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bitch-for-a-rainbow · 4 months

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Zor-El's Return

Personally, I found Zor-El's acclimation to Earth a little unsatisfying, so here's a fic that's been sitting in my drafts for over a year.

The first thing Zor-El notices about this planet is that it is bright. Kara blinks in the sudden sunlight as well, so he brushes it off as just another change from the phantom zone. Zor-El has been to planets with different colored suns before: red, blue, and once, briefly, a planet orbiting a yellow sun. That planet had been so far from its star that there’d been no effects on his body (He’d also never gotten direct sunlight due to the need for constant atmospheric and temperature control.) In any case, his previous experience has yet to get rid of the wrongness he feels when he looks out on a planet without a red star. The sky is a color he thinks must be blue, but it’s so bright, so saturated, it hurts to look at. Kara has no trouble. She looks straight up into that blinding sky and beams.

The planet smells weird too. Slightly burnt. And tangy in a way that makes his nose itch. Kara inhales deeply, like there’s not enough air in the world to fill her lungs. Zor-El thinks this might have been justified because she’s just begun to exhale when the one with red hair— Alex, he remembers— starts pulling her inside to something called a sunbed. It restores her powers and helps her heal, the girl in the strange white and— blue?— jumpsuit explains. She says her name is Nia. He asks if he’s supposed to go to the sunbed too. Nia shrugs. Alex said that would be a bad idea— and she’s usually right about this stuff. A large man with dark skin and eyes a little more calculating than Zor-El is entirely comfortable with, explains further. Your powers can be disorienting. Kara has experience, so we can afford to recharge her quickly. It’s safer for you and for us if we let this go slowly. Over the next hour or so, Nia explains the powers he is to develop. Kara had given him a brief description in the Phantom Zone but had included none of the dramatic anecdotes of her heroic— or not so heroic feats. Zor-El supposes that using heat vision to crisp meat is as valid a use as any. He does have to ask for clarification as to what, exactly, a “turkey” is. Nia pulls up a photo on some device she was keeping in her back pocket. Zor-El thinks he preferred Earth before he learned about the turkey.

… His powers come in gradually— until they don’t. He can manage the slowly increasing strength with some concentration, but there is nothing he can do when Nia calls out, and he looks up to respond, and suddenly he’s looking at the inside of her skull. Zor-El yells, and others come into the room. He doesn’t know who they are— can’t identify them from their masses of bone and twisting ligaments. He tries to cover his eyes but the only thing telling him his hands are pressed against his face is the feeling of his nails digging into his forehead. He falls to his knees, and the floor cracks beneath him. Someone is giving orders— a woman, her voice quiet but sharp— and then something heavy— something that would have been heavy an hour ago— drops over his head and shoulders.

He can’t see. Zor-El is shaking— he knows he’s shaking, and his breaths are ragged. He doesn’t dare to take his hands away from his eyes or to shift the blanket that hangs over his body. The woman is talking to him now, voice much more gentle than it had been a minute ago. It’s alright, she says. It’s alright.

That was your X-Ray vision. The blanket over you is lead-lined, so you can’t see through it. We’ve got some glasses that are like it. You can put them on when you feel up to it. Zor-El means to say he’s fine, that he’s going to take off the blanket, and to please hand him the glasses. But all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled grunt, which the woman seems to understand just as well. J’onn is getting them. We’ll just keep the blanket on for a little longer. You’re doing good, she says. You’re doing so well.

She keeps murmuring to him until heavy footfalls sound at the edge of the blanket, and they pull it off. He doesn’t have time to see their skinless bodies before a pair of slightly too small glasses are squished onto his face. He blinks, and Alex Danvers is peering down at him with more tenderness than he’s ever seen her give. I’m okay, he pants out. I’m okay. She nods, and the moment is gone.

The noise doesn’t come as suddenly. It grows slowly, a building pulse in his ears that makes his teeth rattle. A vehicle crashes somewhere 4 streets over, and Zor-El puts his hand through a desk. J’onn and Alex glance at him but say nothing. Nia looks concerned. A man they all call Brainy remarks on needing to build tables out of a stronger alloy with all the “peoples of enhanced strength” around, and a woman over by the computers, he does not know her name— they have not been introduced— eyes him as he tries to stand the table back up. She has a strange look in her eyes, one he doesn’t understand. It makes his skin crawl. … Earth is loud, harsh, and abrasive. The sounds dig at his ears, and every color seems to grate at his eyes.

He tries to imagine being a child here. He prays to Rao for forgiveness. … Kara tells him of her failure to raise Kal-El. He does not forgive her for this. How could he ever have blamed her at all?

Sometimes, silently, he is glad of Kara’s delay. Glad that she had landed with her cousin already grown. Zor-El does not know these people who took in his nephew, these Kents. They’re good people, Kara had said, a never-ending refrain. They’re good people. He wonders if they would have been quite so willing to take in— to protect— the baby, if his daughter had been with it. His daughter and her more obvious… differences.

He wonders why they didn’t take her in when she arrived. Martha was old, Kara says. And Jonathan dead. Besides, I came with unusual challenges. … In the phantom zone, he had shrugged it off. Children do grow up, after all, and that place, it… changes people.

But he knew it was more than that.

He remembers his Kara. His Kara would flit about the room, like gravity lost its hold, like there was too much energy in her body, and she had to move, had to jump from person to person, bounce from experiment to experiment, mind whirling a hundred miles an hour.

This Kara is still. She does move a little, still bounces and skips more than any of the others he has met— but her movements have a forced weight now, each step as careful and precise as it is buoyant.

She doesn’t experiment anymore either. … When Kara had told him of her arrival on Earth, she had not mentioned Fort Rozz. When one of her friends finally mentions it offhand, she goes stiff, and turns her face from his. When he does catch a glimpse of her expression, it is twisted with shame. Zor-El is not sure whether it is aimed at herself or at him.

Alex stares at him often— and doesn’t look away when he notices. Her eyes are cold and hard. She reminds him uncomfortably of Astra, especially when Kara is there, soaking up her attention, and the ice in Alex' eyes just begins to melt. Then she looks at him again and all the warmth is sucked from the room. Looking into her eyes, he sees hatred. Kara notices. She says nothing. Her eyes are colder than they used to be too.

#supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #Zor el #supergirl 6x08

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team-pokefriends · 5 months

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Fenninkou: "Cool! An actual Xerneas! What do you do here? What does it mean to be the 'Pokemon of Life'?" The teen eagerly bounced on her toes. Her tail swished and wagged hyperly.

[Xerneas looks towards the hybrid with a little bit of curiousity, themself.]

[Xerneas] "Interesting. I've never seen a Pokémon quite like you before..."

[Before they could let their curiosity get to them, they snap their attention back to the question at hand.]

[Xerneas] "I digress. I am the founder of this town."

[Sophie] "Really? Are you, like, the leader?"

[Xerneas] "Long ago, but now that rule falls to democracy. Nowadays, I stand by the city and help during times of distress.

And as the Pokémon of Life, I have the power to bring life to anyone and anywhere. For example, this very tree you're standing in is my doing, and so are the trees that surround and house this very city."

[Sophie and Catherine look shocked.]

[Sophie] "Wait, you made the entire city?!"

[Xerneas] "Not by myself. I grew the trees that would be the base for many buildings in the area, and the Pokémon here shaped them all into what they needed."

[Sophie] "Wait, so you can, just, grow trees whenever you wanted?"

[Xerneas] "Yes, but, again, that's not all I can do. As the Pokémon of Life, I can also instill vitality into those who I wish."

[Sophie] "What's that mean?"

[Xerneas] "Allow me to explain from the beginning?"

[Sophie] "It won't be boring, will it?"

[Xerneas] "It's a simple explanation, I assure it won't be... but if you want, I could, instead, show you."

[Sophie] "Wait, really?"

[Xerneas] "Yes. I would need a volunteer, however."

[Sophie clenches her right hand into a fist and smacks her chest with a confident smirk on her face.]

[Sophie] "Count me in."

[Xerneas] "Very well."

[Xerneas stands proud and tall. Their antlers and legs begin to change color; from the base all the way to the end, it goes from the bright blue to a shiny yellow. The gems on its antlers also change color, going from a single blue for all of them to a variety of different colors, from red, to yellow, to purple, and a more saturated blue. Once the transformation is finished, Xerneas looks up to the sky.

Eight pillars of yellow light surround them, all surrounded by different circular particles of the colors present on their horns.

Sophie looks on in amazement, while Catherine looks concerned.]

[Catherine, thoughts] "(What's going on? What is he doing?)"

[After Catherine finishes her thought, the pillars turn blue and shoot up above Xerneas, forming into a massive ball of energy floating above their antlers. Xerneas then looks towards Sophie; their eyes flash yellow, and the energy shoots out as a beam towards the Slowking, absorbing itself into her.

Catherine gasps, not knowing exactly what is going on. Confusion races through her mind, and she can only hope nothing bad is happening to her best friend.

Once the last of the energy is absorbed, Xerneas returns to their blue color.

Sophie looks at her hands and realizes there is now a faint yellow glow around her body.]

[Catherine, worried] "Sophie? Are you okay?"

[The Slowking quickly looks at the concerned Dragonite, but he has a smile on her face.]

[Sophie] "Cath, I feel like I could take on an army of Ursarings!"

[Catherine, confused] "Huh?"

[Xerneas lightly chuckles.]

[Xerneas] "That's usually how it feels.]

[Sophie, curious] "What did you do to me?"

[Xerneas] "That, is my signature move, Geomancy. With it, I can give anyone, from just one Pokémon to an entire community, a surge of strength and energy."

[Sophie] "So, this is the power of the Pokémon of Life?"

[Xerneas nods.]

[Xerneas] "The power to revigorate, bring life to where there is none, and to make sure this life is healthy and lasting, that is what it means to be the Pokémon of Life."

[Sophie's more focused on the Geomancy glow and its effects on her.]

[Sophie] "This is so cool."

[@ask-team-misfit]

#Team-Pokéfriends - Main Story #pokeask #pokemon ask blog #Team-Pokéfriends - Sophie (Slowking)#Team-Pokéfriends - Catherine (Dragonite)

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ordinaryschmuck · 7 months

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Quick Thoughts on "A Lesson For Your Next Life" from Season Two of--

GOSH DANG IT!

Gosh dang it! It made me think! It made me hope! But they're STILL doing that annoying bit with the title card! CRAP! And they knew they were doing it too with all those teases with characters forcing the word "Inv--

THAT WORD! CRAP...Anyways, this episode's a great start.

For those who don't know, I LOVED Season One of...this show. It's one of my favorite bits of superhero media, featuring great characters and greater stakes. And Mark is definitely up there as one of my favorite superheroes in a lot of ways, with Omni-Man being one of my favorite twist villains. If you want to know my full thoughts, I did a full review of Season One that you can read right here.

And yes, I saw the Atom Eve special. And I will always use that as an example to proof that superhero shows and movies don't need to look ugly and grimy in order to show how dark and realistic their world is. If In--THIS SHOW can tell one of the darkest, grittiest origin stories I've ever seen from a superhero and have her be in BRIGHT PINK, then there's no excuse to take all the color out of Superman's suit just because you wanted to tell a darker story with him.

Anyways, I love this series and I was looking forward to Season Two for TWO YEARS for a reason. And like I said, it's a great start.

The thing about a show as serialized as this, Season Premiers are mostly a direct reaction to the last season's finale, doing a "Where are they now" bit by showing how everyone reacted to what happened last time. There's a lot of great stuff there, primarily through Mark who has trouble coping with the events of Chicago where Nolan went from training his son to TRAINING his son. And...yeah, I don't blame him. Even as an observer, that shit was FUCKED. It DOES stop the episode from standing out on its own, but it still provides great material.

But another job for a season premier is to show what's in stored for this new story, and "A Lesson For Your Next Life" does that by introducing new characters, new threads, and...the multiverse. And that last part is both good and bad timing for this show. Because now the Multiverse is a big trend. The problem is that people feel over-saturated due to people seeing multiverse stuff EVERYWHERE. It can't be helped because this is a storyline in the comics (Yes, I finally read those...SOME of those) and that kind of idea works BEST with superheroes. Still, this is, like...the FIFTH(?) multiverse thing this year alone and I won't blame people for rolling their eyes at yet ANOTHER story. Still, I have high hopes. Just as long as the show gives us something more like Fionna and Cake or Spider-Verse and less Multiverse of Madness or The Flash.

Regardless, everything seems interesting so far, and I can't wait to see what happens next with...this show. It's going to be annoying to deal with that title card, though...

#invincible #invincible season 2 #mark grayson #quick thoughts #what i thought about

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sxdmoonchxld · 3 years

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Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room. Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face.

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room.

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function.

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over.

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time.

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice.

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name.

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye.

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!"

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place.

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you.

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you.

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm.

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it.

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you.

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist.

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care.

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage.

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more.

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips.

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward.

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans.

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples.

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking.

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook?

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst.

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls.

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt.

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach.

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper.

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

"Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants.

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch.

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror.

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story.

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.'

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock.

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust.

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook. You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix.

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts oneshot #bts smut reactions #bts #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts college au #jungkook college au #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #ao3 #jungkook x reader

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thecousinsdangereux · 3 years

Text

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

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rizahawkais · 3 years

Note

Hi Nia! You're gifs are so pretty! Is it possible for you to show how you get your WandaVision gifs too look so clear and hd? And how do you do your colorings too? (specifically the wanda maximoff in episode 3 gifset ITS GORGEOUS) I'm new to giffing and all the tutorials are kind of old. It's okay if you don't want to though! I understand it may be time consuming.

omg no! never feel intimidated to ask!! i don’t mind at all!

so, i’m going to show you how i made and coloured this gif

mostly bc it’s the only gif in that set w text and i’m going to share my text settings too!

tutorial is below :)

WHAT KIND OF VIDEOS ARE BEST?

.mkv files (the bigger the better BUT i usually think anything above 5 gb is excessive and unnecessary for an episode of television BUT for a movie worth it) itunes downloads (logolesspro on twitter, hd-source on tumblr, live-action-raws on tumblr have some DEPENDING on what you’re looking for) (also, there’s a chance that if you search "show/movie hd download tumblr” you’ll find a tumblr with its itunes download available)

THAT IS IT NO OTHER TYPE OF FILES MAKE YOUR GIFS LOOK GOOD

- my suggestion is always if its new (like just came out the past month) t*rrent it! it’ll be downloaded quickly and .mkv files look the best! BUT if not check the sources above see who has the BIGGEST file if they even have what you’re looking for and then if not then you look to t*rrenting!!

here are the wandavision files i use so you can see!!

SCREENCAPPING

-if you have windows use potplayer! i have a mac so i can’t show you how to use it and it’s not available for me :( HOWEVER back when i had a windows potplayer was the best method in screencapping!!

