#Brea beats up a lot of people

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times PART 2 (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price + Reader x 141 Rated: Explicit Word count: 4.3k Summary: Some flirting, hot springs, a cosy cottage in the snow, and lots of sex Note: This is the part 2 I promise with lots of smut, enjoy!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, smoking, praise kink, heavy smut, fivesome, oral, PiV, light ass play, overstimulation, dom/sub vibes, aftercare, fluff

MASTERLIST // PART 1

It doesn’t happen this very night, but the day after. 

The men are a little bit more rested after their long trek out in the open, and they are all very enthusiastic when you suggest a short hike to reach the hot springs hidden in a small valley just east of your cottage. It’s too remote from the touristy locations for random people to show up there, or for amateur hikers to stumble upon by accident. You’ll be alone and safe. And warm - most importantly. And it’s also a convenient opportunity to see them half naked. 

The hot springs are tucked against the side of a small glade, where the snow melts to reveal rocky arrangements forming shallow pools. Steam hovers above the clear water, signaling its warmth. The afternoon is sunny enough to make the snow gleam, painting a decor so pretty even the rugged men around you remark on it.

“Gosh lass, you didn’t lie when you told us about this place” Soap’s voice shakes you out of your contemplation. 

“Hope you don’t mind but I did not bring a bathing suit for our snow trip” Gaz is already stripping down, ready to dive into the steaming water. You take a beat too long to respond, mouth open at the vision of Gaz’s very naked and very ripped chest, muscles of his back rippling as he’s trying to remove his boots as quickly as he can. 

“Don’t you worry, she’s seen a lot worse back in the days”. It’s Price who comes to your rescue, a mischievous glint in his deep blue eyes fixed on your face. Warmth pricks at your cheeks - and it’s not because of the springs. It’s true though, you’ve seen quite a lot of men in all states of undress during your previous life. Missions after missions after training sessions after stays in the infirmary, you all tend to lose any sense of modesty. A body is a body after all. Just that. You repeat yourself as you undress as well - still, you intend on keeping the two-piece bathing suit you put on under your winter gear before leaving. You also try to keep your eyes down as the men strip and sink in one of the natural pools with satisfied grunts bordering on moans. Their sinful sounds don’t help with the warmth already creeping up your face. 

The steam covering the surface and the warping of the water does a good enough job at hiding the most intimate parts of their bodies. It’s not enough to hide how massive their bodies are though. You catch the glimpse of reddish or silvery scars on a muscular back or on a corded forearm. Dark hairs are dusted on the large pectorals of Price and Soap, while Gaz and Ghost are more smooth. 

Ghost has kept his usual facemask, even though he traded the skull mask for a printed balaclava, with a wider opening, framing doe-like brown eyes looking intently at you under blond lashes. He’s the biggest of them all - and it’s saying something considering Price and the two younger soldiers are far from small men - the level of the water had visibly raised when he lowered himself into the shallow pool. He beacons you with a nod of his head, and you finally muster enough courage to remove the last of your garment - except for your bathing suit - and join them in the water. They’re nice enough to not make any comment on your choice of covering yourself while they are shameless in their nudity.

The enveloping warmth of the spring is a blessing for your body, immediately soothing the goose bumps you got from the cold. You let yourself relax until the little waves are lapping at your nape, free of the hair you carefully tied up earlier. Your whole body goes slack as you take deep breaths, and close your eyes, sun rays lazily kissing the skin of your face. On your right, Price is doing the same, and when you readjust your posture, your arm brushes against his, and then your thigh touches his leg. You don’t move away though, you both stay like that for a moment, the joyful chatting of Soap and Gaz on the other side of the pool, a surprisingly relaxing background noise. The simple contact with his skin is warming you up from the inside, the memory of the kiss he gave you last night making you unconsciously squirm against him, clenching your thighs together. You’re feeling… hot. And the temperature of the water is not the only thing to blame. 

“Stop it, love.” the warning is uttered in a low gravelly voice, that does the exact contrary of what it was intended for. Liquid heat blooms between your legs as Price pairs his remark with a solid hand catching your right knee, immobilizing your whole leg. 

“Stop it, or I will be tempted to catch on all the time we missed.” It’s still a warning, but definitely not a threat, his voice goes gentler, almost sad at the last words. Fuck. That’s what did it a decade earlier, what made you cave in to your attraction for this man, the intoxicating mix of confidence - in his skills and authority - and vulnerability - emotions and kindness just bubbling under the surface. 

You can’t let this chance slip. Not again. Last night, you stopped at kissing, even though you wanted more, and you’ve been desperately horny since. You catch his hand on your knee, guiding it higher along your thigh, until it reaches the hem of your bathing suit. “What if I don’t mind it?” you whisper back, angling your body to better face him.

You can see the internal fight on Price’s face. 

“They will see” he mumbles, looking above your shoulders to the three men chatting just a few feets away. 

“I also don’t mind that…” you answer against the side of his head, pushing the words out before you chickens out  “... do you?”.

“I did not remember you to be such a menace” he chuckles darkly, before one arm snakes around your waist and lifts you up so you’re fully braced against his side. His other hand dips under the band of your bottom to cup your cunt. Your lips part around a gasp. His skin is somehow even hotter than the water. The hand on your back climbs until it clasps on your nape, bending your head in the crook of his neck, at a not-so-successful attempt at muffling your sounds. 

The captain waits for you to settle before he dips the pads of his fingers between your folds, grazing at your entrance where they meet the sirupy evidence of your desire. The tranquil water is not enough to wash away the sticky liquid, and Price takes advantage of it to glide effortlessly up your slit until he finds your aching clit. You stifle another gasp when he starts rubbing it in slow circles. 

“Quiet love” He squeezes your neck, trying to remind you of your surroundings - and especially of your audience. You don’t dare look behind you, but you can imagine how you look. For Price’s men, it must look like he has you in a tight hug, which is telling already. But if you start moaning on top of that, it’s not gonna look like a chaste hug for long. 

It’s difficult not to though, because the length of you is plastered against his formidable body, your tits pressed on his chest, he has you straddling one of his thighs, and you can feel his hard dick pulsing against your leg. Your teeth bite into your lower lip in an attempt at staying silent, and you would be scared to draw blood if you weren’t too far gone. Price’s fingers keep their pressure on your clit while he keeps you pinned to him with nowhere to go, and you know you’re not gonna last. Not when it feels so good to be in his arms, to feel his warm skin, and underneath it the strong muscles that keep you at his mercy. Not when he remembers exactly how to touch you to make you shiver in pleasure in mere seconds. Not when his most loyal men are probably looking at you from the other side of the pool. The idea that they might actually be, that they might understand what their Captain is doing to you, that they might even get hard at the view - you feel so dirty at admitting it, but it is what really makes you go over the edge. 

You come with a silent sob, biting into Price’s shoulder, until he redirects your mouth on his own. He kisses you with a hunger, a desperate thirst, like it pains him to want you this much. You answer with your own passion, careless in your display of affection for him. Low whistles and impressed Damn, captain erupt from the three other men. You part from Price with a chuckle, still not daring to look behind you. Until you feel someone gently tugging at your wrist. 

“Don’t keep her all to yourself Captain” Gaz beautiful eyes find yours, checking if you’re okay to follow him. You’re pretty sure he’s the only one to be able to snatch something from Price’s lap without too much trouble. John grumbles something that is lost in your soft laughs as Gaz brings you back with him near Soap and Ghost. 

“Now, tell us a story from your time with our Captain, I’m sure you have some funny ones!” he offers, and you comply, not minding the fact Gaz’s hand is still on your wrist, absentmindedly drawing circles in your skin with the tips of his calloused fingers.

❄️

You get back to the cottage just before sunset. The heater is still broken, but it’s a blessing in disguise, corelling you all into the living room, where the nice warmth of the fireplace makes for a mellow atmosphere. Soap has managed to find your stash of scotch, a vice you don’t indulge often in, but you still keep a few bottles at hand, to celebrate happy occasions or cushion hard news. You guess your reunion with Price is worth bringing those bottles out. 

