#(he likes to be kind and playful and doesnt want to obscure that part of himself. but hes aware it can hurt his image unfortunately)

[skitskatdacat63]

I don't know how I'd ever convey this in art but. Thinking very deeply about how in boy king au, a very crucial part of characterization is that Seb is a wolf in sheep(or lamb more specifically)'s clothing and Fernando is a sheep in wolf's clothing.

Seb is very unassuming, very delicate, seemingly very vulnerable and malleable. But, deep down, he can be very ruthless. It's in the the way he hesitantly declares war, with a spark in his eye and a suppressed smirk. In the way he challenges someone to a card game or a horse race, proclaiming that he's not great, but winning every round and prancing around the room and mentioning it ad infinitum. The way he's able to instantly turn the tide in a debate in one fell swoop. By showing all his cards constantly and letting himself be vulnerable, he's making himself invulnerable. No one would ever consider him to be able to make big moves, so he wins every single time, because no one even thinks to expect it from him.

Fernando on the other hand, is constantly committed to having a looming presence and harsh reputation, but deep down, he's soft. He knows what happens to people when they're vulnerable, and he's not going to let himself be taken advantage of. The way he keeps a brave face when being informed of the marriage proposal, but goes back to his room and cries. The way he proclaims that he was always going to be the rightful ruler of Spain, but confides to Flavio that he never thought there was any real chance of it ever happening. The way he takes himself so seriously in public, but inside feels so giddy whenever he can make someone laugh. Everything to him always feels unstable and ready to crumble at any moment, and he's not willing to contribute to that by letting himself relax.

I think thats why it's very difficult for them to get along at first, because they have completely different approaches to how they carry themselves and make their way through life. Seb is confused at Fernando because he feels that he's very bland and overly serious at first, but truthfully he's not really seeing the actual Fernando. And Fernando finds Seb to be naive and easily taken advantage of, but that's because he's never seen Seb at his most cruel. Seb really loves when he eventually gets to see Fernando being vulnerable, and Fernando really admires and respects Seb when he sees him being serious. I think it just takes a while for them to show the other their full and complete selves, even the parts they can sometimes be ashamed of. There's this very compelling dichotomy in Seb laying out all his cards, but still being very difficult to read, and Fernando keeping his cards to his chest, but his intentions often being easily seen through.

[jengajives]