-I HAVE A MAC! so i use mpv!! (go to mpv.io and follow the directions) BUT DON’T DOWNLOAD THE LATEST ONE (it has a bug that skips frames) try each before the latest one bc from what i heard different ones work differently for everyone!! and i don’t know which one i use (yikes!) THERE ISN’T THAT MANY I PROMISE AND IT’S WORTH IT BC MPV IS THE BEST (i used to use adapter but they didn’t take impressive screencaps in my opinion and it was evident in my gifs you can see it too! )

create a folder for your screencaps! and make sure to rmb the directory order! now we want to create a text file on our built in textedit app on mac! type up all this down below (i like jpg but you can replace jpg w png if you want) AND SAVE THE FILE AS mpv.conf THIS IS IMPORTANT SO DON’T FORGET IT! save it somewhere you’ll find easily and NEVER delete it until you don’t use mpv anymore

just in case you don’t know what to insert after, go to your screencaps folder

now you want to open mpv and go to the corner towards mpv -> preferences and they’ll tell you that there is no .conf file SO GO LOOK FOR THE TEXT FILE WE JUST MADE AND DRAG IT TO THE FOLDER THEY OPENED FOR US AFTER SAYING THERE IS NO .CONF FILE

(i learned all this from @kylos tutorial!! so if any of what i just said about setting up mpv makes NO SENSE to you check out their tutorial at kylos(.)tumblr(.)com/post/178497909311)

now we can screencap!

so let’s find the scene we want RIGHT BEFORE and MAKE SURE SUBTITLES ARE OFF

i pause and then press (option/alt + s) and then SCREENCAPS ARE BEING TAKEN!! and to end the screencaps being taken you once again press (option/alt + s)!!

now we want to delete the excess frames! and put it all into one folder!! DO NOT DELETE FRAMES IN THE MIDDLE OF WHAT YOU WANT TO GIF!! WHEN YOU SKIP FRAMES IT WILL BE NOTICEABLE!!

MAKING THE GIF

this method isn’t used that much BUT I LOVE IT so this is how i put my frames in! first i check to see the size of my frames: 1920 x 1080

so i create a NEW file on photoshop with those dimensions w these settings

now i set my tool on photoshop to path selection tool bc if you have it set on smth like move tool or crop tool at the end you might end up moving or cropping frames you don’t want to!

ok so now we select ALL our frames and drag it on top of our new file on photoshop and the MOMENT we see our first frame in photoshop JUST KEEP CLICKING ENTER until all the frames are loaded!!

you can do file -> scripts -> load files into stack but it is WAYYY slower in my opinion!

now i crop out the excess BUT i don’t resize the gif yet! the dimensions wandavision is filmed in is 4:3 so i go to crop and set the settings to this:

MAKE SURE IT’S ON RATIO SO WE’RE PRESERVING THE ORIGINAL SIZE JUST CUTTING OFF THE BLACK EDGES!! We are going from 1920 x 1080 to 1440 x 1080 this is the dimensions after i cropped

WE ARE KEEPING THE QUALITY BY NOT CHANGING THE DIMENSIONS OF ANYTHING INSIDE !!

now we want to go to actions and create an action!! open up actions w one of these two depending on what your dash looks like!!

so we create an action with this button on the bottom of actions and we’re gonna title it making a gif and hit record!!

NOW LET’S GOOOOO!!

1. make sure you have timeline on your dash!

2. create frame animation (if you see create video timeline just click the arrow next to the button to see your other option which is frame animation!!)

3. now let’s meet our best friend!! the little bar in the top right corner that has all the commands for making our gifs and MAKE FRAMES FROM LAYERS

4. WE HAVE TO SHARPEN OUR GIFS NOW BUT TO DO THAT WE NEED TO CONVERT TO A SMART OBJECT SO NOW WE ARE GOING TO CONVERT TO VIDEO TIMELINE there are two ways: the button in the bottom left corner or the button in the top right corner w all the other commands!

5. select -> all layers DON’T MANUALLY SELECT THEM ALL BC THE ACTION WILL ONLY SELECT THAT SAME NUMBER OF FRAMES SO IF THERE ARE MORE FRAMES YOU WON’T GET THEM IN THE SMART OBJECT!!

6. filter -> convert for smart filters

7. NOW WE SHARPEN!! (filter -> sharpen -> smart sharpen) i sharpen twice!! first, make sure we are on legacy w more accurate and remove gaussian blue! the first sharpening will be 500% with 0.4 px radius. NOW SHARPEN AGAIN (filter -> sharpen -> smart sharpen) also w legacy, more accurate and remove gaussian blur BUT this time 10% with a 10.0 px radius!

8. it’s hd now!! so let’s flatten frames into clips!! go to the top right magic button again!! and you should see a pop up saying layers are being made

9. now we convert back to frame animation w either the bottom left button or our magic top right command center!

10. make frames from layers

11. select all frames w our magic command button

12. set the animation delay to 0.05 THAT IS THE BEST ONE ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS only use 0.06 when the character is moving really fast in the video itself and it makes the gif itself look awkward BUT NEVER GO ABOVE 0.06 it’ll look slow and laggy and we don’t want that and don’t go below 0.05 bc then it’ll be tooo fast and we don’t want that either!

13. now delete the very first frame on the timeline bc it is an oversharpened duplicate of the second frame! end the recording w this button!

this is what your action should look like expanded! if you made mistakes on the way and it shows up you can just click the specific step and press the trash can on the action tab to delete in from the order!!

NOW AFTER LOADING YOUR FRAMES AND CROPPING THE EDGES OF YOUR FRAMES IF YOU NEED TO JUST PLAY THE ACTION AND THEN YOUR GIF WILL BE MADE FOR YOU!!!!

now i delete some unnecessary frames in the beginning and end and this is what my gif looks like (the size was 46 mb and the limit is 10 mb so the dimensions of the gif are 540 x 405 to get it to 5 mb BUT I HAVEN’T CROPPED IT YET SO THIS IS ME CROPPING JUST TO SHOW YOU WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE)

CROPPING THE GIF

in my opinion if you want your gif to look hd you shouldn’t crop before you sharpen!! i believe that if you crop before you sharpen you don’t allow photoshop to sharpen all the pixels whereas if you crop beforehand there is less to work with!!

dimensions is all up to you!! just make sure to go by tumblr rules!! 540 is the max width and if you want to make two gifs per row then my suggested width is 268 and for three gifs per row my suggested is 177 px! Just have the right width and the length can be whatever you want!!

now i’m going to crop my gif to 540 by 590!!

NOW THIS IS WHAT MY GIF LOOKS LIKE!

COLOURING BASICS

let me show you the best adjustment tools in my opinion and a brief explanation for what they do!!

brightness/contrast: pretty simple increase/decrease the brightness/contrast BUT one of my techniques for when i first start colouring a gif is i select all my frames and do nothing to the settings of the adjustment but i set the layer to screen LIKE THIS

curves: ik others use curves to change brightness/contrast w the squiggly thing BUT i like it to set a white point and black point, this is also a technique i use when i first start colouring a gif when screen doesn’t look good for me SO you use white point to select a pixel on the gif to set as the lightest color on the gif (setting the white point) and you use black point to select a pixel on the gif to set as the darkest colour on the gif (setting the black point) usually the white point makes it TOO bright and that’s why we use the black point to counter it and same goes for when i use screen with brightness/contrast, it gets too bright so i use black point to counter it below is the button for white point and the button for black point, respectively they are shaped as color picker tools

vibrance: generally, i never use this except for color p*rn sets but they work really well in making colors seem more strong

hue/saturation: like vibrance, i never use this except for color p*rn sets but this adjustment is to help change the colors or hue of a color for example: turn blue into purple or turn a blue into a little lighter shade of blue

color balance: I ALWAYS USE THIS!! except for in black and white gifs BUT THIS IS MY GO TO AND IF I DON’T USE IT MY GIFS ARE JUST BLAND i feel like color balance is what essentially balances the colors on your gif and adds dimension to it, it makes your gif go from looking way too yellow to a more golden neutral look and it is an essential adjustment in my opinion

channel mixer: i rarely use channel mixer BUT it is so so useful when you are working w a dark scene just play w the settings and all of a sudden all the blue in a dark scene will be a little more yellow and red and your scene will kind of just look brighter and more visible

selective color: THIS IS ALSO AN ESSENTIAL this helps SPECIFIC colors pop you’re working on a scene where there is too much red on someones face you use this tool to remove the magentaness from the yellow section OR when you feel someones face is TOO yellow and needs more blush you add more magenta in the yellow section of selective color

gradiant map: gradiant map is perfect when you’re lazy if you feel like your gif looks more neutral and you want some red in it but you don’t want to mess with any other adjustments just set a red to black gradiant on soft overlay with a very low opacity and BOOM slightly red but not too much red added!

NOW TO COLOR THE GIF!

today i have decided to start with a brightness layer set on screen

and this is what we got!

now that’s a little to bright and washed out in my opinion SOOOO to counteract it, i’m going to use my black point tool in curves and i’m going to select this point on the gif (it’s better to choose smth in the background and not smth that’s paid attention to such as monica’s hair or either of their eyelashes)

now my gif looks like this! the base color is complete!

now i think i need to balance all this yellow and red! SOOOO WE GONNA USE COLOR BALANCE!!

i think the best way to use color balance is to keep swinging the balancer until you see what you like and then keep going midtones i think i want more red and i don’t want a cyan midtone and then for shadows i think i want more cyan to counter the redness of the gif but highlights i don’t touch that much NOW HERE ARE MY SETTINGS SO YOU CAN SEE

and this is what my gif looks like

now you can stop here if you want but in my opinion i think the gif looks a lil too dead still SO IMMA USE SELECTIVE COLOR

i think there needs to be a lot lot more RED so i amp up the yellow magenta and black in the red! but i also think the yellows need to be LESS RED so i remove magenta from the yellow! and bc there’s some cyan and blue bc of monica and the flowers in the background im going to make the cyans more cyan and the blues a lil more black! i’m going to remove some yellows from the magenta!! and i add more black to the neutrals and black!! i think it’s always important to add more black to neutral and black bc it adds more depth to the gif by not just making it a bunch of bright colors and having dark colors to contrast to!! my settings are below!

and the result!

now let’s see everything together!

and the before and after!

I HOPE MY COLOURING EXPLANATION MADE SENSE!! if not you can always ask me more questions i don’t mind!!

ADDING SUBTITLES

we want to grab the text tool!

make a text box from anywhere in the middle from the left to right edge. this is so we can make sure our text is centered and will be in the same place for when we have sets w more than one gif w text!

type your text out and make sure you highlight the whole text so that all the settings apply to EACH character! you can find the alignments (for center) in the paragraph tab!

now lets right click on the text layer and go to blending options! add stroke and drop shadow!

now drag it to the desired height you would like and make sure to keep it in mind for when you have more than one subtitled gif in a set!

NOW TO MAKE SURE THE TEXT STAYS IN PLACE AND THE BLENDING STAYS YOU HAVE TO CONVERT TO SMART OBJECT!!

if you want to only have the text applied to certain frames instead of all frames, select the frames you don’t want by clicking the first frame in ur don’t want section ON THE TIMELINE and WHILST HOLDING SHIFT click the last frame of ur don’t want section and then toggle the eye switch next to the text layer

now you see the text

now you don’t

tip: use opacity to fade the text in and out!

the text is going to be on all my frames so i don’t need to toggle the eye but i just wanted to show you just in case!!

now here’s my FINAL RESULT

save for web (file -> export -> save for web)

your gifs have to always be under 10 mb! so, if your WAYYY overboard YOU HAVE TO DELETE FRAMES! or you can divide the gif in two and have two gifs instead of one! however, if you plan on going the deleting frames route MAKE SURE YOU DELETE FROM THE BEGINNING OR END OF YOUR SELECTION i promise you that most of us won’t notice that your characters dialogue is being cut off BUT WE WILL NOTICE IF FRAMES ARE BEING SKIPPED so, don’t delete frames in the middle of ur gif!! idc how little you do it IT WILL RUIN YOUR GIF AND I SAY THIS FROM EXPERIENCE i would delete every fifth frame to cut down my gifs and that may seem like not that big of a deal BUT IT IS my gif looked choppy and poor so it is way better to cut from the end/beginning of the gif

ANOTHER LAST PIECE OF ADVICE in the bottom left of when the save for web menu shows up THERE’S A PREVIEW BUTTON click on it! it’ll show you your gif on your default browser and show you what it’ll look like once uploaded! this is perfect to check the speed of ur gif and the colouring and to notice if there’s a problem with your subtitles or maybe there’s an obvious jump in frames you never noticed before!! i always use preview bc the built-in photoshop viewer of ur gif shows the colors differently and the speed is NEVER ACURRATE!

I USED THESE SAVE SETTINGS!! many say to use selective pattern but i DISAGREE and i think these save settings are the ✨ best ✨

OK NOW THAT IS THE END OF THIS VERY LONG GIF TUTORIAL!! I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED!! IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS DON’T BE AFRAID TO ASK I SINCERELY DON’T MIND!! JUST DON’T BE RUDE OR ANYTHING BC PPL HAVE BEEN RECENTLY :(

I WISH YOU ALL THE LUCK AND FUN IN YOUR GIFFING ADVENTURES !!

#tutorials #asks #sourceblog #allresources #completeresources #itsphotoshop #dailyresources #resourcemarket #chaoticresources #onlyresources #hisources #sibylresources #dailypsd

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wolf-zer0 · 3 years

Text

Ya want some WORLD-BUILDING????

Have some world-building!

*REMINDER* This is based on characters, not real people. I’m not going to be writing any shipping/smut content, especially involving minors. Please be respectful of content creators’ boundaries!

The Crystallos Empire (AKA the Antarctic Empire)

Largest the countries (takes up most of the southern half of the map) but agreed to stop expansion after a bloody battle with Valeriana

Centered on a large snowy mountain in the middle of the tundra

Mostly stays out of other countries’ business, but will step in as a last resort

Has some of the most well-known citizens in the world because… they’re pure chaos

Attack at your own peril

Has vast deposits of ores and gemstones, and the metalwork from Crystallos (mainly weaponry, armor, and jewelry) is highly sought after

The only known food export is potatoes. Wonder why…

Associated Colors: Royal blue, light blue, crimson, gold

Aesthetic/Vibes: gothic vibes, white stone and large stain glass windows, not particularly opulent or extravagant but still impressively royal looking, think catholic cathedral but brighter and with less Jesus (can you tell I’m a recovering catholic yet?), spires shooting into the sky that’s visible even during a blizzard, cavernous halls full of sunlight and echoes, snow that can comfort and kill in equal measure

Notable Members:

Philza Minecraft:

Angel

Visible wings look like a harpy eagle

Probably the most powerful person in the world

Didn’t mean to start an empire it kinda just happened

Also didn’t mean to adopt kids but his Dadza alarm went off

Usually kind but will not hesitate to use violence when necessary

Technoblade:

Is pig.