The evening feels like one of those too-perfect fuzzy memories, made of laughter, comfort food and enough of the brown liquorous beverage to dull the last of your awkwardness around those newfound friends. Price has procured a cigar, spicy smoke weighing heavy on your senses. Someone has chosen a vinyl from your collection and turned on the old record player. Slow tempo music with suggestive lyrics. Gaz tugs you up from the ground, has you two sway along to the song - he moves his hips with a disconcerting easiness. You don’t really know what you’re doing, but he’s happy enough you follow him. You laugh in the dance, and he gets bolder, holding you closer with each new chorus. It drives you crazy.

Your earlier release at the hand of Price is long forgotten, and your whole body has been on fire since you came back from the hot springs. You can feel how embarrassingly wet you are, every little touch to move you out of the way in the kitchen, to lead you to your seat on the couch, every time they lay a finger on your waist, your arm, or even your face to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Everything they do to you makes you go crazy with want. Of course Price is the bolder of them all, large palms holding your hips while you step on a chair to reach something high in your kitchen, kisses stolen in the corridor, hungry eyes following your every move. 

He might be guilty of teasing you to death, but the three others are not that innocent either. And Price is letting them. He’s very clearly allowing them to flirt, watching with a small smile as they make you laugh, as they make you crave their attention. Yes, guilty, they are all guilty. And you’re their very willing victim.

Your glass is still in hand, your eyes are half closed. Ghost and Soap are sitting side by side on your couch, bodies relaxed, eyes on you and Gaz. Simon’s balaclava is bunched up on his nose, still hiding a part of his face, but allowing him to sip on his - yours actually - scotch. He’s watching you dance like you’re the prettiest girl in the club, although his hand is possessively holding Soap’s knee. You noticed they were close, but you did not expect this open display of affection. It means they trust you to some extent. It flatters your ego, makes you balance your hips more boldly.

As the song comes to an end, Gaz has you in a tight embrace with your back against his firm chest, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, his lips so close from your nape, you wish he would kiss you there already. It’s not calculated, more instinct than wit, but you tilt your head ever so slightly to the side, baring your neck to his mouth. It must be instinct from his part also, because he immediately takes the bait and lays a gentle kiss on the side of your neck. You leave out a shaky exhale at the sensation and sink a little more against him. He leaves another kiss, a little lower, going down where your neck meets your shoulder. And another one. It’s not about instinct anymore, it’s deliberate, it’s a clear choice. The gentle warmth of the alcohol, the smoke of the cigar, the tiredness of the afternoon spent in the water - it all makes your body pliant and your mind happily dizzy.

“Let us thank you for the stay, lovie” Kyle murmurs against the shell of your ear, his hands solid on your hips, leaving no doubt as to how they intend to thank you. The shock of his demand forces you to use your brain for a second. You kinda knew this was coming - you wished it too. But it’s one thing to fantasize about it, and another to live up to it. Your eyes fly open to Price, searching for his opinion on this. Not hard to guess he already had his word to say in the situation, but still. 

“Don’t look at me. It’s up to you darling.” His voice is thick, thicker than usual. “You can say no. At any time.” he adds, words carefully chosen. The fire in his eyes when you nod your consent matches the fire between your legs.

Price rises from his chair while Kyle stays glued to your back, holding you upright, like an offering to his Captain. John stands in front of you, locks eyes with you and takes a long inhale on his cigar. His hand catches your chin, and he bends toward you until his mouth is a hair away from yours. You willingly part your lips to let him breathe out the smoke in your lungs. You can’t take it all, and the smoke spills out, engulfs your field of view, drowning you in the smell you have learned to recognize as his. Something rich and spicy, heavy and masculine, powerful and his, his, his- 

Price takes advantage of the way the smoke makes you even dizzier to kiss you on the lips. A hungry kiss, mirroring the one he gave you when he had you in his lap earlier in the springs. Before you close your eyes to focus on the way his tongue is licking inside your mouth, you vaguely register Ghost getting up and taking the cigar from his captain’s hand to let it drop in the ashtray. You feel his giant presence, can feel him nuzzling at the top of your head, smelling your hair, fingers ghosting over your shoulder and upper arm. It’s becoming overwhelming very quickly to be surrounded by them, and if not for Gaz holding you upright against him, you’re not sure you would still be standing up. 

Simon’s fingers find their way down your arm, until he gently takes your hand. His hold is feather-light, leaving you the opportunity to retreat. It’s a stark contrast with the raw strength you know he’s capable of. Price reluctantly stops kissing you, his large palms still holding your jaw from both sides angling your face towards his lieutenant. He wouldn't want for you to miss the show of Simon’s tongue peeking from his rosy lips to give a little lick at the pad of your fingers. Once, then twice. He groans, content with the taste of your skin. A predator confirming he caught the right prey. Without any warming he engulfs two of your fingers in his mouth, and sucks on the digits like he’s trying to get to the marrow of your bones. But instead of sharp teeths, all you get is the strange feeling of warmth and wetness, the powerful swipe of his tongue - he’s the one shoving your hand in his mouth, yet you have the intuition the big bad wolf is just a lost pet looking for a master. You press your fingers on his tongue, and down, until your flesh is flush against his teeth, and you keep pressing. He has no choice but lowering down too, unless he risks hurting you. 

The hands of Price and Gaz on your body tighten ever so slightly, when Simon finally puts his knees on the floor. With just two fingers between his lips, you have managed to make the giant kneel at your feet. He’s gazing at you with glassy eyes, the black make-up fading on his skin making his blond lashes pop. 

Simon nuzzles against your legs, and despite him being on his knees, his impulse for action is still there. He pushes his face against your crotch, his balaclava is bunching up on his nose and the bump of the fabric is providing some nice friction against your clothed cunt. Definitely not enough to quench your desire, but it’s welcome. It’s visibly an offense to Ghost that you’re still wearing clothes, so while Price is taking your attention with passionate kisses, he removes your pants and panties, until you can feel the air against your tender flesh. You’re already dripping, you can feel it against your inner thigh.

That’s when Soap, who is behind Ghost, a hand under his balaclava, fisted in his hair, pushes his face against your weeping cunt. Simon gives your folds a broad lick, and you let a heavy sigh out on Price’s lips. Ghost is lapping at you without any shame, his wicked tongue goes everywhere, no inch of the delicate skin between your legs is free from his attention. You have to grasp at Price’s shirt to steady you, because you’re squirming from the delicious wet warmth on your cunt. Gaz is still behind you, supporting you upright. His hands have found their way on your ass, he’s playing with the supple flesh, fingers inching between your cheeks. 

“Can I touch you here?” he whispers, his breath hot on the shell of your ear, and you nod your consent without second thought. He lets his broad hands wander fully between your ass cheeks, thumbs gently petting at your hole. Each sensation is not entirely new, but layered like this, happening all at the same time - it’s so much, intoxicating in the best sense. Ghost tongue in your cunt is making sinful noises, and you’re drowning in it all, body fully shivering between all of them. You feel a knot tighten in your gut with alarming speed, and you come for the first time of the night, moaning against Price’s neck. 

Price sweeps you off wobbly legs, and places you delicately on one of the mattresses. After this first orgasm, the warmth of the fire with the softness of the many blankets makes for a divine sensation. 

“All good love? Wanna keep going?” John asks, his blue eyes set on your face, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

“Yes!” you answer with a fervor that makes the men chuckle.

“Wanna taste you too, hen” it’s Soap - he lies between your legs, folds them on your chest, so he can look at your cunt like it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, before starting to lick, drinking the juices from your previous orgasm. He’s eating you messily but with enthusiasm, spending some time fucking you with his toungue, his thumb pressing on your clit. Your soft moans soon fill the air. It makes him bolder, and he goes even lower, his tongue licking at your puckered hole, not searching to go in, but feasting on every patch of skin he can find between your thighs.

Ghost is kneeling again, this time next to your head. He bends at the waist to kiss your mouth, making you taste yourself on his lips. He’s disciplined in the way he kisses you. After Price’s hunger, it’s a clear contrast. He makes you submit to his rhythm and is not afraid to make you feel the scrape of his teeth on your already swollen lips. He’s precise, sharp, calculated. Unlike you, he can’t be easily overwhelmed, and if you can coax a reaction out of him, it’s only because he lets you. 

