, unless you're trying to—trying to—" she trailed off, realization seeming to hit her as Zuko's stomach sank.

"You were going to fight him?!" she hissed.

"No!" Zuko yelped, much too quickly.

"An agni kai?"

"No—no—of course not! I mean, nothing that could end in death!"

Katara exhaled like an angry cat.

"Just a minor beat-down to defend your honor," he murmured.

"Defend my honor?"

Zuko didn't say anything, for the look on Katara's face told him nothing he could say would calm her down.

But instead of chewing him out, she only sighed, put one hand on his arm, and began to lead him back to bed. "You're going back to sleep. I'll give you the sleeping tincture you clearly didn't take tonight, and we'll talk about Fire Sage Shayu in the morning."

"All right, Healer Katara."

"Damn right," she said with a little grin as she helped him climb into bed. She gave him the tincture and after one last look at Katara's self-satisfied expression, Zuko was fully out.

In the morning, Zuko woke with the sun, and automatically turned toward where Katara usually sat—she was there, of course, sitting vigil and fast asleep. He couldn't help the small smile that unfolded on his face, except—

That was weird. Katara looked—rather roughed up. There was dirt on her cheek and what looked like a burn hole on her tunic sleeve.

"Katara?" he asked loudly, shifting toward her and too concerned not to wake her. What had happened while he was sleeping?! "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," she said sleepily, blinking her eyes open with a lopsided grin. He noticed her lip was split. "But I made sure Fire Sage Shayu wasn't."

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

#atla #zutara #drabble #ask game #HELP MY DRABBLES KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT <3

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that-angry-noldo · 5 months

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Five sentence game: “she is so tired of fleeing”?

She is so tired of fleeing.

Morwen checks, and checks again. She unpacks and repacks their bags; counts and recounts what little supplies they have. She stares at the darkness outside, and feels wearines and unwillingness settle in her bones; she wants to stand, and stay still until they devour her bit by bit, until they turn her into cold unfeeling stone, until that stone becomes featureless and withered by time. She is so tired of fleeing.

She packs and repacks, and tries not to think.

#morwen #thank you for the prompt <3 #ask game

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refinedstorage · 2 years

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What about the Rialto Bay palette with John Seed? I think it would be interesting to see him drawn with colors that are the opposite of his usual blue/cool tones. :)

I think the palette goes nicely with his hobby room aesthetics >.>

#last one guys!#thank you for the prompt <3 #john seed #far cry 5 #my art #*john seed #palette prompts #deputyash #fc5 #jacob seed #it's been so long since I've john'd

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mirasmirages · 7 days

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"Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you."

"I saved you. Don't you think you should be grateful?"

"Grateful? For this?"

"Everything I'm doing is to keep you safe!”

For James and Henry, please 👀👀

- @starliight-whump

It always surprises me how cruel Henry was in the beginning, so here's a little scene of what might have happened if that hadn't changed.

It was too early in the morning to deal with this.

It wasn't the first time James had tried to run, but it was the first time he had gotten this far. Usually Henry was a light sleeper and caught him before he could leave the apartment. Today, he had gotten all the way to the lobby before getting caught, and Henry hadn't noticed anything before he got a call from Emmett, the security guard.

When Henry got out of bed, he felt unusually heavy. It was rare for him to be tired enough to sleep through even light noise. Now, the adrenaline should have him wide awake and rushing down the stairs, but instead he he was calm, almost fuzzy.

He mulled it over while he walked down the stairs, and by the time he got to the bottom and found James face-down on the floor with Emmett holding him down, it seemed obvious.

He knelt by James's head and grabbed his face with one hand, tilting it up so they made eye contact. James's face was wet with tears, and his whimpered pleas were the same as they always were when he got caught trying to escape.

"James," Henry said. "Did you drug me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," James said, over and over, and Henry recognized it for what it was. Not an apology, but a plea for mercy.