the much anticipated part three in which dinner doesnt actually happen yet

part one

part two

Just inside the metal door, there was a plaque that read “TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES OR I WILL KILL YOU” in elegant, cursive lettering, and Daeron spent a long time just staring at it trying to decide whether he found the joke funny or not. At the moment, being murdered here was a genuine worry of his. The thought of Fëanor bursting into the entry hall wielding a machine gun and unloading just because Daeron had forgotten to remove his sandals felt entirely plausible. Daeron was careful to leave the shoes neatly in the row near the others. After taking a moment to examine the gold-embroidered sneakers and a pair of dress shoes polished to perfection he finally managed to speak again. “Is everyone in your family obscenely wealthy?” Maglor glanced up. He’d taken a seat on a very uncomfortable-looking metal bench to unlace his boots. “I guess so, yeah. Curufin and Caranthir have the most because they’re actually talented, but the rest of us are just kind of leeches on Dad’s fortune. He’s got more than enough.” “Yeah.” Daeron glanced at the ceiling some thirty feet above his head. “I noticed that.” “Once I finish recording, though, I should be able to hop off the charity line.” Maglor tossed his boots carelessly into the pile. “I’m gonna make it big.” “I know you are, honey.” If he ever actually finished recording. Maglor was such a perfectionist; he’d been working on his album for years. Abruptly, from somewhere deeper in the belly of this beast, came the sounds of shouting. Daeron turned to see if he could place it. The entry hall was tucked just alongside a massive room that definitely could have fit Daeron’s entire apartment four or five times over. Slick laminate floors reflected the sunset that came in through floor-to-ceiling windows over looking the valley and the distant gleam of ocean. The furniture was of simplistic design but unmistakably expensive, and in the center of the room a massive fireplace was alight with a pale red flame. The far corner featured what seemed to be an indoor waterfall, cascading alongside an opening which Daeron assumed led down to other rooms. There was a glass and steel staircase suspended off the side of one of the walls, curling up to the second floor landing impossibly far above. Directly to his right, the floor stepped down into what seemed to be a lounge of some sort. Behind that, at the far end of the room on the same slightly lower level, there was a massive dining table set with at least twenty chairs. A couple of them were filled, though their occupants were too far away for him to make out. From this table came another shout. It was so echoey in the massive room that Daeron had absolutely no idea whether there were any words in it at all. “Oh, wonderful.” Maglor sighed as he shucked his jacket and tossed it onto the little bench. “They’re fighting already.” “Who’s fighting?” “Who do you think?” The new voice was drily amused and, thankfully, familiar as it approached from the side. Maedhros emerged from the lounge wearing a tired smile, with a baby standing on top of his feet. The little one clung to his left hand and the stump where his right had once been so it wouldn’t fall as he walked it forward with short, certain steps, and when he got close he carefully lowered the baby to the ground so it could start crawling around and babbling, as babies are prone to do. Daeron immediately gave a coo and stooped to pick up the kid. “Look at this little cutie!” “He’s Curufin’s” Maedhros said. He stuck his hand into his pocket now that he wasn’t using it anymore, and gave Daeron a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad Mags convinced you to come.” “He was the one that did the convincing, actually.” Maglor looked at the baby in mild disgust. “They put you on Celebrimbor duty?” “No, I volunteered. Didn’t want to listen to them scream about whatever economics thing they’re upset about.” “Good choice,” Daeron said as he wiggled a finger in front of the baby’s face. Celebrimbor had a ridiculously chubby face and a big smile that made his eyes squish down to nothing but the narrowest slits of silver. His dark hair was surprising thick for one so young. “He’s adorable.” “He’s good company.” Maedhros smiled again. Daeron was beginning to think the expression was a trademark to him- a tired smile that looked convincing, but with nothing at all behind it. There had always been something off about the eldest Fëanorian. Personally, Daeron thought it had something to do with the hand and the scars, but it was rude to ask and Maglor had never offered any meaningful insight on the matter, so he was left to speculate. “How long have they been going off?” Maglor glanced in the direction of the dining table and Maedhros only chuckled. “Not too long. Celegorm started it and then bailed, as per usual. Mom should concede here soon and it’ll probably be safe to go in.” “Big happy family,” Daeron observed absently, because he was too occupied playing with the kid to remember not to be rude. Luckily, Maedhros just laughed softly, which probably meant he hadn’t said anything too offensive. “You have no idea.” Daeron tickled Celebrimbor under the chin. He held the baby towards Maglor. “When can we get one of these?” Maglor gave a strained smile. “Must we?” “You don’t want a baby? He’s so cute!” “Sure, sure. You know I love kids. Nothing I love more than kids.” Maedhros chuckled at the two of them, but before he could say anything, something buzzed in his front pocket. Hastily he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, and his face went somewhat pale. “Sorry. I have to take this.” He hurried from the room and bounded up the stairs two at a time in what appeared to be desperation. Daeron watched him go. “Wow. What is that about?” “No clue.” Maglor shrugged. “He’s a weird guy. You know, not as weird as the others, but weird.” “Sure.” Didn’t really satisfy Daeron, but it would be a little much to ask more about it, so he just didn’t. Maybe he could pry after dinner, depending on if they had wine or not. He looked back at little Celebrimbor and was about to follow Maglor into the lounge when they were interrupted by another yell. The voice was clearer this time, closer, and when Daeron turned he saw a dark-haired man standing just outside the dining area, looking at them. He was speaking Quenya, which was irritating, but Daeron knew enough to understand him. “I thought I heard you out here, Mags! Is this your boyfriend? Come in here right now!” He had a playful tone, but it still seemed incredibly threatening. Maglor just smiled and motioned for Daeron to follow him. “Hey, Curufin.” As Daeron approached, the new Fëanorian gave him a shrewd, calculating type of look. He was wearing a gold chain and a flashy watch on each wrist, and his outfit was so disturbingly ugly it had to be designer. There was some sort of brand logo printed over and over beneath an obscure animal print on the shirt, but Daeron had no idea what it was. His hair was long and done up in loose, stylish locks twisted with gold. He was definitely looking at Daeron like he was a cut of meat. “Oh, dear.” Curufin’s lip curled. “Isn’t this interesting? Good to meet you, pal. It’s Curufin.” He held out a hand, and Daeron was disturbed by the amount of rings on each individual finger. Hesitantly, he accepted the handshake and made a reply in clunky Quenya. “Hello. My name is Daeron.” As he spoke, he shot a glare at Maglor. “They’ll speak Sindarin,” my ass. “You one of Thingol’s?” “Curufin,” Maglor said warningly. His brother only chuckled and motioned to the table. “Welcome to you both,” he said, with just a bit of malice in his voice. Daeron took a deep breath and turned to face the others.