Soap has you come on his tongue, and you don’t even have the time to let your legs go down before Price hoists them on his shoulders. An undignified little yelp escapes your lips in confusion and surprise that John is quick to sooth. 

“Shhh love, I’m here, you’re ok.” his gravelly voice making you so insanely hot that it has you clench on nothing. You’re not empty for long though. He fills you up in one slow inescapable move. It burns, but in a good way, a searing warmth seizing your whole body. The stretch is a lot. It has you clamp up on him, in a vicious reaction circle. 

“Fuck, you’re… a… lot.” you whimper, eyes shut to try and focus on relaxing.

“Don’t fight it” you recognize Ghost’s voice. “You’re doing great, bonnie” Soap echoes. “Breathe, gorgeous” Gaz adds. 

You open your eyes to see the three men in various states of undress, lounging on the mattresses around you both. Their gaze is fixed on you both, eager for the show you’re offering.

“Look at me, love.” John falls on his forearms, folding you in two. He cradles your face in his big palms, demanding for your full attention - the blue of his eyes is so dark, yet they are shining, like you’re watching a night sky full of stars. 

“You’re perfect. Your body is perfect. I know you can take it.” He punctuates his affirmation with a delicious rolling thrust of his hips, that has your lips part around a soft moan. 

“So let me make you feel good”

You can’t remember a single time in your life when you felt this good. This level of passion, not only from one person, but from four men. They take turns and team up to make you feel good. There are too many fingers and tongues on your body for you to count - sucking at your tits, leaving bruising kisses on your neck, hitting the most sensitive places inside of you, rubbing at your swollen clit. They discover they love giving a spank or two to your ass to hear you cry out in surprise then laugh and groan when the gentle heat of the blow reaches your cunt. They tie your wrists with a scarf for a minute, so you won’t disturb them in the very important task of finding out which one of them can make you come the fastest.

You love what they do to you, but you also want to please - want them to feel a tenth of the pleasure they offer. You follow the trail of hair on Soap’s belly with your mouth until you reach the tip of his cock. You ride Price until the muscles of your thighs give out. You swallow every drop of Gaz’s cum. You let Ghost come on your chest. 

“you’re taking me so well” “look at you, so pretty” “there you go, just like that, perfect" "you’re so good for us" 

You bask in their encouragement, let your brain short-circuit with their heady dirty talk, let your body go floaty, your limbs grow sore, let your flesh bruise under ravenous lips, let your skin get covered in sweat and spit and cum and your own wetness. The night is not young anymore when you shatter one last time on Price’s cock. He gently lay down your legs from his shoulders where they were perched. You don’t have any strength left in you to protest when Simon sits between your open legs to lick you clean for a couple minutes, ignoring your soft whines of overstimulation. It’s Gaz who comforts you, letting you know how good you’ve been, that you need to let them clean you up. He gently pets your hair while Simon and Johnny return with a damp clean cloth and try their best at cleaning your skin, before cleaning themselves. 

They help you into a warm hoodie - it’s so oversized it obviously belongs to one of them. They feed you pieces of dried fruit, tilt a cup of water to your lips, cuddle with you in front of the fireplace. The crackling of the fire is the background to their gentle chats and laughs, and the occasional muffled moans when Ghost keeps his lips on Soap’s neck. The view is sinful - those two men, built like Greek gods, half-naked, kissing each other - it would be enough to re-ignite your desire if you weren’t feeling so sore. And yet there’s something more than lust between them, something tender you guess they don’t show often. 

You eventually drift to sleep against Price, his body solid and warm by your side. Just like old times, you think just before he gently kisses your forehead - and you fall asleep understanding that maybe love has no fixed timeline.

[thecrystalkid]

what is your opinion on the tdc Netflix show?

i haven’t posted in a billion years but HII thanks for the ask!!!

it’s been a hot minute since i’ve rewatched the show, so it’s far from being fresh in my mind, and i’m of course not an expert on it. all the same, i still have a lot of thoughts and opinions* on it (*some of these might be a lil controversial as far as the TDCAOR fandom goes but i’m not trying to attack or criticize anyone for enjoying anything in this show, go in peace, ily❤️)

the show itself

to be honest, AOR has never been my favorite installment in the TDC franchise. i’m very attached to the original movie and jen and kira, so i think the obvious absence of them in the show may have played a part in that

but this^^ has nothing to do with the fact that the show is an objective masterpiece of artistry. it’s overwhelming how immersive and beautiful every inch of the environment is within thra, and whatever the creative team and everyone involved with the making of the show were paid, it’s not enough.

the design and craft of the gelfling is another thing i’m obsessed with, i loved the distinctive fashion and presentation of every clan (especially drenchen i love u drenchen) and just the sheer quality of every individual puppet. there’s something so uncanny and beautiful about the realistic skin, hair, and eyes of the gelfling, each one is so mesmerizing to watch.

sadly, i’ve always kind of disliked the overall voice-acting of the show. i love taron egerton, anya taylor-joy, etc. as much as the next person, but personally, their voices seemed so detached from their characters, which i think could be partially attributed to the fact that several of the actors are not professional voice actors

i’m beating the very dead horse here but i’m never not devastated that the show was cancelled when it was. it may not have been my favorite installment in TDC but not knowing what ultimately became of deet haunts me forever and always

not a day goes by that i’m not sad that lisa maxwell (kira’s voice actor) didn’t do the opening narration for the show. i didn’t even know that was a possibility until i listened to a podcast episode about it and found out lisa was originally going to do it. i still love sigourney weaver but like come on.

characters n in-universe stuff

one thing i love about the show is how many sibling relationships it explores. as someone with older sisters i obviously am a sucker for the dynamic between brea, tavra, and seladon. i always love seeing an absolute gutpunch soul-crushing diabolical sister relationship in media, the mirroring each other, bringing out the best and worst of each other, i love it it’s terrible. also gurjin and naia, i’m also a sucker for comedic siblings

i really really hate to say it but i’m not a fan of rian and deet as a romantic pairing. i just never really felt any chemistry between the two of them, and the fact that their whole thing started so shortly after the death of mira has always personally rubbed me the wrong way. obviously i’m not here to beat up stonegrot enjoyers, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the pairing or people who enjoy it, it’s just not for me. i love and am happy for stonegrot folk, god bless <3

augh you know what pairing i do like though is brea and kylan, this whole post could be about them. idk, i know it’s one of those things where they barely have any interaction with each other but i always die at kylan’s little “and brea!” when they’re rescuing them all, and i would’ve DIED for an interaction between them where they discover they both can read

i do also really love how the show explored the skeksis and mystics being two halves of the same whole, and how that relationship can differ. it’s one of the most interesting concepts from the og movie and i’m glad it was expanded upon

i’m sure this may have been being saved for a possible continuation of the show but i would’ve loved a deeper look at each individual gelfling clan, like a really detailed thorough episode(s) about the life/history of each clan (dousan especially i feel like they were skimped on the most)

i, like many, am obsessed with aughra, and i love that she played such a major role in the show. i love how they showcased her maternal role and connection to the gelfling and thra, whilst always keeping her stern, choppy personality present

this is just my conspiracy theory but on the subject of who jen and kira’s respective parents are, i choose to imagine it’s not anyone in the AOR cast and just some other gelfling we never/haven’t met

wow that was a lot of yapping but again thanks for the ask!! i love being able to just dump all my thoughts into one place, it’s always very fun! 

[sunlightandsuffering]

did you watch Tomo-Chan is a Girl? It’s about a tomboyish girl and her best friend. They fall in love as they grow up but he refuses to see her as a girl for a while bc he’s afraid of facing his emotions, but gets angry and jealous whenever other guys are around. Reminded me of that drabble you wrote a long time ago about Mikasa being “Mik” and then she chose to wear a dress and Eren got jealous! Kinda love the idea of tomboy Kasa and Eren seeing her as one of the guys, she’s always beating him and Armin in fights but then one day oh no! Eren’s in love with his GIRL best friend

I did! And I was so surprised that I liked it lmfao, i saw the trailers and sutff on tik tok and i was like ugh that's probably so annoying but I really enjoyed it!!!!