Henry had been merciful many times before. He had chosen to trust James's promises to be better, and he never kept them. James had made it clear that mercy didn't work, and perhaps Henry should be grateful for the drugs that kept him calm through what he did next.

"You know I love you," he said, and instructed Emmett to lift James's leg a few inches above ground. James tried to get up, but a light hold from Henry was enough to make him lay back down. "We belong together. You're staying with me."

Henry got up, and stepped on James's leg until something snapped. James screamed, his voice echoing against the walls while Henry gathered him in his arms and carried him up the stairs.

"Shh, you're okay," he murmured, his voice tired and soft. "We'll take care of this. I've got you. Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you."

#Thank you for the prompt <3 #Mira replies #Mira writes #OC: Henry Baker #Guest Character: James Kennedy #I just read The Sunshine Court so knee injuries are on my mind #I hope my midnight writing will hold up when I read it again tomorrow #whump writing

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ravendruid · 1 year

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when the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine

for vaxleth, bc mmmmmmm that's the good shit right there

This took me so long to write, and it's bigger than what I intended, but I hope it's worth it. This was the inspiration for the dress, but the sleeves are longer, and the neckline is deeper. *wink*

The streets of Ank’Harel bustled with joy, cheers, and the voices of vendors trying to sell their wares. Keyleth looked around, eyes wide in curiosity, as they crossed the roads, beads of sweat pooling at the base of her neck from the natural heat of Marquet. From the corner of her eye, she saw the glimmer of a rich green fabric, and like a moth to a flame, Keyleth found herself drifting toward it.

“Hello!” She greeted the vendor, a short tan-skinned old woman with a bright smile on a round face. The woman spoke back in a language that Keyleth didn’t understand but, from her facial expressions, Keyleth could tell the old lady was welcoming her in.

Keyleth bent her head slightly to examine the fabrics the woman was selling, and the same rich green color caught her eyes again. She hovered her hand above it, looking at the old lady, who nodded at her. The fabric was soft and silky, it felt like water touching her skin, and it was so light and cool. It would make a nice dress for this heat. Keyleth thought.

As if reading her mind, the lady extended her hand toward the fabric and gestured for Keyleth to follow her inside a small tent behind her. Keyleth looked around nervously, searching for her party, but the crowd was so dense that she couldn’t even spot her Goliath friend. She looked back at the lady and raised her index finger, hoping she would understand that she needed a minute, and then brought her other hand to her earring.

“Hey, guys?” She called. Not even thirty seconds later, Vax’s voice sounded in her ear.

“Are you in trouble, Kiki?”

Keyleth sighed in relief, at least one of them was within earring distance.

“No, I don’t think so. I was checking out a vendor and lost track of you all.”

“I got eyes on you. Go ahead.” Vax replied.

Keyleth felt a familiar tug inside her, not just relief for knowing he was there, but also a burning heat in her navel. Of course, he would have eyes on her. He would never let any harm come to her.

She followed the lady inside. The tent was small and cluttered with all kinds of sewing materials, mannequins with and without clothing on them, and fabrics spread out everywhere. There were a couple of poufs and a small tea table, colorful rugs, and candle-lit lanterns. The air smelled like incense and tea, and overall it felt pretty cozy in there.

The old lady gestured to Keyleth’s armor, and then to a small chair as if asking her to take it off. Keyleth chuckled nervously at this. She did not like the idea of taking off her armor, so she brought her hand to her earring again and whispered, hoping Vax would still be able to hear her.

“Still there?”

“Always, Kiki.” His voice was soft and gave her chills.

“Come closer, within shouting distance?” She eyed the lady, who was spreading the fabric on a large table.

“I’m in here.”

Keyleth whipped her head toward the entrance and saw the familiar silhouette of Vax merging with the shadows inside the tent. A wave of relief rushed through her body, and she slowly started taking off her armor and setting it on the chair.

