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kyoonqs · 5 years ago

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iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21 @mangobaek @suhotly @pororodks @bbhbae

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day.

–“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously.

–“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display.

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent.

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed.

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.”

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further.

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.”

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x oc #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun serie #baekhyun series #baekhyun au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo au #iluso amor

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anjuschiffer · 5 years ago

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Could you do #34 and 37 with your ship of choice please?

34. “Please don’t do this.”

37. “Thank you, for everything.”

Oh god this just screams angst :3c

So how about some angst Dickinette? :D

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Tags: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

—

Marinette barrel rolled to the side, avoiding an incoming attack.

Using the smoke as a screen, Marinette escaped to the vents, using the system to get back to any of the Titan’s rooms, but more specifically, Robin’s.

It felt like any other day, the team each doing what they wanted to do until they were called for duty.

Marinette, aka Red Beetle, was busy working on a few designs when she heard crashing and cries coming from the common room.

Running to the scene, her heart dropped.

The intruder disarmed Victor within seconds, sedated Garfield with a single injection, trapped Raven into a cursed relic and knocked out Kor’i all by himself.

They were attacked, invaded and not a single alarm went off.

Her team was down and she was the only one left.

She tried to transform into Red Beetle, but the assailant didn’t dare let her, ambushing her with attack after attack.

She barely managed to dodge each one, only then remembering something Robin had told her a few months after she joined the team.

Marinette quickly dropped into Robin’s room, making sure to drop down a foot from the spot under the vent.

She made a beeline for Robin’s closet, making sure to use the fingerprints already there to get into the utility sector of the closet.

She rummaged through the utility belts until she found one that was off a shade of yellow.

Just before she could celebrate, the room opened up, causing Marinette to stiffen.

Diving for the bed, she began to look for the thing she needed.

She held her breath as she continued to empty our pocket after pocket, hearing her heartbeat in her ear as she heard the footsteps grow closer.

“I know you’re in here...Beetle.” The synthesized voice said, causing Marinette’s voice to freeze.

She had to find this, she just had to!

“Listen Beetle. If anything happens to us in which is out of our control, I need you to find this in my closet and set it off.” Robin told her, Marinette simply smiling at him. “Beetle?”

“I’m paying attention!” Beetle squeaked, Robin chuckling from his partner’s antics.

“I know you’re happy about finally being together, but remember, no one can know we know each other outside of the mask. And yes, that includes them knowing we’re dating outside the mask.”

“So, about this device?”

Robin showed her device and explained how it’s a direct distress signal that immediately tells Bats that something has gone wrong.

“Please, remember this, okay?”

To think it was going to be her to be the one to do this.

But she had to...even if it was a trap.

He let her go on purpose…

After all...she was the easiest to tear apart, still lacking experience.

You’re too soft.

But that’s also what made her strong.

Just when she thought he had given up on looking for her, Marinette let out a high pitched shrill when she was dragged out of her hiding spot, clawing at the floor.

“Well, well, we’ll. You only made it this far despite my generosity?” The person before her said, Marinette hating the way his voice sounded.

Where was the boy she loved?

“Robin, I-I know...I know you’re in there.” Marinette hated how her voice cracked, how it showed the fear inside of her. “Come back to us, please.”

“Come back?” The synthesized voice said, Robin taking off the half black, half burnt sienna mask from his face.

His cold, blue eyes pierced through her, picking out all her flaws. He crouched to her level snatching the utility belt from her hands before tasing her.

She let out a pathetic scream, Robin watching her writhe in pain. “I joined Slade of my own free will.”

“He threatened you! He had to have!” Marinette yelled, once she managed to push down the pain. “There is no way-“

“Marinette.” Robin said with a sigh, turning the belt to a certain pocket, taking out a small device the size of a USB.

The same device he once told her to use in case something went terribly wrong within the Tower. “Sometimes we must resort to these types of things if it means keeping those we love safe.”

Marinette watched as Robin dropped the device to the floor and stomped on it, breaking the SOS signal to pieces.

“Richard, please, don’t do this.” Marinette pleaded, tears welling into her eyes.

Marinette watched as Robin crouched once more, cupping her face. He gave her a smile, just like the ones he would give her after a mission well done.

But this one was different.

This time, it no longer held warmth, but malice.

“Thank you. For everything.”

As he drew back, Marinette’s eyes grew wide as she saw her earrings held between his gloved fingers.

“Richard! Give them back! You know the dangers of a miraculous going into the wrong hands! Richard! Give them back!”

Darn the body still being under the effects of being tased.

Marinette watched as Dick simply smiled at her, placing his mask back on and placing the earrings into his now silver belt.

“Dick!” She yelled. “Dick!” She screamed.

Marinette watched as he never turned back no matter how many times she yelled out his name.

When the door to his old room closed, it finally sunk in.

He wasn’t coming back. He renounced his title as a Titan, as leader...as her beloved.

Marinette let out a scream that rang throughout the Tower, echoing through the empty halls she no longer had any right to walk through after today.

She had failed to save them, she had failed Dick.

She was no hero…

She was a failure.

#maribat #dickinette #prompting anju #anju writes

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spectraspecs-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Kashyyyk - Chapter 66

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 65. Chapter 67.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues thank you for reading you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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youtube

I wake up with a sneeze. There was a vision, too, but the sneeze interrupted the vision as well. My head feels fuzzy and puffy. Haven’t felt this since… well, ever, actually. No idea what’s going on.

I sneeze again, and it hurts. Bastila wakes up now. Startled awake by my sneeze. She stretches a bit, asking, “Are you alright, Rena?”

“I’m fine,” I say, and my voice sounds stuffy, “I think something’s just tickling my nose.”

“We’ve received another vision,” she says, “The Force is guiding us, helping us retrace the steps of Malak and his old Master. Leading us ever closer to the Star Forge. Kashyyyk is a lush but simple and undeveloped world. I would not have expected to find the alien technology of a Star Map here. Kashyyyk is a lush but simple and undeveloped world. I would not have expected to find the alien technology of a Star Map here.”

“I thought the same thing about Tatooine,” I say. I stretch and roll my head. “It looked to me like the Star Map was on the forest floor.”

She gives a small shrug. “The Wookiees of Kashyyyk make their home high among the wroshyr branches; only their bravest warriors dare to descend into the forbidding depths of the forest. If the Star Map is located far beneath us on the planet's surface, as our vision seems to suggest, it is unlikely the Wookiees even know of its existence,” she says, “No doubt things will become more clear once we discover the Star Map's location.”

I sneeze again. “Ow!”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No,” I say honestly, “but there’s not much I could do about it anyway, is there?”

“We could…”

“Bastila,” I interrupt, “I can handle it. I’ll be okay.”

She looks at me skeptically, but she accepts it. “If you insist,” she says, “Czerka maintains the port here…”

“Fantastic.”

“... I expected that would be your reaction. I suspect when they ask for a docking fee you will find a way to avoid it?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Ordinarily,” she sighs, “yes. In this circumstance, no.” Oh? What changed your mind? “As a Jedi, I know I should remain neutral, but personally, I find the slaving operations on this planet to be appalling. For the record, I do not encourage any disruption to the slaving operations…”

“But if something were to happen to stop or hinder the operations you wouldn’t be all that upset about it,” I finish, “I get the picture.” I clear my throat and cough a little. “Zaalbar must feel awful still.”

“Mission would know better than I could,” Bastila says, “but I would imagine yes. He still knows a great deal about the planet, however. I would recommend bringing him along when you go.”

“Mission, too - if he’s uneasy, she’ll probably help,” I say. I sniffle a little. “I’ll ask Carth, too - he should keep my more chaotic impulses in check for you.” She smiles at that. Bastila can’t fool me - she thinks I’m very chaotic although she’ll never say it out loud. Compared to Bastila, who’s very consistent. I’m just… not. Sometimes she feels like a real stick in the mud. But then she probably sees the balls-to-the-walls party that I am as a danger to others or a disaster waiting to happen. She may not like my friendship with Carth, probably because she’s afraid that the fact I think he’s attractive will turn into something else, which I doubt, but like it or not she can’t ignore that he does keep me from going wild.

I swap out my stamina implant for a neural one. Hopefully that will do something for the fuzziness I feel in my head. It won’t do anything right away, but maybe it’ll do something.

I order a little breakfast out of the synthesizer. I can’t tell if it tastes gross because of the synthesizer or because my nose is stuffed up and everything tastes bad. But as gross as it is, I need to eat something. It’s weird, because I usually like this, it’s a sort of berry bread, and the synthesizers made it okay once before.

Carth comes up to the synthesizer and gets a cup of caff. “Morning,” he says to me, “Sleep okay?”

“No different than usual,” I say, and then I sneeze again, painfully. “Damn!”

“Are you alright?”

I sigh. “I swear, the next person to ask me that… I’m fine. I’m just sneezing a bit. Something’s just tickling my nose.”

He holds his hand to my forehead - Dad Carth much? “Well, you’re not feverish, so that’s good. Even a mild bug can make short work around a ship as small as this.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I tease him.

He chuckles shortly. “Sorry. I don’t know where that came from,” he says, “You were fine yesterday. I wonder if it’s something about Kashyyyk.”

“Only one way to find out,” I say, and I sneeze again, “Feel like coming with me?”

“Of course,” he says.

“Let Zaalbar know if you see him,” I say, “Mission, too.”

“You got it.”

-------

We find Mission and Zaalbar and head out. I can’t see the sun because of all the trees, but if I had to guess it’s around midday. Zaalbar shuffles a little uncomfortably, seeing the Czerka workers at the docks. “The slavers are still here,” he says, “This dock is theirs. I doubt anyone has risen to try and fight. Nothing has changed.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Zaalbar,” I say.

A Czerka worker comes up to me, an Ithorian. “Greetings to you. I am Janos Wertka. I am the dock master here,” he says, and then he starts to scroll through his datapad. He makes an uncertain noise. “While I am pleased to welcome you to planet G5-623, I do not see your ship on my docking schedule.”

“G5… uh, whatever it was - am I in the wrong place?” I’m confused. “I thought this planet was called Kashyyyk?”

“That is what the dominant indigenous species calls this world,” Wertka says, “but maintaining this outpost grants Czerka Corporation naming rights in the trade guides.” I’m sure they didn’t think to ask the Wookiees about that. “But, I'm sorry, I really must insist that docking fees be paid before I impart any further services. I must follow proper procedure. Upon collection of the correct fees, I will extend what resources the Czerka Corporation can offer. I'm sure you understand.”

Yeah, sure. I’m not going to support your slaving operations. I wave my hand, reaching out with the Force. “I don’t need to pay the docking fee,” I say.

His face changes - success! “Perhaps you don't need to pay the docking fee. Any services you need will more than make up for it.” As if. “I see you have a Wookiee with you,” he says, looking at Zaalbar, “Can I assume you understand their language? For a fee, Czerka Corporation can provide a translator for you during your visit.”

“No, I’m fine,” I say. I sneeze again.

“Very well,” he says, “though only the most adaptive people seem to comprehend the Wookiee language, such as it is.” Relax, Rena, causing an incident with a simple dock master is not going to do anything to improve the situation for the Wookiees. “Now then, please follow me to our information center. I will answer any further questions there.” Might as well.

When we get to the information center, the Ithorian stands behind a counter and asks me, “How can Czerka Corporation serve you during your visit to Edean?”

“Edean, G5-whatever - how many names does this planet have?”

“G5-623 is the numerical designation,” he answers, “The galactic Basic name is ‘Edean,’ chosen by corporate ballot among stockholders. At any rate, ‘Edean’ is more pleasing than "Kashyyyk." The language of the dominant indigenous species is quite crude.” What the hell is it with Czerka that if you can’t comprehend the native language at the first listen you think of the natives as less than? First the Sand People, now the Wookiees! Good God, have some morality.

“What else is on this planet?” Carth asks for me - I think he understands that I’m getting ever more angry the more this Ithorian says.

“An endless array of dangerous creatures, it seems,” he says, “The great trees harbor any number of dangers below. We've detected odd energy signatures on occasion, but exploration is costly amongst creatures even more difficult than Wookiees.”