It's so funny u mention this AU tho, I was literally thinking about it the other day bc I just had a moment where I was like 🥵 ✨MEN✨even tho 90% of the time I hate them and this particular boy I wasn't even originally into, but something just HAPPENED! And I was like i think the reverse should happen in that AU, Eren needs to have a moment where he just loses his mind and is like fuck, women damn. So i was going to write this drabble anyway lmfao u just read my mind!!!!!

HELP I FOUND THIS WHOLE ASK IN MY DRAFTS LOL HAD TO FINISH THE DRABBLE! also u can read this as a continuation of that drabble I wrote froever ago about best friend Mikasa 'mik' in a dress!

Eren likes women, he's always liked women. In fact, one might label him as a little bit of a manwhore.

Maybe...

He doesn't personally subscribe to such a label, but it's not necessarily an incorrect description of him.

But people are usually surprised to find that his best friend is female, and often, especially now that he's entered univeristy and they're living together, people question how they haven't slept together. And the answer is very simple, to him, Mikasa is not a girl, she's just one of the boys. They'd decided that was best, especially after that one incident, the one that had almost killed their friendship. After a lot of crying and grovelling, and begging her to forgive him, he'd decided it was best just to simply continue looking at her as a boy.

And Mikasa made it easy, in fact, if he hadn't seen her in that dress that one time he'd barely know she had boobs. They're boobs that keep him up at night sure, haunt his dreams and tease him with the edge of their shape under her oversized sweaters, but nonetheless, for the most part he pretends they don't exist.

The perfect pair of tits has left his brain, he has other girls to satisfy himself with and well Mikasa, Mik, Mik is just one of the guys to him.

So Eren barely blinks at the sleeping arrangements in their apartment after a long night out, getting saddled with Mikasa in his bed while Armin and Annie take hers and Sasha, Connie and Jean take the couch.

It doesn't even phase him, they've done this type of thing so many times before when they were kids. But as Eren wakes up in the middle of the night, to the sounds of squeaking from Mikasa's bed, which he knows can be no one but Sasha and Connie fucking, he thinks its been a long time since he last slept next to Mikasa.

In particular, he does not remember her having this many... curves.

Unbidden, the memory of her in that dress comes to mind, how it had hugged her form, how every single guy in the vicinity had watched her, hungry. And now, as Mikasa flops over, even further into his embrace, hugging him like he's a body pillow, he remembers exactly why the incident had been banned within their friendship.

Because if he keeps thinking about it, feeling her against him to the soundtrack of sex noises from the next room, their relationship won't be so platonic anymore. His arm locks around her waist to keep her form secure, and she makes a noise of contentment, burrowing into his neck.

Eren's breath hitches as she throws her leg over his, the warmth of her cunt pressing hot against his thigh, her breasts pillowed against his chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She's not wearing a bra, because why would she, she's sleeping, why can't she be free, unencumbered. And her tits are fucking amazing, they need to breath, the heavy mounds resting comfortably against his pectorals, she's practically on top of him, fuck.

He can already feel himself tenting his pants as her knee brushes against his cock, he needs to get out of here. He really should. But the moans from the next room over are definitely not encouraging, he does not want to walk by the living room right now to get to the kitchen. He sure feels bad for Jean though, jesus. Mikasa sighs into his chest happily, pressing herself further into him, seeking out his warmth and he can't help how he reacts, his hand slipping from her waist to her ass, just for a quick feel, to make sure she doesn't fall off of him he tells himself.

It can't be comfortable to sleep half on him and half on the bed, on a slant, it can't be comfortable at all.

With his help, he manages to shift her so she's mostly lying on his chest, and she seems happy, her arms twining around him, who is he to stop her ?

"Eren," she mumbles sleepily, pressing himself clsoer against him, her hips slotted against the hard line of his cock, smothering him with her delectable body, fuck! He didn't think this through, because now there is the constant delicious pressure of her cunt right against his hard-on, and its almost painful how turned on he is.

She's so soft and warm, her breasts pillowed against his chest, soft and heavy, the perfect blanket for him.

How the fuck is he supposed to just be friends with her here? How in the hell is he supposed to keep thinking about her as Mik? Almost subconsciously his hands find her hips, caressing along the divots of her spine where her t-shirt has ridden up, soft, milky skin, she's so perfect.

MIkasa hums in contentment and Eren kisses her cheek, he needs her to wake up and do something about this or he's going to wake her up, because his dick is throbbing now, insistent against her and he's not sure how long he'll last with her on top of him making these little pleased noises. "Mik," he whisper hisses against her ear, he needs to take a cold shower at the very least, or go jack it in the bathroom, he needs something!

She doesn't rouse, only snuggles in further, his cock slotted so perfectly against her, seeking out the friction even in sleep.

"Fuck, Miki," he groans and her nose twitches finally, mumbling something against his cheek. "Mikasa," he tries again, "Please I need to get up." "What?" She grumbles finally, half asleep, eyes still shut, she sleepily presses herself closer, sleepily grinding against him now as she edges towards consciousness. Her eyelids flutter slightly as she rubs against him particularly well, a little moan escaping her as his cock catches on her clit through the loose fabric of her shorts.

"Oh," she makes the sweetest little noise, her hands slipping down to grip at his biceps harshly.

"Fuck," she murmurs breathily, her eyes still shut tight, but to Eren's horror she isn't stopping, only pulling back farther, her hips rubbing over the complete length of his bulge, missing not a single inch and Eren can't help his pleasured groan. God she feels so good. "Eren oh my god," she moans, burying her head in his neck as she begins dryfucking him in earnest, grinding herself towards orgasm on his cock, using him as her own personal sex toy. He doesn't mind in the least, he finally gives into the pleasure, taking control of her hips to pull her against him more harshly, leaning into her rhythm.

They come together, whispered curses and broken moans and finally, beautiful grey eyes open, looking up at him blearily in the aftermath of her orgasm. At first she's all sleepy smiles, leaning up to go in for what he's not sure? Maybe a kiss? But then her hold on his bicep tightens, nails digging in tightly to the muscle, and her eyes widen almost comically. "This isn't a dream is it?" "No Mik, it's not." "Fuck," she hisses, her eyes darting away quickly as she tries to comprehend the situation.

"So umm, any chance you're willing to forget this?" "Absolutely not," he growls and then he's kissing her like he's wanted to forever, since he saw her that day in that fucking dress and wanted to declare to the world that she was his like some crazy old caveman.

[sardonic-sprite]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

“Ok, but like, does it stack, or is it just a song thing?”

“I mean, if you take it literally, it stacks.”

“That’s crazy outrageous. How much shit is this girl getting?”

“Or guy.”

“Or guy?”

Tim whipped out his phone and tapped his calculator. “Let’s see. Twelve, plus the quantity eleven times two, plus the quantity ten times three, plus the quantity—”

“Why the hell would you do it that way?” Damian grimaced.

“Well, how would you do it, then?” Tim snipped.

“One, plus one plus two, plus one plus two plus three…”

“No, no, no.” Dick shook his head. “Just go in order of the lyrics. One, plus two plus one, plus three plus two plus one, plus four…”

“The word plus has become utterly meaningless to me,” Duke announced.

Cass exchanged a look with Jason. He raised his eyes to the heavens; she hid a giggle.

“Wait a second, I’m an idiot!” Tim yelped.

“Correct,” said Damian.

Tim ignored him. “It all parallels. Ok, two times each quantity of twelve times one, eleven times two, ten times three, nine times four…”

Damian and Dick were both still furiously jabbing at their calculators.

“Three hundred and sixty-four!” Tim cried in triumph, holding up the phone.

“Dammit,” Damian muttered.

“Holy shit,” said Duke.

“True love, more like sugar daddy,” Dick mused. “How much does all that cost?”

“Now or when the song was written?”

“What are even the ethics of buying someone dancers and milkmaids?” Duke wondered “Like, animals are one thing, but are all the people, just, like, hired or were they actually enslaved?”

“Let’s go with hired. But how do you hire a lord?”

“Shouldn’t it be three hundred and sixty-five, Drake?” Damian asked, still determined to prove Tim wrong, “Since the partridge line is repeated one more time?”

“But that one is just musical flare.”

“How can you call that musical flare, but not all the other repeats?”