The lady climbed onto a step stool to take Keyleth’s measurements with a thin measuring device and wrote them down on a piece of parchment. Seemingly satisfied, she gestured for Keyleth to sit on one of the poufs and hastily moved toward a little makeshift kitchen area, where she busied herself making some tea.

Keyleth waited for a good hour, glancing ever so often toward the shadows to make sure Vax was still there – which he always made himself visible to her. Finally, the old lady returned with a big smile gesturing for Keyleth to remove her clothing, as she showed her the finished dress on the mannequin.

Keyleth’s eyes went wide with excitement and she quickly undressed, folding her clothes neatly and placing them on the chair by her armor. The lady brought the dress over to her and helped her put it on, and then led her to a large looking glass.

Hiding in the shadows, Vax’ildan felt his heart drop to his stomach. Keyleth, his beautiful Ashari Princess, looked radiant. The dress fell perfectly on her, hugging each beautiful curve of her body, all the way to the floor, and as she raised her arms up at shoulder length, Vax could see the beautiful, intricate design of the long sleeves, its extra fabric falling down past her hips. His heart stopped when she turned around, and he saw the deep cut of the neckline with a beautiful, golden embroidery of flowers and leaves. He almost forgot he was hiding and almost stepped out in her direction, like a sailor being called by a siren.

In between gestures and hand signals, Keyleth thanked the old woman and gave her some gold for the dress. It was beautiful and light. She felt like she was being hugged by icy waters, which felt great in the blazing heat of Marquet. Once she put her clothes and her armor inside her bag – such a beautiful dress was not made to be hidden by armor – she left the tent in between kind smiles and thankful bows.

“I know where they are.” Keyleth heard Vax’s voice next to her as he slipped his hand in hers. Keyleth gulped, realizing he had been inside the tent the entire time, and she followed him as he dragged her through the crowd.

It didn’t take them long to reach the rest of the party, who had successfully taken a table at an inn and were already day-drinking. She was about to join them when she felt the movement of a hand on her waist, pulling her in the direction of the stairs, as Vax passed her by and gave her a hungry look that sent chills down her spine. Feeling the goosebumps start to form on her arms, and the redness of her cheeks, Keyleth quickly glanced at her friends, who were seemingly distracted.

Vax was gone, one with the shadows, again, but Keyleth knew where he was leading her, so she followed up the stairs, only to find him standing with his back against a door and a smirk on his face. Without a word, Vax dragged her inside the bedroom and locked the door. His lips found her neck, and he pressed hungry kisses to her pulse point.

“That dress looks amazing on you, but it needs to come off now.”

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #prompted #I'm not very good at describing clothing #I'm sorry #I hope the image helps tho #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I hope you like it T_T #thank you for the prompt <3

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eddiediazes · 1 year

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for the first sentence fic thingy!! “Before Eddie leaves, he can’t help but turn around one last time.”

Before Eddie leaves, he can't help but turn around one last time. "Are you sure you're good to be here tonight? Because if you're not I can cancel-"

"Eddie," Buck says, his laugh wrapping around Eddie's name and around Eddie's lungs, all at once. "Seriously, just go have fun, we'll be fine - I'm almost starting to wonder if you even want to go on this date."

And whether it's out of courage or stupidity, Eddie steps further back into the room and actually says, "Maybe I don't want to."

send me the first sentence of a fic and i'll write the next five!

#my fic #thank you for the prompt <3

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years

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This is just a prompt weather you just want to use for a drabble or not is up to you but bonrin where Rin was raised in Gehena and appears to bon for years in the form of a small flame or a white wolf (kinda like Satan with Yuri in the anime and manga) and when Rin finaly sets foot in asshia in his "human' form. Rin meets Bon in person and they both instantly realize who the other is

What a fun prompt! I went with both the flame and the wolf because I could, lol. It got a bit long, but I hope you enjoy <3

— — — — — — — — — —

The first time Ryuuji ever saw it, he was five, and he was upset. The kids were teasing again—bullying was the real word but the teachers would always call it teasing – and he didn’t understand why the others wouldn’t stop it. He didn’t ask to stand out like this, and he was so furiously proud of his people. He was going to be the best sort of leader for the Myōō Dharani, whatever it cost him.