[haruno-sakura-san]

Can't remember if I posted this before, but I was reading through my notes on my phone and found it. Either way, enjoy this playful one shot with Sakura and a mystery man!

🌸❓

"Rough day?" A man who slid into the seat next to Sakura at the bar asked. "None of your business." She snubbed him. "It's been a while since ive seen a leaf nin drink like that," he observed unprompted. She mentally noted that she wasn't wearing her heite. He was either assuming from her gear or he recognized her. "I'm off duty." "I would hope so." Her gaze cut back over to him. A hood and tinted glasses obscured any identify features, but even so he looked incredibly mundane. In her line of work, that was also incredibly dangerous. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy-" "That assumptions a bit premature." "But I'm not here to meet anyone so if you don't mind-" "Actually I do." She glared at him for a long moment, not wanting to be interrupted again. "See, I'm waiting for someone myself." He offered finally. "You don't say" her tone thick with disinterest. "But I'm beginning to think I've been stood up." He sounded more amused than put out. She wondered if it was some kind of pickup strategy to get her to feel bad. "I can't imagine why." She said in the same flat tone. "My thoughts exactly."

Sakura made a sharp sound of disapproval. "My deepest sympathies. I don't see how this has anything to do with me." "Well, it really doesnt, on the surface. But you see, here I was feeling sorry for myself when I see you stomping in here, looking like you've just dragged yourself through a pigsty-" "It was a river bed." "Oh thank you- a river bed. Possibly the sorriest sight I've seen all day - not that I would normally say such a thing to a lady. I'm sure you look at least pleasant under normal circumstances." "Does this story have a point?" Feeling her anger swell at his commentary. "Of course, I just thought it might be nice to commiserate together - one passing stranger to another." She hates the cocky way he inclines his head, gesturing between them with his glass. "No, thanks." "Oh come on - why else come to a bar?" "For a drink - unbothered." "If that were the case, then I'd think the liquor store down the street would have done the job." "And what, have a few drinks at the store front? They have laws against that, you know." "You dont have a hotel room to drink in?" "Of course not" "Interesting." He purred. She realized she said too much. "So your plan was to get tipsy and then travel back to konoha or wherever your headed, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "No, I think I've got a good handle on the situation without any explanation. Where are your teammates anyway? Isn't there someone around to keep you from making dangerous decisions like this. A captain maybe or a boyfriend?" Sakura slams her glass down against the wood of the bar. "For your information, I can more than take care of myself. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. And I've had too long a day for a pretty boy like you to be picking at me when all I want to do is have a drink in the peaceful Haven that is my own mind. So shut your trap. Am I clear?" "No, I have several questions." She snarls and begins to crack her nuckles in preparation to put this idiot though a wall when the bar tender yells, "No fighting in my bar! Take it outside if you want to act like animals." She settles back into her seat. "Sorry, sir. No need for that. This poser isn't worth the energy," she grumbles under her breath. "Lets backtrack to pretty boy. That had a nicer ring to it." Clenching her jaw, she takes a deep breath, exhales and takes a long drag on her drink. "So are you going to tell me the river bed story, Pocahontas?" "If I do, will you leave me alone?" "It certainly won't hurt your chances" She huffs. "Fine. I got caught in a fishing net." There was a beat of silence. "And?" She gave him a long-suffering look. "And was dragged behind a fishing boat." His eyebrows rose. "And how did that happen?" "I was pushing the boat. It was beached on a shallow part of the river." "Pushing it?" "Yeah." "Remind me to tip that bartender for not letting you deck me into next week." She smirked into her drink. Damn straight. "So when the boat broke free these fishermen did what? Cast their nets right done on top of you?" "Yup. I had to cut myself free and everything." "No good deed goes unpunished I guess." "Technically it wasn't a good deed, they were paying me to help." "That's even worse. And no one noticed you were missing onboard?" "Well, they wouldn't let me on the boat in the first place -" "Why not?" "It's bad luck." "Bad luck?" "To have a woman on board." "Wait a moment. So before the ship got stuck in the first place, while it was sailing, where were you? Nearby on the shore?" "No. I was running alongside them in the water." He laughed outright. "Running alongside them. That's too good. They didn't even give you rowboat." Her face flushed. She hadn't thought to ask for a row boat. "They were absolute assholes. Usually I can take quite a bit of crap from a client, but when he told me to pay for the net." "Pay for the net!" "And the lost profits for the day" "Ha!" "I told him just where he could shove his