“Fine!” Tim threw up his hands. “Three hundred and sixty-five. My calculations were still faster, brat.”

“This is what we’ve come to,” Jason muttered, too soft for anyone but Cass to hear. “This is our semblance of sanity?”

She giggled again, shrugging at him to say she didn’t mind. Her brothers were crazy and funny and she liked it that way. But the pinch between Jason’s eyes meant he couldn’t handle the conversation much longer, so she took his hand and tugged, saying, “Dance with me.”

“Gladly.”

The other four didn’t even notice them leave, too busy arguing whether the true love had had to pay delivery fees for all the gifts.

Cass didn’t usually enjoy galas. In fact, she, like her siblings, tried to get out of them every other time of the year. But for some reason, Christmas galas hit different, as Tim would say. She loved all the green boughs and glittery lights and pretty painted ornaments. The various shades of the same six colors (white, green, red, gold, silver, black) were calming to process compared to all the bright neons and pastels that she’d see other times of the year. Eggnog was also much tastier than champagne, and there was usually gingerbread, her favorite kind of cookie.

But the best thing about Christmas galas was the music.

Ordinary galas had bland, benign background pianos or violins. They played songs Cass could dance to, but not songs that were fun to dance to. But not at Christmas. At Christmas, they played lots of big, broad songs, with brass and sleigh bells and quick beats that she could swing to, and dramatic, full, swooping songs for a waltz. Cass could fly to Christmas music.

She didn’t know the tune the band had just struck up, but she could feel that it was already quick and fun, and was beaming even before she and Jason started to dance. The trumpets were loud and proud, showing her the music’s heartbeat so she could step in time.

Jason was very fun to dance with. He enjoyed it almost as much as Cass did, and knew lots of fancy twists and turns. He also wasn’t afraid to lift her off the ground and spin with her, and she’d laugh in delight, and he’d grin right back. He also sang along under his breath if he knew the song, not even aware that he was doing it, but teaching Cass the words nevertheless.

They danced three songs together, working up a good sweat and making Cass’s neat bun fall out, before the fourth song began with a series of high, tiny chimes, and Jason groaned.

“Not this one,” he said, leading her off the floor towards the others. “I love you, Cassie, but not this fucking song.”

A middle aged woman with a sprig of holly in her hair shot Jason a horrified look as they passed. Cass hid her giggle behind her hand.

Halfway to the table, Dick came running up to them, crying, “Cass! Cass, come on, I gotta dance this one with you!”

“You’re a menace, Grayson,” Jason called, trading her off with a shake of his head. “One too many concussions.”

“Bah humbug to you too, Scrooge!” Dick shot back, pulling Cass back to the dance floor right as the music really got going.

It was another swing, one that most people were taking half-time, so naturally she and Dick took it double. Towards the end, he started spinning her and spinning her, so much that her skirt stayed out in a bright green plume, no time to settle until the very end, when, rather than a graceful dip, she stumbled dizzily into his arms, both of them laughing too hard to speak.

“Whoo!” Dick cheered as Cass got her balance back. “That was fun.”

“Very fun,” Cass beamed, breathless. “But need a drink now.”

“Then shall we, my lady?” Dick bowed at the waist and offered her his arm.

“We shall,” she grinned, taking it.

They headed over to the refreshments table, Dick ladling a cup of punch for himself, and Cass taking a flute of eggnog. Plus a few gingerbread cookies. To share. Probably. Maybe.

Not, it turned out.

They made their way back to the others to see the argument still ongoing. Damian was in Tim’s face over the particulars of each species of bird, and how the price of doves was not equivalent or even indicative of the price of turtle doves, and Tim was shouting right back that if he couldn’t find the answers, he had no choice but to extrapolate. Duke was trying to get between them and calm them down, and Jason had given up, dropping his forehead against the table.

“Are you gonna tell me what type of dancer, too, brat?” Tim was saying. “Whether the pipes were metal or wood? What kind of drum? Just chill about the particulars!”

“I will not settle for a subpar answer when you have the ability to give me an accurate one!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t have the ability to—”

“Tim, Dami, you’re both beautiful,” Dick said, accomplishing what Duke could not and pushing them apart. “It’s hypothetical anyway, so as long as Tim gets close enough in his comparisons, I’m sure the rounded total won’t be far off.”

Cass cocked her head and signed, What are you actually doing?

“Trying to figure out exactly how much it costs if you’re the true love from Twelve Days of Christmas,” Tim answered, completely casual although Cass was certain it was not a very normal activity.

“I hate to even ask,” Duke interjected, “but do we include the value of the laid eggs and the milk?”

“I don’t think so,” Dick said. “He probably wasn’t paying to make sure the geese were actually laying eggs at the time they were received, so the fact that they can lay eggs is just covered by the cost of each goose.”

Jason lifted his head and banged it against the table. “It’s. Just. One. Stupid. Song.”

“Come on, Jay, aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

Jason turned his head to squint at Tim. “If I ever was, all your nonsense has completely ruined the answer for me.”

“Do you have a better way to pass the time?”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Then shut up or help us figure this out. If the swans are swimming, we assume the receiver already owned whatever they were swimming in, or was that purchased too?”

Cass ruffled Jason’s hair as she started away, ignoring his whine of Take me with you! and smiling to herself. She wandered through the ballroom, admiring the gowns and suits, until she spotted the tall figure she was looking for.

Bruce turned before she reached him, as if he had sensed her presence. He smiled, excused himself from the group he was speaking with, and closed the distance to give her a hug.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I am. Jay’s not.”

Bruce scanned the crowd, and Cass knew he’d seen her brothers when his mouth twisted into a wry grin.

“We’ll head home soon. What are they going on about this time?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas song.”

He winced, obviously recognizing just how absurd and detailed a conversation his sons could spark on that topic.

“At least it’s kept them from pranking anyone.”

Cass giggled. Tim and Jason could come up with very good pranks when they put their minds to it. She thought they were very funny, but the fancy people at the balls rarely did, and Bruce didn’t like to make them too mad. Still, it would have been fun if one of them had put mistletoe in Dick’s hair again.

The music changed from a quick song to a slow one, in three-quarter time, and Cass beamed up at her father, holding out her hands.

He smiled and took them, leading her out to the floor and starting to dance.

Of all the people in her family, Cass loved dancing with Bruce the most. He wasn’t as energetic as Dick, or as showy as Jason, but she could see in his posture and his smile that he was dancing just for her. It made her feel special and loved, that he always made sure to dance with her, and always was so happy to do so. She had to share him so often, with her brothers, with Steph and Harper and Cullen, with Selina and soon their new baby, with all his friends. Dancing was the one time she could have him all to herself.

The dance ended, as dances always did, but that was alright. Cass beamed at her dad, and he smiled back, soft and warm. Then he winked and told her to gather her brothers. She had to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then skipped off back to the table, snatching more gingerbread on her way.

This time she saved one cookie, giving it to Jason as she told them, “Go home now.”

Everyone cheered, except Damian who asked Tim three times whether or not he’d factored in what region of France the hens had come from, as he’d found there was a wide variation of price.

“Yes, Dami, I just took the mean, calm down.”

They continued discussing things until they were out in the cold air, and had to stop to run to the car, where Alfred and Bruce already sat waiting.

“I see you all found a way to entertain yourselves,” Bruce said mildly.

Jason pointed a finger at him, gesture as threating as if he held a knife.

“If you make me go to a party with these hooligans ever again, Bruce,” he warned, “you owe me reparations equal to whatever the hell crazy total Timbit figures out, adjusted for inflation.”

“I…”

“Adjusted for inflation?” Tim looked up from his phone in shock, tapped a few more keys, and slowly shook his head. “Yeah, no, B, Jason’s definitely not worth that much to have around.”

“Tim,” Dick started, “be ni—oh.”

Bruce shook his head, smiling fondly. “I’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re priceless to me, Jaylad.”

“Shut up,” Jason muttered, turning pink.

[asoulofatlantis]

I stay with what I said yesterday. Zephyr did not get the ending he deserved. At the very least, they should have let him hold his sons hand and tell him he loved him. He deserved that much. And that he couldn't do it, made his death maybe more frustrating for Law, but surely not any "better" in the players eyes.