With braid.

At least 8 feet all

Extremely adept fighter, skilled in almost every form of combat.

Not a people pig, prefers his potato farm to being a prince

Hella protective of his family but will not hesitate to bully when given the opportunity

Wilbur Soot:

Muse who can influence people through song

Can’t totally control people (yet) but can subtly push them in a certain direction

The public face of the imperial family

Would rather insult than fight but can and will cut a bitch if he needs to

Because inspiration is fickle he’ll have some … strange episodes (see: the Sand Incident)

Tommy Innit:

Child.

Chaos incarnate.

Is he human? Is he not? No one’s sure yet.

But he’s a gremlin and a hellion and willing to throw down at any moment.

Has a surprisingly caring side, but no one outside his immediate circle has ever really seen it.

The Kingdom of Valeriana (aka Dream SMP)

Oldest of the countries

Located in the middle of a massive forest at the center of the main continent

Home of the Fae Courts

Ruled by a single king who is chosen by a tournament held every 100 years

Known for causing chaos in other countries, but after an Incident with Crystallos they have kept their meddling to annoyances rather than outright declarations of war

Considered the most magical of all the countries, and traditional enchantments almost all come from Valeriana

Associated Colors: neon green (duh), bright yellow, forest green, light brown, blood red (more saturated than Crystallos), rose gold

Aesthetic/Vibes: spooky art nouveau (idk what else to call it), lots of plants and nature but with an edge of danger, poison gardens and carnivorous plants, hedge mazes that lead everywhere and nowhere, laughter deep in the forest, deer with eyes just a hair too human, Alice in Wonderland on steroids

Notable Members:

Dream:

Current king of the Fae

As long as he’s touching the ground, he knows where everything and everyone is

Can terraform

Unlimited in the boundaries of his kingdom

Much more limited outside of his realm

No one has ever seen what he really looks like, even before he took the throne

Since people outside the kingdom don’t know who he is, he’ll wander the outside world and challenge random people to fights

Never says what happens to the losers

Only one person has ever beaten him: Technoblade

He might have a lil obsession around Techno, but it’s fine.

A little competition is healthy.

Sapnap:

High Lord of the Summer Court

Dream’s right hand man

Likes fire a little too much probably

George:

Human that Dream took a liking too and yoinked from the mortal world

Dream and Sapnap made him immortal but he hasn’t realized it yet.

Skeppy:

Changeling who started growing diamond-like scales across his body

Is vaguely allied with Dream simply because he’s Fae, but is more loyal to BBH

Like a lot of other Fae, likes to make challenges but he makes them less deadly. Not totally safe, just less deadly.

Badboyhalo:

Demon who was kicked out of hell because he was too nice

Found Skeppy in the Overworld and the rest is history

Cursed by the Demon King that the moment he says a swear word, the entire world would end, but can never tell anyone that he is cursed

The Merchant’s Guild

Not quite a country, more of a international power

Oversees the largest and most important businesses in the world

Makes sure that no laws are broken between different countries and everyone gets a fair shake

Has a very large reach, so some members have dabbled in espionage for various groups

From the outside it looks like the whole thing is kept together with duct tape and hope, but its actually pretty functional

The main members are just… a lot.

More concerned with keeping things working than influencing other nations (although there are still jokes about it)

The most valuable thing they trade in is information

They have a lot of fingers in a lot of pots, but are trusted with their information

Associated Colors: dark blue, teal, deep yellow, burnt orange, copper

Aesthetic/Vibes: art deco babie, angles and lines, very modern and streamlined, sleek suits instead of armor or robes, whiskey in a crystal glass, wars won by words not weapons, knowing when someone’s lying without them saying a word

Notable Members:

Schlatt:

Ram-man with a plan

Not that bad of a dude, but is in a position where he is constantly in possession of highly sensitive information and that does things to someone’s mental state

Drinks pretty regularly but not a full blown alcoholic

Trying his best

Can be a snarky asshole sometimes

Quackity:

Lucky duck. literally.

Duck man with an uncanny ability to absorb good luck from people (typically Fundy) and apply it to himself

No one knows when or why he joined the guild, but now he’s there

Pretty damn smart, but hides it behind humor

Fundy:

FOX!

With BEANS!

Trying his goddamn best but life (and Quackity) make it very difficult

Usually is stuck with the shit end of the stick when getting jobs/contracts/etc.

Wilbur being his dad is an inside joke that’s gotten a life of its own.

(No Fishfuckers Allowed!!!)

Puffy:

Badass sheep lady who captains a ship and commands her own armada

Schlatt’s sister

Also part of Storm’s Landing’s council and acts as the main liaison between them

Do not fuck with her she will kick your ass.

Storm’s Landing

Port city that became a country after becoming a safe-haven for seafarers

Led by a council of important people, with the head of the council known as the Admiral

Closest ties to Crystallos and the Merchant’s guild because:

1) Clingy supremacy!!!!

2) it’s a good idea for a guild to have good ties with a large sea power

3) all the dads for Tubbo

Associated Colors: navy blue, scarlet, white, brass

Aesthetic/Vibes: Nautical (obviously) with heavy “Age of Exploration” vibes, barnacles crusted on treasure chests, think tall ships and pirates and shit, respecting the ocean because holy shit she’s gonna smash your boat to pieces on a whim because she can, has an edge of darkness because when you go deep enough who knows what you’ll find down there (maybe mermaids???)

Notable Members:

CaptainSparklez:

elected to Admiral after the previous Admiral went missing on a routine voyage

(idk who it used to be, I just wanted to make him new at leading)

not 100% sure about the whole thing, but handling it pretty okay

still answers to “Captain” instead of “Admiral”.

Niki:

If Storm’s Landing had a queen, would be it unquestionably

Never gets robbed even though there’s a well known “underbelly” in town

Could probably end wars with her croissants

Has a significant history of empathic abilities in her family, so she can tell how people are feeling at all times

Eret:

Owns a magic store in town that really only shows itself to people who need it.

Having a bad mental health day?

He’s got a warm blanket and a cup of your favorite warm beverage waiting.

Dysphoric?

She’s got the perfect outfit and affirming words already prepared.

Trying to find that specific book but can’t remember the title or plot, only vaguely know the color of the cover?

They’ve got it.

Ranboo:

Not sure why he decided to move to a seaside city when he’s not chill with water, but now he’s here and he’s too anxious to leave

Known for teleporting around town randomly when nervous, and the people who find him are always willing to let a hand if he gets lost

Tubbo:

This boi! Has so many dads!

Epitome of “Kindness does not equal weakness.”

While a lot of people underestimate him, he’s not some fragile little flower

He hasn’t fully grown into his ability to speak to animals (he can only understand bees right now)

He’s just as much of a shit stirrer as Tommy.

When they meet up, look out. Something’s getting destroyed.

The Astral Academy

An independent university focused on advancing knowledge in the arcane arts and engineering

Not a country, but has the political power of one due to their vast resources and building prowess

People can’t enter unless they are invited or have been given entry as a student

There are a bunch of potential doors scattered around the continent that could lead to the Academy, but no one is sure where the real entrance is

Associated Colors: royal purple, lilac, sepia, sky blue, silver, bronze Aesthetic/Vibes: bright academia, massive libraries with bookshelves stuffed to bursting, workshop benches covered in scrap and prototypes, open air observatories, runes waiting to be translated, the crackling energy that comes from successful collaboration, falling down a research rabbit hole, bursting with pride after a project is a success

Notable Members:

Sam

Purpled

Ponk

Punz

Antfrost

Jack Manifold

I don’t know much about these characters, so if you have any ideas please let me know!

Zero’s OC Land - The North Haven

Smallest and newest country

Recently gained independence from under a cruel dictator (not schlatt lol)

Located in a pine forest at the base of a huge mountain range

Has pretty good relations with the other countries, but outsiders don’t know much about them

Main exports are wood carvings and leather goods

Associated Colors: Maroon, dark brown, black, pewter

Aesthetic/Vibes: medieval but with a modern twist, dark wood lit by a roaring fireplace, snow-covered woods without a living soul in sight, half timber houses and detailed wood carving, no outrageous ornamentation or extravagance

Notable Members:

Tyr:

Lord of the North Haven

trying to keep his people safe and protected

one of the few remaining Spirits (higher in power than the Fae, but lower than angels)

Spirit of Justice

lost a hand in the war for North Haven’s independence

didn’t want to become the leader but does a pretty good job at it

Adopted 5 kids and is trying his best

Bragi:

Heir Apparent

24 year old human

can influence the world by speaking (not singing) but has to be careful about which words he uses

has a book full of phrases that have proven effects (a spellbook of sorts)

has a friendly rivalry with Wilbur

Freya:

Spymaster

actually the oldest but abdicated because she feels she’s not the right person to lead a country

age unknown because she’s the last known [REDACTED] (it’ll be revealed, but I wanna build suspense)

has gyrfalcon wings and heightened senses

chronic insomniac

Forseti:

Official Librarian

20 years old

hybrid with an unknown entity

has black fingers with sharp claws

always wears gloves to hide them

can create portals to places he’s been or to people he knows (the second is much riskier, but not impossible)

knowledge sponge

wants to join the Astral Academy but is too nervous to apply

Odin:

Older Twin

The “Sensible One”

17 years old

Has an uncanny sense of direction

Can’t get lost no matter what

Can manipulate magnetic fields

Loki:

Younger Twin

The “Hot Headed One”

17 years old

can manipulate fire

idolizes his older siblings, particularly Freya

The Institute

Creeping around in the background

Up to bad things

Something’s going on in the world, but no one’s noticed yet

They will though… soon

Aesthetic/Vibes: minimalism (the worst kind of vibes imo), think laboratories or empty hospitals, harsh artificial lights and cold floors, labyrinths of monotonous hallways with no doors

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macaronnya · 3 years

Text

So I just saw the announcement about the EN server shutting down or at least dicontinued (hopefully just for now) and I might just burst into tears 🥲 I want to put my thoughts or rather feelings of the journy up until now on here to come down but maybe also as some form of comfort for anyone who needs it? It's very long and might have some broken english as it's not my first language so do keep it in mind please 😅

Anyways, I started A3! last year on march 7th because I saw a youtube video of people cosplaying Sakuya and Sakyo. At taht point, I already knew of A3! somewhere in my distant memories back when it was JP only. I decided to try out the game since I was getting bored of my current mobile games and the few reviews I could find of it were relatively positive. I had no idea just what a big part of my life this game was about the become 🤧

Btw I'm listening to some A3! songs right now, specifically Sakuya's 2nd character song, and it's not helping me 😢 So at the time, lockdown just started 2 days ago, which left me with a lot of time playing it and, I kid you not, I gulfed the main story down like it was the last slice of cake at home. I have 2 siblings. I think I finished it in a week or so despite it being only unlockable through leveling up, and if my memory serves me right, you need to be around lvl 75 to unlock all 4 episodes. As one can see, I was VERY invested in the story. It was just so....nice? I don't know how to exactly describe it but I was surprised by how likable everyone was. Of course I didn't hold such strong feelings for everyone back then as I do now but I was intrigued enough back then of nearly everyone, which is kind of rather rare in such types of games, no? At least for me it is, although I haven't played terribly a lot (Love Live, MLQC, Mystic Messenger).

I really like how the story actually continues through the events and how it alternated between stories exploring certain characters more (show events) and stories focusing on just them having fun. Getting to know everyone bit by bit and seeing how everyone grows closer to each other, not only within their respective troupes but the whole theater, makes me really all warm and fuzzy and it's found family, what more could you want?

Also, I really like Izumi, our dear MC 🥰 Even though she's supposed to be our self-insert, I found myself really enjoying reading her thoughts, observing her reactions to other characters' shenanigans (like her 'I do not see' to the members plan of faking their identity to bail Citron out lol) and just....her personality. Trying not to digress here but she has a lot more personality than other MCs in these joseimuke games and it makes her interactions with others not only bearable but even enjoyable. I'm not saying that this is what a perfect MC looks like or that she's superior to bland self-inserts. After all, it depends on the story, gameplay and other things. It's just a nice bonus I'm very grateful for. I mean, I got really emotional when Izumi performed with the other staff members all of the plays the actors have put out so far for the first anniversary. Her realizing she gained a new dream for her lost one just really took my heart, broke it in thousand pieces and then mended it again.

I also love A3! songs ❤ I did wonder how they would work in this franchise since it's not about idols but actors, though I guess there was nothing to worry about. I really like the duets because it's always a different duo and hearing them singing together, harmonizing with each other, complimenting each other, just fills me with undescribable joy. Of course the songs also slap pretty much every time. Even by limiting my options to 1 troupe, I still wouldn't be able to pick only one favourite (I like the majority of Winter's song tho, like Shoutai is just 🤌 and my sibling blasted Unmasked non-stop so I can't get it outta my head anymore). Gosh, I was so excited for 'Double Solitaire' since it would complete trilogy of the Hyodosakas singing together. I was really looking forward to getting all the songs and I was even saving up for Summer Troupe's 6th play.

If I had to describe the game A3! in one word, it'd be "charming". Coming to game itself, there are so many little quirks, that on their own aren't anything groundbreaking or big but together give the game its own flair. Live 2D is pretty common to see nowdays in games because it brings the characters to life through movements like 3D models. But I think A3! is able to illustrate it just as well, if not even better with their 2D sprites. Citron moonwalked by flipping the image over and sliding across the screen, Hisoka appeared out of nowhere by coming from above the screen, they do a little jump when they're happy, they go down a bit when they're sad. And that's just things with their whole sprite. The little drops when Tsuzuru finds himself in an awkward situation or is worried, the little note when Sakuya is happy, the hearts when Kazunari is lowkey flirting with Izumi, it's so cute! Or Omi's O.O face, Taichi's crying face (the usual one, not his face when he cried out of guilt of betraying Mankai), Yuki's done expression, H O M A R E AHA! They each have at least one personalized expression and also quote. Can you hear Kazunari's Yoropiko~☆, Citron's humming, Taichi's loud ass whining and scream of terror, Tsumugi's awkawrd laugh? It's brimming with life.

But also the UI (?how it looks) is joyful. The main screen's background cascading shapes changes depending from which Troupe your current character is from, the loading screen has sakura petals and a bird, the colors are very bright and saturated fitting to the overall color palette of the whole game, the little notebook during practice showing all the necessary infomation and a little sketch by the characters. It's just really charming.

As frustrating as it was, not getting halloween Tsuzuru after 110 pulls or Valentine Omi after 120, it was my first time ever understanding why gachas are called hellholes. Through my strong connections to the characters, their cards automatically appealed to me more. But the art is also so good???? Azuma is always looking flawless obviously but Omi's unbloomed Wolf card, where he is standing in the sunset looking at his camera or Kazunari's Shinobi card, unbloomed all concentrated on his panting and bloomed all shiny smiling like the fireworks in the background? Breathtaking everytime. I also appreciate it not needing multiple copies to unlock the whole backstage story.