lost profits and came to the nearest bar. I feel a little less sorry for myself now. Glad I could help. Now leave me be." "You don't want to hear my story?" "Not part of the deal. Now scram." He pouted, cheek resting on his hand. "But we were getting along so well." "You have a very twisted sense of relationships if you think that was getting along well." "I cannot argue with that." She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bickering, but she was finally feeling a little unwound. Studying his profile for a moment, she thought it must definitely be the alcohol. "If you're going to stare, i might as well tell you my story." Definitely the alcohol. "I wasn't staring." She huffed, turning sharply away "Would admiring be more accurate?" "Do you ever shut up?" "For the majority of the time yes I do. It's quite liberating to go on and on like this. Strangers make some of the best conversation. You don't have to hold back because they will never see you again, probably not even remember speaking." She hated that he was right. She also hated that she couldn't see his eyes, instead watching his lips move. Kami must hate her because he had rather nice lips. "You're admiring again." They said. "Staring," she corrected. "Staring then." He said in a low voice, leaning in slightly. "Tell me your story." She said, trying to break the moment by divert this exchange to something hopefully safer for her psychy. Those damn lips curlled up in a feline grin. "Of course, my little mud pie." "Don't push it." She snapped, "You were meeting someone." "Yes, I've been seeing them for some time now. We are both wonderers so we meet about once a month. " "How long is some time now?" "Hmm, about ten years maybe." "And you guys haven't made it official yet?" "Well, it's complicated. They are a little old for me, and I'm not sure what society would think." She got the feeling he was making fun of her, but didn't get the joke. "They've never once been late or missed a meeting. I'm a little worried you see." For the first time since meeting the guy, Sakura felt a little bad for him. "Plus theyve got hands and eyes that wander a bit too much for my liking." "Sounds like they finally got bored and left." She commented. "Well. Even so, the meetings were as much about business as pleasure." "And just what kind of business are you in exactly?" "I'd say we were in the same field." She scoffs, looking him up and down again, not able to make out anything helpful from his form from under his travelling cloak to back up his claim about being a Shinobi. It was convenient line for civilian men who hit on kunoichi, so she rolled her eyes. "Sure you are." "Don't believe me?" "I believe you'd say just about anything to get on my good side."

"Hmm," his lips curled in that feline way, "And I thought leaf nin we're very skilled at seeing underneath the underneath." She froze, recognizing her sensei's phrase. "Who exactly did you say you were meeting again?" "I didn't." She slowly turned toward him, hand sliding to her thigh pouch under the bar, but it was too late. Here eyes were locked on his red, glowing gaze, pin wheels spinning. She felt her consciousness being torn from her body and into the inky black of his sharingan.

🌸❓

Quite sure this was supposed to be Itachi but it's quite OOC for him. So I'll leave it to you reader to fill in who it is. I guess I like Shisui for it myself but don't limit yourself haha.

[fuckraperos]

so lets see. dog food. mm look at those feet. thats a real nice broad there you can tell shes classy by those toes and also the length of her skirt and how its prim at the same time as playful. you can definitely turn that into some fetish shit but look out its not sure yet shes going to have enough mind body detachment to see it as choreography as opposed to just an incomprehensible misplacing of attention on her wrong end. o wait what up with the dog. the bowl is just by those toes mm tongue out. if i were that dog id be fucking down to eat there; matterfact…. you can guess i dont need to say it. so ok whats up in general. ok so they just sat down somewhere, the whole time it has seemed to me the guys kitchen but i realise now theres nobody to say table for three to there (it felt just imprecise copywriting) plus that would be a sad fucking kitchen if you have the wherewithal to have those mouldings but your kitchen table is that size. ok so theyre at a restaurant well done i dont have to go into the absurdity of having your dog on a leash at home, which i had originally read as a maladroit but still likely to work widely way of conveying dominance marketing device. i mean it probably still is considering the guy has had enough time to get the wine and is still holding the leash. is he just going to sit there grabbing it the whole time and eat with one hand? mind you with those toes i may want to sneak a cheeky wank under the table if i were that feller. lets put two and two together; the leash, the tongue, the toes. you tell me.

