#(NO NEED TO MATCH

[strongfuck]

@phaseshiftings sent: 🎁 - from the spotify wrapped meme! ► from this meme. | it's not living (if it's not with you) - the 1975

Looking at Angel now, Rhys blurts out, "Come with me."

And he regrets it almost instantly.

Only minutes earlier, they'd been having such a good time sitting on the rooftop of the facility. With booze and food in multiple hands, a circle had been formed around a fire with Fiona, Sasha, Vaughn, Yvette, Loaderbot, and Gortys. They'd related the whole deal with the Traveller to Angel with excitement-- any friend of Rhys' was a friend of theirs-- and by the end of it, had gone into talks of what they'd do with all the treasure they'd found.

I'm going to rebuild Atlas, properly, Rhys had said at his turn. I'm going to go back to Promethea, where Atlas destroyed everything for a Vault, and I'm gonna use this Vault to make up for their mistakes. I'm gonna make a planet people can live in. I'm gonna use tech for good--

And then Sasha had teased him about his big dreams, and Rhys had laughed as the conversation moved on.

Now, though, with everyone else retreating downstairs to turn in for the night, Rhys considers Angel where she helps him clean. It's cold tonight-- cold like when she'd found him amidst the rubble and ruin of Helios-- and the concept of separating suddenly feels terrifying.

It was inevitable, of course; he's separating from everyone tonight, after all (except Loaderbot and Gortys, who opted to stay with him). Rhys doesn't know when he'll see Fiona and Sasha again now that they're hunting Vaults, and Vaughn and Yvette have a bandit clan to take care of above all else.

Angel, though... Angel's been living with him at Old Haven, travelling with him to help him with prototypes and securing investors, and has been by his side since before Rhys knew that Promethea was an option.

Rhys, despite knowing better, has issues with letting go.

"If..." Ducking his head, Rhys ties the plastic bag full of empty cans closed. He can't even lie and say he had too much to drink; Angel knows more than anyone how quickly his cybernetics burn everything. "...only if you want to, of course. Promethea is... it'll definitely be dangerous. But, I mean, we've been surviving Pandora long enough, you know, and-- I'll stop talking now."

[wingsandarrow]

muse: Daryl Dixon limit: 18+ only please, mutuals and non-mutuals set: TWD-verse, semi-recently settled at the prison open to: other TWD/TLOU/horror muses, multifandom crossovers, ocs, whatever! triggers: death/dead body, guns, self-loathing

Was it weird that Daryl was doing better after the world ended than he ever had before the walkers? There was probably some metaphor in there about death and things that thrived on decay, but he didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the absence of Merle from his life, as guilty as he felt thinking something like that. He owed everything to his asshole older brother, probably wouldn't even be alive right now if it weren't for him, but the sorry truth of it was that he could breathe easier out from under his shadow. He still hoped--in the way people hoped for things that weren't very likely--that he was alive out there somewhere, but he didn't see how he would ever know for sure. Even before the dead started walking, it was too easy for people like them to disappear between the cracks. If Merle didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be, and it was just as true now as it had been before.

The group had tentatively settled in the prison after the farm had been overrun. Fuckin' ironic, was what it was. He'd managed to avoid prison, narrowly at times, all his life. Then the world ended, and guess where he found himself? He wavered back and forth on feeling safe and feeling trapped there, but that was Daryl all over. Safety always felt a little like a trap to him, and things with his friends(?) were new enough that he didn't fully trust any of it. In his experience, people always turned on you. It was just a matter of when. He'd be ready to bolt when that happened, but he didn't kid himself that it wouldn't hurt this time. He liked them; they were good. There were moments he'd started to believe they liked him too, but he wasn't. Good. Trying to be wasn't the same thing.

There was talk of turning some of the surrounding space into farmland, but it was still a long while before it would turn out anything edible, and Daryl was always one of the first to volunteer for scavenging missions. It wasn't just food they needed, since the prison storage had been well-stocked, but medicine and other supplies too. He was a couple days out, everything close by already picked over, and more or less enjoying the quiet. He didn't have to remind himself that he could survive out here alone fairly easily. He'd been doing it since well before the apocalypse and, away from all the eyes and voices, it was more like being able to draw a full breath for the first time in a while. This was his natural habitat, walkers or not.