I think I'm slowly running out of things to say, which might be good for whoever managed to come this far. I have to say though, A3! helped me through the pandemic. Being a perfect distraction to the world's chaos and more importantly my crushing schoolwork and worries for personal future. I'm a very pessimistic person but seeing the characters overcoming their hardships through the help of their to-be "family" and just being happy doing trouble, gave me a little hope and light for a bit every day. I came to cherish everyone, even those I like the least. I haven't felt like this since Mystic Messenger, which was also a game, that helped me through a difficult time. I can only wish to a shooting star, that it's not the end for the EN Server yet. While yes, the JP server is thriving and I could just switch to reading fantranslation, through my experience, my enjoyment considerably sinks playing like that and I wish to fully enjoy A3!.

Anyways thanks for reading (maybe again). Sorry for all the possible errors on the way here. I'm writing everything directly without too much thought. If you want, you can also share your experiences in the comments. It's always nice to share good memories with others.

Edit: I accidentally posted it already but I wasn't actually done 😓 When I said I had a lot to let out, I meant A LOT

#a3!#i will never forget a3!#in the end i never managed to get halloween and groom Tsuzuru

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squeeneyart · 3 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 20

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Simon and Martin have a chat.

Martin accepts some advice.

When Martin passed the front gate the world behind him disappeared, replaced by cold, grey mist and stone.

Staring back the way he came only made it harder to remember what had been before, and his head felt the pressure of distance with no point of reference. Something deep inside him knew the perils of walking anywhere but the path leading him to the Fairchild house; to step anywhere else would see him tumbling out and away from the only landmark he had left.

Waiting for him at the front door was the woman who’d taken the sketchbook from him, this time without the veneer of professional courtesy. The hooded jumper, worn jeans, and disinterested wave announced to the world an interrupted day off. If his damp, miserable self was an affront to her sensibilities, she wasn’t showing it, so the wet jacket stayed on.

In his nerves he hadn’t really registered her appearance during their first meeting, too focused on getting rid of the evidence of his crime. She was older, maybe in her 60s, with long grey hair tied back into a low ponytail. He hadn’t seen her about town before, had he?

They walked inside without any chitchat, so Martin glanced about in silence. The interior felt right if his memory served, the same skinny halls and windows stretching from floor to ceiling. The most striking aspect still was the mural at the top of the central staircase. The rest of the house was dwarfed by it, as if the grand building was no greater than his hometown’s silhouette tucked into the corner of the canvas.

Approaching it, the colors were more. More intense, more bold, all the brightness stolen from the world outside siphoned into an impossible sky. Maybe anything would look that much more when contrasted with where he’d been. He was at the top of the stairs standing at its center wondering if there was any distance that could give him a proper view of the whole.

From behind him the woman cleared her throat, though she didn’t seem irritated. He pulled himself away from the spot where he’d stopped to stare, leaving slippery footprints in his wake.

Glancing up at the mural, she only said, “Some things demand attention.”

She led him to the same room from his first visit with its outward wall of glass. Across the room sat Simon, his back facing those large, unbelievably clear windows that now overlooked the fog-covered landscape. Martin heard the woman’s retreating footsteps and the click of the door.

Martin breathed out, keeping a few feet between himself and the old man. He waved stiffly at the windows. “It’s a bit late. I was expecting this to happen last week.”

With that pleasant smile unmoving, Simon motioned for Martin to sit in the chair across from him. “Don’t be ridiculous. That event will be much more exciting. I wanted to put this meeting together, and needed a good mix of quick and fun.”

“Starting to question my understanding of ‘fun’,” Martin mumbled. He took the seat offered to him and crossed his arms over his chest, the rainwater he carried in seeping into the plush fabric. “It seems like I’m always on the losing side of someone else’s.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Simon hummed, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “So you’d prefer something more exciting in your invitations, so you’re not left out? Did my little errand turn you into a thrill-seeker already?”

“No.” A shiver ran through him, not of fear but of an awful, biting cold. The wet of his hair sapped the heat right out of him and pulled his ponytail down heavy onto his neck. “What do you want?”

“Oh, a bit moody today, aren’t we?” The smile was still sitting idly on Simon’s face. “Peter’s been around more often, I can tell. He does that to people, sucks all patience and goodwill out until they’re… well.” He flicked his eyes over Martin with something like pity.

Martin pressed his arms tighter into himself. “So what, you push people into the sky, and he does that?”

Simon laughed without a hint of shame. “Goodness, no. Peter is just like that, no strangeness needed. I’ve often left his company feeling completely drained and irritable, though I’ve found ways to ensure the feeling is mutual.”

“Good friends, then.”

“As much as he can have them.” Simon leaned forward, no hint of bitterness in his voice or expression. “A very close-to-the-chest type, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

With a sharp exhale, Martin said, “Look, if you’re going to ask me for a favor I’m not-”

“Now, now, I’m not one to drag on a favor forever, and you’ve paid in full. Besides, Peter is much too jumpy right now for anything to be done.” Simon turned his gaze toward the window. “I’m afraid all any of us can do now is wait.”

A jolt of disappointment shocked Martin to silence. All of this dramatic nonsense just to be told to wait and see? He hadn’t had any specific expectations, but deep down he’d believed Simon to be plotting something soon. That even if it was a horrible outcome Martin wouldn’t be left in suspense from every angle of his life.

Whatever shoe was meant to drop, it hadn’t, and it wouldn’t for some unspecified amount of time.

Simon regained his easy tone and continued, “And I greatly dislike this weather, all of these things clouding my view. Soon I’ll be going weeks without a clear day, and it can feel so… so claustrophobic. So little to work with on a day like this.”

He wasn’t the one who needed to walk in it. “You’re not going to explain anything, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You know how these things are. Business.” Reaching into his pocket, Simon pulled out a small envelope. “Speaking of, like a pouting child Peter has been avoiding me, and as far as I can tell you’re the only person who actually sees him.”

With a deep sigh Martin leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. Not only was he getting nothing out of Simon, but- “This is all so I can be a messenger boy?”

“Just the one time, if Peter can be reasonable.”

“I don’t- Wait. Why not trap him like you did me? Just force him to your door.”

With a sudden laugh that made Martin jump, Simon replied, “Not everyone is as easy to find as you. And anyway, it’s not wise to do that to friends, is it?”

It wasn’t a way to keep friends, no, and he took the message from Simon without further comment. On the other side of the room, the door opened to reveal that woman. Not needing prompting he stood, looking back one more time at the other man.

Simon remained seated and swung one more friendly smile in Martin’s direction. “You’ll be seen out, then. I must thank you for your previous help, Martin. The personal significance alone can’t be overstated. It’s not my only sketchbook, of course, but several of my best works had their beginnings in it.” Was that glint in his eye one of creative pride, or was there some joke Martin was missing?

The tiniest desire to stay and hear more itched at the back of his mind, but the dismissal was clear and he let the woman lead him back through the house. Once outside he saw the weather had taken a turn for the worse into a complete downpour. The high wind would certainly blow his hood down, making for a wretched walk ahead of him.

“Ah.” He’d been taken to the Fairchild house on an impossible route, but the way home was entirely real. “I have a long way to walk.”

“Inconveniences all around,” the woman said, shutting the door behind him.

Once he was alone he ripped the phone from his pocket and and bent over it to delete his dramatic messages before they could be seen, replacing it with:

Martin: talked with simon (didnt really have a choice), dont think anything will happen with him for a while

Martin: said all we can do is wait? really cryptic

Then he pocketed it once more and walked out the front gate into the reinstated town.

The greatest relief was finding other unlucky pedestrians doing their best to stay dry along with him. Even without the ability to stop and talk he felt the silent commiseration. It wasn’t joy in the suffering of others but rather the knowledge that other people were there at all to share in the cruddy weather. He could see where a person ahead of him was avoiding puddles, and found residual warmth in the lights of nearby shop fronts. It was the kind of melancholy atmosphere that could make rain a little more bearable.

The walk down the cliff however was designed to kill him, the slope slick with mud and abandoned by an early setting sun. No waterproof phone, glasses blurred and splattered with droplets, Martin made his slow way home in the cold, in the dark. More than once he stopped to make sure he hadn’t gotten turned around by forces supernatural or otherwise, but then the ground flattened and he could finally hear the sea over the rain beating against the ground.

He was late of course, but besides some comments about tracking water into the house and forgetting his umbrella his mother had left him well alone, and even took his word when he described the weather as unsuitable for her health. He was grateful. After the last few days anything worse might’ve sent them into a screaming match to surpass any bouts they’d had in years. Maybe the day had taken as much out of her as it had from him.

Instead, after a necessary change of clothes on his part, they ate dinner and watched television, her in her chair and him on the couch. It was some old game show he vaguely remembered, not something that aired in his childhood but that he’d experienced first as reruns, the saturated colors and fuzzy image granting it a multilayered nostalgia. Someone on the screen had just answered a question and was hoping their spouse would come up with the same response.

In his pyjama pants and old t-shirt he felt little, his feet tucked under him because he hadn’t wanted to waste another pair of socks. It was as if he’d just come out of the bath with his wet hair and drooping eyes and was waiting to be told he was up too late. As if he wasn’t responsible for watching the clock himself.

His phone vibrated in the middle of the program, but if his mother noticed she chose to ignore it. Tapping the phone awake, Martin saw a notification from the group message.

Tim: ok check-in time what the hell

Tim: just saw this

So they hadn’t seen his initial messages. He breathed out in relief and typed out a reply.

Martin: some weird stuff, but everythings fine. simon made it so i had to go talk to him

Martin: whatever simon mentioned before its not coming yet. seems like he isnt in control of when whatever it is happens? also peter is avoiding him so i need to give him this letter

Tim: weird but

Tim: good? more time for us

Sasha: one less thing to worry about. glad it went okay.

Tim: ^^

He’d successfully avoided any panic or weirdness that his original messages most definitely would’ve caused and patted himself on the back for a job well done. No one needed that as a distraction.

Martin: oh right weird topic change but jon mentioned it, do you really all use a cot at work

Tim: oh yeah lol love that thing

Tim: jon is on it right now actually will pass on simon info when hes awake

Martin: youre all still there??

Tim: oh martin dont you know weve Never Left

Tim: we should get going soon tho now that you mention, will drag jon out of the archives while passing on simon info

Martin: good idea

Tim: and keep those eyes down!

Martin bit his cheek and looked past his phone at the television screen. No doubt it was karma for his rash behavior at the lighthouse, having “just wait!” shouted at him from all corners. The universe was making itself very clear. Simon could’ve just been telling him to let something terrible happen, but even if that was true Martin wasn’t in a place to stop anything.

But it was a great quality of Tim’s, rounding them all up and trying to save them from regrettable decisions. The least Martin could do was make that job easier and stay out of trouble. It was also the most he could do, as much as it irked him.

Martin: dont need to tell me twice!

And with that Martin pocketed his phone, accepting his fate of inaction.

When he finally put his mother to bed the goodnight between them was not warm, but it was closer to normal. If he’d been told that one of the most pleasant parts of his day would’ve been watching the telly after dinner with his mum, he would’ve… well, it wasn’t that strange. Really it emphasized how bad the rest of his day had been.

Meanwhile the most pleasant event felt fake, even when he checked his call logs to confirm it. What a strange start to a day, he thought as he laid in bed. At least it made up for Jon not being around that evening, that and knowing Jon was getting some sleep. The man clearly needed some prompting during an intense work period to take care of himself, and Martin silently thanked Tim for doing something about it when he couldn’t bring himself to initiate a phone conversation. He knew it was ridiculous for him to be so nervous about the idea, but…

But.

Hopefully Jon didn’t think he was rude. It was one thing to chat in person, but calling without a specific topic to discuss while the others were hard at work? Because he was bored? Best to let Jon reach out when he felt it necessary, even if it meant being woken up at odd hours on a work day and otherwise sitting on his hands. Eventually this would all be behind them and he could stop being racked with guilt over the thought of making a social call.

Martin’s stomach twisted. Yes, things would be dealt with, and he would move on from this strange period in his life.

He moved to place the phone down for the night when it buzzed in his hand, with a message in another, private chat.

Sasha: we should talk more later about what simon told you specifically. if something big is coming having someone on the inside of things might not be the worst. not saying you should seek him out, he seems perfectly of capable of contacting you, but if it happens again it could be an opportunity

Martin: you think he could be on our side?

Sasha: i think letting people say their piece can lead to understanding, even if the other person is the worst. something is going on between him and peter lukas and the more we know the better

Martin: right…

Sasha: again not saying to run into anything. wait for us etc etc but trust your gut

Martin: so your opinion on staying put?

Sasha: sometimes you cant, thats all im saying

Martin: okay, i think i get it

Sasha: good. now get some sleep, weird things tend to drain you

Martin: goodnight

Sasha: night

Well, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t believe that Simon was a good person, not with how he’d treated Martin thus far, but that didn’t make him evil, either. And his advice was the same as what everyone else had already been saying: stay out of trouble as best he could and wait for the right moment. Even Sasha still conceded to it being the best option for the present. If Peter told him to wait as well, then Martin would be truly lost on what to do, but until then he would follow the advice of all the people who knew more than he did.

And if Simon called him to his home again, he would try to be less… difficult. And he would buy a better jacket, just in case.

The next morning, he listened to a voice message left shortly after he’d fallen into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Jon’s groggy voice drifted from the mobile. “Hi, sorry I missed things. Wasn’t expecting Fairchild to be so forward, and my sleep schedule has never been- anyway, Tim convinced me to go back to my flat, but since I slept at the institute earlier I’m currently following a few threads to see if they lead anywhere helpful. I think I’ve reached something, but time will tell.”

He continued after a brief pause. “Seems you’re already asleep, as you should be, so I’ll let you go. Let me know if you have any questions about our other… shared interest. Good night. I hope things stay quiet.”

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #simon fairchild #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #i swear to god theres selkie content its just very slowburn selkie content #jonmartin

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

BTHB: Working Through the Cold

I’m not entirely happy with this, but some advice from everyone here has me thinking I will post it anyway! Let me know what you think! (and thanks to @slaintetowhump, @moose-teeth, @wildfaewhump, @robins-whump, Anons, @that-one-thespian, and others who were so nice about me being a schmoop yesterday)

TIMELINE: About a year before things get better for Killan

@badthingshappenbingo request: Working Through the Cold by Anon

CW: Extremely dehumanized whumpee, noncon touching (nonsexual), wing whump, muzzling, conditioning/training a whumpee, careless/casual/distant whumper, a kind of pet whump, referenced piercings, restraints, display whump

From inside the little shop, located on a busy street close to the central square, passing people might have heard the sounds of chirping birds, chittering small rodents (a southern delicacy, you know, when fed just the right mixture of seeds, nuts, and berries), two long, lean spotted cats built for the hunt and the chase, and one very old dog whose bark was much worse than his bite.