He stomped his way home, stomped his way to the temple, and stomped his way right back out when it was only Uwabami in there. He stomped through the garden, and finally stomped to the edge of the forest, dropping down in an angry huff and hiding amongst the trees. He pulled up a fistful of grass and began ripping the blades apart.

He shouldn't be so upset. He should be doing his homework and helping with his chores. But... He just couldn't.

Not when he just knew Konekmaru would still be crying and his glasses had cracked from Tanaka shoving him so hard. Ryuuji should have punched him. He shouldn’t have listened to Renzou.

It started with a flicker over one of the blades laying by his side. Just a brief spark, barely enough to see. Ryuuji blinked and rubbed at his eyes, wondering if it was one of the sparkles he sometimes got when he rose too quickly.

He dropped a handful of broken blades, and the spark happened again, a bit longer this time. Flickering along the broken ends, the white flame – that’s what it looked like – burned over the edges, but didn’t burn.

Ryuuji tilted his head, grabbed another fistful of grass, and sprinkled it over the pile. The little flame reappeared and burned over that too.

Ryuuji’s lips quirked up.

The flame – if that’s what it was, Ryuuji wasn’t entirely convinced –followed his piles of torn up grass. He could drop them on either side of himself, and the flame would move to cover it. He could even throw a fistful of the broken blades and the flames would dance over each fallen piece in turn. It became a game of sorts. He couldn’t out think the flames, but it was fun to try and trick it into going after a piece of grass it had already burned over.

“Bon?!”

“Ryuuji?!”

The worried voices drew Ryuuji’s attention from the flame dancing over the blade in his hand. He could see his father and Juuzou heading his way, and that was when he realized it had gotten dark.

“Uh-oh,” he mumbled, struggling to his feet. “I’m late!” His ma would be furious. She was serious about her dinner time.

Dropping his handful of grass, he stepped towards the approaching adults, only pausing when he felt a brush of warmth over the back of his hand. The white flame trailed over his hand until it reached his finger tips. Ryuuji, forgetting his trouble for a moment, lifted his hand closer to his face and peered at the flame.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment of staring at the little white spark. “That was fun!”

The small flame flared brightly for a second, and poofed away, leaving the faintest scent of smoke lingering in the air.

— — — — — — — — — —

The ball of fire reappeared. Multiple times. Enough that Ryuuji came up for a name for his little spark. Fireball wasn’t predictable, but he liked to play games, and Ryuuji had fun thinking up new ones for the flame.

He couldn’t get hold of a lot of candles, and they were too expensive to buy with his small allowance, so he went with matches instead. Fireball could ignite them without much effort –or what looked like effort – and he liked to tease over them a few times before he’d spark properly, leaving Ryuuji guessing on which one he had to blow out.

He didn’t tell anyone about Fireball, and that… That was weird. Ryuuji didn’t have secrets. He didn’t like them and being honest was important to his ma.

Telling about Fireball just seemed like a terrible idea. All of his Myōō Dharani seemed scared of fire, and his ma yelled when he got close to any kind of flame. He knew the Blue Night had destroyed his temple, and that it was the reason they were so small. It was the reason Konekomaru didn’t have parents and Renzou didn’t have a brother.

But Fireball was white, not blue, and the little flame didn’t burn. It had flared over Ryuuji’s fingers, hand, arms, and on one memorable occasion, even his nose.

A few years passed that way, with Ryuuji playing secret games with a sentient ball of fire. It wasn’t like any demon he had ever seen, and he couldn’t find any references to white flames in his books. (At least not the ones he managed to sneak out of the Myōō Dharani’s library.) But what else could it be but a demon? Whatever his Fireball was, it was friendly and fun, and always seemed to show up on the days that had been the worst, offering Ryuuji a distraction from the harsh words, the slammed door, and the further fracturing of his people.