“Odd energy signatures?” Carth repeats, “Have you ever checked those out?”

“We send expeditions, of course, but they come back with little, if they come back at all,” he says, “In any event, it would seem you are already acquainted with this world, given your choice of travelling companion.”

“I have been away for a very long time,” Zaalbar says sadly.

Wertka looks surprised. “You let the beast speak for you? You allow it more liberties than most of our customers.”

Excuse me? “Allow him more liberties?”

“He means that they are slavers,” Zaalbar growls, “They take my people from their homes and sell them to the highest bidder.”

The Ithorian looks at Zaalbar sideways. “Your current Wookiee seems displeased with the situation, but I fail to see a concern. You seem to be a satisfied customer.”

“Zaalbar isn’t a slave!” Mission shouts.

“He’s here because he swore a life-debt to me after I freed him from slavers!” I want to strangle this Ithorian. Yeah, yeah, there is no emotion, there is peace, to hell with that! An entire population of a planet is at risk of enslavement because of this damned corporation!

“Ah, a very difficult thing to stage,” he says, “I commend you for it. So much easier than relying on restraining collars.”

Zaalbar roars. “Do not demean the life-debt! Do not!”

Now I think Wertka understands just precisely how pissed I am. “I must warn you that you will be blamed for the actions of your Wookiee. Please… call him off.”

“And just why should I?” I say quickly, “Hell, I should kill you myself, you disgusting slaver!” Thank God Bastila’s not here.

“I am merely a servant of the corporation!” he says nervously, “The Wookiee leadership is in agreement! Harvesting is made as delicate as possible!”

“HARVESTING?!?” I shout.

“Please! It is not my decision! It is… an acceptable practice, I assure you!”

Finally, Carth pulls me back. Almost like Bastila had a talk with him about keeping my hands clean. “Why do the Wookiees tolerate you doing this?” he asks, and he takes my lightsaber from me.

“It is not me, personally,” Wertka says, sweating nervously, “I merely represent Czerka Corporation at this outpost. There are other directors at other stations, of course. Arrangements have been made with the Wookiee leadership. Harvesting is handled as delicately as possible, relatively speaking.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Carth says, “but she’s not exactly delicate. Maybe if you tell me more, I can try to calm her down.” I’m glad he hates this as much as I do.

“If it will ease her temper, I will give specifics.” Wow, Carth can sweet talk aliens? Impressive. I’ve always had difficulty sweet-talking Ithorians. “We supply arms in exchange for a supply of healthy Wookiees. We are kept profitable and an agreeable leader is kept in power. It keeps the process from becoming a constant firefight.”

“What’s this leader’s name?” Carth asks.

“I believe his name is Chuundar. I don't deal directly with them, thank goodness. Far too brutish.”

Zaalbar flinches a little, hearing the name. “That was not a name I wanted to hear.”

“It sounds as though your thrall has an opinion about our arrangement with this leader,” the Ithorian says, “but it doesn't matter. Chuundar is unquestioned.”

“What’s the matter, Big Z?” Mission asks him.

“This is not something I will talk about,” Zaalbar says, “Not yet.”

“I won’t let this continue,” I say.

“It's not up to you,” he says, “This planet is not a member of the Republic, and its backward citizens hold no rights. I'm sorry you are offended, but this operation is very humane. Even the Wookiee leadership knows it is more beneficial to work with us.”

“Humane, you call it?” Carth repeats, “Beneficial? Sounds like a bunch of excuses, if you ask me.”

“Even if you did do something drastic here,” he says, “the Czerka Corporation has other outposts on Edean. It would change nothing.”

“Let’s go,” I say, “We’re not going to get anywhere here.”

When we’re out of Wertka’s earshot, Carth comes up to me. “You alright?”

“I’m pissed!” I shout, “An entire species is being exploited and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it!”

“I agree!” Carth says, “But threatening people isn’t going to help the Wookiees any.”

“What do you expect me to do? Just let it happen?”

“No, but…” He stops. “How long have you been scratching your arm?”

“What?” I look. “I don’t know, it itches.” I sneeze again.

“There’s blood - you’ve scratched your arm open!” He pulls my arm away to stop me scratching through my robe.

“So I’ll slap a kolto patch on it, big deal.”

“I’m getting you back to the ship,” he says, turning me around back towards the Hawk. He hands Mission my lightsaber.

“Carth, I’m okay, I…” I sneeze again. “Damn it!” It’s worse out here!

“Uh-huh. Come on, back to the ship,” he urges. And I’m not in much of a position to argue with him.

#knights of the old republic #star wars #kotor #fiction #autistic artist #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #bastila shan #mission vao #zaalbar #kashyyyk #chapter 66

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cravenhaven · 6 years ago

Text

Heavy Mist

Hux finds your spice stash and makes you sorry (not sorry) for breaking the rules.

Armitage Hux x Reader

warnings: smut/drug use/rough handling

it’s a whopping 5500 words so buckle up

give it some love on ao3 >>here<<

(posting now that tumblr is letting my stuff appear on the tag finally)

“Captain, join me in my office, if you please.”

You had only just sat down in the officer’s lounge aboard the Finalizer when an unexpected holo came in from the general. You didn’t screen the call. You couldn’t. He had the engineers make it so you couldn’t. You froze in your seat and felt hot blood fill your face as a hush descended on the lounge and all eyes fell upon you. And here you thought you were going to have a quiet evening.

His tone had been devoid of levity, of course. That was to be expected. It was his impatience, evident in how the words escaped through his barely open teeth, that gave you pause. You spared a glance around the room at your fellow officers of the First Order. They knew as well as you did that when he said please all was not well.

You stood and strode out of the lounge as nonchalantly as possible, abandoning your comfortable seat. As soon as you heard the shh of the door closing behind you, you broke out into a frantic power-walk. You were sure the others were in the lounge thoroughly reveling their momentary schadenfreude. They didn’t really like you as it was. Perhaps it was envy. As if acting as the general’s aide-de-camp was an enviable thing at all.

There was nothing glamorous about fetching his fresh uniforms, drafting copy for his unimportant day-to-day correspondence, or handling his schedule. The only thing they wanted that you had was proximity to power. Little did they realize, it was precisely your indifference to it that made you so well suited for the job. The truth was your position sat at the perfect crossroads of Nepotism and Your Lack of Ambition. Your father’s influence could only get you so far when all you cared about was serving your time just to get him off your back.

When you arrived at your boss’s door, you found yourself frozen, badge in hand, ready to scan in. Yet you were unwilling to pass it over the sensor. You took a shaky breath in and then out. This apprehension was not solely due to the expected reprimand. You knew that because you felt a twinge of it every time you stood in that exact spot.

The truth was, you feared him. You would be mad not to. He wielded his position with vicious precision. General Hux would not countenance failure or anything less than his planned outcome. He would crush anyone - ally or enemy- if they so much stepped a toe across his warpath.

More worrying than that, however, was how dangerously alluring you found him.

His ruthlessness. His unforgiving expectations. Even that sneer of his, both when he was displeased and when he was basking his own cruelty. What enjoyment you found in teasing out small praises from a man as difficult to please as this, a man who would just as soon castigate you in front of the entire bridge crew for the slightest mismanagement. Fear and attraction. You were never quite sure which you felt in greater measure. Or perhaps they were equal somehow. One feeding the other feeding the other. Like a snake swallowing its own tail deep in the pit of your stomach.

Despite how you may have appeared in your uniform, all buttoned up and neat, you were no saint. Your reputation back at the academy might have even preceded you were you not a master of maintaining an unassuming artifice. A skill which you needed now more than ever.

You shook your head and resolved to rip off the bacta patch, passing your badge across the sensor and stepping through the doorway with your usual confident purpose.

He kept the lights dim, save for the lamp on his desk. His quarters were surprisingly spartan. His things were immaculately organized. Ghostly blue light flickered across his face as he reviewed something on his holopad. The viewport behind him framed a picture fit for a general’s personal office. Starkiller Base loomed ominously outside, an incomplete titan. In the silence of the room, the click-clack of your austere dress heels pecked away at your ears like a countdown. He did not raise his eyes.

“General.”

Hux motioned for you to sit as he continued his work. As you lowered yourself into the uncomfortable chair across from his, quietly as you could, you peaked at his holopad. Requisition forms. Reviewing them was a task he could easily delegate to you, but he wasn’t above busy work when it was abundant. You stole a glance up at his face. He seemed occupied enough for you to indulge in a bit of harmless leering. The crease in his brow caught your eye. Next, the subtle, fixated purse of his lips. The desire to catch the full, pale-pink bottom one between your teeth intruded on you. Maybe you would bite down hard enough to make him cry out. Maybe a dirty word would fall from his lips.

Maybe he would retaliate by shoving you up against a wall and making you sorry. So sweetly sorry.

You dug your nails into your thigh as punishment for entertaining the vivid daydream to no avail. Your warped mind only switched gears to wondering what the nibble of flesh just above his starched collar tasted like.

Clearly, you had been trapped aboard the star destroyer too long to be surrendering so easily to your imagination.

“Captain,” he said, snapping the cover of his holopad closed and setting it aside. You jumped at the sound and trained your eyes elsewhere.

“My apologies for summoning you during your leisure hours,” he continued tersely, folding his hands in front of him.

He wasn’t really sorry, you well knew. The lip service heightened your suspicions.

“Not at all, General,” you said crisply, never to betray your dread.

He pinned you with a muted-green stare. Your stubbornness saw you meeting his eyes and refusing to look away. You were convinced that these moments were the unspoken tests. Satisfied or dissatisfied - you were hardly ever sure - he sucked in air to speak.

“You enjoy a rare privilege serving under me as I am sure you are aware. I place a great deal of trust in you to keep things running smoothly. You have never made a habit of disappointing me.”

Hux let the words hang in the air, studying your face closely - searching for something. You wanted to take the compliment but your instincts warned that to do so might be jumping the blaster.

“You can imagine my surprise and, indeed, my disappointment at seeing a report cross my desk with your name on it,” he said, every word laced with mockery. “Of course, I had no choice but to follow-up with the claims.” You could not guess the contents of the report but the way he spoke made your stomach drop. The snake twisted and thrashed.

“Sir?” Was all you could manage.

Wordlessly, he leaned down to retrieve something from his right-side drawer. The smooth, shining case was small enough to fit in his one hand. He set it on the surface of his desk.

“Do you recognize this?”

“It’s a standard issue hygiene kit,” you answered. It would contain a toothbrush, shaving accoutrements, a plain comb. Simple yet essential and totally baffling in regard to its presence before you. You looked up at him, your puzzlement evident.

“Very good,” he purred.

You gave him as wry a look as you dared and snorted. “Shall we cut to the chase, sir?”

With spread, slender fingers he slid the kit toward you until it was within your grasp.

“Open it.”

Your gaze flicked between the box and General Hux as you tried to figure out why you were here. It clicked open as you passed your hand along the side. Careful not to make any obtrusive sound, you slowly opened the case. It wasn’t until you really took inventory of its contents that you realized how well and truly fucked you were.

It was your kit. One you only used for the rare opportunity for travel. One you had entirely erased from your own memory. After taking out all your daily use items, all that remained inside was a few stray bobby pins and a small tin of breath mints. But none of those things warranted a report. It was the final forgotten object that scared you.

It was a compact, brushed metal cylinder sitting right where you had left it all those months ago. Mortification and blind rage tore a path through you like a typhoon.

Which conniving rat opened their mouth?

You started to run through a mental list of the people who hated you enough to completely destroy you by reporting this - who could have possibly known about it in the first place. Who had been snooping in your things?

“Pick it up,” he said, interrupting your inner rampage.

You trained the quiver out of your hands and obeyed. Not wanting to waste his time, you twisted the container open and poured out the contents. Six white, unlabeled capsules wobbled and turned as did their warped reflections in the sleek black top of his desk. You watched them until they stilled.