I agree with him here. I get that she meant well, but saying "focus on the positive" and saying that the positive thing is that they beat the lord isn't exactly the sensible thing to say here, when Alphen is mourning Zephyrs death. If she had at least said: "We helped his beloved son to get revenge" or something that would put some more meaning to the Lords death, it might have been acceptable, but with what and how she said it, she seems really... cold.

She... just slapt him. Imagine how much more that would have hurt if he could feel her thorns ^^'

Sure. Fighting was certainly easier with more people in my team. Plus... with those two constantly bickering idiots, it will be nice to... you know... have someone friendly and normal around too XD

That looks much better! Me likes.

Look how fast we gained a team of four. We will be unstoppable now XD Seriously, the fighting is a lot harder than one would thin, seeing that I am one the easiest difficulty. But even with my WeMod-Cheats I had some healing to do lately... and my characters all fight on auto and thus are better at dodging and stuff. I am glad I do not have to fight by myself AND without cheats ^^'

This is getting really annyoing. Its like he can't help but only see bad things in what she is saying, even if she says something that doesn't sound she meant anything bad with it. At first these two bickering was kind of amusing. But at this point, all the misunderstandings between them are just annoying and I wish we could finally come to the point were they start to understand each other.

Well... I guess she finally starts to be more honest with him. Its a start.

These 3 seems to be getting along just fine. But Shionne is still such a problem...

The boys decided to... well train harder because Law want to become stronger than Alpen and Alphen is not having it and the girls find all that very ridiculous. But it is fairly amusing to watch XD

XD Okay, that really was funny. I love how the dynamic of this team has changed now that Law is with us. He has a nice chemistry with Rinwell and builds up a brotherly bond with Alphen. The only one still stuck up is Shionne. I hope it gets better soon too.

So... does a nice Lord mean no fighting? O.o Will it truly be that easy?

Not exactly a name I like... but its not her fault so I'll be nice to her for now XD

That was really stupid of her... She attacked the Lord from behind without any warning and without much reason other than whatever her actual reason is to see all the Lord dead. In any case, he was faster and better than her and now Alphen takes the brunt of her punishment. It seemed a weird reaction tho. She is usually the voice of reason among the team, what was she thinking?

Seriously. You are not one to talk about carelessness Shionne, not after what you just did and how stupidly rash it was.

Hui... he is really agitated about that. "You could have been hurt!" it was almost adorable for someone who keeps arguing with her all the time.

Thanks for telling her that. Because otherwise that would probably just have lead to another stupid misunderstanding otherwise.

What the hell? This guy attacked him even after he told him to stop, he had no choice but to defend himself. That wasn't his fault at all!

Law really rules. For a moment I thought he was possessed or something. Or was weird because of possible poison in the floor or something. But I guess he just noticed Kisara following us.

He has the same voice as black Alberich... its slightly distracting XD

So its like in FF16? When they use up all their spiritual energy or whatever they call it... they... turn to stone or metal or something like this?

Okay. Time for a break.

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 4

Last time on video games, I got into a lot of bar fights but also beat up the Chamberlain and stole his clothes.

This time on video games, Brea’s subplot isn’t great for this type of game?

Dreamfast Memory: Tomes and Tithing

Oh come on, what possible fighting is Brea going to find in a library? Dangit Brea no roughhousing in the library! Also Boggi the fizzgig is there.

oh my god i have to beat up librarians. Breeeeeeaaaa!!

I guess I don't HAVE to. I just have to collect five tomes while librarians try to beat Brea up for asking questions.

But I beat up everyone anyway.

Brea has an interesting way of reading books, hitting them with a staff and all. So in the end I beat up all the librarians so I could read books by hitting them. Brea might be a bad reader.

---

Dreamfast Memory: The Order of Lesser Service

I'm starting to think that Brea's side of the story has to be square pegged into a round hole to get it to fit a trpg game. Why on thra is there a mission for giving podlings baths? Am I going to be knocking them unconscious to get them into the baths? I'm not comfortable with this, Brea!

I'm putting Deet and Hup here for true timeline breaking nonsense.

Hup, I hope you're not going to be attacking your fellows just because I put you in this level.

Service Leader: "Cleanse your mistakes by bathing Podlings!" This is so weird. The podlings don't like it. The Gelflings forced to do this doesn't like it. Who actually likes this?

Apparently the mission goal is to capture 4 podlings. By knocking them out?

Also, their unit name is Dirty Podling, which I don't find as delightful as Rude Gelfling.

Also they're throwing rocks at me. Which, fair enough.

Boggi is here too. He's Brea's pet fizzgig. He was in the library mission too. Kind of cool that fizzgigs are units in the game. Wanna see some landstriders tho. Yup. You 'capture' podlings by 'hitting them' enough times that they pass out.

This is just a weird decision all around.

The Service Leader is a playable unit here too. He has the Firemoss ability. He's throwing fireballs at podlings that just want to not take a bath.

So after knocking four podlings unconscious, Brea makes a deal with a fifth one that she won't make him take a bath if he doesn't tell anyone she's ditching this fucked up charity work.

---

Dreamfast Memory: Thra's True Balance So this is the part where Brea finds the secret room beneath the All-Maudra throne. Again, Brea's part of the story doesn't lend itself to the gameplay we have.

And the mission this time is to activate all the levers by the pillars the represent the clans before a Darkened Nurloc kills us all. Us being an out of place Naia and Kylan. Also Brea and Boggi.

So you can just race around the map activating switches without bothering to fight things. But more creatures spawn as you activate switches. I definitely remember this from the show.

After hitting the switches in random order as convenient, Brea: "Wait, the order doesn't matter! Of course... all the clans are equal!"

And this epiphany unlocks Brea and Boggi for my party. Woo.

---

And now the story is being told by Brea's journal. Are we still in flashback zone? Are we getting second hand exposition within a flashback? Maybe instead of dreamfast memories the early parts of the game should have been told via Brea's journal. She's actually putting more of a context to things than playing random memories has been.

The transition from Dreamfast memories to the 'present' doesn't have Aughra say anything even though she's the one who was presiding over the dreamfast. The game's story presentation could have used a couple more drafts.

Anyway, Boggi's class is Fizzgig Medic. He doesn't have a class tree so its just that class forever. Also he can't equip much equipmanet as he does not have hands. I love him.

He has moves like Encouraging Yap and Insistent Bark. Insistent Bark revives knocked out allies. Because its so insistent.

Couple more nonrandom encounters for XP and I'm getting my first gelflings able to get tier 2 jobs. Deet is going to be an Adept! And Kylan is going to be a Thief because I might train him to be a grave dancer.

And now everyone is level 10 and get to have cool jobs. Hup is gonna be a Tamer! Cause that way he gets a pet! Sure, his dream was to be a Paladin his whole life and I've kind of steered him by the shoulder to another career path but... pet!

Brea is gonna be a Bramble Sage. She beats up librarians, she's the sort who'd want to set people on fire with her mind.

So at this point in the game, I had to actually go and get back to watching the show cause I was getting to the parts where I left off and I didn't want to experience the plot first through the game.

I’ve been sitting on these notes for a bit!

Some game mechanics stuff. You can rotate the map. It took me way too long to realize that and I was annoyed at things being obstructed by scenery.

Aside from good ol' Boggi the Fizzgig, the characters can have three abilities from a primary job and two from a secondary. Like the job mixing from Final Fantasy Tactics Advance but with more tough choices.

So Brea should have been in an olde Lucasarts style point and click? Solving puzzles and uncovering Lore ha ha

... I’d play the heck out of a Dark Crystal point and click.

[clearlydiamondz]

Drug Lords

Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader

- - - - - - - - - -

Drug lord Erik Stevens have some dealings with his weapon supplier. He makes it known that no one is going to mess with her..

Warning: Smut, cursing, killing, 

- - - - - - - - - -

(Y/N) woke up at around 2:00 in the morning, her sleep was totally off. She went to bed around 10 but for some odd reason she couldn’t get to sleep. It was messing up her entire sleep schedule. She looked at her phone and saw that she had a text message from the one and only Erik Stevens. He sent a text over a little hour ago. She opened it.

Erik- you up?