Fireball would listen. Ryuuji couldn’t explain it in any other way. The flame would flare when Ryuuji got emotional, flicker indignantly when he heard about the bullying, and even send out little sparks when Ryuuji laughed or told a joke.

It was one of the bad days—so far everyday of middle school had been a bad day—and he was going for a run to try and burn off some of the restless anger.

No one ever listened. They all still talked about him, Neko, and Shima like they were some kind of damned plague.

He ran across the familiar grounds of the inn, across his temple, and all the way to the woods. He followed down the familiar trails, and finally, wanting some kind of an escape, more than just the burn of his limbs and lungs, he veered off the path and into the mass of undergrowth and trees. It wasn’t exactly possible to run through a forest, but it was possible to keep up a quick pace and wander further into the familiar space.

“Fireball?” He called, curious and frustrated and knowing that the spark would at least flare with indignation about his predicament. It was more than he was likely to get from the adults, and someone getting made with him was all he really wanted. Someone to understand.

It was strange that a sentient ball of fire felt like it understood him more than either of his parents.

There wasn’t any flicker today. No flame burning playfully over the grass or sparking to life in front of his nose in hopes of making him jump. Absolutely nothing happened.

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Ryuuji kicked at the grass under his foot and tried to tell himself to release the anger in his gut. It was what Buddha would do. He’d untether himself from these human failings and transcend.

Closing his eyes, Ryuuji fisted his hands and focused on taking a deep breath. It didn’t help too much, but it did ease some of the ache from running too fast and far. That was at least a start. Fix what you could.

Getting his breathing reasonably under control, Ryuuji kept his eyes closed for a moment longer and tried to push the anger away since he couldn’t quite release it. He inhaled again, and over the sharp sound of his breath, he heard a second noise. It wasn’t loud, just a faint snap of something in the distance. His eyes sprang open anyway, worried he’d been followed only to be shocked by the sight of a white wolf a few feet in front of him.

“Oh!” He gasped, not able to stop the sound from escaping his lips.

It wasn’t a large beast, not much bigger than the strays that some times hung around the temple. He’d always been told that wolves were frighteningly large, but this…

It was shockingly white. Unnaturally white. Most animals with white fur were actually a bit cream colored, but this wolf was at least as white as snow, and he seemed to flicker as he shifted his weight forward on a large paw. Big paws. Too big for his body. Was he still growing?

It had blue eyes. Even from this distance Ryuuji could tell that. Big blue eyes that were a rich and bright color.

Ryuuji went entirely still in shock. He held his breath, staring wide eyed at the wolf as it stepped closer, quietly crunching a few leaves and twigs under paw. What did you do with wolves?! Did you run away? Could they climb trees? Playing dead couldn’t work, and –

The wolf stopped and lowered its head. It stuck its butt up in the air playfully, and its tail raised up in an obvious wag. Ryuuji blinked twice, confused, and tilted his own head.

A fine layer of flames flickered over the wolf, making him glow with a bright white light. Fireball? Rescuing him from his—

Wait! The wolf—

Ryuuji stepped forward, fear making the hairs on his arm stand on end, and slowly raised an arm towards the wolf. Swallowing, he asked a question that didn’t make any real sense. “Fireball?”

The wolf barked, high and squeaky, and unmistakably happy.

How?

The flames flared higher as the wolf straightened and bolted towards him. Ryuuji didn’t have time to brace himself before he was knocked onto his back by the exuberant wolf—by Fireball, and found a snout in his face, eagerly sniffing him as the paws pushed him into the ground.

“Fireball?” He asked again, unable to form another thought. How had his playful flame spirit turned into a wolf?