now hey lets talk about something important anyway. so the bro is at the table brilliant i was going to point out that besides the dog he has a glass of water on his table and the girl doesnt, and was going to say something along the lines of thats what i call hedging my bets, but actually if you look as closely as i have by now youll notice she does actually have a glass of her own so its not overtly like the guy is just playing the long game of being less drunk than she is so he can suck on those feet while smugly passing it as exploitative gourmandising rather than while crushed by shame. anyway the whole thing makes me think, considering the dogs bowl is empty — who the fuck is asking for the dog’s food, then? it’s probably the dog himself. this ad it’s legit a stock dog speaking to you. what the fuck is he saying? hes not asking you to think of his kind next time youre being classy and impress the girl by dropping a wad on ethically made chicken and turkey cause thats not what hes fucking doing. what the stock dog is saying is if you were a better man youd have a dog you feed legit fucking food to as opposed to those biscuits shits you feed him that make you sometimes ponder platos cave for a little bit and youd have enough left over to be slammin a broad like that. so i mean you might as well start small and things will fall into place soon. which if you notice, the guy has clearly not done, as the dog as were concerned has not been served yet. so thats an example of adverts speaking to people unlike those they portray / conjure. but anyway, ‘slamming a broad like that’. and what do you know about the broad? the toes. i mean pretty much. you dont really notice the yellow skirt the first minute. consider whats centred whats not. consider where the light is. homie is wearing the most nondescript shoes ever you might as well just paint over that part of the poster. so thats just darkness. ok so you see this at the tube station, your eye goes to the centre, and then ok whats up, where do i go from here, you dont really go to the darkness weve established is the guy, the next closest thing thats light is the feet, which if you miss the boring empty bowl will just direct you straight at, which i thank it for. but i mean that feets is all you need to know about a broad to decide whether its wife zone or not. oh but what if she a ho? youll make it work son. you can articulate a lot of more or less healthy and certainly potentially longevous marital narrative around toes like that.

anyways lately ive been thinking about what the fuck is up with the feet thing and im buying more and more into the vulnerability thing insofar as this guy is more clothed and more covered and in fact an animal pal solicitously further obscures him and his feet, while the toes are attached to a body fundamentally more exposed as well as juxtaposed to an empty receptacle rather than a sentient being that generally reads as of prey. are you thinking what im thinking here? i mean look at the colour of the manicure its perfect goddam those toes are the female equivalent of the amazingly lit foot of the table which is itself so sexed up in post prod that if it were a pair of feets it would be a delicious one like the one on the right of this picture. i mean consider everybodys feet are tantalisingly out the dogs the tables and crucially the babes the sugars the shawtys but the homies aint. you know why dag cos hes in control. cos thats really the thing with the whole feet thing isnt it its a form of nudity that a certain sector of the population subjects to and not the other and it comes with all sorts of added layers like does it hint at a well kempt genital periphery or she couldnt really run very far if she had to. the physicality of it has a social obverse to it about status but not going there now. all of this you could never get from fixating on the average girls knees. and theres this smear campaign saying this shit is freudian or like its about being secretly gay and toes being a substitute for dick presumably specifically ten of them but its ultimately people classing something as abnormal that they still do, just deliberately avoiding sexual frames (because nudity is a relative state that by default draws attention and in this day and age the sort of shoe shes wearing is nudity, and besides everybody is always oglin everything on everybody else all the time so there is no reason toes should be excepted) rather than just saying yes this whole fucking thing we collectively have going on with women collectively is about power and its fucked, which is actually not so bad because once you say it ok fine you have acknowledged and at this point you can just be like oh but i still fux with it doe and move on as actually a better person. anyways lads you know the drill cover up drink water have money generally play it cool youll get places.