She rolled her eyes. It’s been a couple of weeks since she last talked to him. She cussed him out when one of his little hoes had the nerves to hit her phone up after getting her number, saying how she was going to beat her ass when he find out who she was.

Little did she know who she really was...

She knew why he was texting her. It was a Friday night, he was most likely drunk and wanting to have sex. She’s not going to lie, she wanted some dick. And Erik sure as hell knew how to deliver it. She decided to text him back.

maybe, why ?

She grabbed her phone, slipping on one of her over sized T-Shirts and walked downstairs.

At the age of 24, (Y/N) ran her own ring. She moved and sold weaponry and technology to other lords, Erik being one of them. She made a lot of money, and made quite the reputation for herself. Erik respected that.

Erik- I’m pullin up,

She didn’t text him back. She gave him a keycard to her penthouse months ago whenever he wanted to come here and lay low.

She walked into her office, walking to her safe and grabbing her pink weed jar, wraps and her lighter. She walked back to the kitchen rolling a blunt. She heard the elevator coming up, before looking and seeing him step out. He had on a dark grey Nike sweat suit, a pair of white Nike Air Forces, and a black beanie.

“Why are you up?” he asked her placing his keys and wallet on the counter. She shrugged.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to roll a blunt?” he asked leaning on the counter as she nodded.

“Yup, maybe this could help.” she smelled the liquor on him.

“How you get her so fast?” she asked him as he shrugged his shoulders.

“I was on my way when you texted me back.” he said.

‘What if I had someone over here?” she asked him tilting his head to the side as he rolled his eyes, smacking his teeth.

“(Y/N) stop fucking playing with me.” he told her as she scoffed.

“Whatever, I would offer you a drink but you seem a little tipsy.” she chuckled, bringing the blunt to her lips before lighting it. She took a breath letting the smoke fill before letting it out. Erik grabbed the blunt from her taking a puff of it, a longer  one than she.

“Damn this is good...” he coughed a bit before she tilted her head.

“So um, why are you here?” she asked him tilting her head to the side. “It’s not very usual that Erik tries to see the girl who cussed him out.” she said drinking from her water bottle.

“Well for one, I wanted to come by and see you. I’ve been texting your phone and you have been ignoring me.” he said as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah... because I’m mad at you. I don’t need another one of your little bitches texting me.” she said in a matter of fact tone.

“Bruh I said, I don’t know how that bitch got into my phone, dead ass.” he said as she shook her head. “I’m being forreal. We did things a couple of months ago, I’m guessing she thought it was something more. She was over at JJ’s house while we were playing poker and I left my phone in kitchen. I’m guessing she saw the messages.. you know actually I think she saw the video of you playing in ya pussy and thought-” she hit him in the arm as he laughing.  

“I’m playin... but I still got that video.” he said. For some odd reason, him still having that video made her feel a little thump down there, but she couldn’t let him know that.

Erik did miss her.. like a lot. Nevermind the sex, he just loved being in her presence. In being without her for the past few weeks without her had a huge tole on him.

“Yeah because your a nasty ass nigga. That’s why.” she said taking the blunt from him, making her way back upstairs him following her. “You’re lucky I didn’t come by and shoot that bitch in her face.”

“Trust me.. you would’ve done been doing us both a favor.” he said. “Also, I want to make a deal with you. Word on the street you got some new weaponry, parts from Stark Industries.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe? Now that Tony is dead, government been trying to move his weapons. Straight disrespectful.” she said walking into her room. He took off his shoes and sweat shirt showing the white tank top, and his scars. “A couple of people interrupted the move, stole some equipment. Sold it on the black market,  I got my hands on some of the equipment. It was a hefty penny though. Making sure it couldn’t be tracked, tweaking it and shit. Costed me over 5 million for everything.” she said sitting on her bed taking a puff from the blunt. She was definitely starting to feel the high.

“How much you selling it for?”

“Well, I was able to make different things with it. So, depending on what it is. The lowest price I got so far is 250k.” she said handing him the blunt. He sat down in the recliner she had in her room.

“Damn,,”

“Yeah, I’ve already got people trying to do pre-orders but you know that’s not really my thing.” she said.

“So, will I be able to get my hands on a few.” he asked her as she laughed.

“Oh, your too funny. Just like everyone else, you need to come in contact with my team. Then I’ll see if you can get some of those products.” she responded. He kissed his teeth.

“Sorry, just because you’re the only client that I’ve had sex with doesn’t mean you can just get to me to get access or discounts.” she said. “If I thought with my Punani instead of my head with y’all niggas, I’d be broker than broke. No offense.”

“Yeah, you got a point.” she put the blunt on the night stand before standing up. She walked towards him, throwing her legs over him, sitting down in his lap before he leaned back placing his hands on her ass rubbing it.

“I’m guessing you missed me too.”

“Yeah, I guess I missed your big headed ass.” she sighed, as he gave her ass a slap. She jumped a bit before biting his lip. He forgot that she liked that.

She felt his dick pressing on her. “What you want from me, huh?” he asked her as they smirked each other. His plump lips was pouted and his eyes hang low, probably feeling a little high from the blunt. All she saw was a beautiful ass man, with a face she could use as a seat.

“I wanna ride your face.”

He raised an eyebrow at her as she smiled innocently at him. His mouth started to water at the thought of her pussy in his mouth. It was crazy how sweet she tasted, especially when she came. Tasted like honey and brown sugar.

He placed his hands under ass before standing up and walking to her bed. He placed her down before looking at her. He leaned down grabbing her by the con before leaning in for a kiss. The kiss was sweet and passionate. He really wanted to show her how much he missed her.

As they kissed, his hand trailed up the shirt coming into contact with her clothed wetness. He pulled them off with both hands still kissing her. His fingers found her clot rubbing it. His fingers were cold, she shivered at the coldness and the sensitivity. She moaned into the kiss as he pulled away.

“I’m barely touching you and your already breaking.” he chuckled. He sat down beside her before taking his shoes of then pulling her into his lap and laying back. “Come set that pussy on my tongue.” without a second thought, she lifted  her shirt, letting it sit over her ass as she placed herself on his tongue. Without hesitation, Erik had his tongue deep inside of her.

He could physically feel her squeezing himself around his dick making him moan, “Fuck daddy... eat my pussy just like that.” she whimpered out. He gripped her ass cheeks, squeezing one as she moaned.

She grinded her hips, riding his tongue as she threw her head back. He was trying to talk to her, but he had his mouth full.

He reached down, grabbing his dick palming it through his sweats. It was getting painful, and the restrictions of his sweatpants was not helping. She looked back and saw him touching his self before an idea popped into her head.  

“Hold up.” she lifted herself off before turning around. She hovered over his face, pulling the band from his sweatpants down. She pulled down the red and black Gucci boxers down freeing him as he winced. She looked at his dick before licking her lips. He was beautiful. Long and thick, pre cum dripping down the sides running down the veins. Within a split second, her lips wrapped around the tip, as her tongue swirled around it collecting all of his pre cum. She  moaned at the taste, he always tasted like fruit.

“Fuck.. don’t tease me. Put all of daddy in ya mouth.” he grunted. She followed his instructions before wrapping her hands around the base of his dick. She moved her hands slowly stroking as she sucked him.

“C’mon on daddy, keep eating my pussy..” she encouraged him as he moaned.

“Freaky ass.. I got you.” His lips wrapped her clit, sucking on it as she moaned around his dick. The feeling of giving and receiving pleasure at the same time wasn’t new to her, but her first time doing it, she knew that this wasn’t the last time doing it.

He was big, but she was determined to fit him all her in mouth. And she did just that. His dick was deep in her throat, she hummed in pleasure, the vibrations sent to him as he let out a deep  moan. “Fuck baby girl...” he moaned as she smiled. She leaned up, stroking him while rubbing along his hard dick, her spit dripping down to his balls.

He slowly thrusted into her hand as she smirked at his desperation. Finally, she had him like putty in her hands. She lifted up off of him before kissing him. She straddled his hips, his dick slightly rubbing against her pussy, the both of them moaning. She stood up, breaking away from her as she smiled.

She pulled the T-Shirt from her body before he stood up, taking off his clothes. She got down on her knees before looking up at him, batting her eyelashes at him. “You want daddy to fuck your throat. Huh?” he asked cupping her cheeks as she nodded. “No, say it.”