Fireball barked in his face and dropped a little lower to nuzzle him. Satisfied with that that, the wolf sat back on his haunches, his tail wagging merrily through the air, and watched Ryuuji with a tilted head. Ryuuji pushed himself back upright, gaping a bit, and swallowed.

“You got bigger,” he finally said. Fireball yipped in a way that was unmistakably a laugh. The flames covering his body sent up familiar little sparks, and Ryuuji found himself smiling at the sight.

Okay. So he had a wolf friend now. Awesome.

— — — — — — — — — —

It was once again impossible to find any demons that matched Fireball. There were wolf demons, of course, but none that lit with white flames. (Flames that sometimes looked a little blue. But blue flames belonged with Satan and they destroyed everything they touched.)

It was easier to play games with this form of Fireball, and the wolf was still willing to listen and instead of just flaring with indignation, he would bark now, or nuzzle against Ryuuji in an attempt at comfort. Fireball snarled when Ryuuji explained that his parents had tried to forbid him from taking over the temple, and barked his approval at Ryuuji plan to take the exams and apply for the scholarship anyway. He whined when Ryuuji brought books out to study instead of play, but he entertained himself while Ryuuji worked and kept him company during the endless sessions. He loved playing fetch, hide and seek, or even simple problem solving games.

Fireball (he’d contemplated going with Furball now that the flame was a wolf, but he was still on fire, so Fireball still fit.) Fireball was just as inquisitive and friendly as he had ever been, and the new form just made it easier to understand him.

Now he rushed out to the forest, still stinging from his parents’ dismissal of his accomplishment, and stormed to the spot Fireball was usually waiting. The letter was carefully tucked away in his pocket, and even if no one else cared, he knew the wolf/demon/spark would be proud of him. The Myōō Dharani would be too, but they’d be subdued about it and just give him a pat on the shoulder because the master didn’t approve of his choice.

(And what was his life that he was going to Fireball for validation because his parents wouldn’t give it to him?)

“Fireball?!” He bellowed, glancing around the trees curiously and trying to stop the simmer of anger in his blood that always seemed to be there these days. His friend didn’t leave him waiting for more than a minute. The wolf bounded from the trees, seeming to materialize out of thin air and stopping in front of Ryuuji with a wagging tail that went still when he saw the tension in Ryuuji’s form. His head cocked curiously, and Ryuuji didn’t think before dropping to his knees and hugging the wolf around the neck. (He’d gotten bigger over the last few years. He was keeping pace with Ryuuji.)

“Hey, Fireball,” he mumbled into soft and warm fur.

He got a lick on his cheek and a nuzzle against his shoulder. White and blue flames danced playfully over his arms and face as he hugged his friend. Taking a moment to soak in the warmth, he finally released him and gave the wolf a smile.

“Guess what?”

Fireball barked and laid down in anticipation of news. Ryuuji pulled the letter from his pocket and turned it towards the demon. “I got the letter.”

Fireball shot to his feet and nosed the letter. He tried to get the flap up, but gave up with an irritated grunt and sat back on his heels to wait for Ryuuji. His tail was wiggling, and it was just… it was so obvious the wolf was excited to know.

“I got in.”

Ryuuji was immediately knocked on his back as the excited wolf barked and flared bright with flames.

And just like that, he felt better. Just like that, someone cared and showed excitement, and yeah, it was a wolf demon, but it was a friend and they genuinely cared, and they listened to his plans and yipped at the right moments, flared bright with excited fire, sparked with indignation at his parents, and growled when Ryuuji talked about how they’d try to tell him no.

It didn’t occur to him until he was curling up in his bed that night that Tokyo was really far from the forest and Fireball.

— — — — — — — — — —

“It’s tomorrow,” Ryuuji said softly. Fireball whined and shoved his snout under Ryuuji’s hand for a pet as the rest of him curled around Ryuuji. His flames burned painlessly over Ryuuji’s hands.

“Yeah,” he managed, not sounding as sad as he really was. “I’ll miss you too.”