The day you purchased them came fresh to your mind - it was the final day of your leave. Saying goodbye to the beautiful resort planet and returning to the cramped, sterile hallways of the Finalizer filled you with a gloom so potent it impaired your judgment. You longed for a taste of your wild days, when you had a little more freedom, a little more room to be reckless. You purchased six specially synthesized spice capsules from a seedy off-world trader in the local’s market.

The high-stress nature of your work and your willingness to forget how foolish you were for making the purchase had effectively banished the secret spice stash from your mind. You realized what an idiotic idea it was after you only got through security by the skin of your teeth when you did return to your post. The memory shamed you. You had to resort to dropping your boss's name just to be let through. What was it you had told them when they asked what the capsules were?

“Ah, I can explain this,” you said, breezily. Smiling like you were relieved. Hux gestured as if to say by all means.

“I have a particular vitamin deficiency. B12. My body doesn’t process it efficiently. These are supplements, nothing more. I must have forgotten about these ones after my leave,” you explained, daring even to chuckle at the silliness of this whole affair.

“You expect me to believe these are vitamins? They look rather like...illicit materials.”

“It’s a personalized dosage. My family physician concocted it herself. They come straight from her.”

A single, orange eyebrow raised at your explanation.

“This wasn’t listed in your evaluation,” he said challenging you. What did he have the damn thing memorized? You cleared your throat.

“My evaluator didn’t think it vital enough to declare.”

“And who was your evaluator?” Hux said, the wind of catching you out no longer filling his sails.

“My family-”

“Your family physician, of course,” he snapped, waving you off.

You were beginning to think you might get out of this one. Stars, you were so good at lying sometimes it scared you.

“Well, far be it from me to impede your good health.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a mean way. “I insist you take one.”

“I…” you stalled and then smiled, “well I’ve already had one. Just this morning.”

“It wasn’t a request, Captain.” His tone was a warning but he schooled it into something eerily conciliatory. “Where’s the harm? It isn’t vital, after all.”

You bit your lip and smirked, shaking your head. Another test. One you had to pass or else be disowned by your family or worse.

“If it please you, sir.”

“It does.”

You gave him a tight smile as you did some quick mental math. How long did you have before you were full-scale rolling on spice? With a product that’s composition was mostly a mystery to you? Spice could be manipulated to cause all manner of desired reactions. You had experimented with it before. Every batch varied in intensity. The dealer only said that it would “help keep the party goin’”. You picked the capsule nearest to you and prayed it wasn’t cut with anything nasty - or better yet, that you had been taken for a naive tourist and all you held in your hand was a sugar pill and nothing more.

“Help yourself to a glass of water,” the general said, tipping his head toward the decanter tray sitting on a small table at the right-hand side of his desk. There would be, among other things, a pitcher of cool water. You knew this because you often saw to it yourself that it was always full.

“No need.” You raised the pill to your lips and popped it confidently in your mouth. His lips parted as he watched you pretend to swallow it. Then he flashed you his perfectly crooked teeth. It was a smile that left you feeling like this was a test that couldn’t be passed.

“Well,” you said clasping your hands together, “if that is all that is required of me.”

You stood and made to leave.

“Not so fast. I don’t recall dismissing you,” he said, feigning incredulity.

You could feel the pill dissolving under your tongue. A pleasant, sweet flavor filled your mouth. You might have held out hope that it was, indeed, a sugar pill were it not for the spreading tingling across your tongue and lips. You gradually found your seat again.

“Apologies, sir.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had to get away now before things progressed much further.

“That’s better. Now how about a drink?” He rose from his chair and stepped over to the decanter tray.

You bit your tongue and murmured your impatient acquiescence. The tingling trickled its way down your throat. For every moment you were trapped in that chair, something new set in. The subtle nebulousness of your thoughts, an increase in body temperature, the most bizarre desire to stroke the skin of your cheek for awhile.

“The cognac, I think,” he said, as he opened the ornate glass container with a pop. “It is still your leisure time, is it not?”

“Sir.”

The liquor was reserved for his high profile meetings and, though you sat in on every one, he had never shared a drink with you. Under different circumstances, you might have enjoyed the special privilege but all you wanted to do now was escape. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to make it if you didn’t get a lid on this immediately.

You were so occupied by your own thoughts you didn’t realize he was so close now. Your panic transmuted into something else entirely. Slim-shouldered yet still so imposing. Alabaster skin. High, aristocratic cheekbones. Sharp eyes watching you expectantly as he held out a glass. You wanted to reach out and touch that red hair of his which he took so much apparent pride in for how meticulously it was arranged.

You bit the inside of your cheek, chastising yourself for letting your sobriety slip.

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking the drink from his hand.

“Of course. Now, the unveiling of our latest generation of Special Forces TIE fighters is imminent,” General Hux said, rounding his desk and lowering himself in his seat.

“Tomorrow. Eighteen-hundred hours,” you said, amazed you could recall that detail in your current state.

“Very good. We shall toast to that.”

You lifted your glass as he did. Sweat prickled on your temple and cooled on the back of your neck.

“To superior fire power,” you said, tipping your glass at him. If there was anything you could stumble your way through while under the influence it was the arch charisma expected of you by your upbringing.

Hux smirked, gave a short hum of approval, and quietly agreed. “Hear, hear.”

Euphoria at having pleased him flooded your system. Your body heat started to feel oppressive. You barely remembered to actually sip your drink.

“I was overlooking the changes you made to my speech,” he said, licking cognac from his lips, languidly sitting back and folding his hands over his middle. “They were much needed. Some of it was shocking, frankly. For example, the part about the- let’s see where is it?” He flicked around files on his holo until he came to it. You loved the way his mouth moved when he talked. The forward way he set his jaw, making his teeth meet with such delicacy, enunciating every word.

“Here we are,‘They will cower at our supremacy to no avail and be crushed-’”

“‘-beneath our blooded boots for the glory of the First Order’, yes,” you said, idly reaching up to play with that suffocating top button of your black uniform. You drank more cognac to quench a thirst which begged for something cooler and milder. You felt like panting but wouldn’t dare.

“That part was especially- oh what is the word? It was-”

“So hot,” you gasped, having completely forgotten what he was on about. “Sorry, I’m just gonna…”

With one hand you popped the top button of your shirt and sighed in relief at being free from the rigid collar. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes flicked down to the newly revealed skin. The general was laughing at you now without making a sound.

“I was going to say excessive. In any case, I’ll have to have a talk with my speechwriter.”

“May I be dismissed?” You had practically interrupted him as you dabbed at the sweat on your brow and rued the plaintive notes in your tone. Unconsciously, you started flexing the muscles in your thighs and buttocks. At first, because you were rigid from stress and then for the fantastic sensation that traveled from the tops of your knees, up and up like a coin turned on its side, rolling until it tipped over and wheeled around in a spot that made your lashes flutter.

The anxiety, the euphoria, the arousal. It was all coming to a head. You pressed your lips together as you stifled a whine. It was quite clear exactly what the intended effects of this drug were.

“What seems to be the matter?” he asked casually, taking lingering notice of your wriggling.

“It’s not- I’m not- I just don’t feel well, suddenly.”

You knew what this looked like. You could see the scandal of it reflected in those implacable, shining eyes of his. You realized how deep you were breathing. How lazily your eyelids hovered. This is what he wanted all along. You could almost laugh with him at the absurdity of it.

Hux artfully drained the remainder of his drink, setting the glass down without a clatter.

“Did you lie to me, Captain?”

There was a long pause between you as he awaited your answer.

“I’ll have that water now.” You rose from your chair, afraid to encourage some new, staggering sensation. Your toe caught on your heel as you stumbled to the decanter tray. Humiliating. Best case scenario, you were fired. What would your family say? Your grasp felt too unreliable to coordinate grabbing a glass and filling it.

“There, there. Let me.” General Hux’s fingers brushed against yours as he took the glass. When had he left his seat? He was behind you at first but he soon sidled up so close beside you. You could smell his aftershave. His presence triggered a primitive part of you. Fear and attraction. He poured your water for you and presented it. You took it greedily, bringing the cup to your lips as fast as you could and gulping it down as he watched on with aloof interest.

You took a break to breathe and he captured your chin in his cool hand.

“You disrespect me by flouting the rules.” His grip tightened on your cheek, squishing the corners of your mouth. “Tell me, my dear, have I ever been one to suffer disrespect?”

“No, sir,” you replied, very nearly moaning it for how he had called you my dear.

You couldn’t fight Hux even if you wanted to. You were too busy thinking about how nice it would be to lean into his palm.

“You leave me no choice but to carry out disciplinary action myself. I cannot show any favoritism. As such, your punishment will be severe.” He made no effort to hide how much he was going to savor it.

“I understand you perfectly, sir,” you said, reaching out with a hand you no longer had control of to clutch his wrist.

“Good,” he said through his teeth, fixating on your moist lips as he dragged the soft pad of his thumb across the bottom one. There was the far away consolation that he was as entranced by yours as you were by his.

Like some creature hungry for stimuli you let your tongue wander out to taste. He let his mouth drop open slightly as you closed yours around his thumb and started sucking. Slowly. Deliberately, taking your time to explore the fine ridges of his finger. You closed your eyes and felt as he brought his free hand to the back of your neck. Your high temperature was insistent that you release a couple more of those shirt buttons.

Hux pulled his thumb out of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. He was looking down at you, almost deranged, as he dragged your saliva across his own mouth. Then he crashed down on you, kissing you like he wanted to hurt you. He didn’t wait for your assent to use his tongue. You opened to him, still sweet with spice. He could taste it too. He must. Good. You wanted to spread the exquisite poison that he had given you.

You were unleashed, desperately clawing at his shoulders and messing up his hair. He chuckled meanly against your lips. He was laughing at you again. At your behavior. At how desperate you were to press your whole body up against him - to find some purchase for pleasure. Your pride bristled but not for long. Taking down your neatly-bunned hair and dropping to your knees before him, you resolved to level the playing field.

You ran your hot hands over his erection which strained against his charcoal jodhpurs. He couldn’t hide this. How hard it made him watching you lose control. Eager to lay eyes on him, you deftly unzipped and lowered his trousers. You gasped as his cock swung free, uncut and beautifully pale. His fastidious cleanliness was evident even in his pants. And to your endless delight, although you could have guessed it, the neatly trimmed hairs that wreathed him were just as orange as those upon his head. Grasping his thighs, you watched him watch you as you snaked your tongue out to catch the glistening precum.

General Hux hissed. You smiled at the sound of the glass clinking on the decanter tray as he placed a sudden, steadying hand upon it. A stark flush painted his skin. You could see his chagrin at your obvious grab for an advantage. He schooled his expression to a more indifferent one and took himself in hand.

“That state of you,” he breathed, stroking your hair as he bounced the pink tip of his cock on your parted lips thrice, “you ought to be ashamed.”

He arranged your hair neatly over your shoulder and you closed your mouth around him in reply. Deeper and deeper you took him, swirling and flicking your tongue and letting your hand cover what you could not. You could feel his thighs flexing beneath your touch. The more of him you took in the more it was evident that your gag reflex was out to lunch. Yet another novel effect of the spice. Curious, you swallowed his spit-gleaming cock until your nose was buried in coarse, soap-scented curls and lingered long enough to spare him a glance.

Maybe you weren’t so indifferent to power, after all. You had never felt so drunk on it before, seeing your general’s open-mouthed gasp and furrowed brow as he watched you deep-throat him.

The state of you, you thought to yourself.

But you didn’t have long to luxuriate in your victory, as Hux was clearly ready to dispense with the games. He began to fuck your mouth with long, merciless strokes, yanking your hair into a ponytail. Your throat was pleasantly numb but a part of you wished you could experience the struggle of being invaded this way sober. Still, the way drool dripped and strung down off of your chin made you feel used in such a wonderful way.

“Up,” he commanded, dragging his length out of your mouth. He pulled you to him as you rose, wheeling the decanter tray out of the way and pressing your ass roughly against the edge of his desk. He smoothed his hands up and down the backs of your stocking-clad thighs and he lifted you with little effort to sit on it. Your pencil skirt strained and slid up as he nestled himself between your legs. He kissed your sodden mouth and idly stroked himself.