At least, he was missing enough teeth by now to undermine the threat.

A long-treasured travel companion, the old dog was fed rice cooked in a rich chicken stock with vegetables and chicken shredded so finely it didn’t require chewing. He’d had the dog for so long, now, and perhaps the old boy didn’t move much these days, but the merchant would rather rent a shop to help his dog keep warm over the harsh northern winters than be richer - and lonely without the old boy by his side.

The dog, of course, was not of much interest to his customers. No, they came to look at the rarities - to buy quill pens made from feathers saturated with a brilliant teal, or perhaps take home a pair of lovebirds cooing to each other, beaks just touching. An aristocrat or two with a taste for the meals in the far-off lands they’d traveled to might by the Sunning Hens for the soup pot, along with the packet of heady spices and tikla flour the merchant offered to recreate the spicy, thick stews from the south, where the people fought heat with heat.

They could come and see, while the weather continued to cool day by day, these reminders that there were lands, far away, who did not grow cold enough to bring out the painted lights in the sky at night, there were places that did not see the Longest Night at all.

They could see these things, for an easy, small price. In the large bay window of the shop, that angles outward and then in again, the people often paused to see something else entirely. No a reminder of the south’s bright colors and warmer clime, but… something new.

The summer’s warm air had been blown away by the oncoming winter chill, and autumn was in full swing. The trees in the small park in the town square were a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows, drifting down to create pools of color against the browning grass.

This far north, autumn felt like a luxury, a few weeks of middle-chill before the deeper freeze set in.

The people made the most of the time, and some of those people - when out their walks, or taking their children to and fro - stopped to look at the creature in the rarity-merchant’s window.

You couldn’t say anyone had ever seen anything like this before. In this part of the world, the fae were a whispered rumor of mountain folk more like birds than men, who swooped down to carry off lambs and calves and children alike. They were known to sour the milk and spoil the harvest using magic no human could quite master.

Here in this bustling city, the people had never so much as seen a feather that could be proven to be of fae origin - although many large hawk and eagle feathers were sold to excited children as fae feathers, the same way they might bring home a plush centaur or unicorn to line up in their beds.

No, nearly none of these people would ever see a fae in person, in their lifetime. But when looking at the creature strung up in the merchant’s window, they came as close as ever they would.

The creature shivered - the window did not hold out the chilly autumn breeze, and even through the slightly scratched glass the people could see the tiny bumps that rose on its skin, the minute tremors, the way its body fought to warm it.

It wore only a loose pair of pants - scandalous, if it had been a man. It looked a bit like one, of course, except… well.

Except for all the ways it didn’t.

In the window, they came to stand, one or two at a time - whole families on occasion - to look at the strange half-open blue eyes with tiny slit-pupils that stared back at them above a heavy leather muzzle dotted with little brass circles where it took in air to keep breathing. Wavy brownish-blond hair was chopped roughly, curling over rounded ears and against the nape of its neck, and only drew attention to the inhumanity written in the flatness of its eyes.

For all the roundness of its ears - and didn’t everyone know the faes’ ears were pointed and moved forward and back like a cat’s - and the gentle rather than pointed curve of its chin, you couldn’t ignore those eyes, or the blunted, pitch-dipped talons that twitched on its right hand.

A thick chain ran from the buckle at the back of its muzzle, keeping its head pulled slightly back, exposing a wickedly curved scar that ran down its throat from pulse point to collarbone. Affixed to the window at even level with it was a small piece of paper that read TWO VOICES, TWO WORLDS: 10 Marks to Hear a Song!

Iron cuffs around its wrists were chained to the wall, keeping its arms outstretched, giving an easy view of the other large scar down its left side, traveling down over its ribcage, fading out only just above the hips. Another sign here read FLIGHTS OF FANCY: Could this scar have to do with the power of flight? Come inside to see more!

It knelt - or sat, as the day went on and on - on a small cushion, and the people came each day to drop a coin or two in the box outside the shop and drink in their fill of the visual of the strange creature, neither man nor fae. Afforded the respect given to neither - not terrifying enough to fear like the fae, and so clearly not human.

The old dog by the fireplace was given more dignity than this.

But it wasn’t like the creature understood that, right?

Near its talons, one more sign in the window read: Razor-sharp talons slice a rabbit to shreds in seconds! These are dipped in pitch for your safety. Feel free to inquire inside for a closer look!

Mostly, they stay outside. It was worth a coin, or two, perhaps - to look at the winding, stitched-in threads that adorned its pelvis in a series of constellations that directly echoed the shape of the stars on clear winter nights all the way up to its chest, where a spiral had been sewn directly over its heart.

Assuming, of course, it had a heart in the same place a human would. No one seemed to know, and there really was only one way to find out for sure. The merchant wasn’t ready to sell the thing off for parts, not yet.

Some of the people, curiosity and the chill air driving them inside, couldn’t resist the pull. They meandered into the little store feigning disinterest. They looked over the areas where the merchant sold the rarities he kept in cages - brightly plumed birds, the little rodents, those two great hunting cats - and pretended to be more interested in those. Maybe they even bought a bird or two.

In the end, though, they gave the merchant more money for a chance at the creature’s wings.

They were huge, to the eyes of humans who had never seen fae - spread to their full wingspan by chains hooked into the joints that ran straight up to the ceiling. The creature’s display took up an entire side of the room, really, the side farthest from the warmth of the fireplace.

The southern-bred birds and rodents needed the heat, after all. The creature in the window seemed largely dulled to the cold.

This close, a paying customer could see the creature’s ankles were chained down, too, to keep it from trying to stand or move away. The occasional man or woman might flick at one of the thin but solid chains hooked to its wings and listen to the creature’s answering whimper as it forced the joints, even for just a second, to stretch farther.

While the creature kept its eyes on the people outside, it was the ones within the store who touched it. Their curious, questing hands ran over its spine, pushing and prodding at the scar tissue there, murmuring with scandalized whispers about the way the ropey, knotted skin seemed unnaturally thick.

There were more stitched threads, new constellations humans had never thought of and never named, that twined and twirled around its hips at the back and skimmed up the center of its spine. Galaxies were marked, and no one in this city knew what those galaxies might be called, but the fae knew.

And the creature - the boy, who had been named Killan once, and who now was only monster or creature or stop that, it’s not so bad - had been taught each and every name to scream into the spinning void as the magic was sewn in. Not that he told the merchant that.

Even now, abandoned and sold and then bought and sold and bought and sold again, there had to be some things he could hold inside, secret and safe from even the deepest violations. They had taken nearly everything, but they did not - they could not, they didn’t know to - take this.

Everyone thought the galaxies on his back were some fanciful nothingness sewn there. Only the boy - and the fae who had made him, and the other fae who had turned away from the horror of his appearance and had been the first to call him monster - knew the names of the stars on his back.

But the hands never stopped on the galaxies, and when they moved to his shoulder blades, the creature drifted uneasily back into the haze, colored with nothing, that let him exist as an it, day after day after day.

If there was still a spark, it was so hidden that none of the customers could ever, ever find it to take it away from him.

No. That he was still him was his own private secret. To the gaze and the hands and the curiosity and the endless need to know to see to feel to own of the people who came, there was no boy.

Only the creature.

It continued to shiver as the cold air drifted through the imperfect seals on the glass window and ghosted over its front. Even in the haze, the thing would tremble more and more through the day. Stomach hollow and empty, it held as still as it could under the overhot, clammy hands of the paying customers behind it, but still there was a slowly growing coating of grime and dirt and grit from their fingernails scratching at a thread to see if it would pull up, or rubbing at the base of its wings in a violation so complete it pulled an unwilling keen from the creature’s throat.

Every other day or so, the creature at least knew there would be a bucket of water over its head in the stables, a harsh brush meant for cleaning the dust from the horses, its own skin nearly torn open and reddened from how it would clench the wood handle in its hand and desperately try to clean away the memory of their touch…

Well.

The buckets of water were something, at least. And if it could not be interesting enough to be sold, it could be interesting enough to see.

The merchant was a clever man. He’d begun to understand that no one wanted to pay a good price for the creature, not here, but they wanted to pay a smaller price to see it. Give the people what they want, he always said, and you’ll make your fortune.

So he gave them what they wanted.

He gave them something new, at an affordable price.

The days passed, and autumn turned to winter, and still the merchant led the quiet, unprotesting creature with dulled blue eyes from the stable where it slept with the horses to the window every day, fastening its chains, stretching its wings to an agonizing width.

At some point, to amuse himself, he began to make up little whistles to train it to respond to. A certain number of notes meant stand, a second meant lift your hands, a third spread your wings. The winters were long, and the nights stretched on and on to a nearly-constant twilit near-dark, and he began to keep the creature in his rooms at the back of his store for longer and longer each evening after its daily meal.

The creature proved eager and willing to learn, when offered an extra helping of porridge or stew or whatever he fed it that day.

Enrichment, the merchant thought, quite pleased with himself. Like the small wooden clickers he left in the bird cages, like the tiny wheel he’d fastened together for the smallest rodents. Something to do, to put in the creature’s mind. A way to please him.

Even the old guard dog’s tail thumped, now and then, when he brought the creature in and it stopped to give the dog a scritch behind its ears.

Funny, how the creature seemed to have quite the way with the animals.

Still, even learning to move by whistle, to answer his unspoken commands, something was… missing, from the eyes of the monster. Listless, unsettled. The monster began to remind the merchant of silt - a swirl of useless dirt covering up the depth of a lake, or river. Making it look shallow and unsafe to drink, and beneath the silt, in the depths… what?

Empty darkness? Or a raging torrent?

To make up for the loss of shine and the heavy shadows under the creature’s eyes, he began to paint a bit of kohl and shimmery gold, not quite transparent, over its eyelids.

He couldn’t completely hide the way its spirit had dulled nearly to dying, but he could disguise it.

The winter passed this way. There were always new customers, and returning visitors, and one by one the birds, the rodents, and the hunting cats sold to interested parties.

Until only a few cages of birds remained… and the creature in the window.

In the winter, the shivers started faster, but the warm hands of the paying customers inside the store were far more welcomed than they had once been.

The creature stopped pulling away from them, or trying, and began to lean back, pressing its spine into a questing touch, tilting its head back even further to seek out the palm and fingers that had run so kindly through its hair. It would trill and chirp on command for the children who came by, and there was a slight wrinkling of the nose, a hint of a crinkle to the eyes, that made the merchant think absently, on occasion, that the creature might be smiling behind the muzzle at their delight.

From the window came a bitter cold. The merchant rarely ventured to that part of the store, and kept his own fireplace stocked high and crackling, to keep the remaining merchandise and the dog as warm as he could.

The creature, though… well, fae did not get cold so easily as people did. Its shivering was a show it put on, he thought, to try and make him feel guilt. He was unmoved. He ignored the whines and keens of pain when he finally unhooked it at the end of each day and its wings were finally able to curl back against its back. Instead, he whistled, and watched it drop to its knees on the wooden floor instantly in the back room, eyes closed to soak up the relative warmth compared to its usual proximity to the window.

After its daily meal, the merchant watched it curl up near the fireplace by the old guard dog, wings tightly wrapped around itself. He had grown a little fond of the thing, and so often allowed it to go without its muzzle for a couple of hours and warm itself before he led it to the stables to be chained down to sleep.

Usually, when he came in the morning to feed the horses and pick it up to lead it to the store window, he found it sleeping curled against one of his horses. And he never stopped feeling the prickling worry that the look in the liquid eyes of his long-time wagon team was not knickering interest any longer, but a simmering hate that grew each time the creature required its pitch to be replaced over the talons, or they saw the muzzle remove and replaced.

Surely that wasn’t possible.

Horses didn’t hate.

The merchant put the thought from his mind.

Through the winter, each day was the same in the little store the merchant rented. Wake the creature at the stable, allow it to stretch and bend its muscles in preparation, allow it to drink its fill of water, and then get it set for the daily display. Each day the winter stretched onward, the creature seemed less present than the day before.

Instead, the creature began to watch the twisting northern lights in the sky that stayed vibrantly visible late in the morning as the days without sun continued on. Instead, the merchant found its eyes were tilted upward, not on the customers, but up at the grayish-purple eternal twilight.

One night, the merchant paused on his way leading the creature to the stables, and caught its eyes turned upwards. He’d left the muzzle off, for a bit, and with so much of its face visible, he saw a very sentient look of awe written across its expression.

Intelligence was in that face, however dulled and deeply repressed. Humanity was in that face.

“What are you doing, creature?” The merchant asked, to cover his own unease.

It turned to look at him, and for a moment darkness covered the inhuman eyes and concealed its tightly curved wings against its back and he was looking at a young man, nothing more. A young man in chains, and with the red marks of the muzzle pressed so deeply against the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones that starlight left them in plain sight for hours.

The creature had not spoken in so long that its voice came out hoarsely hesitant, struggling to form the words. The monster had a soft, slight accent, as though it had grown up far to the south.

“Listening,” It said. One word only, and even that was reluctant.

The muzzle in the merchant’s hand twitched, suddenly wondering if he should replace it before he let the thing say a single word more. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. “Listening to what?”

The creature, who looked like nothing more than a boy, turned its gaze back upwards. Above their heads, a brilliantly painted blue and green light snakes along the sky like a snake, the trace of some great dragon.

The boy was silent, for a second, and then clicked deep in his secondary fae throat.

“Stars,” He said, plaintive. Soft and sad. “Wish they could hear me. I hear them. Try to sing back. Don’t think I’m heard.” Reddish tears welled at the corners of its eyes and caught the starlight, and it was that that broke the spell the merchant had been under, transfixed by the sound of its very human voice.

All at once, he remembered.

Fae magic.

The merchant’s jaw set in a shiver of repulsion, and he yanked on the chain that went to the ring around the boy’s - the creature’s - neck. It stumbled forward, and he replaced the muzzle, fastening the buckles with a touch more cruelty than necessary, until the thing whined at the pain.

The animal sound the creature made soothed the uncertainty that had so briefly flashed inside the merchant’s mind.

It bedded down obediently enough with the horses in the stables. In the morning, it was back in the window, on display for the stragglers who might come by in the crowd.

The merchant did not ask it questions again.