— — — — — — — — — —

The academy’s campus was large and entirely unfamiliar. It was different in almost every way from Kyoto. Far busier than his small town, and unlike Kyoto, absolutely no one knew who he was.

He could disappear among the crowd of students. He wasn’t a cursed child, or a rebel here. He was just another kid with punk hair and piercings. Just another student among the vast crowd. Just a kid with an accent who got in the top class.

The high school he was confident about. He knew he was smart, and he knew he was more than capable of keeping up with that material.

The cram school was a different matter. Those classes he worried about. The stakes were high and he hadn’t had a lot of experience with demons, and what information he knew had been learned stealthily while trying to steal information away from his monks.

Thrive or fail, there was nothing for it now. Ryuuji had a class in an hour, and he was already wandering the halls in anticipation.

It wasn’t surprising that he’d find him there. He’d always appeared when Ryuuji was alone, and always when he needed him.

The boy looked to be about his age, not quite as tall or muscular, but handsome in a strange way. He had sharp cheekbones and compact muscles, more of a dexterous body than a strong one. He was in a uniform like Ryuuji, but he’d put on red boots instead of the mandatory black combat books. His hair, a stark and startling white, hung in his eyes in messy locks. He was smiling in a way that showed off sharp teeth.

More than all of that though, the eyes were what drew Ryuuji’s attention. Bright blue and vivid eyes. Familiar eyes that flickered with fire, and if Ryuuji got close enough, he was certain he’d see familiar red pupils at their center.

Ryuuji stood still, stuck in the middle of the hall, utterly spellbound by the figure in front of him. The boy tilted his head, and Ryuuji either needed to rub his eyes, or he needed to accept that the boy’s white hair was flickering with fire.

“Fireball?” He asked breathlessly.

The boy grinned.

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definegodliness · 2 years

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A poem about a cherished memory

Disclaimer: not much of a poem, save for the line breaks (I know), but this is my utmost cherished memory. So I hope you'll forgive me. The love of my life bit me When I put my hand over the railing Of a kennel; He raced toward me with his Ridiculous floppy brown ears, And gnawed away, gleefully, Yet softly. I was saddened to overhear My mother, my sister; Their conversation with the buff breeder, About some 'stunning' Jack Russel Terrier, Aloofly parading somewhere I did not care. And I tried not to care About the pending Two versus one Situation In decision making. All I saw Was that pink pot belly of my Attacker, already surrendering To what would be Undying affection. Never did shoulders hang lower Than when I, silently, added my person To an already undoubtedly Heartbreaking conversation, Knowingly defeated. But then The breeder said that 'stunning' Jack Russel Terrier Was part of their breeding program(!); Neither my mother, nor my sister had Contemplated another option. I had. That one. I put my hand over the railing; The little bugger came running. And I love my mother and my sister For agreeing this was A sign among signs, not to be ignored. Then, confusion. The breeder asked if We didn't want a male. And I told her he was. But she flipped him Just to be sure. He was so small. Diesel.

#still misty eyed #and beaming #what luck that other dog was part of their breeding program #what luck #thank you for the prompt <3 #elvedon

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jimmypesto · 1 year

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gene & alex with #20 if you want?

Gene/Alex + getting a sugar rush!

“Alex! You’re here!”

Gene can never kiss his boyfriend gracefully. Full of electricity, he shoves their mouths together in a messy pop. It’s not his fault that Alex makes him spark like this, in this way he can’t contain.

Hyperactivity may be Gene’s natural state, but Gene in love is a different beast entirely. His mind is always sizzling with hot takes and funny comments, all of which he wants to share with Alex.

“Gene, hi!”

Alex holds him in place by the wrist, keeping him still for a second kiss. This one is a little smoother, and they both take the time to close their eyes.

“Oh.” Gene says, momentarily subdued. “That was….hi. Merry Christmas.”