The neighborhood was small, and as far as he could tell, nothing living had passed through recently. That didn't mean it was empty, and he didn't much want to get shot breaking into houses looking for canned goods and Tylenol. Better to find some sort of gas station or corner store. The sound of a gunshot broke the silence, not near enough to make him duck for cover, but loud enough to get the attention of every walker on the street. More shots narrowed it down to a specific house, the sounds erratically spaced like the shooter had been caught off guard--or didn't know what the hell they were doing. Running toward the noise was nothing short of idiotic, since he'd have to deal with both the shooter and the dead now stumbling in the same direction, but…

But. It was a person on the other end of that gun. He was learning that there were two kinds of people: ones who ran away from trouble to save their own skin, and ones who ran toward it and tried to help. Daryl was trying to be the kind of person who helped. He ran toward the noise. The time for subtlety had passed, so kicking the door in barely slowed him down. One walker dead on the living room floor. His head swiveled toward the stairs at the sound of something moving on the second floor. "Hello?" He was already moving toward them, but better to announce his presence. Whoever it was might have bullets left.

[onyourleftrogers]

@patrickoharaandco

Ellie had thought it was horrifying to be infected by the symbiote, to feel its influence slowly creeping over her mind and pushing out her personality. But it was nothing compared to Hydra's brainwashing. That was a white hot bolt of lightning in her brain, burning away every last trace of her, and it never. ever. stopped. After her parents' deaths, after Ian disappeared, she'd been completely alone. It had been a mistake to go looking for Bucky; she realized that almost immediately. But he was the only familiar thing left to her, the only connection she had to her parents.

She'd fought it for as long as she could, and she was a Rogers, half her dad's super soldier serum running through her veins. It was weeks, maybe months. She didn't have a lot of concept of time there. It was probably the only reason she survived. No matter how she screamed, no matter what names she called him (traitor--never mind that in this world, it was Ellie who was considered the traitor), nobody could fight that forever. Deep down, maybe she didn't want to. He was all she had left, and he'd made sure she was loyal to him. It was almost a relief to let go and give in after this latest round of brainwashing, her mind a comforting blank as she turned her gaze to Bucky. "Ready to comply," she murmured.

[miraycavlan]

Starter for: @illuminatingprowess Where: Seb's sleeping quarters When: After his coma of 5 days

After Luana had returned to Kings Hill, it was clear that the nightmare still wasn't over. Her kidnapping - and the others - had clearly set things into motion. She still had no clue on whatever it was that had been set in motion. The thing that hit her the hardest, however, was the news that Sebastian was currently in a coma. And she hadn't been allowed to go anywhere near him at the start.

Lots of questions were asked firstly regarding what had happened to her, to the others and whatever she could recall. Luana had tried to answer the best way she could but it just seemed to be impossible. Her memory had gaps and it was frustrating.

After the questions were all done, she still was not allowed to go anywhere near Seb. Only after a guard finally took pity on her, she had been allowed into his bedroom. It felt so strange, knowing very well that only a few nights before they had been in that bed together. She had been wrapped in his arms and everything had felt right and safe. Right now they were nowhere near that.

Since that moment Lu hadn't left the bedside, besides for a toilet break or the shower. Food was brought up to the room and the rather comfortable chair she had pulled up to the bed had become her place of accommodation. All the walking that she was doing, was whenever she pacing up and down the room. All while she waited for Seb to wake up.

So it was definitely a bit anticlimatic that Luana was asleep when the other woke up from his coma after she had camped out beside his bed for a few days already. She only noticed he was awake due to a shift of his hand underneath hers as she was holding his hand. With sleepy eyes Luana looked up at the man in the bed, a wave of relief and emotion washing over her as she finally saw the gray eyes she loved so much looking at her once more. “Seb?” was all that came out of her mouth, her voice harsh due to it not being used for quite some time.

[fatexbound]

@chibitantei - Plotted - Meeting Queen

With so many reports piling up, she found it hard to even breathe. Her hand ached from so much writing and she held her forehead with the other, a sigh of pure desperation escaping her. She was done for the day. At last, she could be free. With her desk neat and organized, she locked the Student Council room's door and left the school.

Checking the calendar on her phone while she walked, she was happy to notice that she was free this evening. No aikido training, social events, meetings or studying with the second years for their exams. Those were long over. Thank goodness. It's time to take the day's stress away in the only other secret way she knew how.