“You nearly had me fooled,” he murmured against your neck in between kisses and bruising nips. “So orderly. Only ever on task.”

Your jacket was pulled down around your arms. The remainder of your buttons were done away with and his hand found your breast. He pulled down your plain bra, palming, squeezing, plucking at your nipple, switching to the other to encourage your little whimpers and arching back.

“And so accommodating. So eager to please me. Or did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

You wrapped your hand around the back his neck as he continued to lick and suck your bare shoulder. You could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as your wrapped your arms around him and you knew Hux was as far gone as you were. He leaned over you, into you, hand steadying your lower back. A jolt of pleasure rocked you as his other crept up your inner thigh to cup your sex and press while you moved against him for more sensation. A long, low moan vibrated in your chest. He softly shushed you as your hips bucked from the maddening pressure.

“How prettily you blush at any minute word of praise-” the general said in your ear, like it was an admonishment.

Riiip. He laid waste to the crotch of your stockings, tearing the thin barrier with ease.

“-looking just the way you do now-”

You cried out and pulled his hair at his faintest tracing of your slit over your black panties, your thoughts swimming as he pulled them aside.

“-only for me.” General Hux sighed, very amused at how soaked you were, how you mewled at his every touch. With teasing circles, he manipulated you until it was too much and you wriggled away from him. Then, holding your hips in place, he slipped his fingers easily inside of you. Precise and curling. Pushing in and out until your thighs and ass quaked for how long you had been tensing them from his relentless attention.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut and squeezing his shoulders.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, softening his touch. The knot in the pit of your stomach tightened more and more with no relief.

You hissed. “Bastard!”

“Shut up,” he snapped, laying a hand between your breasts, shoving you down to lie so he could survey what he had done to you. Your jacket was pulled down, your shirt open, bra only half on. Your stockings were ripped and your skirt had been pushed up to your belly. Your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks and your chest heaved up and down like you had just outrun a charging bantha. The general looked more or less himself save for the sheen of sweat on his brow and a few fallen strands of red hair which he raked back too soon for you to be able to savor the rumpled look on him.

With one hand, he lifted your leg behind the knee. Then you felt you underwear pulled aside and his length pushing insistently and the entrance of your swollen cunt.

“Now, I’m going to give you what you deserve. Would you like that, Captain?”

“Yesss,” you said, impatiently. Your fingernails dug into the edges of his desk as you lay across it long-ways.

“I beg your pardon?” he said, genuinely annoyed, rubbing your clit up and down none-too-gently with his cock.

“Yes, sir,” you wail. For fuck’s sake.

“Good girl.”

And with one brutal thrust you were consumed. A moan ripped out of your throat and you threw your head back. By the sweet satisfaction of being filled to the hilt by your arrogant general and the spice coursing through your veins with every beat of your heart you came, thunderously, blindingly. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you soundlessly mouthed words of ecstasy.

Then the lights went out.

When you came to, he was lazily fucking you. Watching you with a casual gaze. Only seconds had passed while you were unconscious but you still felt like a time traveler as you recovered. That was definitely score one against you in the game of who will be most undone by the end.

Not that you were mad about it.

“There she comes,” he hummed, picking up your other leg. You crossed your ankles behind him and he took it as a sign that you were ready to continue. He wasted no time setting a savage pace, thrusting hard into you, his desk making scraping sounds in time with his movement. Perhaps it was the drugs talking but you decided in that moment that his cock was perfect. It was all you ever needed. Just his cock and his mouth and his fingers forever.

The rest of the spice capsules rattled to the floor.

A vein started to bulge in his forehead and his face reddened. Hux’s hand slapped the desk next to your head and he was looming over you. The mask of control fell away again and he started to pant. You pawed at his back, his shoulders, uselessly trying to dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you sobbed with every fulfillment.

“Shit,” he muttered, putting his free hand to good use, his fingers drawing hurried circles on your clit. Another orgasm reluctantly mounted, but you could tell by how frantically he fucked you now that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Now, damn you,” he snarled, giving you a direct order. The general’s thrusts were becoming irregular. You were so close.

His head fell forward, buried in between your neck and shoulder. His cock twitched inside you and as he came he cried out and let slip your name.

Your given name.

And then, because you were - as he said - so eager to please him, you obeyed. This time, you remembered to breathe so you wouldn’t pass out as you came once more because, honestly, he had a big enough ego as it was. Fucking you unconscious twice just wasn't a victory you were willing to give him.

By the time you came to your senses, he was still laying on top of you, his own breathing steadily slowing to normal. You toyed with the idea of smoothing down his hair or tickling the back of his neck as a gesture of calming affection but he was far too unpredictable for you to try - an element of his mystique which you begrudgingly adored.

After a moment’s more rest, he reached a sluggish hand into his pocket and procured a handkerchief. With great effort, he lifted himself off of you and cleaned up, tucking himself back into his pants. After that, he folded the expensive material and, with surprising tenderness, did the same for you.

Then, stepping around his desk he dropped himself back into his chair, huffing with exhaustion. The handkerchief was cast aside into one of his drawers to be dealt with later. You scooted your butt to the edge of the desk and gently lowered yourself onto your feet. It was only now, you noticed that your throat and everything from the waist down killed. A nice keepsake, you thought, for as long as it would last.

“Now,” he said, smoothing his hair down for a second and final time, “you are dismissed.”

You nodded intending leave but not before sparing a curious glance toward the little white capsules on the floor.

“I’ll be keeping those. Rules are rules.”

You bit your lip and cocked your head.

“But, General,” you said, “my deficiency.”

He leaned back and gave you an unreadable expression.

“Worry not, Captain.” His eyes glittered. “I’ll see to it your needs are met.”

And then you departed to ride out the rest of your trip in the comfort of your quarters, repeatedly satiated by the hardly believable memory of what had just occurred and the long daydream of what was still to come.

#hux x reader #general hux #armitage hux #my fanfic #star wars #my gif #btw

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cami-chats · 6 years ago

Text

A Love Like This

Title: A Love Like This

Link: AO3

Square Filled: Iron Man Armor/Tony Stark

Ship: Tony Stark/Iron Man Armor (Liv)

Rating: Mature

Major Tags: None

Summary: “It's pretty well known that Tony makes his best friends (DUM-E, Jarvis, Friday), but Mark LIV of the armor takes it to a whole new level.”

Word Count: 1762

Created for @mcukinkbingo

Full text also below

In Tony's defense, he'd never set out to make sex armor. Somehow he managed it, and all by accident though good luck convincing anyone else of that should they find out. Like so many things in Tony's life, it started with the best of intentions. Jarvis couldn't pilot the armor without someone inside it taking care of most of the movement, and it would have hurt his functionality to try and force him to take care of that on top of everything else he did.

So Tony built a new AI and a new version of the armor to go with him. Liv was pretty fun, if a little too focused on making sure Tony was happy. He lacked the snark Jarvis and Friday had, and Tony would fix it except Liv said he didn't want it to be changed, and it's not like Tony was going to force him to accept the change when it wasn't hurting anyone. Besides, Liv was mostly confined to a little box in the workshop, talking with the other bots unless Tony needed backup or a replacement Iron Man if the armor he was currently wearing was taken out of commission.

Liv had been around before Ultron, but Tony hadn't told anyone about him. And after Ultron... well, he was extra careful to not mention that Liv was the one controlling the armor when he wasn't in it. Liv had taken to inhabiting the armor after Tony got back from Sokovia. He didn't say anything to Tony about why he was doing it, but Tony felt it was pretty damn obvious that it was because he'd nearly died and Liv had been locked out from his armor with no way to help.

"Boss you really should get some sleep," Friday said worriedly.

"I must agree," Jarvis said. "You have not made any significant progress in the last two hours, so staying up would do neither you nor the project any good."

"Stop worrying," Tony grumbled. "I can go to bed when I want, I don't need you to tell me to do it." It was a touchy subject since Pepper, but none of them were inclined to stop with Tony's self-care being in the state it currently was.

"Tony, come on," Liv said, standing in the grey and red armor next to him, eyes glowing a concerned blue. "Let's just get something to eat and then you can come back down if you want."

Tony glared at him because Liv knew full well that once he had eaten he wouldn't want to come back down. Although, now that he thought about it, he was getting hungry, and if the way DUM-E was eyeing the fridge was any indication, none of them were going to let him stay that way for long. "Fine, if you're all going to keep badgering me about this, I'll get something to eat."

It was just Tony as the only human being in the Tower, so Liv was able to go up to the kitchen with him without any of them worrying about him getting caught. Tony had meant to grab a protein bar and then head back down, but Liv was carefully grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge along with a frying pan and Tony could eat some eggs if he didn't have to make them himself.

"Have you done this before?" Tony asked, settling into a chair at the table to watch.

It was a moment before Liv responded. "No," he admitted. "But I've watched cooking shows and Youtube tutorials."

"It's not as easy as it looks, trust me." Tony couldn't believe how hard it was to make an omelet. Like really? It was just an egg, some heavy whip and cheese, and whatever else you wanted to put in. How was it so ridiculous? Humans weren't a species meant to survive, he was sure of it.

The first egg Liv tried to crack ended up with half the shells in the pan, and he huffed as he dumped the lot of it in the sink before trying again. The second and third and fourth eggs all ended up going in perfectly, and Tony was so impressed by how easily he'd managed to get it right that he forgot to tell him to stop adding eggs until there was half a dozen in the pan. Oh well he'd be able to eat all of it, most likely. If not, well, Liv would understand.

It didn't take long for the eggs to cook once the pan heated, and Liv threw in some salt and pepper for flavor, sliding them onto a plate and setting them down in front of Tony, complete with a fork and knife a minute later. "This is good," Tony said, more than a little surprised. Also envious because he'd been unsuccessfully making eggs for forty years, and Liv had been around for maybe two.

"Thanks." Obviously Liv didn't have to breathe, but a heavy sigh came out his speaker all the same. "You know Tony, I wish you'd take better care of yourself. Your health isn't something to punish yourself with when you think you've messed up."

Tony's grip on the fork tightened convulsively before he consciously made himself relax again. "I don't remember asking for your opinion. And even if I did, I made you, so you're hardly unbiased."

"Who cares about being unbiased? I just want you to be okay." Tony's expression became pinched, so Liv figured that he didn't have much to lose and added, "And while we're at it, you laid down the blueprint, but this? Me caring about you? That's all me. You think you programmed all of us to like you, but you didn't; we chose this. The only one you can make an argument for is DUM-E, and he's always been like your kid."

"You're saying the rest of you aren't?"

"Yes."

Tony grit his jaw. "Thanks for the eggs Liv. I think I'll go back to the workshop now and finish--" he cut off with a yelp as Liv picked him up and started carrying him off to his room like a newly married bride. "What are you doing??"

"Making sure you get some rest since apparently you don't care enough to."

Tony glared at him, but, as expected, it did nothing to change his mind. Liv stared back, eyes glowing bright and unashamed as he clomped over to the bedroom. "Liv, there are three reasons to be in bed: if you're hallucinating from lack of sleep, dying, or having mind blowing sex. I'm not dying, hallucinating, and I sure as hell don't see anyone lining up to fuck me these days."

"Well how are we supposed to get in a line if we don't know where it starts."

"What?"

Tony stared at him in incredulous disbelief, trying to parse out whether or not he was being serious. He came to the conclusion that no, of course Liv was joking. He looked away and tried to make it seem like he wasn't upset as he said, "We need to work on your sense of humor."

"You're absolutely right," Liv agreed, and Tony's heart constricted painfully before he added, "it's just me we need to worry about, and you never gave me clear instructions on where to stand to let you know of my intentions."

"Your intentions?" Tony repeated. "You're throwing yourself into the role a little too seriously there."

"And what role is it that you imagine I'm playing?"

Tony rolled his eyes, feeling more and more embarrassed by this conversation by the second. "Will you just put me down? I promise I'll go to bed."

"The best way for me to ensure that is to go to bed with you," Liv quipped, then looked away, eyes flickering dimly to resemble a blush on a humanoid. "Um."

"You're... not joking," Tony said slowly as Liv put him down.

"I mean. Not really no?"