Alex has butterflies in his stomach, when he sits with Gene on the edge of his bed. Their hands come together naturally, fingers interlacing. Like Gene, Alex likes to touch. Whether it’s holding hands or playing with one another’s hair, the boys share a love of physical affection.

“Merry Christmas.” Alex says. “Tell me everything. Did you get the new record you asked for?”

Gene squeezes his hand tightly, unaware of his own strength, but Alex doesn’t flinch.

“Do you mean Cameron McPhee’s Magic Jamboree?” He asks, his voice growing louder. “Only the best Vaporwave slash punk rock slash jazz fusion album ever made?”

He produces a vinyl record from beneath his pillow, suggesting he hasn’t learned his lesson about cuddling with breakable things.

“Of course I got it! Aren’t you familiar with Santa? The man’s a saint!”

Alex is on the edge of his seat, as Gene speaks. Everything he has to say is bright and fun and show-stopping. He commands attention wherever he goes.

“That’s amazing!” Alex says, his eyes scanning the present with interest. “Man. The gift I got for you could never live up to that.”

Waving him off, Gene sets his record on the nightstand with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“Alex, Britney Spears herself couldn’t live up to that present!” He says dismissively. “Are we exchanging gifts now? Yours is—uhh—wait. It’s around here somewhere.”

While Gene ducks his head beneath his bed, Alex clutches nervously at the small gift bag in his hand. He’s never gotten a gift for a boyfriend before. It’s nerve-wracking.

“Ta-da!” Gene announces, when he bounces back up. “It was right next to Tina’s diary and my old Halloween candy. Are you ready to be amazed?”

The lump in Gene’s hand is shoddily wrapped, but Alex’s heart surges at even the outline of his present.

“Should we open these at the same time?” He asks, lifting his bag in Gene’s direction.

For comfort, he reminds himself that Gene doesn’t have any more present money than he does. Shopping within the confines of a thirteen-year-old’s allowance is a trying task. As they swap gifts, Alex can feel the anticipation radiating off of his boyfriend.

“Okay.” Gene says, failing to sound casual. “So, should we just go on three, or—sorry, sorry! I’m already opening mine! Ah! What’s wrong with me?”

Gene’s impatience wins out as he tosses the bag’s tissue paper asunder, leaving Alex scrambling to keep up.

“Oh! Now? We—okay!”

Tearing off wrapping paper haphazardly, he and Gene uncover their gifts at the same time. Both boys look down at their presents, then up at each other, then back again at their presents. Gleeful, knowing smiles break out on both of their faces.

“You got me candy!” Alex cheers, holding up a plastic bag full of small, individually wrapped sweets.

Laughing, Gene begins tearing open his own bag of Chocolate Chew Chew Trains.

“And you got me candy!” He parrots. “I wasn’t sure which kind you’d like best, so I got the ones with the most sugar.”

Alex is pleased to be dating someone with such good taste. The caramels Gene picked are rich and creamy, and they definitely won’t last him the afternoon. Just as well considering how quickly they’d be confiscated if he brought them home.

“You can’t go wrong with thirty-six grams of sugar.” He says. “Thanks, Gene. This is the best gift I’ve gotten all morning.”

Looking proud of himself, Gene reaches out to take Alex’s hand once again.

“This is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He says sincerely. “And that includes when the lunch lady gave me those extra tater tots last week. Do you wanna try one of my chocolates?”

Alex can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Really?” He asks, eyebrows raised. “But…Gene! You don’t share your candy with anyone! Not even your sisters.”

Gene shrugs, leaving against his boyfriend.

“Sugar rushes are more fun, when we’re doing them together.” He explains.

Alex rubs a thumb along Gene’s hand, just as he opens his mouth for another snappy remark.

“Besides,” He says jokingly, “I’m watching my figure!”

As the two of them burst into laughter, Alex feels Gene squeeze his hand again. He doesn’t mind the tightness at all.

#bobs burgers #gene belcher #alex papasian #thank you for the prompt <3

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