Makoto found herself slipping into an alleyway in Shibuya, careful to not be seen by anyone who recognised her. "I hope Akira-kun can forgive me for this." She whispered to herself as she pressed the red-eyed app, which took her to a completely different world.

Mementos. Her outfit had changed as well, an iron clad mask on her visage. "Let's do this." Fists clenched, she went ahead in search for any Shadows looking for prey. She was more than ready to face them in the lower floors.

[sinfulnesxx]

Nolan's parents went on a 2-week trip to Europe, as a vow renewal gift or some shit like that. So Uncle Dante would be in charge, which was kind of ridiculous. Nolan was old enough for that. But there was no point in discussing it with his parents. Scrolling through Twitter, he came across a very interesting video: about 3 guys (or 4 if you took into account the one who was recording) fucking an older man.

The boy started to slowly jerk off while watching two boys about his age penetrate that man's ass at the same time, watching him expand and take both fat lengths deep inside as he moaned like a needy slut. The camera slowly zoomed in, showing how huge and muscular that unknown man was, but for some reason, he looked very familiar at the same time.

Especially those huge pecs, which looked like huge round tits. Nolan continued jacking off, his cock throbbing and dripping as he watched that awesome video. However, his jaw dropped to the floor when the camera reached the face of the old man, who was sucking the third boy's cock as if his life depended on it, watching as he had the huge length buried all the way down his throat. It was Uncle Dante. “Well, well, well,” Nolan muttered, smiling as he watched his uncle, the one who bragged about being an alpha-macho male who ate pussy by the bucket load and fucked bitches non-stop, end up being outed as a liar.

Apparently, he was the one who liked to be the little bitch of other young stallions. Nolan kept watching the video; the fact that it was his uncle being fucked had made everything 10 times better and more arousing, and apparently it wasn't the only video. Nolan spent that night watching those videos. Friday came, his parents left, and his uncle arrived. Nolan didn't act instantly; he let the man joke around and make his typical comments that he'd been with several bitches, jokes about how hot he thought this or that neighbor girl was, etc.

“Cute stories, uncle” Nolan pulled out his phone, preparing to put the cards on the table. “Or they would be, if they weren't lies,” commented the boy, looking at Dante as he put “start” to the video and soon, the living room was filled with the sound of moans, grunts, and his uncle saying things like “Yeah, harder,” “Give me that fucking cock,” and the men calling him all kinds of filthy, degrading names as "bitch" "whore” etc, as they busted his ass. "I tell you what. I won't say any of this, IF... You do something for me" Nolan could already feel his own cock becoming aroused at what he had in mind.

@carnalxfates

[nicholaslannisters]

setting: the riverlands, riverrun. during the seven winter feasts. on the night of the second feast, two lords of the westerlands find themselves in a similar predicament. @theowesterling

Oh, no.

"Theo!" His normally deep voice was an octave higher. From drink, or panic, he couldn't tell. Nicholas' mother, Lady Cordelia Lannister formerly of Willow Wood, was no natural born lioness. Yet, that did not stop her. She was on a hunt. "Hide me."

Her prey? Always her Nicky Darling -- but now, she'd taken the hunt onto entirely new terrain. The Riverlands. It was there that impending engagement was to be announced, which was doomed to completely expand the playing field.

The marriage playing field. Nicholas had let slip to Lady Cordelia that he'd spoken about marriage to Tyland. He'd doomed himself.

“Nicky Darling! My darling Nicky!” His mothers voice, light as a lark and as happy as a cat with cream. Sing song, it carried above the crowd. “Here, my lady, he’s just over — ” Her voice gone a moment, then back,“-- oh, where’d he go? He’s normally very punctual, I prom…” then fading out into another part of the giant feast hall.

He ducked behind the Westerling lord, scooping a glass of whiskey off the table and knocking it back. Theo’s body did not hide Nicholas’s large frame, but he remained crouched. Then, as he stood again and peaked around Theo, he began rushing over his words — too much whiskey and an unforeseen adversary in his own mother. They planned this, they must have. She, and his father Lord Tysen. That’s why he hadn’t attended — so that Nicholas wouldn’t run to him for cover.