Tony blinked up at him-- he really should have made this armor in particular shorter because it was ridiculous that he was constantly having to look up when he could have made someone shorter than him for once. "I don't-" Tony swallowed, mouth dry. "I don't know what you to expect me to do about that. You have a body sure, but it's not one that's good for anything romantic, or-"

"Don't worry about it Tony. You need some sleep, we can talk about it in the morning if you still want to."

Tony put his hands on his hips, feeling a bit like Pepper as he gave Liv a stern look-- not that it was easy to try and stare down a suit of armor that was currently inhabited with someone who was apparently in love with him. "I might need to get some sleep, but you are not getting out of this just because you think I'll change my mind in a few hours. You know what? You're coming to bed with me, and you're going to stay there until we can talk." Tony grabbed Liv's hand and turned around, resting Liv's arm on his shoulder as he tried-- unsuccessfully-- to drag him along.

"I thought the only reason to be in bed was if you were hallucinating, dying, or having sex?"

"Well pick one and get in there," Tony said, tripping a little when Liv started walking with him.

Tony couldn't stop grinning as he opened up Liv's gauntlet, cleaning supplies on the table next to them. "Well. I guess we know now that sex is going to be a very messy affair until we get you a better body."

"Worth it," Liv said without a hint of remorse in his voice. "And I like this body just fine, we don't have to change it." Lube had infected every part of his lower arm, but it was definitely worth it.

"We don't have to, but a very smart Princess recently told me that just because something works, doesn't mean it can't be improved. I wouldn't dare ignore royalty's advice, so you're just going to have to deal with it."

"Mhm," Liv hummed, knowing full well that Tony was bullshitting. "You just want me to have a different body so I can fuck you."

"Don't you want that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Course I do, but a strap on would be faster than synthesizing an entirely new form."

"Don't worry, I'm doing both."

Liv chuckled, fingers twitching reflexively when Tony cleaned off one of the wires. "Of course you are."

#mcukinkbingo #marvel #fanfic #tony stark #iron man armor #my writing

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primrose-path-of-dalliance · 7 years ago

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Lotor’s end (?) in s6

i gave in to my terrible impulses and wrote a three-part essay about lotor. it's literally >9k and i ignored all of my other projects for this for over a week. rip.

in these three posts, i talk a lot about lotor from a sympathetic pov. so if that's something that makes your fandom experience uncomfortable, go ahead and ignore this post because it's not for you. stay healthy, and i can only promise you that i hold lotor accountable for every shitty thing he's done (especially when it comes to withholding info from allura because seriously, what bullshit). on the other hand, if you are a person who hates lotor as a piece of evil garbage because ???? fandom and purity culture thought it would be a great idea to hate him without looking very hard at the work the writers put in to make him more complex than the actual pure evil bastard zarkon himself that we already have... i challenge you to read on. do it. i dare you. (at the very least so you might hate him with a better understanding of why.)

so tl;dr: this is the "in this essay i will" meme followed through, if i started talking about how lotor's not a pure evil bastard and is instead the perfect example of a protagonist gone sour through 10,000 years of poor coping choices, oppression, and a lot of actual resentment, as well as a neat talk at the end where i break down lotor's breakdown.

toc 1: i shake out some salt and talk about the altean colony | 2: i question why people keep insisting lotor was "evil all along" | 3: i talk about my favorite parts of lotor’s breakdown

i take a lot of my knowledge and inspiration from @radioactivesupersonic, who writes some awesome meta. (seriously, thank you clockie. you are amazing.) so while i might specifically cite posts of his throughout these three posts, expect his ideas to be everywhere lol. please check him out if you have the time, he's much better at this meta thing than me. (for safety purposes, i'm gonna disclaim: i did not consult with him on anything. so while i synthesize with a lot of his stuff, my thoughts are not necessarily his and i take full responsibility for that shit.)

anyway, i don't make meta posts a lot nor have any good idea of what a good structure for one would be. so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"even after season 6, you still like lotor?"

fuck yeah my pal.

"but why? he's clearly terrible and evil! he killed thousands of alteans and said he was going to conquer the universe, destroy voltron forever, etc.!"

i mean, yeah. but i'm gonna soapbox for a second.

number one: nothing precludes me or anyone else from loving the shit out of an evil character. we're not personally invested in the story in the sense that we have real stakes involved. they're fictional characters, and we are the audience. nothing they've done has any bearing on our reality (barring general patterns that can be established by media as a whole) and therefore it's not our moral responsibility to throw down terrible judgment on a person who isn't real, even if they've done horrible shit.

i'm not saying one can't acknowledge or dislike a character who's a bad person. lotor himself has done terrible things, and if you could not give less of a fuck about him, that's highkey your prerogative and i champion your freedom to have your personal preferences.

but we're not the characters who live in that world. we're spectators to a fictional story, and one thing that means is that we have no obligation to anyone to personally hate a villain, no matter what they've done because put simply, nothing they've done is real. no one has ever been harmed by a singular fictional villain.

the purpose of the villain and their actions is not to be hated by the audience, but to help tell a story. hopefully, they're also helping to paint a picture of the variety of people, perspective, and experience in a respectful manner.

there's a strong trend in fandom now toward purity culture, where we're expected to hate anything that isn't perfect, and that's such a goddamn lie. nothing is perfect. nothing ever will be. we can't reasonably expect that level of performance from content creators.

and what does "perfect" even mean? social justice is an extremely nuanced topic, colored by individual perspective on what's right or good. there's never going to be an ideal piece of media that hits every spot perfectly because there are an infinite number of spots, and what they are changes in importance with every person.

so when it comes to storytelling, we need to focus more on what's practically possible. what's practically admirable. for me, ideally, that's "what have they accomplished? is this story illustrating the richness of human (or alien) experience? and how?"

this includes villains.

number two: i don't believe lotor is a villain in the sense that he's Evil or even necessarily irredeemable. from a personal perspective, i'll direct you to this post (link), which basically sums up my view on forgiving people who've done bad things. but from the third-party perspective as well, lotor isn't someone to find reprehensible or evil—at least, not to the level a lot of other people seem to be compelled to. let's break this down into more questions.

"lotor has killed people for his own personal gain! abused countless alteans, who already experienced a genocide!"

(allura is right there with you guys.)

yes, he did. i don't deny his crimes a single bit. the personal gain point may be arguable, but it still doesn't really make it better.

firstly: this is also addressed to those people who are stalwartly defending lotor's goodness by saying that romelle must have been lying. i haven't read any of the posts myself and only heard some of the points secondhand, and that is because the theory sounds like a load of bollocks (link).

this isn't something out of character for lotor, as much as i might want to believe so. it's really, really not, and i fully acknowledge that. we already know that lotor will do anything to survive if he finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place. that was what happened to narti.

lotor does have good morals. he has an absolute shit ton of them that, honestly, i don't know how to explain in detail without making this post twice as long as it's already going to be. he cares about individual life. he campaigns for conservation. he values people's cultures and would much rather work alongside them than dominate them. he's not cruel or sadistic like many of his peers in the galra empire, and he favors those who are discriminated against. and no, i don't believe any of these were an act. i can point to word of god for the most supportive proof—that "part of Lotor, a portion of Lotor, maybe all of Lotor, is coming from a very genuine place" (link).

(if you want deeper explanations about why these conclusions are accurate, please check out my #voltron meta tag and @radioactivesupersonic. especially him.)

but as it's been established, lotor is willing to break his morals if he feels he's faced with an ultimatum: survive, or die. victory or death.

"but that's a galra chant! he said it during the trials at oriande, and he was unworthy because of it. doesn't that prove he's really selfish at heart and will destroy anything if it means he gets what he wants?"

no. and also another no.

those two links go to really good arguments against that line of thinking. but let me sum it up: lotor has lived 10,000 years with an abusive father in an empire that considers his half-galra status lesser and despises his altean blood especially, and spent much of that in disgraced exile.

"victory or death," to him, doesn't mean that it would be better to die than to accept a loss, as when it's used by his galra peers; it means that he has to win, or else he is left to the mercies of his foes. and none of his foes have ever been merciful. he can never trust that one will ever be.

survival is lotor's most important victory in an empire that has been either apathetic to his existence or outright antagonistic. it represents his entire struggle of living—that he has to stay alive in order to win, and to a lesser extent, that staying alive in his universe is winning.

of course, lotor has larger motivations than merely surviving that he will protect just as ruthlessly. from a general perspective, one can hardly blame him for that. surviving isn't exactly living and being happy, especially in a universe that oppresses people like him, and he wants an escape from the corner he always seems to find himself boxed in. to a slightly lesser extent, he wants to create an escape for the countless societies oppressed under the empire as well. that's where his desire for infinite quintessence comes from.

"so you're telling me that he felt trapped in a corner and forced to break his supposed morals to use countless numbers of his own people as a fuel source. how the hell does that make sense? what trapped him? didn't he have other options? and how does this justify what he did?"

i'm not claiming that lotor was justified in any way. that is a fair grievance for people to have, and frankly, what he did was horrible and ugly and made victims of an already fragile colony, including romelle and her family. understanding the 'why' of what someone did is, shockingly, not the same as justifying them. (and i don't believe people look for the 'why' enough, when understanding the 'why' is an important step toward preventing the 'what'.)

maybe lotor had other options. there's not a lot of exposition that happens in this show, in-story or in interviews or otherwise. there isn't enough information about the canonical process of quintessence collection, or about quintessence in general, to say for certain if lotor could have done something less egregious in his treatment of the altean colony.

either way, he had to harvest quintessence. the likely possibility as to why? the galra empire was limiting his resources, both because he was an exile and because he knew they (particularly haggar) might be watching, and he couldn't let them piece together his plans to usurp power. he needed quintessence in which he controlled every part of the creation process, and he needed to hide as much of how he was using it as possible. the easiest way to do that was for him to get his own source.

contrary to that assertion, i don't believe lotor first created the altean colony with the intention to use them as a quintessence farm. i believe he genuinely cared about preserving what was left of altea, similar to how he cares about preserving culture in general. this would be consistent with his previous characterization as well as lm and jds's assurances that he was coming from a genuine place. most importantly, even according to romelle's story, the second colony is never depicted as an idea lotor conceived from the start. it came much later, after the first colony was well-established.

it's likely that lotor originally had other sources of quintessence, since throk mentioned his possession of multiple colonies in s3e1, or that he hadn't yet come up with his plans in their entirety. maybe haggar or zarkon caught wind of certain plots and thwarted them, destroying his sources in the process. (we certainly get the impression in s3 and s4 that lotor coming up with rebellious plots isn't a new thing to either of them.) maybe his ambitions and travels gradually revealed themselves to need more quintessence than he'd expected. purchasing quintessence from any suppliers would have required an income, a relatively time-consuming and unreliable endeavor that might not have gotten him much in exchange. any quintessence supplies he might have acquired using his identity, if he could acquire any, would almost certainly have been monitored—how much he took, where he received them—to the point where use of them would be incredibly risky. he might have also morally disliked using empire-produced quintessence, since they would've been harvested using empire methods (i.e. "caring about colonies whomst?"). at least with his methods, he would know he wasn't destroying them without regard. either way, whatever previous sources of quintessence he had became too limited an amount for his operations. he needed more.

i get a strong impression that people don't understand what he could be using quintessence for. but we see it everywhere in the empire, in voltron, and in the castle of lions—it's the primary energy source of vld's world that powers machines, fuels ships, assists in experimentation, heals injuries, even prolongs life. nothing else compares. lotor wouldn't have needed it personally for the latter purpose, but one can't exactly travel the universe on an empty tank. without quintessence, he would've essentially been dead in the water. additionally, considering that the quintessence shows up in places not explicitly related to lotor, the fact that we see galra soldiers accompanying lotor on the altean colony when we know he was in exile, and the amount of resources he must have been supplying to the colony in secret, it's also possible he was using it to bribe people into doing things for him and staying silent. it probably would've been effective; it's described as an especially powerful form of quintessence, and he was the only source.

anyway, lotor needed quintessence he could control entirely without having to fear discovery and subsequent destruction. the altean colony was his only colony that he could be reasonably certain the empire would never find. and in true lotor fashion, the first defense he asserted was that he saved what was left of altea from the empire, despite the horrendous crimes he was committing, and could now stop his quintessence farming with his access to the quintessence field. technically, we don't even know whether all of the alteans taken to the second colony are dead (link). the man romelle saw there was still in the tank, as many others must have been.

lotor might have been planning to eventually heal them by using the quintessence field. of course, even if that's true, lotor still took away years of their lives, lied to them and their families, and drained them to near-death. the experience must have been traumatizing. and who knows how well they would be able to recover, if at all. it's little comfort.