---

Tagging Killan’s crew: @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @slaintetowhump , @quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology, @doveotions, @broken-horn, @moose-teeth, @whumpfigure, @oceanthesarcasamfox, @whump-only, @just-strawberry-jam, @loopylunacy (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

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chibimyumi · 4 years

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Hi there! So I've been meaning to ask this for a while after realizing it, but don't O!Ciel's, Doll's, Alois', and Lizzy's color schemes kind of reveal their past and future a tad bit? I've know Alois outfits are bold yet kind of gothic colors like violet emerald green black and brown which all in the world of art are color forms of different emotions depending how you work with them, green being envy or disgusted but he hides it with royal purple, black means wounded which are his shorts & tie

Dear Blackbutlerfandomnerddomain,

While colour symbolism is popular, I personally don’t think the colours in Kuroshitsuji’s costumes are supposed to deliver any meaning other than aesthetic value. Especially with O!Ciel and Lizzie we can say with some certainty colour symbolism is not within the intention, because they change clothes in every single illustration, and every time they wear different colours. Yes, these characters do have tones they tend to wear, but that’s how real people dress themselves too. Somebody who likes calm colours is slightly less likely to have a rainbow assortment of neon, for example.

This is simply the way I understand Yana’s style, there’s not really ONE correct answer here. So feel free to read as much into the colours as it pleases you. But as I personally see it, Yana’s style of using symbolism tends to rely on objects rather than colours. Allow me to briefly analyse two artworks to illustrate what I mean and how I came to my understanding.

Case One

One of the most famous artworks is the front illustration of the second illustration book. Many colours including green, red, blue, white, gold are all present here.

One could make arguments for the black and white of the Earl’s attire being symbolism, but this meaning is quickly overshadowed by the ravens emerging from the Escher patterns. Red is the most eye-catching colour in this illustration. One might say O!Ciel’s gloves being red means to symbolise his hands being blood-dyed, or his shoes red because he walks a bloody path... but then how do we explain the inside of the drape or Sebastian’s waistcoat?

The setting is a place that appears to be a type of greenhouse; a place built to maximise the function of sunlight. And yet, while the illustration seems to suggest it is daytime, the sun is failing miserably in face of the heavy clouds. Rather than painting the sky ominous red or just dark, Yana uses the unsuccessful sun to set a mood or convey symbolism. “Is the white light against the dark clouds not also a type of colour symbolism?” Yes, it may be, but then one should also ask the question: "why choose a greenhouse then, and not any other setting that could have conveyed the light/dark contrast?”

Case two

Another famous piece is this 2014 artwork. The overall tone is gloomy and is mostly lacking in colours. Though held back in terms of colour, there is a lot to be unpacked here!

The first thing that catches the eye is indeed the overwhelmingly sombre palate of this illustration. Black can symbolise many things, but when 70% of the illustration is black, one could say this illustration is either incompetent in conveying symbolism in it being over-saturated with “meaning”, or that the black is merely here to set a tone.

Instead, we can see white lilies in O!Ciel’s hair as well as one stem carried by Sebas. Rather than colour symbolism, Japan has a long history of flower-symbolism (花言葉・Hanakotoba), and Yana herself is big fan of this style. When Western culture was introduced to Japan, black and white lilies were accepted as symbols for death.

The composition of the artwork leads the eye from the bottom left corner to the top right. This guides our vision to the empty plate at the top of the table, where a bright white saucer lies with a conspicuous bit of red sauce.

Red might symbolise blood here, and it is befitting. But more importantly we also need to consider this choice from an artist’s point of view. How many different colours of edible sauces are there? There’s chocolate sauce and other dark sauces, but that would just blend in with the rest of the illustration. Yellowy sauce is certainly a thing, but that’d be overpowered by the golden details. So red is the only bright colour that would make the empty saucer pop out. The Empty saucer has a fork placed diagonally on top, meaning that somebody had consumed food and is now finished. Rather than the colour of red, I think it is the now-empty saucer that is supposed to symbolise Sebastian’s goal of consuming his master.

Next to the saucer is the skeleton of a bird; presumably a crow judging from the size. Skeletons universally symbolise death, but it has nothing to do with the colour.

In Japanese native culture the topic of ‘death’ is big taboo. In older Japanese buildings for example, the 4th floor would often be skipped because ‘4′ (四・shi) is a homophone of death (死・shi).

In the past when Buddhism was introduced, the Japanese embraced this religion with open arms because finally there was something else that would deal with ‘death’ while native culture could stay in its comfort-zone. It was a bit like: “we do we... Hey, Buddhism, can you take care of that thing we’re too afraid of for us? Thanks dude!” Since the introduction of Buddhism, images of skeletons came to not just mean ‘death’, but more specifically ‘impermanence’ (無常・mujou). Impermanence is one of the core teachings in Buddhism, reminding humanity that everything will eventually come to an end, be it good or bad. With Buddhism introduced, skeletons were no longer only associated with pure fear, but instead gained an additional meaning of acceptance of change and the cycle of nature.

The origins of the meaning of skeletons have blurred through the years, many Japanese people probably don’t even know why things evoke certain meanings in them (just like in other cultures, I presume). But fact remains that though still macabre, in Japan a skeleton is now assumed to symbolise the naturalness of death.

That the skeleton of the bird is preserved in a glass dome is interesting. Glass domes’ function is primarily display. Out of all things, Yana chose to specifically display the symbol of impermanence and death, meaning that within this artwork that skeleton is the key object of display. In human subjectivity death is finite and fearsome. To a demon like Sebastian however (from whose perspective we view this artwork as he’s the only one awake here), he probably views death more akin to the way Buddhism views it; as just impermanence. I am NOT saying that Sebastian subscribes to a Buddhist philosophy, but I am saying that he must view death a lot more neutrally than most humans do.

Most Japanese people are not raised consciously religiously, but everyone is always influenced to some extent, Yana included. And therefore it is no surprise that Yana might have been inspired by the neutral view towards death (for at least Sebastian), even if she might not know where this inspiration comes from.

The casualness of ‘death’ in this illustration is further indicated by the coffin that is set up as a dining table. There is no respect, no ceremony, objects are scattered on top and around. The message is rather straightforward so I shall waste no more time explaining the obvious here. But I do wish to point out how this gives further evidence for how the meanings of this illustration should be considered from Sebas’ perspective, just like the crow’s skeleton as explained above. What is finite to us, is just a fact of nature to Sebas.

Conclusion

Yana has created many illustrations. Not all include symbolism, but the more elaborate pieces are usually packed with them. Of course I have only analysed two illustrations, and I would not blame anyone for calling this post insufficient evidence. But... I could just go on and on forever, and I need to draw a line somewhere, right? What I can say with confidence however, is that if you were to grab any artwork by Yana and see it for yourself, rather than colour, item symbolism is stronger.

Also, the way Yana uses colour is just not very symbolism heavy; she has a much stronger tendency to use colours purely aesthetically. Take any of the inside covers of this series, and one would quickly find out there really is no pattern to be found here.

In a nutshell, Yana’s colouring style is mostly aesthetic and used to set a tone for her illustrations. What carries the symbolism instead is in the objects.

Again, this is merely how I personally read Yana’s illustrations and an elaboration of how I came to this reading. There is not one correct answer to read illustrations, because art is subjective in its core. So if the colours do mean more to you than they do to me, please do enjoy doing so by all means ^^

#Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #Art #Illustration #art analysis #analysis #I did study art for a bit and it shaped the way I look at art #but the core lesson of art analysis class is that art is always subjective #ALWAYS #symbolism

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jimmythegirl · 4 years

Text

what’s in it for me?

Chapter 2 of Ion Turbine

part 1

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Force sensitive reader and Din cross paths.... its a real slow burn y’all

Warnings: violence , mentions of slavery, no smut now but later on

Author note: I just wanna say thank y’all so much for all the love chapter 1 got. Holy smokes, it really means the world to me. Also, sorry there wasn’t too much Daddy Din in this but next chapter is gonna be saturated with him dw.

When the world came back into focus you felt cold metal around you. As you came to you realized you were on the ground, your body was aching. Had you been hit? Did you fight something or someone? The mandalorian stood feet away from you, holding his blaster in one hand, the small green child guarded behind him.

“Get up and get out.” He demanded, moving closer, extending his blaster out as if to warn you.

You slowly pushed yourself up the wall for support before trying to hobble down the ship’s ramp. He moved up just inches behind you, the blaster pressed against the back of your neck. The touch of its icy metal sent a chill down your spine.

“It-it,” You began softly, looking back at the green child, “has a gift you know.”

The next moment your knees slammed against the rough metal of the ramp, ripping up your skin. Your wrist tried to take the impact but instead leaving you with bloody palms

“Who sent you?!” He kneeled onto your back, the metal plate on his knee digging into your spine.

“N-no one sent me?” You choked out, your face pressed against the ground.

You could feel the blaster pressing into your skull even harder. You scanned your surroundings looking for anything that might give you a slight chance at making it out alive. You could see a large crate back in the ship and hoped that you had enough strength in you to move it.

You closed your eyes, tuning out everything. The demands of the man above you. The birds beginning to wake. The wind blowing through the branches of trees. Everything.

Your arms were currently pinned under your body but you did your best to extend your fingers towards the crate. Pulling on everything in you to move it. You hadn’t used your ability in a long time but this was life or death and you knew you had it in you. You could feel the energy shift as the crate began to pull towards you. You honed in on that feeling and gave every last thing you had. Finally, the crate hurled towards you colliding with the mandalorian and throwing him off you.

He quickly got back to his feet but he did not try to hurt you again. He just stood there. As if in complete disbelief, looking back at the child who just looked at him innocently. You laid still on the dirty ground, trying to regain the energy to move.

“Did you-?”

You nodded, doing your best to sit back up. He disappeared into the ship, reappearing moments later with bacta spray.

“Give me your hands.”

You did as he said, watching quietly as he carefully sprayed your hands and knees. Your cheeks flushed as he helped you to your feet. You could see the beginning of morning peek through the trees. Your stomach dropped as you realized the amount of trouble you would be in back at the shop for being gone all night.

Once again you glanced back at the green child, trying to determine what to do. It seemed so foolish to walk away from another one like you, but you had to remember why you were here. You came to this planet for a reason. To this village for a reason.

You looked at the man in armor and then once again to the child as if to ask for permission. He gave a nod and you slowly approached the little green creature who cooed softly. Not wanting to end up on the floor again you opted out of picking it up and instead went to rub the top of its head.

The moment the two of you touched you could feel a force around you, connecting the two of you. The dizzy feeling was gone, replaced instead by something entirely different. This felt stronger, like your life force was merged to the little green one’s, creating something powerful.

“Are there more of you?” The modulated voice said, breaking you out of your connection.

“What?”

“With these powers, are there more that have them?”

“I have heard stories...but.” You walked back towards him. You looked towards the sky, seeing the shift in colors, “Shit, I have to go.” You hurried down the ramp quickly, collecting your things onto the cart.

“What?” He followed after you.

“I need to get back before my boss wakes up.” You began to haul yourself into the woods, as he quickly followed after you.

“Wait, I need your help.”

You stopped. He needed your help? The mandalorian needed help from the girl he almost just killed?

“You what?” You let out a sarcastic laugh.

“With the kid I mean. I’ve been trying to find where he belongs and you might be a start.”

“We aren’t even close to the same species, you do realize that right?” You finally turned to face him, arms crossed across your chest.

“He needs someone like him.”

You looked down to your boots, debating it. Anything would be better than your current living/work situation now, you knew that. But you worried about joining this man you knew nothing about, who just tried to kill you.

“What’s in it for me, huh?”

“I’ll pay, I’ve got plenty of credits.”

“Hmm, no, I don’t have any use for those.” You dropped the handle to your cart, slowly walking closer to him, “Are you getting off this planet anytime soon?”

“As soon as you’d like.”

“Teach me to fight and you have yourself a deal.” You pushed your arm out towards him as he did the same, grasping your hand in agreement.

“Be here by midday.”

“Yes, sir!” You said before heading off back towards the village, cart behind you. The anxiety and adrenaline filling your veins.

As you slowly made your way back up to your room above the shop your ears were met with angry beeps.

“Shhhhhh! You’re gonna wake the whole house up!” You half whispered half yelled at the droid who was ferociously bumping into your leg as some form of punishment, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long.” You grabbed a bag and began to haphazardly throw things in, “We have to leave, ok lil bud, I can explain everything on the way.” There were only confused beeps that time, “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You rummaged through your shelf, grabbing all your books. You knew you were bound to forget something but as long as you had these you could get through floating through space with the galaxy's most dangerous bounty hunter.

Once your bag was packed you snuck out to the refresher to wash up. Then threw some clothes back on and your hair back up in it’s usual style before heading down the hall to your room.

You stopped right before you stepped inside. Someone was in there, you felt it. At this point, your boss should’ve been opening up the shop for the day, so who was in your room? You took a few small steps closer before your eyes were met with the end of a blaster.

“Where were you plannin’ on runnin’ off to eh?” Your boss said, your packed bag in his unoccupied hand.

“I’m not going an-anywhere sir. I was just...just packing up some things to sell.”

“Ahh sell is it?” He smiled a practically toothless grin, “That why you were gone all night?”

You could feel the blood drain from your face. He began to shove you towards a back room in the house with nothing in it but a cage.

“Get in.” He laughed, and you did as you were told. He sat on a stool opposite the cage, the blaster still aimed at you. Honestly, how many times in one day can a girl have a blaster pointed at her?

“Don’t you think all of this is a bit of an overreaction, Nahdonnis, sir? All I did was pack a bag.”

“This is about more than that bag.” He walked up to the bars of the cage, “This is about you not understandin’ that I own you.” His dirty nails dug into your cheeks, the smell of his breath enveloping you and causing your stomach to churn, “Ahhhhaha but you’re gonn’ make me enough credits for one of those new speeder bikes aren’t you, pretty girl?” You felt sick, really sick now.

“W-what?”

“You heard me.” His hand slipped from your face to your neck, “So don’t go usin’ those mind power.” He hobbled back to his stool.

You nodded. Tears threatened your eyes as you came to terms with what was happening. You weren’t going to make it to the meeting with the mandalorian. You would have to leave soon and you were stuck in a cage about to be sold.

You sunk to the floor, accepting your fate. The exhaustion of a sleepless night and emotional morning getting to you as you curled up on the limited floor space available. You knew that once you were sold the possibility of no sleep was a real threat so you allowed yourself to doze off.

When you woke again your eyes shot open, you could hear something loud happening down in the shop but you weren’t sure what. Although it wasn’t unusual for customers to get rowdy so you didn’t think much of it and judging by your boss, with his hands down his pants, he didn’t either.

You couldn’t exactly tell what time it was but the windows that were boarded up had streams of bright light coming in that were not yet orange like that from the evening suns. It made your heart sink to know that the mandalorian probably already left. That your one chance to get out of this life was probably not even on this planet anymore. You thought about the little green child as well. How the mandalorian said he needed your help. Your heart yearned to help that little baby.

Suddenly there were shots heard downstairs. You quickly sat up. Your boss grabbed his blaster, eyeing the door as the house grew suspiciously quiet. The only thing you could hear was the heartbeat in your ears.