"Theo, our mothers -- my mother found your mother, and they are planning.” He gushed, wide eyed. “Your mother told my mother. About dinner. They want to have a dinner. Similar to Lady Marbrand’s. A small feast, tomorrow night. Seven Hells, help me.” He grabs him by the shoulder, and shakes him. "They are going to send invitations." He releases him, downing another whiskey, and running his hands through his golden hair.

“What about arranged marriages? What happened to those? When did we start having dinners?" It wasn't that Nicholas was opposed to women, or marriage. It was that he enjoyed women and marriage when they were his idea.

[xbullseye]

@defectivexfragmented

Dex knew his moral compass didn't exactly point due north. When his therapist encouraged him to find a role model, of sorts, someone whose goodness he could strive to emulate, he knew she'd meant an ordinary person like a first responder or a suicide hotline operator, and that had worked fine for him for years. She probably hadn't meant an actual superhero, but after the attack on New York, of course he'd latched onto the Avenger who couldn't miss.

He'd followed the stories about Hawkeye obsessively (the only way he knew how to have an interest in something, really), and letting the hero guide his actions had worked better than anything else ever had. He'd hesitated to dig deeper into Clint Barton's life. For some reason, it had seemed important to keep a distinction between the Avenger and the man, like it might jinx it if he ever met his hero or came to see him as a real person. Most people just weren't that good. He didn’t want to lose that trust he had in Hawkeye's goodness.

That had come crashing down around him when he'd seen Clint on a tour of an apartment building. Dex hated the whole process of moving. It disrupted the careful order he needed to keep his mind quiet and his darker impulses in check, but it was a necessary evil. He hadn’t even been positive the man in the hooded sweatshirt had been Clint Barton at first. He’d tried to talk himself out of the notion. Then he'd broken the rule about prying into his personal life, done some digging, and found out that Barton did, in fact, own the building.

And that was the problem with breaking a rule. It led to breaking another, and another, and another, until he was in so deep he couldn't stop himself. He’d called the building manager and signed a lease the next day. Within a week, he was moving in, and then he'd gone on a deep dive of Clint Barton's entire life. He’d even been in his apartment a couple times while he was out, rifling through his things like they would help him get to know the man. 

He wanted, badly, to actually speak to him, but it was frustratingly hard to run into him. Dex's work schedule for the FBI was rigid and often demanding, which was exactly what he needed. By comparison, Clint’s seemed sporadic, and he hadn’t been able to nail down any specific times he came or went. It was always swiftly and with something to keep him from being noticed, a hood or sunglasses. It didn’t take a genius to realize the other tenants didn't know who he was, and Clint didn’t want them to.

After weeks of failing to run into him by accident, he’d been forced to come up with a different plan. It caused him almost physical pain to deliberately shut his keys behind a locked door-- Dex, who hated a crooked picture on the wall or a train that was a minute late. They were neighbors though; it made sense to knock on this door over any other, on a day when he was sure Clint was home and the building manager wasn't. He offered a slightly sheepish smile when the door opened. "How good are you at breaking and entering? I, uh… just locked myself out."

[khianat]

› ₊ ˚ ⊹  closed starter  ›  feat. SAN + @notfrsale

'it seems, you are the one for unexpected appearances,' san's voice was casual, he had recognized her the moment she entered the scene and her being herenow couldn't have been a worse timing. he had an assassination planned for in about 2 hours starting now, the dinner between the unofficial right hand of the major and an infamous underworld mobster who helped the corrupt politician to laundry his money over a charity hospital construction. somebody offered a hefty sum to san to ensure that this no longer would happen and there hadn't been a reason for him not to take the job, it was nothing out of the ordinary, and while the mobster was a man of importantance, by far not a high tier animal that would cause any large fuss in the underworld once he was dead. san picked the dinner for the snipe to be quick and smooth, it wouldn't require extra measurements until hwayoung's face appeared. he did not really expect to ever run into her again but now that she was here, that made things a little more difficult.

no denial he used his connections for some loose look into the person who fixed his face last time. today, san looked smooth, his short dark hair danced around his features and he wore a casual outfit not unlike most men his age. he ordered an iced coffee which was served after he settled down next to her in the coffee bar. he simply needed to figure out if she just happened to end up here for no reason or if he had to change up his own plans. 'if you pretend now you do not remember me because this time, my face actually is quite handsome, i can live with that,' he teased. this time for a very rare occasion, san actually allowed for his italian accent to slip through quite clearly.