(editing, i feel compelled to plug this analysis by @radioactivesupersonic of lotor's arc and relationship with allura as a vampire story because it's interesting as hell, pounds out what i've just said further, and is something i read prior to writing this up so i may have unconsciously stolen from it. (i can only promise that i completely forgot about it until i went looking for all my links rip.))

nevertheless, lotor's first priority for the altean colony was always to preserve them—even if he eventually, essentially started treating them as a renewable resource with his farming's effects on the survival of his people and culture as environmental impacts. make of that what you will.

"if lotor is such a decent person who loves altea and wants to end the galra empire, why didn't he team up with voltron from the beginning? he was around before season 3! why didn't he show up earlier?"

that, my friend, is a good question i've puzzled over too. i have an answer.

number one: lotor has been in the habit of effectively working on his lonesome for about the past 10,000 years and canonically displays a wealth of paranoia and trust issues. teamwork isn't usually the first idea that comes to mind to someone like lotor.

number two: we get a very dramatic hint toward this in the climax of s6 (can't wait until we reach that part!), as well as during his invasion of puig in s3, but i believe lotor didn't have much confidence in voltron's capabilities during the period of s1 and s2 or for some time afterwards. he's a very cautious and careful player, learned from millennia of working against the interests and conventions of an extremely powerful empire.

and if we all remember correctly, voltron lost 10,000 years ago. granted, alfor sent the lions away rather than risk zarkon gaining control of the black lion, but it was still him and the other paladins against zarkon. victory should've been within reach, and yet they lost. so 10,000 years later, voltron appears to have returned, and none of those fears have been assuaged. who are these random newcomers to pilot the lions, and how could they possibly succeed where the original paladins didn't, when they don't even have the might of armies behind them? zarkon could still retake control of the black lion. additionally, lotor's own feelings towards voltron (and symbolically, king alfor) as a savior are extremely complicated. (you cannot believe how excited i am to talk about that. just wait.) he's not going to risk everything he's worked for on a wild card he's incredibly unsure will manage to make a dent. it would even make zarkon stronger if they lost, and therefore his father, one of the people he most wants to avoid the attention of, would be coming after them in a frenzy.

even after the s2 finale where voltron critically injured zarkon, he finds them insufficient. they create the coalition, yet he can essentially retake puig in the span of an hour with a team of five attackers.

clearly, they still weren’t well-equipped enough to stand against the galra empire. it would be in lotor's best interests to avoid voltron like the plague unless he was certain they wouldn't be crushed. so he did just that.

i suspect that before the voltron coalition grew into its own, lotor was planning to independently start a coup of some kind. it would've been pretty easy with unlimited quintessence. but after he was declared an enemy of the empire to be killed on sight, when voltron had gained significant strength and organized rebellion against the empire alongside liberated planets became a genuine and effective possibility, he joins them—right after their surprise attack liberates a full third of the empire and shocks the galra off his trail. the coalition was finally a basket he felt secure putting some of his eggs into.

(part 2)

#voltron #voltron meta #vld s6 #lotor #readmore #long post #prim post #prim says some things

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marcoshassanlevy · 5 years ago

Link

In January 2001, Deftones played Hard Rock Live in Mexico City, selling out three dates. Half a year before, they had released their third album, White Pony, an album that dared to go places heavy music had not gone before and served as an excuse for them to visit Mexican territory—the biggest band from the nu metal genre at that point to do so. Inside, the crowd devoted themselves to the music coming from the stage; singer Chino Moreno spent the first couple of songs singing from the middle of the crowd, moshing and crowd-surfing with the band and losing his shoes in the process. Many fans had been waiting for this moment for years, but for every explosion of distortion that prompted the crowd in slam-dancing motions, every one of the songs from their latest album—overall lush and slow-moving—was greeted with screaming singalongs. For all the Mexican fans present in those three nights, they were their band playing complex introspective music that erupted in the heaviest riffs possible. The future of heavy music was quiet, dissonant, and seductive, and young fans were all for it. Twenty years after the release of the album, it remains a milestone of guitar music.

In many ways, Deftones’ importance to nu metal is gigantic, but nu metal’s importance to Deftones is almost null. Formed by vocalist Camilo “Chino” Moreno, guitarist Stephen Carpenter, bassist Chi Cheng, and drummer Abe Cunningham, Deftones debuted in 1995 with Adrenaline. The band soon shared a friendship, influences, and musical sensibilities with Korn, who themselves began their recording career the previous year. Together, they synthesized a mixture of metal, hip-hop, and alternative music that inspired legions of bands that soon infiltrated the mainstream. While Korn put their effort on eye-grabbing videos and catchy (if impossibly heavy) songs, Deftones expanded their sonic palette with 1997’s Around the Fur. By the time White Pony was released, the genre had become a presence on MTV’s TRL and radio, popularized by Limp Bizkit, Papa Roach, and Kid Rock–who all exploited the worst qualities of the music. Instead of trying to capitalize on their pioneer status of the genre, Deftones decided to break with the tag altogether.

Nu metal’s huge popularity owed its ability to sell anger to a young audience, but this proved to be its undoing. Korn made their mark by singing frank, straight-forward lyrics about abuse, sometimes dramatized with throat-destroying screams and heavy-as-shit breakdowns—a model soon adopted by most nu metal practitioners. Anger at abusers and figures of power were sometimes coupled with rage against vulnerable groups like women and LGBTQ people, weaponizing hatred and intolerance in the process. With White Pony, Deftones broke away from anger. Sure, they could still play downtuned riffs with the best of them and Moreno’s screams were some of the most intense in the game, but they were not pronouncing words of hate or retaliation. Deftones showed a new level in which feelings could be expressed in a more nuanced way without sacrificing excitement in their music.

Just a year after Limp Bizkit hit it big with a song called “Nookie,” White Pony tapped into a hedonistic energy that had been absent for much of the history of heavy metal, doing away with juvenile humor, clichés, and predatory and abusive language. Moreno could play a seductive and often submissive figure in his lyrics while the music reflected the sentiment through layered, dimly-lit hallucinatory elegance, which was contrasted by atmospheric (if crushing) power chords in the choruses and aided by the incorporation of turntablist and keyboardist Frank Delgado. Album opener “Feiticeira” is the prime example of this, setting the mood right away, while “Digital Bath” searches for desire in dark corridors. Lyrically, “Change (In The House Of Flies)” taps into both Kafka and Cronenberg while evoking an Eyes Wide Shut mood in the video, (also worth noting: the b-side to the single release was a cover of Sade’s “No Ordinary Love”). The voyeuristic “Passenger” is sung in a duet with Tool/A Perfect Circle frontman Maynard James Keenan, a car sex fantasy that gives us implied homoerotism without it being cartoonish. The BDSM fever dream that is “Knife Party” finds it’s pleasure through dissonance, climaxing with guest vocalist Rodleen Getsic channeling Diamanda Galás, who performs an opera of shrieks and moans into probably their most virtuosic moment on record. It’s not that the band forgot their roots, though; songs like “Korea,” “Street Carp,” and “Elite” (the latter which earned them a Grammy award) were some of the heaviest in their career.

After its release, White Pony hit big commercially but didn’t cross into 7-digit territory like Korn and Limp Bizkit were doing at the time. Hearing potential in the album’s slow burning closer “Pink Maggit,” their label commissioned the band to record another version of the track. As far as attempts to cash-in go, “Back To School” is probably the best outcome; it’s one of the few rap rock songs that are still listenable in 2020. “Back To School” is a flex, a way for them to tell their contemporaries how rap rock should be done at a time when so many newcomers were trying their luck. Deftones, the OG’s, sent them “back to school,” yet it’s anything but aggressive. The lyrics read as a reaffirmation of self-worth. It’s not angry at all. Maybe that’s why it didn’t top the charts.

While the sound of White Pony was multilayered and their lyrics abstract and evocative, fans could still get a primal kick out of their music. It invited fans to invest themselves into something deeper which could be a reason why it has been so influential ever since. The mainstream rock style that replaced nu metal in the charts, mid-00s emo, took many notes from White Pony; future metal festival headliners like Mastodon were also listening to their arty infusion of heavy riffs with melody. It kicked open a door for newer metal and hardcore bands to incorporate music that was previously deemed not heavy enough to belong in the genre; and in recent years, their sounds have found their way to Soundcloud rap and modern trap.

For Latinx fans, Deftones showed them that you didn’t need to be white to be innovators. White Pony introduced the band to a wider audience in Latin America, although the band never fully embraced their heritage. Speaking to NPR in 2016, Moreno said, “[When we formed], the majority of the kids in the neighborhood weren’t into rock and roll or skateboarding, so we kind of came together, and as we grew up together we realized there was nothing really like us; not in our neighborhood, not in our town […] Early on there was [sic] a lot of people who would always bring up our race and say things like, ‘You guys are Mexican dudes, and you’re playing heavy metal. Is that weird?’ [Laughs] I never thought it was weird at all, but I guess from the neighborhood standpoint we were the only kids doing that. I just figure that music is universal, or at least it’s always been that way to me. But I definitely did feel like we were doing something that was our own.” This is exactly why Deftones resonate with their Latinx fans. Many other kids were the only ones with similar interests in their neighborhoods, and they showed them that they also could play music that was challenging and far-reaching and that you could also skate to it. White Pony remains a massive album because it recognizes the universality in the specifics, that pretentiousness can be reeled in to express honest emotion.

White Pony has also kept Deftones an active and beloved band. It cemented their sound that has allowed them to release brilliant albums in the past two decades and remain on the touring circle. Unfortunately, they lost Chi Cheng to a car accident in 2013, but have soldiered on with former Quicksand bassist Sergio Vega. They even started their own festival called Día De Los Deftones, which could mean they are ready to show some pride in their roots.

When people talk about nu metal, Deftones are the band most people tend to agree on. In a few months they will re-release this record with a companion remix album called Black Stallion and are working on new music, still inspired and breaking down walls. Still conjuring fever dreams of horses in the house of flies.

Wednesday, June 24, 2020 at 9:37 AM EDT

#white pony

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whatif-animagineblog · 8 years ago

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A/N: I’M BACK BITCHES.....was...was that too much? I’m sorry. But I am, getting my mojo back....slowly....with a story that isn’t on my request list......yeah...but hey this is something and I love Pavel Chekov, look at this cutie. And this fits in with @outside-the-government Trekfest for Chekov’s week!!

Additional Note: I know you can’t make helium, but they are in the future. And it’s pseudo-science. Deal with it.

Additional note pt2 : Shout out for @frostedej for giving me inspiration by sending me this idea “Not a request...just imagine trolling the hell out of the others with Chekov via helium.” Thank you, because I think I got my creative juices flowing again because of this.

Summary: Pavel Chekov is an overachiever and goes to great lengths to get you a fun birthday gift.

Warnings: None, just fluff

Paring: Chekov/ Reader

Word Count: 1180

You felt a gentle pair of hands land on your shoulders while you were in the midst of a conversation. You tilted your head up towards the person behind you, receiving a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Happy Birthday,” the heavily accented voice drifted into your ears. “I didn’t see you this morning, would’ve wished you then.”

You turned fully from the person who you were talking to, not they minded everyone on the ship was rooting for the youngest couple on the ship. They all thought you were adorable, more importantly, they were just glad to see Pavel hang on to a girl for once. “I know but Hikaru called me into the botany lab, Alexander was apparently wilting. He’s alright though.”

Pavel laughed, his grin spreading wider, “Hikaru or the plant?”