You could sense someone else was nearby. One person. Just outside the door.

The door flew off its hinge, your boss quickly standing as he held out his blaster with shaky hands. You slowly rose to your feet, confused as the mandalorian walked inside.

@halefirewarrior @sinnamon-bunn @lustriix @thisgirlcanstrut @lizajane3 @lavenderl3mons @talesfromtheguild @way-too-addicted-to-anime @fioccodineveautunnale @frantheseer @cheekygeek05 @weirdowithnobeardo

Wanna be added to the tag list? Lemme know 💕 Please let me know if I missed you as well!

~Jimmy

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

i typed out a Whole thing and then changed my mind but how about like lazy sunday in before the work week w t-shirt verse jalex? ily bye x

omg hello this got (1) away from me and (2) so ridiculously romantic i have no excuse. there’s just something about t-shirt jalex. also i am currently taking suggestions for what color alex’s hair should be in this ‘verse bc as of now it is unspecified. okay hope you like it x

read here on ao3

Alex is at the stove. Jack’s barely awake and this is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning,” he croaks, slumping forward to affix himself to Alex’s back. Alex staggers, laughing quietly.

“Good morning, my love,” he says. The kitchen always feels somehow both bigger and cozier with Alex in it, spacious but flooded with love. Love, Jack finds, smells like pancakes and tastes like Alex’s toothpaste and feels like sunlight and the cotton of Alex’s shirt under his fingers. It fits nicely into Jack’s kitchen. Their kitchen.

Their kitchen. Jack is still having a hard time getting used to that.

“You didn’t have to get up,” he mumbles against Alex’s shoulders. “Coulda slept in.”

Alex shrugs. “Was up anyway. Thought it’d be nice to make breakfast.”

“But it’s nice to cuddle,” Jack points out, eyes still closed. He presses his nose into Alex’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Mm, you’re warm.”

Alex’s deep, gentle laugh fills the air. “You’re clingy.”

“It’s cold,” Jack slurs. Slowly but surely, the atmosphere is seeping into his senses, pleasantly waking him up. “I love you for making pancakes.”

“I know you do.”

“Gonna make tea.”

“I prepared your mug and boiled the water already. You just need to pour it.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the love of my life?” Jack presses his lips to the tattoo behind Alex’s ear, lingering a moment.

“Doesn’t hurt to hear,” Alex says happily. Jack reluctantly detaches himself from his boyfriend’s body to go and make himself some tea.

Tea is a weekend drink. Jack drinks coffee to get through the mind-numbing work days, but tea is for Sundays like this one. It’s nine in the morning and Jack can already feel the laziness of the day settling over their shoulders; they’re going nowhere today, doing nothing. It’s not often a perfect Sunday comes along, but Jack clings to the opportunity whenever it does. Like today.

Dust hovers in the beams of light stretching through the room and the apartment feels alight with a glittering January. Unlikely warmth starts in Jack’s chest and spreads outwards, something he can’t even attribute to the tea since he hasn’t begun to drink it yet.

Glancing over at Alex, humming to himself as he flips the pancakes, the warmth intensifies. Oh, Jack thinks, not particularly surprised.

It stands to reason that the love filling the kitchen would saturate his body as well.

Light spills over Alex, highlighting strands of hair and shining on his skin, brown eyes glowing almost as golden as the sunlight. It makes Jack wonder why he’s not a poet or something, except there aren’t words for this image, and Jack would be hard-pressed to come up with an original way to phrase what thousands of artists have already expressed.

He takes a picture. They’re worth a thousand words, if what they say is true, and that’s close enough.

Alex looks up at the movement. Jack just smiles and shamelessly takes another, catching the fond look on Alex’s face before setting his phone face-down on the table again.

“Stop it, you creep,” he says. “Help me with this.”

“Alex, I’m so fucking bad at crosswords,” Jack says, shifting his chair around the table anyway. “You know this.”

“But you know things that I don’t! Together we can solve it.”

“You could also solve it on your own.”

Alex shakes his head. “You’re overestimating my skills. I don’t think I’ve completed a Sunday puzzle in, uh, my entire life.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Jack says wryly, “but I am not your secret weapon.”

Alex reaches for Jack’s hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss over Jack’s knuckles. “Yes you are.”

Jack sighs. He’s a sucker for Alex and he doesn’t see that trend slowing anytime soon. “Fine. Give me one.”

“Here, I bet you know this one.” A tap of the pen against the newspaper next to the clue for 6-Down. “‘For You’ co-singer Rita.”

“Ora,” Jack says immediately. “Everyone knows that song.”

“Ora,” Alex repeats to himself, like something he should have known to know. “Actually, I didn’t. See? Already fulfilling your secret weapon duties.”

The puzzle is sparsely and randomly filled out. “Why don’t you go in order?”

“Because I don’t know 1-Across,” Alex says. “And if I stopped there it’d be a very short puzzle.”

Jack hums, skimming the list of clues for any other answers he might have. Most of the clues he thinks he could get are ones Alex has already filled in. Some are ones Jack would never have known. “What the fuck is a superlative prefix? ‘Most’?”

“Yeah, like…high school superlatives,” Alex says. “Most likely to make it big. Most likely to, uh, go to jail after graduation.”

“What the fuck were your high school superlatives?” Jack says, amused. “I didn’t know that’s what they were called.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is wrong, though,” Alex says, face drawn in thought. He’s doing the hair-twirling thing again so Jack interrupts the motion, linking their fingers together and scratching gently at the nape of Alex’s neck. Alex hardly seems to notice. “Because I’m pretty sure 4-Down is ‘prince’.”

“‘Hamlet, for one,’” Jack reads from the clues list. He shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you’re smarter than me, Al.”

“Starting to?”

Jack scoffs and stabs at the remaining pancake on Alex’s plate, mostly because he knows Alex isn’t going to finish it. “Hey.”

“I’m teasing, completely joking,” Alex says, leaning into Jack and briefly resting his cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “I’m definitely not smarter than you. I teach middle school. If anything, that automatically makes me more of a dumbass.”

“You love doing that, though.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah. You can love something and still be an idiot for doing it, though.”

“Like being in a relationship with you.” Jack giggles. “Joking. Just kidding. I’m just kidding.”

“You better be,” Alex says lightly. “I know a lot of your deepest darkest secrets, Jack Barakat, and I am not afraid to unleash a pack of twelve-year-olds on you.”

Jack would like to argue that a horde of twelve-year-olds doesn’t scare him, but it does. It very much does.

“Fine,” he says. “You win this round.”

Alex kisses his cheek. As he moves away, Jack turns his head and kisses him on the lips. “You taste like pancakes.”

“You taste like you,” Alex replies, and it doesn’t sound sweet, but it really, really is. Jack licks his lips. He’s not sure what exactly he tastes like, but it charms him to think that it’s always more or less the same, or at least that Alex finds something familiar in every kiss he steals off Jack’s lips.

“Okay,” he says, leaning over the newspaper spread out before them. “We can do this. Who was in The Irishman?”

Whoever said that thing about how it’s better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all might have been onto something.

They concede to the crossword puzzle after almost an hour of staring at it. To Jack it seems pathetic, until Alex grins at him and promises that this is rather impressive considering when he tries to do it alone he only ever gets, like, ten answers, and they’re often wrong.

Half-finished really isn’t so bad.

The rest of the afternoon and evening stretches out before them, in all its unscheduled glory, and Jack, like the mature adult he is, pulls Alex to the couch and insists they spend at least three hours of the day watching TV.

His second mug of tea is sitting, partially drunk, on the coffee table, Alex’s empty mug beside it. Jack’s is going cold but he’s warm with Alex’s head in his lap, eyes closed as Jack pushes a hand through his hair, and he can’t find it in himself to care. As a compromise, they’ve put on Project Runway, something Alex loves Jack enough to sit through but doesn’t care enough about to pay attention to. If Jack were a more petty person, he would be annoyed by this, but he’s not. Having Alex like this is arguably better, essential in the task of keeping Jack’s thighs warm and also giving Jack something to look at when the urge strikes him.

The angles of Alex’s face and the way his hair flops over his forehead are enough to keep Jack mesmerized for hours.

It’s in one of these moments of weakness, Jack gazing down at the boy in his lap instead of watching the high-stakes but decidedly less enchanting events unfold on the TV, that Alex opens his eyes. His gaze catches Jack unawares, but Jack doesn’t flinch.

“You’re not even watching,” Alex huffs, smirking. “It was your idea to watch something and you aren’t even watching it.”

“I’ve got a better view right here,” Jack says.

Alex just rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing clumsily at the front of Jack’s shirt.

“I don’t think I am physically capable of kissing you from this angle.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Alex picks his head up and pulls Jack down, and it’s not ideal or particularly attractive, but Jack has to admit that they do, technically, kiss, thus proving Jack wrong, which is probably in Alex’s top ten favorite things to do. Only for a second, though, before Jack pulls away.

“I stand corrected, but I also kind of hated that,” he says.

Alex laughs, musical and bright. “Sorry. Let me try again.” He shifts around, straightening up until his feet are on the floor and his body is upright, and this time Jack has no complaints when Alex curls his fingers around the collar of Jack’s t-shirt and drags him in.

Project Runway isn’t exactly the ideal soundtrack to making out on the couch, but Jack’s not picky.

A fluttering touch lands on Jack’s hip, sneaking just under the hem of his shirt to rest against his skin. Alex releases Jack’s shirt, sliding his other hand up and around to cradle Jack’s face, thumb brushing his jaw. The show in the background fades to nothing, as so often the world does when Alex’s lips are on his. Everything is Alex and Alex is everything — and maybe that’s always true, but it’s easier to sink into when they’re attached in so many places, lips under teeth and noses brushing cheeks and hands forever tracing skin, clothes, hair, whatever ends up beneath Jack’s fingertips.

It’s looking more and more like the love in the kitchen hadn’t been confined to the kitchen. Or maybe it had never been about the kitchen, but the company. And maybe Jack has known this all along, and the love he feels for Alex follows him around like a stray dog, like a best friend, like a promise. It bleeds from him, infusing itself into the air without ever lessening in himself. Sometimes it trips off his tongue.

Often it does.

“I love you,” Jack murmurs, like he’s just a ragdoll stuffed with love who’s coming apart at the seams, another stitch undone whenever Alex touches him. He’ll keep spilling this love over them and somehow he’ll never run out, and if that makes him weak then Jack is content to be weak.

Alex only laughs a little, but it’s not mean-spirited, just sweet. “Would it surprise you to know that I love you, too?”

It wouldn’t. This is the secret to Jack’s never-ending supply: the love he gives is the love he receives.

“I love you for making me breakfast,” Jack whispers, pressing his lips to Alex’s cheek, just outside the corner of his eye. “And for the tea. And for making me do the crossword puzzle with you. And for watching shitty reality TV with me.” With each proclamation he brushes a kiss to Alex’s forehead, his other cheek, the corner of his mouth. Alex’s smile stretches across his face, crinkling his eyes by the time Jack kisses him again, for real, though he still returns it to the best of his ability.

It doesn’t last long. “You don’t play fair, JB,” Alex breathes, then laughs again like he can’t help it. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You could start with ‘I love you too,’” Jack suggests, slanting a breezy smile at Alex. “That usually works.”

Alex gathers Jack’s wrists in his hands and kisses his palms, one after the other, before lifting his gaze back to Jack. In the light of the apartment, Jack has never seen anyone more beautiful. The truth of his own earlier words washes over him like a sedative, a comforting tranquilizer.

“Doesn’t feel like enough,” Alex admits, “but I’m not sure this love can be put into words, you know?”

Jack does know.

“Though it’s worth saying,” Alex continues, sliding his hands into Jack’s until their fingers are interlaced, “that I love you for doing the impossible crossword with me, and I love your half-drunk cups of tea, and I loved you in the morning and I love you right now and when we go to sleep tonight, I’ll love you then, and every night after that for the rest of my life, you know what? I’ll love you for those too.”

Jack understands that these are big, big words, promises that are much easier to make than keep. But with Alex holding his gaze and his hands right now, sheltered from the real world or maybe creating it, he knows that Alex means every word, and Jack does too.

#jack barakat #alex gaskarth #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #holy FUCK this is fluffy and romantic and ???????#one of the lines in this makes me lose it #i know i wrote it but it makes me LOSE it #ok i am gonna draft this until it's a good time to post it #aka probably in a day or two #bc the malum thing just posted tonight #by the way it is fully 7am #i wrote this in the last two hours #the sun has risen and the sky is a beautiful pastel rn #in case anyone was wondering #boy. my sleep schedule. it sure is. uh. a thing that does not exist #(insert calum yikes emoji)#man.........the words in this fic. the sentences #every single thing i write is like literally one word away from making absolutely no fuckin sense #arguably it already does not #i had to stop listening to my love songs playlist and put on this playlist of instrumental romantic music #cos i was trying to be poetic and shit but there were all these fuckin LYRICS going on and it was Not Happening #ANYWAY into the drafts this goes see yall in a little bit #tirednotflirting #ask #answered #ok im posting this now at half 1pm but . dont get me wrong. i wrote and drafted it at 7am

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lotusthekat · 4 years

Text

Elegia

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Lars & Steven, Lars/Sadie, Lars & Lion

Characters: Lars Barriga, Steven Quartz Universe; MINOR ROLES - Sadie Miller, Lion; other characters are only mentioned

Summary: The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

*Takes place after Letters to Lars (s05e16)

Word count: 3.173

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: Hello, SU fandom, here’s some good ol’ Lars-centric angst. :) This is probably the biggest existential nightmare I’ve ever written (and I blame Neon Genesis Evangelion for that), so I hope you like this, lmao.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - past canonical character death, thoughts of death, fear of death, trauma and implied past bullying(?)

Elegia: Greek/Latin form of elegy. Also the name of a song by New Order.

el·e·gy

a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.

It’s really been two months or so since he’s been away, and it’s quite obvious when Lars returns to the Big Donut; finding not Sadie, but the town’s former mayor. Obviously, he’s been informed by Steven’s letters back in space, yet he wouldn’t contain his surprise. Just Mr. Dewey working at the Big Donut seems to have been attracting a lot more costumers now.

Lars knows he can’t exactly eat, yet Steven insisted he had the pink donut named after him. The Pink Lars is so, well… pink, that even the dough itself isn’t the ordinary donut color. Steven actually orders six of the desserts – as it turns out, it’s become one of his favorites, right along with the chocolate donuts he regularly buys.

There’s quite a lot of people in town today, under the soft, warm blue sky. Steven and Lars soon settle in a bench at the boardwalk, the former already handing the latter one of the pink donuts.

“You think you can give it a try?” Steven wonders.

Lars is, admittedly, not hungry. He has eaten pieces and bits since getting back home, otherwise nothing much. Though a bite might not hurt.