[jonahgarland]

@patrickxpearson | location: foam party (to begin with)

A smile of relief showed on Jonah's lips as he read Patrick's reply to his text, bringing a glimmer of positivity back to his visibly shaken expression. He had deleted and started over with the message multiple times, hesitant to bother his friend with this for multiple reasons. First of all, part of him wasn't quite sure how to approach interacting with the other now that Pat had retired from staff to client status. Sure, one could always hope that nothing would change at all, that it wouldn't matter in the least that there was a shift in the power dynamic, and technically it shouldn't matter. But Jonah wasn't so sure. Most of all, though, he'd been reluctant to think about where Patrick might be spending his time right now, and even more so, with whom. Ever since New Years, when the other mysteriously had already promised his midnight kiss to somebody else, a part of Jonah felt weirdly conflicted. He knew very well the two of them were just friends. Despite all the chemistry and flirting, Patrick had never promised anything more, and even if he was seeing somebody, it wasn't up to Jonah to be upset about that. Naturally, he didn't know if that was the case. Firstly because he respected Patrick apparently not wishing to share that secret, and also because in the end, Jonah knew it would hurt less not to know.

But all those reasons to be reluctant weren't enough to keep him from asking his friend to meet up. The unexpected encounter with Steven Blackwell had left him shaken, humiliated, avoiding the gaze of the crowd as he made his way to the foam party. The swimming trunks were hanging low on his hips after Jonah put them back on. Before today, he would've disagreed with Blackwell - he never thought of himself as lacking confidence; however, all the self-worth he thought he had was seriously damaged after the man's harsh rant. Arriving at the foam party side of the event, Jonah looked around; it was a wild crowd, everybody letting go of their inhibitions, but nonetheless he always would be able to recognize Patrick in a sea of people. "Pat!", the staff sighed happily as he approached the other, greeting him with a hug as he felt the foam from Patrick's frame against his own skin. "Sorry", he spoke a moment after, pulling back with a slight grin as he looked proudly at the other. "I hope this isn't overstepping any boundaries, Sir. Mister business owner", he chuckled.

[lecheroustaint]

plotted. closed started for @dvmbestcvnt

Nolan thought himself as a reasonable man for the most part. When it came to his daughter, Eugenie, logic and reason were thrown out the window. A traditional mindset would call him insane - a danger to society. How preposterous a notion. A sane man wouldn't kidnap his own daughter as she was en route to meet her 'loving' boyfriend? Nolan was simply doing what was right. He saw the way people would look at his precious daughter like she was some piece of meat. Nolan was one of those boys at her age so he knew all too well the kind of attention a hot piece of ass like Eugenie could attract. Nolan had spent eighteen raising her - why shouldn't he be the one that is owed her tight, virgin holes. If her text messages were any indication, the girl's hormones were peaking and it was only a matter of time before her sexual desires would be ripe for the picking. It was almost too easy to grab her, smother her with a chloroform soaked rag and bring her to the his brother's unhabited and unused cottage where he could have the girl all to himself. Nolan has his daughter bound by her wrists and ankles, legs spread apart so he has easy access to her pretty pink cunt. On the massive widescreen TV, his favorite playlist of incestual porn is playing. "Don't you dare look away, little one." Rough, calloused fingertips are massaging the tender flesh of her thighs, her skin even softer against his hands than he imagined. The porn on the screen is that of an incestuous pair of father and daughter that uncoincidentally resemble the two of them. The needy blonde daughter is crying out for her father to stuff more of his fat, veiny cock inside her impossibly tight cunt. As her father's dick splits her open, the girl's massive tits are bouncing with every punishing thrust he blesses her with. "That's gonna be us soon. You may not realize it yet but your father is going to be the first and last cock that will ever grace the inside of your cunt." Nolan's fingers begin to slide inwards to her pussy, thick digits beginning to tease her lower lips. "Don't tell me you're wet already. Fuck, I really did raise a gross little girl." Expert fingers continue to brush between her pussy lips, actively seeking out her sensitive clit but purposefully not sinking any deeper to penetrate her virgin hole. No, that honor was going to be reserved for his fat cock when he claims her virginity as his. "Are you going to cream all over your Dad's cock like that dumb little girl?"