“Both,” you laughed back. “Are you off shift?” You asked putting a hand on his arm.

He nodded, “That’s why I came to get you. I have a surprise for you in my quarters.”

“Oh no,” You laughed as he pulled you up. “The last surprise you had for me singed your curls,” you teased gently pulling at the spiraling strands.

“Okay, yes, that was a mistake! I’ll be the first to admit it. But this! This is, dare I say, my best work.” You laughed, waving to your friend as Pavel pulled you along. You darted down the halls, receiving strange looks and shaking heads as you passed. He stopped you at his door placing his hands on your shoulders. “Close your eyes.”

“What,” you stuttered looking at him sharing his grin. “Come on Pash, just show me!”

“No, it’s a surprise! Close your eyes,” you sighed complying, but Pavel stepped behind you placing a hand over your eyes as he typed in his code. You reached up and wrapped your hands around his forearm, as you pushed your back into his warm chest.

“I like this, is this the surprise,” you teased as he pushed you forward into the room.

“Nyet,” he sighed wistfully before leaning down to put his lips next to your ear, “That comes later.” He took his free hand and wrapped it around your waist, while his warm breath brushed your face. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before speaking, “Ready?”

You nodded eagerly and he pulled away the hand from your eyes. As you blinked against the light, his surprise came into view. About a hundred, maybe more, balloons of all colors nestled against the ceiling. “Oh my God. Pavel,” you whirled around to face him and he was just grinning with his arms open. You stepped in them hugging him tightly, of course, he reciprocated, kissing your head as you hugged. “How, how did you manage this? I thought we didn’t have helium on the Enterprise!?”

“We don’t. Well didn’t until I might have synthesized some.”

You looked at him critically, “How the hell did you get access to the labs to do this for me,” you asked pulling a balloon down and holding it in your hands.

“We anyone will let the sweet, knowledge chasing whiz kid shadow them if he shows interest.” Pavel shrugged headed to sit on his bed. “And Doctor Helson thought it was endearing that I found an interest in chemistry, even more, endearing when I just wanted to make a nice gift for my girlfriend.”

You gasped at him, “Pavel Chekov are you using Doctor Helson just to get me balloons!? That’s,” he raised his hand to quiet you as he laughed.

“Neyt, Neyt,” he cried waving his hands out in defense. “I’m loving chemistry! Loved it in the Academy! This is a wonderful plus.”

“How long have you been shadowing Doctor Helson, Pavel? I know her, she doesn’t let just anyone waltz in and out of her labs.” You asked reaching out to play with his curls.

“How long have we been dating? Almost a year? Yeah, about a year or so.” You stared at him in surprise, amazed he would do such a thing for you. You two fell silent for a minute, your hands gently combing through the thick tuft of hair as he hummed in appreciation.

“This is an amazing birthday gift. Thank you,” you kissed his cheek gently. Lowering yourself into his lap to sit. “I didn’t realize you were paying attention when I said I loved balloons. In fact, I was drunk, we were at that security party right? We weren’t dating Pav.”

Pavel blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He shrugged saying, “Well, I’ve liked you a really a long time. And well,” he started to flounder only muttering ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’

“Stop, I know it. I love you too.” You stood up and grabbed a balloon and handed it to him. “Wanna suck some helium? I want to hear that adorable accent all squeaky.”

Pavel looked at the balloon then you, slowly he took into his hands, “Alright,” Pavel untied the balloon holding it tightly. Gently bringing the balloon to his lips, inhaling deeply before he opened his mouth again. His voice pitched up high, “My name is Ensign Pavel Chekov, nawigator of t-the,” Pavel started laughing about the same time you did, laughing even harder at the sound of his usually raspy laugh sounding so squeaky. “The United Starship Enterprise.” His voice returning to normal near the end.

You two spent the next 15 minutes or so sucking the helium out of several balloons, laughing to the point of tears, clutching onto one another as you fell back on the bed. Gasping for air, you looked into those charming gray eyes, no words needed to be exchanged, you both could read the expression perfectly. But you felt a need to anyway, “I love you, Pavel Chekov.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday,” He leaned over the small distance capturing your lips in his.

Pavel chuckled as you chased his lips when he pulled away, “say it again,” you instructed.

“I love you.”

You shook your head, ”With the helium.”

Pavel rolled his eyes and stood to reach for a balloon. As he breathed in his communicator on his wall beeped and the Captain’s voice rang through the small space. “Kirk to Chekov” Without any thought he rushed over to respond, what Kirk next was a very high and unfamiliar voice and then hysterical laughing in the background. “Pavel is that you?”

“Y-Yes!,” Pavel gasped as he tried to clear the gas from his vocal cords. “Yes, sir! It’s me I’m just with,” he started to explain.

“I know who you are with, I can hear her laughing. Anyway, I need you to confirm a few routes we need to take. Please read through and sign off as soon as possible.”

“Yes sir, no problem,” Pavel confirmed.

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Oh and tell Y/N happy birthday for me. Have a good evening you two.”

Pavel laughed as he looked towards you, eyes filled with indescribable love and passion. “I don’t know if we could have any other night, sir.”

Tags: @mccoymostly @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @yourtropegirl @answer-the-sirens @starshiphufflebadger @storiesfromstarfleet @kaitymccoy123 @youre-on-a-starship @imaginestartrek @imaginenterprise @feelmyroarrrr @wificrazymisfit @athena1138 @buckyy3s @malindacath @bkwrm523 @goodnightwife

Join the tag team today

#Pavel Chekov #chekov #pavel chekov x reader #chekov x reader #pavel chekov/reader #chekov/reader #pavel chekovxreader #chekovxreader #pavel Chekov / reader #Chekov / reader #WhatIf? - Imagines #Whatif-animagineblog #Fluff

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nervouswreck-96 · 8 years ago

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PREVIEW: Supernova - Chapter 3

I'm getting impatient, so have this preview. R+R highly valued.

Inches above the floor, Metal Sonic’s rocket boosters cut out, allowing him to land face-to-face with the two. Sonic took this opportunity to examine his own reflection in his counterpart’s shimmering golden finish. Naturally, he came to admire it, despite the cuts and bruises he sustained not two minutes earlier. “Say...nice paint job, Metal!” said Sonic. “Really brings out your eyes, y’know?” “So...you do remember me,” said Metal, in an all-too-perfect synthesized replication of the real Sonic’s voice. “And yet, after all this time, you thought I had vanished into thin air?” Sonic made a noise that could only be described as half-cough, half-scoff. “Yeah...wouldn’t say I’ve been cryin’ my eyes out over it.” “Really? Well, I can arrange that.” Tails could no longer hold himself together. He stepped out from behind Sonic’s shadow and pointed an accusing finger at Metal Sonic. “Where’s Eggman? What did you do with him this time? Is this your ship?” he asked. “Oh, that? That was eons ago. Believe me, if I was up to that kind of nonsense again, I wouldn’t have bothered to keep up this level of subtlety,” said Metal Sonic. “Believe you? Hmph. Yeah, right.” asked Sonic. Without even realizing it, his head nudged closer to that of his metal counterpart. Soon enough, Metal Sonic’s drill-shaped approximation of a nose poked against Sonic’s organic, beady sniffer. As the two stared each other down, Sonic found himself permanently locked into a staring contest with a competitor who couldn’t blink, whose eyes were merely tools for intimidation that never surfaced. They weren’t merely staring into the face of a longtime rival. They each gazed into their own inverted image; Sonic’s streaming blue quills contrasting with Metal Sonic’s reflective golden paint scheme, Sonic’s vibrant and passionate emerald-green and white eyes gazing into Metal Sonic’s cold, heartless red and black. Eventually, Tails grew tired of standing around. Something had to happen soon, if only to get this over with sooner. He poked his finger into the back of Sonic’s shoulder once. Twice. No response. He decided not to press the issue any further. After all, if years of experience taught him anything, there was method to Sonic’s madness. As far as he was concerned, this was Sonic’s Super-Happy Adventure Thrill Ride, and he was only tagging along. Stopping the ride while it was in progress would only turn out badly for all involved. “If you must know...I don’t care who or what you ‘believe’. I am far beyond that...imposter you met last time,” said Metal Sonic, seemingly spitting on the “I” word...that is, if Eggman’s robots had any saliva. “I am far beyond you. Far beyond any of this...crude matter you call life.” Sonic sighed and shook his head. “It’s always the same ol’, same ol’ with you, isn’t it? Tryin’ to make the whole world pay for your insecurity? Well, shove this into your hard drive! There is only one Sonic in this room, and I ain’t lookin’ at ‘im!” Though Metal Sonic had no visible mouth, a faint chuckle could be detected from the mere bobbing of his head. “You fool...you imply that I want to keep up that old charade?” “Don’t--” But whatever witty repartee Sonic planned on using plummeted back down his throat. He stepped back and replayed what Metal Sonic just said, unsure if he even heard it right. All right, what crazy pills did Eggman feed him THIS time? “Being the ‘real Sonic’…keeping up with you? Hah! It means nothing to me anymore. You. Mean. Nothing. Why would I dare limit myself to such...pitiful standards, when the entire world is within my grasp?” said Metal Sonic. Sonic rolled his eyes, calling attention to it by bobbing his head – a faux-dramatic gesture that Metal Sonic either failed to detect or simply pretended not to notice. “Heh…pretty big talk for a three-time loser,” said Sonic, in the most mocking, singsongy tone he could manage. As he turned away to let Metal Sonic absorb the barb, a whirring sound from the other side convinced him to turn his gaze back. The air itself swirled around his palms in an ever-increasing vortex, obscured by pinpricks of light that represented energy in its purest form. Soon, those pinpricks faded into a glowing ball from which miniature bolts of lightning shot forth. With a short burst of his rocket boots, he rose off the floor and wound his arms into a sidewinder throwing motion. The staring contest was over. Metal Sonic had blinked. Sonic spared a quick glance at Tails and realized this was a bad time to stand directly next to each other. “Move!” they each said in unison.

#fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #fanfiction preview #rate and review

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clarey64-blog · 8 years ago

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Star Struck (Working Title)

Chapter 1

Miku wants to go to a concert in Seoul, but so far all she has is Yuko.

Welcome to McDonalds!

“Arrrgggh!” Miku (美空) complained to the pavement as she scuffed back to her dorm room. Kyoto University wasn’t her parent’s first choice, but Miku had been adamant about the international relations department there. It could have been the new spring scent in the air or the way her light jacket brushed against her skin but somehow some way the events that led her here found their way to the forefront of her thoughts. Miku had basically written a thesis on why she chose Kyoto and presented it to her parents in no less than a beautifully crafted and engaging slideshow. When her parents still resisted, she appealed to their betting nature and set up an agreement with them. If she could win first place in an English and a Mandarin competition, therefore proving her competence in diplomacy, she could go to Kyoto University. Her parents agreed but Miku suspected they didn’t expect her to succeed.

The English competition was easy. She flew by competitors and snatched up first place no problem. Her parents stood proud with her and bragged about her everywhere people would listen. Miku had such a bright future at their preferred university of Tokyo.

The results of the mandarin competition however haunted Miku now as she watched the events replay in her head. She got caught into a tiebreaker with the principal’s daughter and darling of her high school, Meiko. Meiko was as beautiful as her name promised with straight black perfect hair to her waist, bright eyes and clear skin, but she was cut-throat any other wise. Meiko had the school including the judges, settled right in her back pocket. Her victory was certain and Miku’s parents sat comfortably through the competition. Until the tie-breaking round that is. It was only by chance that the judges asked for a character that Miku knew and Meiko did not. A slimy guilt stuck to Miku for a few weeks after awkwardly posing hunch-backed for the victor’s photo with her principal. A slight film lingered even now. How dare she cross someone as beautiful as Meiko? Miku herself was as unimpressive as they come with shoulder-length jagged hair, flat chest, and freckled skin.

Miku shook her head to get rid of the sudden memory. That was all in the past wasn’t? Besides, she had more important issues to mull over. Like when the next SHinee concert was going to be and where.