“I guess so,” He accepts. Soon enough, Steven already puts a donut in his mouth. He enjoys it.

Lars, on the other hand, stares at his. It’s possibly the pinkest thing he’s seen – besides Lion and… himself. The donut, however, doesn’t have the same pink tone. Its frosting is sparkling and appealing, but it’s closer to purple, filled with pink sprinkles over a dark pink dough. The difference between his own skin and the food probably goes unnoticed to others’ eyes at first; on the outside, they’re both pink.

Despite the name, Lars knows they’re not the same. The Pink Lars is a donut like any other. It might be more vibrant than others, both in appearance and taste… but it hasn’t been deprived of its own essence. It hasn’t been brought back as something else, and it has no scar as a haunting reminder. No, the Pink Lars is a cake donut like every other, and everyone loves it.

(Lars would’ve probably changed the name, but he doesn’t want to ruin the nice act from Steven.)

“… Lars, are you okay?”

Realization hits him. Lars has really just been contemplating a donut and Steven is reasonably concerned. The pink teenager releases a sigh, to filter the deepness of nonsense filling his head.

“Yeah.” He barely holds up a smile when he returns the donut to the box between him and Steven. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t have the stomach right now… literally.” He lets out a forced laugh.

Steven doesn’t laugh or smile in return, whereas Lars avoids the kid’s big concerned eyes. The younger boy swallows.

“Lars, I…” Knowing what he’s going to say next, Lars doesn’t wait for him to finish.

“It’s okay, Steven. I’m…” He bites his own lip. “I’m glad to be here.”

He’s saying the truth, clearly. But…

… no, Lars doesn’t want to sound selfish and ungrateful. Not to Steven of all people. The half-human boy saved his life, and sure, nothing could be the same again. Lars can’t eat the same way as before; he can literally not function like a human being anymore… but he’s glad he’s gotten this second chance. To be there for the people he loves. To be himself.

(But pink, pink, pink.)

Home has changed. He has changed.

Even so, everyone is fine with him becoming pink. Including his parents. They’re definitely shaken at what happened to Lars, and they were brought to relieved and terrified tears upon finding their son again. Yet almost a few weeks later, it’s almost as though he… hasn’t been to space, even though things are different now. If that makes sense.

Sadie is a lot more open and confident now. She sings with all her might, encapsulating the horror films she’s binged into her music. The Cool Kids are themselves, continuing to live as regular teenagers and discovering new interests, whilst giving life to their instruments. Lars cooks and bakes, and he laughs along with his friends. He introduces the Off Colors to the good things of life on Earth. Steven helps with that, as well as his own gem family. The Rutile Twins, Fluorite, Padparadscha and Rhodonite are having the time of their lives, free, loved, joyful. But most importantly, everyone embraces Lars. Everyone accepts who he is.

Everything is good.

(And Lars can’t accept it.)

Lars realizes he’s afraid of the dark.

The darkness was once a place of comfort for him. No one could really see him there. It was endless, omnipresent. Lars often found himself there.

Yet even with the skyscrapers revealing the night sky, today the boy can’t fathom his bedroom without the reassuring light of his lamp, or any background music at all.

(Holes might catch him. Silently, holes might swallow him again, before Lars can scream for help.)

Lars doesn’t need to sleep, but he knows he can. His eyes almost drift off, almost give in and rest. Yet right now his thoughts are loud and clear. His heart may not beat fast, yet his brain works like a machine nonstop.

His ears are filled with the somber music from his headphones. The lyrics, tragic but hopeful.

Lars thinks.

He thinks of Sadie’s hand against his. Her smile brightening when he’s in the same room. He feels her pressing her head against his shoulder, soft blond hair light to his face. Her macabre voice as Sadie Killer, her make-up, the lights and lasers behind her. Beautiful in every way.

He remembers Steven’s bouncy retellings, his patience, his kindness. Lars remembers the kid’s deep honesty, his comfortable presence. Lars feels their hugs, especially as he’s the one who hugs first nowadays.

Jenny, Buck and Sour Cream are their own souls as he’d always known. They’re fun to be around. They’re smart, funny, and supportive. Genuinely the best friends he could ever have.

He talks to his parents more. They’re more involved. They bake together at the kitchen often, his mother teaching desserts that aren’t in his recipe notebook. She helps him with the following potlucks that the Cool Kids plan. They hug, they say “I love you” to one another. They call him Lars.

The Off Colors look up to him. He’s their captain. They love his home, they excitedly watch the sun setting every single day; they have fun in the rain, when the sky doesn’t crack with lightnings. They trust his guidance, and they will follow him until the very end.

They… love him.

(Why?)

Lars is himself now. He’s open, he’s happy, he’s better.

(Why? Why?)

(Pink. Of course.)

(They love pink. They love the Pink Lars.)

He finds the stars above him. They’re suddenly so small in contrast to outer space.

He doesn’t sleep.

Pictures.

His home is filled with pictures. Many, many faces. So familiar, yet so unknown.

Lars sees him. Not the Pink Lars. Him.

Young, young Lars. Orange-skinned. Dark hair. Brown eyes.

A rare smile of such a young boy. A short-tempered kid excluded from his classmates. One that began pushing away the few people who cared. A boy that screamed and locked himself in his room far too often.

Briefly, Lars sees his own reflection on the glass.

Pink skin. Bright pink hair. His right eye, a saturated color, cut by a dark scar.

Gone.

The boy is gone.

(Why does Lars miss him?)

Something that represents him.

Ube. Purple, creamy, tasty. A childhood memory. The pride in a child’s face, dirtied with speckles of purple.

The Pink Lars. Pink, round, soft, alive; sprinkles as a special touch.

Both so full of life.

Both, true to their essence.

They’re them.

Lars is himself.

(Is he?)

Sadie asks him if he’s okay.

They’re watching a horror film together. Lars can barely pay it any mind.

She takes his hand and kisses every pink finger of his. Her eyes, worried.

Lars smiles sadly.

“Yeah, of course. I’m even better when I’m with you.”

(Sadie looks far from convinced. She knows Lars. She knows he’s always struggled with openness and vulnerability.)

The blond girl says nothing, instead snuggling closer against him, his arm pulling her deeper into his chest. Lars feels relaxed. He enjoys staying like this. He listens to her heartbeats. Her warmth enters his pink veins, butterflies shyly filling his stomach.

(For a moment, he feels like he’s never become pink.)

You brought me back to life! Just… let me be somebody who deserved it.

Somebody who deserved it.

(Did the orange-skinned boy not deserve it, then?)

(He was just a boy. Sure, a kid who made a lot of mistakes. Too many. Who let outside opinions get the best of him. But he could’ve grown, too. Maybe, if he were given a chance other than the inevitable.)

(Did he not deserve a chance, too?)

Can't you see that I exist?

And I don't need an exorcist to let me out

Look at me and I'll appear

Why can't you see that I'm right here, that I’m right here?

Why can't you see me?!

I think I might be

A g-g-g-ghost.

(I'm calling you from the other side.)

Today, he’s alone at the beach.

Usually, Lars joins the Off Colors, and sometimes the Cool Kids come along as well. Now, he’s hiding his hands inside his pockets, lonely steps on the sand. The sunset is the same explosion of colors as every other sunny day.

It’s blue, pink, orange and yellow. The sun reflects on the water, which hits the sand softly.

Its pink is livelier than his own.

The orange is there, too.

They’re here and alive.

Lars stays and watches. Alone.

It’s all so distant. So far away.

Maybe they know the truth. Maybe they’re keeping their distance.

Lars doesn’t try to reach them. It’s probably for the best.

Like that, he’s not expecting to be startled by a big creature staring at him.

Lars almost falls back on the sand, only to realize it’s safe.

Lion.

The only other creature that is as pink as him. Same hair (or mane). Eyes that are not scarred but are deeper than other eyes he’s seen. As if the feline has seen years and years of experience, without sharing words about it.

“Hey, buddy,” Lars greets him, voice quiet.

As usual, the big cat says nothing. Still, he gazes at the pink space pirate and understands. Lion snuggles his face against Lars’, who sighs and hugs him back, arms tight around his neck.

Lion practically has no heartbeat, unlike Sadie, or Steven or anyone else. His deep breaths are the only remaining of life he has.

The distant seagulls sing somewhere. But somehow, all Lars listens to is Lion.

His eyes blur.

The town is so distant.

… Literally.

Lars casually figured out that he can walk on water like Jesus now. That’s something. He told Steven and the boy was enthusiastic about it, of course. And well, it is cool. He can see the fish swimming down him, and he gets to touch the sun that reflects on the water. Otherwise, he can’t go for swims anymore, while everyone else can.

He’s fine.

There’s no sun or powerful colors this time. The sky is clouded, foggy, yet the ocean doesn’t react too much. The water is usually not furious, anyway.

It might rain soon.

Lars can actually sit on water, too. So, he hugs his own knees and thinks. Stays.

…

Someone is coming.

“Lars?”

Looking up, he finds Steven riding on Lion, with a puzzled look.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man,” Lars gives him a finger gun. “I’m just chilling here. Got to use my Jesus privileges now, am I right?”

Steven doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t look remotely reassured.

(He understands. He wouldn’t find it funny, either.)

Isolated dripples begin surrounding them.

“Come on, let’s go to my house,” Steven offers. “It might be dangerous staying here.”

Lars hums, noticing the fish have all gone away. He stands.

“Okay.”

In the way, Lars tries to throw in a joke or two about the whales he found near him earlier. Steven still won’t laugh or find it endearing. And Lion simply listens.

When they enter the beach house, the rain starts coming down. The ocean practically disappears in the fog now.

(He almost wishes he stayed.)

The falling water outside is the only sound you could hear, besides the questions in the kid’s puppy eyes. Instead of answering them, though, Lars has an idea.

“Hey, what do you say I bake those space cookies you like so much?” The older teen offers, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You have the ingredients, right?”

“I think so, but…”

“Great! You can help me if you want.”

He ignores Steven’s frown and heads to the kitchen, already knowing where the ingredients are thanks to memory. Lion lies somewhere near, attentive. Though unlike other times the three of them have shared the kitchen, the big cat might not want to attack the ingredients today. Lion is as lazy as the rain day.

The baking session is… surprisingly quiet. Lars is the one that does the talking this time, trying to cheer the kid up. Steven doesn’t seem fazed. He just follows the steps. Lars’ smile will falter little by little, yet he keeps going. Maybe that will change by the frosting, Lars hopes. The kid loves frosting the cookies, more than he does.

But then, Steven is just… there. Staring at the star-shaped fellas without any enthusiasm. Staring concernedly at them, as if something is wrong with them, even though they’re perfectly fine.

“Hey, Steve,” Lars lowers his voice and puts a hand on his back. “What’s wrong?”

(He knows what it is. And Steven knows that he knows.)

For the first time, Steven looks away and hugs his own arm.

“I… I think I should be asking you that.”

(Lars shouldn’t be shocked. He isn’t.)

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked how you’ve been lately,” Steven admits. “I was so excited to have you back home, and have everyone see you again, that I thought you’d be fine.” He sighs and adds quieter, rather bitterly at himself. “But I’ve never been good at asking the right questions.”

Lars contains the harsh breath that tries to escape, and he gently pats his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. You’ve got nothing to worry about me.”

Steven looks back with something akin to disbelief.

“Lars—”

“I mean it, I’m okay.”

“But you’re—”

“Kid, I swear, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to force you—”

“You’re not forcing me, Steven,” Lars reassures him. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“You’re—” Steven observes dumbly and groans. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

(It’s the same look from the pictures. From the gone, lost boy.)

(Revolted. Pushed aside.)

(Hurt.)

“T-There’s nothing to talk about!” Lars defends.

“I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were!”

“Then why are you treating me like I am?!”

“Steven, it’s fine! I’m fine-!”

“NO!” Lars steps away. “STOP LYING TO ME!”

Whatever words were about to be said, they disappear at the sudden voice raise. At the angry – no, frustrated, tearful eyes. The clenched fists.

(Why does Steven look so much like him?)

Steven covers his own mouth, scared of his outburst. He recomposes himself or at least tries to.

“I… I thought we could count on each other. I thought—” He sniffs. “I thought, after we were stuck together, after everything we’ve been through, w-we could… be there for one another. You were there for me, you’re always there for me.” He pauses, his eyes more and more painful to look at. “But now you’re… you’re suffering, and you want to, what, you want to hide it from us? From me?”

Lars’ heart drops. “No- No, no, Steven, I’m- I’m fine—” He almost approaches again, only to get yelled at.

“Stop! I don’t need to be coddled! And you don’t need to hurt yourself for me! For anyone! Y-You of all people told me that!”

After that, Lars has become completely silent. There’s nothing around them, nothing but the rain falling outside, the shaky breaths coming from Steven, and Lion’s observation. The cookies are abandoned in the counter.

(And somewhere, somewhere far, a boy is screaming from his room, locked away.)

(Crying.)

“Lars…” Steven’s anger has dissipated again. “I’m sorry. I know I messed up. I know things won’t be the same again, and I know you want them to be. I’ve noticed.” He hugs himself, guilt filling his avoidant gaze. “Believe me, if I could go back in time, I would’ve never let you go in that ship. I would’ve never let you…” He shuts his eyes for a moment, clutching his own shirt. “I wish I could fix everything. But I can’t. And I’m really, really sorry.”

Lars would have opened his mouth to reassure him. He would have pulled him in a hug and tell him again and again that it wasn’t his fault. But Steven seems to catch onto that thought, because he then says:

“Even if I didn’t mean to… and even if I saved you in the end, I… I still did this to you.” He pauses. For once, he takes in a deep breath. “So, I promise you, I’ll do what I can to make up for it. I… I don’t know much about my powers.” He begins taking a step forward. “I don’t know how to feel about them most of the time, and I’m still trying to understand how Lion’s work, too, but…”

Steven looks up at him, eyes sparkling like the starry sky Lars sees every night.

“We… we can figure out. Together.” He looks away again, adding, “If you want.”

Lars locks the gaze with him, and before he registers it, a laugh escapes him.

“Yeah.” He swallows a sob. “Y-Yeah… I’d- I’d like that.”

For the first time, Steven smiles yet he immediately bumps into the other’s waist, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

“I’m so sorry…” The kid repeats. Once Lars returns the hug, he freezes when he catches Steven’s following words.

“… You never deserved to die.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, only for him to hear.

And yet it feels like a complete punch. The good kind of punch.

Lars loses it.

They cry as hard as the rain. So much that Lion eventually joins the hug, offering his support.

Later, they create the cookies together with more delight and trust. They’re more… alive than all the others they’ve baked until now.

Tonight, Lars gazes at the stars with tranquility.

(He lets the boy free.)

#steven universe #lars barriga #steven quartz universe #su lion #sadie miller #larsadie #fanfiction #death tw

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