[vvarriorheart]

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

@pctentialbreakupsong

The relief Cassian felt at seeing a familiar face in London was immeasurable. He'd been trapped here for almost a gods damned year, and he was running out of hope of ever finding his way back to Prythian. It would have been harder seeing one of the Night Court and knowing they were likely just as stuck as he was, but Beau had more experience living in the human world. It didn't mean they'd find a way back, but it was reassuring not to be completely alone.

If they also had a bit of revenge business tucked into that agenda, well, the Illyrian was fully capable of multi-tasking. It had always hit him wrong that someone had taken Beau's wings and gone unpunished for it. Cassian had been forced to live without them for a time after Hybern, and it wasn't something he'd like to revisit. Being earthbound was hell for him, far more than being confined to a single, human city (although that was starting to climb the charts). Carrying out justice on someone else's behalf was practically in the General's job description. He'd be glad to help his friend pay back an old debt.

Research was admittedly not a place where Cassian excelled. He could do war strategy and fighting techniques for days, and he'd even started to be a little fond of Nesta's filthy romance novels, but his brain had a tendency to check out of anything it found too boring. Paging through dusty old tomes for ways back to the fae realm wasn't his idea of a good time.

Testing said spells, on the other hand, was right up his alley, not least of which for the possibility that it could go terribly, terribly wrong and send him somewhere worse than this. Or kill him. "Nothin' about this place is like old times, buddy. Magic's been hit or miss for me here." He paused to recheck the symbol he was painting on the floor. Cassian wasn't known for being cautious, but this was Amren-level shit. He didn't fancy being turned inside out or sent to a Hel dimension.

[onyourleftrogers]

muse: Ellie Rogers limit: 18+ only please, mutuals and non-mutuals   set: a coffee shop in New York City, Earth-616 open to: other Marvel/comics muses, multifandom crossovers, ocs, whatever! triggers: apocalypse, parent death, severe injury, grief

Ellie Rogers should have been dead several times over. For all practical purposes, she was, a ghost passing through the multiverse without leaving much of a mark. She doubted there were many people in her home world who even remembered she'd existed. Her life on Earth-85826 had been largely joyless and a constant fight for survival under tyranny, but at least she'd had her dad. Her hero. Everyone's hero. That was the Captain America legacy, the one she still struggled to hold up. She wondered constantly if Steve would be proud of her now and quietly seethed against Zola and everyone like him that she would never get to ask.

She couldn't explain what happened when Ian's elevator exploded. She'd been barely conscious, and multiverse travel was well above her pay grade. She just knew he'd been gone, and she was somewhere else-- not her world, but not the one he'd been trying to get back to either. She understood that it was the symbiote that had saved her life, not even the inherited powers from the serum enough to protect her from that much damage. Its call hadn't been as strong cut off from Venom and the rest of the Vipers, and when she woke in a different ruined world, it seemed almost as disoriented as she was. It healed her, and she fought back against its hold over her mind, and it might have won eventually if the Next Avengers hadn't found her.

She'd lost a brother she'd barely had a chance to know when she lost Ian, but she found another in James, son of Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. Ultron had killed the Avengers before he'd ever had a chance to know them, and their children had grown up and fought back for their world. It was a shared camaraderie, and between them--James, Torunn, Pym, and Azari--they'd helped her remove all traces of the symbiote from her body. Ellie didn't care if it had saved her life or could again. She just wanted to see it dead. It took longer to work out how to repair the elevator, months and then years with a new resistance, a new family, but it was the Rogers in her that never really settled.

She wanted to find Ian. She wanted to at least let him know she'd survived. If the people they couldn't save weighed on his conscience as much as they weighed on hers, he deserved to know that much. It had been weeks on Earth-616, and it was still utterly strange to her. It was the first unbroken world she'd ever been in, and everything about it baffled her, from the noise and color to the things they took for granted-- food, media, shelter, everything so readily available that it was breathtaking.

She kept mostly to the shadows in New York City while she looked for some sign that Ian had made it back to this world. Unlike Nomad, Captain America was everywhere here. In theory, she understood the concept of a Steve Rogers in every universe. In practice, she wasn't sure she wanted to meet someone who looked and sounded like her dad but wasn't. That didn't stop her from turning every time she heard the name though, this time on a television in a diner. Even seeing him at a distance in some news or history clip was enough to make her breath catch, the pain sharp. She turned abruptly away, accidentally knocking into someone with a mumbled apology. She wasn't going to find anything sitting in a coffee shop. It was best to keep moving.