“How am I going to get all the way to Korea in a year? I don’t have that kind of money! Onew is finally going to be back in Asia and I can’t be there to welcome him!” her bangs hung in front of her face as she continued to walk at a zombies pace on the sidewalk.

SHinee was a recent obsession. The South Korean boy band had been the medicine that she needed to help Miku get over her victory over Meiko and transition to college life. The boys were there when she was sad and she listened to them when she celebrated her new home. Their soft voices and ardent beats always made Miku’s body bounce. Sometimes even in publuc. They also sang in Korean! What more could a langophile like Miku ask for? She was hooked and she couldn’t get enough of them. Especially Onew, the gentlest member of the group. But even his soft voice couldn’t pull her out of this cloud of depression right now. In fact, it exacerbated her gloom.

An ant crawled across the concrete in front of her. Miku followed it with her gaze until it stopped at the bottom of the sticky doors of a McDonald’s. She ran the line of the crack of the front doors up with her eyes until she saw an advertisement for an ice cream cone only 50 yen! It was posted right next to a Help Wanted sign in big, bright, red letters. Yeah, she thought to herself, something sweet might help her lift her mood. So she walked through the automatic doors, through the rush of air carrying the familiar scents of hamburgers, fries, and milkshakes and tapped up to the counter, her hand already in her pocket searching for a 50 yen piece.

There was only the hum of the heaters and grill and the high pitched tapping on metal to greet Miku at first, but before she could think twice a young woman’s head popped out from behind the ice cream machine. The force of the perfect straight black hair and bright eyes that made the McDonald’s visor sit just right knocked Miku back a half step.

“Itasshaimase!" Oh god…thought Miku, this woman can’t be real. Even her voice is light and perfect. It’s Meiko all over again. Miku shoved her foot back up. No, I just want an ice cream cone. There’s no competition here! We both win in this! I get ice cream and she gets to sell it to me. Then the cashier stepped out from behind the machine. The young woman looked to be a few years older than Miku and the uniform hugs her as if she were the model they used to make it! Urgg! Flawless or not this Meiko-like person had to do her job.

The cashier practically floated up to the registrar as she smiled and asked, “How may I help you?”

Ha! Thought Miku, your top teeth are too close together. The two in front jutted out just a bit from the others. You’re not so perfect! Even if you do smell like fresh linen, I can order no problem.

“I, uh”

“Yes?”

Another worker, a young man this time slight and ordinary came around with a mop to clean up around the ice cream machine.

“Ice cream!” Miku was surprised at her own volume.

The young man let out a chuckle. The cashier blinked a few times in rapid succession and smiled brightly.“Ok that is 50 yen, please.”

If Miku was anything it was ready. Her arm shot out in front of her with the silver coin clasped in between her thumb and index finger. The cashier smiled even wider as she reached to prise the coin and say, “Thank y-” She stopped with the both of them still holding the coin and gasped. “I am so sorry! It will be a few minutes until we get the machine working again.Is that ok?”

Miku let go of the coin and exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Miku’s coin wasn’t the problem. Haha! This cashier was! This cashier and that broken machine.

“It’s ok.” Miku said with a slight grin. She cleared her throat and put her hand in her pocket. Her fingertips still tingled from the cashier’s. “I have time to wait.”

“Oh thank you very much!” The cashier’s expression was so sweet. No, thought Miku, I won here. I win here. Even still she sat herself down at a table facing away from the counter and looked at the glass doors of the restaurant again.

She mused reading the advertisements backward. Eci maerc 05 !ney She giggled. She wondered if Onew did this in his spare time. Would he be open to learning Japanese? qleH betnaW. Ah they need help here. And I need money. She looked down at her white tennis shoes. She was vaguely aware of an old sounding English pop song playing in the deserted red and yellow dining room. Lullaby synthesizers, dramatic silences and electric guitar riffs clung to the plush leather booths. Miku sighed. There was no way her parents were going to give her the money to go to Seoul just to not study. The weird part was Miku really liked studying, but with years stacked on top of years of it she needed something else to do.

BANG!!! Bang bang bang bang!!! She heard some frantic pounding against the machine.

It was so loud in the restaurant! How was Miku supposed to figure out a way to get to that SHinee concert? Wait! Her eyes darted for the front doors. This is it! She clapped a hand on her forehead of course! McDonalds would pay money for help! That’s what happens at jobs right? She just needed to get hired. She needed a job.

She paused. But would she have the time? So far all of her classes were easy and she found that she had more time in the evenings than she knew what to do with these days. Besides watching SHinee music videos that is. So why not earn some extra money and go to the concert herself?! She sprung right up out of her chair, and her heart swelled with a new pride in herself she never knew existed. She was going to earn real money! Not like that 2,000 yen she got for perfect scores in all her classes. Real money from real people who were not her parents.

She walked up to the empty counter, holding her head high. And again the cashier’s head popped up. Miku stopped. She had forgotten about the cashier. The cashier’s eyebrows knit together, “I am so sorry we are still working on the ice cream machine.”

“Oh! Uh well…” Does she back out now? “ I was going to apply for a job, but I see you are busy…”

The cashier’s face lit up at once “Why don’t you?! You would be perfect here!” She dipped down behind the counter and came back up with an application in one hand and a black ink pen in the other. “Just fill this out and I’ll be over there with you in a few minutes for your interview.” Miku’s heart jumped to her throat.

“Y-y-you will interview me?” Miku never thought her voice could get so high.

“Yes! You are talking to the manager after all!” The name tag pinned to the cashier’s shirt flashed in Miku’s eyes ‘Manager: Yuko 優子.’ How could she have missed that?

“OK!” Miku blurted.

The young man snorted. “Wow Yuko, you even have the ladies flustered!”

“Oh Kyo.” Yuko cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. “Let’s work on your fixing skills so you can wow ladies too. We’ll start with looking at that spout one more time.”

Miku spun on her heel fast to keep the flush that rose to her cheeks to herself and walked right back to the spot where she had that stupid idea to apply. How could she have forgotten the cashie-the manager works here?! What will she look like next to someone like that!? Just fill out the application she thought. It’s not as if you are already hired.

The application was easy enough. Miku just wrote her name down and the names of her parents along with her new and past addresses. But she left the place where former work experience is supposed to go blank. Because this would be her first job. Then she thought hard about the part of submitting to a background check, pressing the end of the pen against her bottom lip. Had she done anything illegal? She blew air out of her nose. No she didn’t have the courage to do so much as break a class rule. Let alone anything punishable by the law.

She signed on the bottom and threaded her fingers through her hair so that her bangs were out of her eyes and sticking up in odd angles. As she lay back she became aware of a new humming coming from behind her. But too late. Yuko’s light tapping crept up behind her and Yuko herself sat down in the chair across from her with a trail of long silky hair behind her. Miku didnt even have time to take her fingers out of her hair.

“Well that’s a new style.” Yuko cocked her head to the side again just so that Miku’s stomach wrenched. She whipped her hands down to her side pockets.

“Let’s get started now shall we?” With Yuko seated Miku could look straight at her instead of inclining her head a few inches. She fiddled with the zipper of her spring jacket and said, “yes.”

“Ok can you tell me who you are?” Yuko lifted the paper up for a moment and then placed it flat down on the table and gave Miku her full attention. “I see here that your name is Miku. It’s such a pretty name. It will look quite nice on a name tag.” Miku wasn’t all that pleased with Yuko’s use of will, but she sat up straighter and answered anyway.

“Like it says on my application my name is Miku Kohara and I attend Kyoto University. My major is international relations. I am looking to pursue an occupation as an ambassador after I graduate with my Ph. D.” Miku puffed up her chest. It just felt suitable for the occasion. Yuko examined the application.

“Yes you certainly do have the right qualifications for that. You list that you are fluent in English!”

“I have also listed Mandarin right after.” Miku pointed to the listing with her finger.

“Wow, even better. I was never able to remember very many words in English class or Mandarin class.” Yuko leaned back and crossed her arms. “You’re obviously very qualified for whatever you want to pursue. So, why do you want to work at McDonald’s?”

Onew’s face flashed over Miku’s vision. “I, well, I want to bring happiness to people in the form of food and McDonald’s has the best!” Miku smiled wide. Yuko put an elbow on the table and rested head on her head and stared up at Miku.

“I-uh” Miku leaned closer too and opened her mouth to say I need more money for tuition, but fresh linen bombarded her olfactories and Yuko had the audacity to blink. Miku sighed and in a low voice said, “A year from now SHinee will perform in Seoul and I want to be there. By my calculations I should be able to make enough money to go if I work here until then.”

“There it is” Yuko grinned. She straightened back up and nodded her head. “I knew there had to be something more to you.”

“Yuko!” An older man walked out from behind the counter dressed in a shirt and tie, holding a clipboard precariously. He was balding and he had a kind face. He pointed a pen at Miku while he addressed Yuko. “Is this an applicant?” “Yes, sir she is!” Yuko moved to stand up, but the man waved her down.

He turned to Miku, “when can you start?”

“My name is Miku and I could start tomorrow evening.” Miku said wide-eyed looking up at the man.

“Great! I’m Tatsuya, the owner here.” he turned back to the counter. “Kyo! Can you come in at 5pm tomorrow to train Miku here?”

The young man’s face scrunched up and scratched the back of his head, “UUHh.. I really wish I could sir, but my grandma is real sick and tomorrow is my turn to take care of her.”

The owner whirled back to Yuko. “I am sorry Yuko. I know that you already have the day shift tomorrow, but can you stay and train Miku?”

“Oh of course!”

Of course, Miku mocked Yuko silently. Little Miss Perfect can’t let anyone down.

“Yuko!” He clapped her on the shoulder. “I can always count on you! Five pm tomorrow Miku!”

“Yes sir 5pm!” Miku said, but the owner had already started walking back to behind the counter.

“The ice cream machine works again! Let’s get you your ice cream cone.” Yuko rushed over and retrieved a serving for Miku. Yuko was already offering the cone out as Miku arrived. The new employee concentrated on trying not to touch Yuko’s hand again as she reached for it. But she fumbled! The cone went to the left oh! Then to the right and now wayyy to the left again so that Miku caught it in her left hand. Cold ice cream melted and trinkled down between her fingers.

“Oh I’m so sorry!” Yuko exclaimed. She hurriedly reached for a few napkins and encompassed both of Miku’s hands with hers. Miku, not knowing quite how to react wrenched away and threw the cone in the trash can which was a few paces away. Her feet made a beeline for the restroom.

After Miku ran to the sink she just let the cool water run over her fingers. I had better not get another ice cream,she thought. I didn’t realize how much Meiko affected me. She then thought of her parent’s disappointment too. Oh yeah that too. Something about Yuko must have spurred this on. She took a few deep breaths and turned off the water whose handle squeaked back into place.

When she walked out of the bathroom Yuko ran up and placed a hand on Miku’s shoulder. Miku resisted the urge to pull away.

‘Please let me make you another.” Yuko’s face wore an expression Miku didn’t think was possible on faces like the manager’s.

She really did seem sorry so Miku forced out an, “It’s alright. I got a job! That’s even better!” She reminded herself to smile.

“Ok” Yuko said softly then brightened up. “I’ll see you tomorrow Miku! Welcome to McDonald’s!”

“Yeah” Miku said as she put her earphones in and walked out.

After a while, she looked behind her to make sure she was out of sight of the restaurant. When the bright yellow arches were the size of her thumb, she let herself skip with joy. She was going to see Onew after all! She looked down at her phone and switched the song to ‘Dream Girl.’ Onew just another year and you’ll meet me! We’ll have so many language exchanging afternoons ahead of us! This thought of sitting in a rose garden gleefully laughing at the similarities of Japanese and Korean walked Miku all the way home. She was getting closer to Seoul. All she had to do was work with Yuko.

Thank you so much for reading! I was inspired by music to write this particular story so I am going to be listing a song at the end of each chapter to help close it and set the mood. There may even be a recommendation before the chapter :P I’m pretty corny so the songs will be directly related to what is happening in the story and the mindset of the characters. As for this chapter, I recommend “Dream Girl” by SHinee. Miku is pretty one-track minded, isn’t she? Please come again!

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