[crownlesslord]

royal recipe of disaster

Mission Task Board: It’s your turn on cooking duty, and you know exactly what you want to make: delicious pizzas! The kitchens are well stocked today; too well-stocked, in fact, because there are way too many choices for toppings, with everything you can imagine from meat to veggies to more unorthodox choices like chocolate or mapo tofu. Will you and your cooking partner come up with a brilliant new recipe, or spend the entire time arguing over whether or not that pineapple belongs on the pizza? [Grants Authority +1] // Open

     If one's glower could scorch, Berkut would have set the bulletin board aflame. Cooking duty, it said. With someone else’s name and his beside it— written in a nervous scrawl. Ridiculous, he thought in immense displeasure. How dare they burden him with this duty? It was blatant that the Prince of Rigel has never spent a single day of his life in a kitchen. After all, he belonged in the battlefields, commanding battalions and protecting borders from vile creatures! But now, he's expected to feed more than fifty ravenous mouths waiting in the dining hall? Absolutely unacceptable.

    Perhaps someone from the Academy was trying to set him up for failure and humiliation before his peers? His teeth gritted and his hands tightened into fists at that thought. No one is going to hear the end of this. With a sharp turn of his heels, Berkut stormed towards the monastery's kitchen. But as the doors swung open, his inconvenient circumstance became clear: They were short-staffed. 

    It was so bad that Berkut’s normally commanding presence could barely overpower the weighted stress that haunted the remaining faculty members as they scramble about to complete tonight’s full course meals. 

    Damn it all, he cursed under his breath.

    According to the staff, the course meal was missing something savory to go along with the main dish. They had hoped the noble prince and his cooking partner would be able to fill the gap there. “So be it,” he said with a click of his tongue. If even peasants were able to pull this off every day, it shouldn’t be too hard for him. 

    After a few loud exchanges, Berkut stood behind a lone kitchen counter in a flimsy apron that was painfully too small for him. (He swore an untimely death upon anyone who’d tell.) Grumbling, he leafed through the recipe book they provided— searching for something that would be practical and easy to cook. In a matter of pages, he found the winning dish: A flat thin layer of bread dough topped with spiced sauce, cheese, and simple garnish. 

    At that moment, Berkut heard footsteps approaching his way. He looked up to meet the other’s eyes. 

    “Hmpf. Are you under cooking duty as well? What took you?” Berkut asked out of sheer annoyance. But acutely aware of the time they had left to prepare, the prince impatiently turned the book to the other’s line of view. 

    “Everyone shall feast this tonight,” The Rigelian noble tapped on the recipe. “It’s a peasant dish, but we shall make it worthy to feed even the gods.” His dark determined eyes glinted at that which made his confident smile look devious. 

    It was a masterful plan after all. They already have the highest quality of ingredients (as he expected) and the most detailed written steps at their disposal. What could possibly go wrong? As long as they strictly followed the recipe, they could easily conquer the kitchen and everyone will have a taste of their lives! 

    “Now, what are you still standing around for? Be more useful and fetch the ingredients.” He pointed to the storage room with a thumb over his shoulders.

[bexgikwang]

Yeah, he was looking forward too it. On the dressing up front, it wasn’t something he was overly excited about. In fact, the idea he had was quick and pretty lame in his eyes. He did have an idea to go as Robin Hood but the costume wasn’t ‘him’. Still, the idea of being an archer seemed pretty good idea, fun at least, even if he didn’t have a cool idea to base it on.

All of that flew out of his mind once he finally found Stevie in the crowd, right where they promised to meet. “Hey!” The word came out In English and he wrapped his friend in a half-hug. His eyes on the others that were currently finishing up this round of apple bobbing. “Can you guess what my costume is?” Would the other even get a hint of robin hood, Gikwang doubted it. “I’m ready for my turn, I’ve been practicing my apple grabbing skills, trust me, though I wonder, does someone catch a head cold if they keep dunking their head in water for a game?”

@bexstevie

[kindrehd]

congrats on the new child king