“I want daddy to fuck my throat.. pretty please.” she begged licking the tip as he threw his head bad.

“There you go, beg me. Open your fucking mouth.” he said. Her mouth was open and he inserted her mouth, before thrusting in and out of he mouth. She loved gagging on his dick, and she knew that he loved that sound.

He was talking, but she wasn’t paying attention. She was just focused on the attack on her throat. She snuck her hands down the front, inserting a finger in her wetness before moaning, her eyes rolling back as she fingered herself.

“Yeah, play with that wet ass pussy. I can hear that shit all the way from up here.” she looked up at him, holding his dick in her throat. He pulled out.

“There is no way I’m cumming like that.” he said before grabbing her by her face and lifting her up. He smashed his lips into her, the two of them kissing in sync. “Fuck me...” she whispered. In a swift movement, Erik pushed her on the bed, as she opened up her legs.

The wetness was smeared all on her inner thighs, the center glowing with her wetness as she smirked at him. “Fuck..” he grunted getting in between her legs. He kissed her, distracting her from her. He inserted her as she gasped.

“Shit daddy..” she moaned. Damn she was hella tight. “Fuck your too big.” she whispered throwing her head back. Erik kissed along her neck, to her chin, then placed a kissed on her lips.

“Quit all that, take this dick like a big girl. Ain’t ya first time, so take it.” he said slowly stroking her. Already, she was creaming on his dick.

“Mmm, daddy. Fuck me just like that.” she whimpered out as he smiled at her.

“Yeah.. that’s right. Take this dick in that tight ass pussy. Making a mess all over my dick.. disrespectful.” he grunted out. She bit down on her lip, opening her eyes meeting his. She clenched her self tighter just to get a reaction out of him. His eyes fluttered closed, as he clenched his jaw. She smirked. .

“Daddy don’t slow down, that shit feels too good.” she teased him. It pissed him off how fast she was about to cum.. way too fast. And she was teasing him about it.

“Come up here ride my shit, since you wanna be all bold and shit. Hurry that ass up.” They flipped over as Erik was on his back. She sat down on his dick moaning as it hit her walls.

“Shit.. just use my shit bitch. That’s it.” he grunted as she moaned. She was so close and he was too. Maybe it was just because of the way that they were fucking each other, or maybe it was because it’s been a minute since the last time they fucked, but the two of them were both on edge.

She leaned back opening her legs as she showing him going in and out of her. “Feels so good.” she whispered to herself.

“Yeah show me all that. Just nasty..” he grunted fucking up into her. He was cumming. There was no point in stopping or trying to hold back considering he was close. And by the look and feel of the things, she was close to. 

“Daddy...  I’ma gonna-” She was interrupted by him cumming deep inside her walls. He moaned out, digging his hands in her ass as she moaned out loud. She continued fucking him, chasing her own orgasm. 

“Fuck.. fuck.” he grunted out as she continued riding him. That’s when she squirted all over his stomach. She fell forward, her head resting in her neck as they stayed like that for a minute. 

“We need to go again.. that shit was-”

“Hold up.. I need to catch my breath. You know I got asthma.” she said as he laughed. 

“You need ya inhaler or something?”

“Nah, lemme just catch my breath.”

- - - - - - - - - - - 

(Y/N) walked into the warehouse, looking at her woman pointing their gun at the poor man. The captain of the group, Venom, had her knife to his neck. 

Let’s just say, her team was ruthless. They were a team made of women, who handled her.. business. They were called the Mona Lisa’s. Mainly because they showed no remorse or emotion. But because the actual Mona Lisa was beautiful and mysterious, they gained that nickname. The tricked men into get information, they were amazing actresses actually. They could make somebody feel wanted and loved... and we all know how dangerous that could be.

“Who are you?” 

“I ain’t telling you shit, bitch.” he snapped at her as she rolled her eyes. 

“We gonna skip that part where you try to be all tough. There is nothing stopping Venom here from slashing your throat and trust me. That would most definitely be the high light of her day.” she warned him. “Actually, the highlight of her day would be torturing you until you speak.” she said matter of factly.

“Weak ass bitches, you don’t scare no body.” (Y/N) looked at Venom and smirked at him. 

“You take your time with him. Call me when he says something.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

(Y/N) ran a face scan through the system, to find out that he use to work for Erik. Name was Claw. Nasty and just plain annoying. After stealing money from Erik and killing one of his close friends, he was never seen again. Erik and a lot of other lords

“So what is this surprise you got for me?” he asked him walking past her in her quarters where they did their interrogations. The entire time he was looking at her ass. They walked to the door as she turned around, 

“Look for yourself.” He walked in the room, looking in the glass window seeing him tied to a chair, as Venom continued cutting his fingers off his one hand, piece by piece. 

“Is that-”

“In the flesh. I caught him trying to sneak into my warehouse where I’m holding some of my weapons.” she said as he looked at her. 

“I hope it’s not the-”

“It’s not the Stark ones. Those are in Alaska. But I’m worried. Out of all my years of moving and supplying, I’ve never had someone successfully break into my warehouse. And I know the Mona Lisa’s aren’t slacking because they are highly trained. I sent over a hundred of them to Alaska to protect the gear.” she said biting her acrylic thumb in nervousness. “This idiot was dumb coming in here alone, but I know niggas. Niggas that are smarter, and I just have this deep feeling that someone is planning something to get at me.” she looked at Erik. He’s known her for years, she’s never really shown nervousness or being scared. He saw that she was genuinely scared. Some might say she was over thinking, but in her line of work you could  never over think.

“Aye calm down, I promise you I won’t let anyone get to you, ight. Even if it takes my last breath.” he reassured her. “Starting with this motherfucker. I’m killing his ass.” he said about to walk to the door to entre the room but she stopped him.

“Wait, lemme talk to him. I got a plan.” she walked into the room before walking over to her. 

“Alright, so I know who you are.” she said as he cursed. 

“You knew who I was this entire time and you’ve been letting this crazy bitch do this shit!” he yelled at her as (Y/N) laughed. 

“Man, calm down. I ain’t even that serious. Plus, it’s been a minute since Venom have had a little bit of fun. She deserves it.” (Y/N) smiled at Venom as Venom smirked at her. 

“Anyways, I know that you’re working with Erik. Or use to work with him. I sent a couple of my girls over there to do.. a lil bit of damage. Kill some of his goons, injure a couple more, but I’m keeping Erik alive.” he said as Claw shook his head. 

“Your dumb if you did that.”

“Well, you and I both know the success rate my girls have so...” she trailed off. 

“No, your dumb if you think that I still work for that bum ass nigga, or I’m trying to get in good terms with him. Fuck his bitch ass..” he said. She chuckled. 

“Well it make sense..  I mean, you were his close friend. Right hand man. Makes since you’d try to steal my shit. I did tell my girls to make sure that Erik know your alive.” she said as his face turned to complete fear. She tilted her head to the side pouting. 

“Tell me why you tried stealing my shit.”

“I-I was doing it to have so I could sell it.” he said as she rolled her eyes. That’s all she wanted to hear but she still wanted to fuck with him. 

“Bull shit. Tell the truth. Either way you’re going to die whether it’s by me or by him. Why?”

“I’m telling you. I only wanted to sell it. Everyone know your work is worth billions and I-I needed some quick cash. J-Just don’t tell him I’m alive.”

“Damn,,, for him to be a bum ass nigga, you a lil scared ain’t you,” she said tilting her head to the side. “Anyways he knows so..” she shrugged. 

“N-No he doesn’t. He would’ve been here by-” she looked towards the window than looked back at him. He got the hint. The door opened and Erik walked in, the vein in forehead popping out as his jaw clenched.

“So I’ma a bum ass nigga now?” he asked him, (Y/N) rolled her eyes. She knew his Ego was hurt. Erik looked at Venom, before smiling at her. 

“Thanks Sweetheart. Love what you did but I got it from here.” he winked at her as she smiled blushing. 

“No problem Erik.” she walked out as (Y/N) chuckled. 

Venom was dangerous, well that’s how she got her nickname. But deep down, she was a girl that blushed even at the smallest compliments. She was a sweetie, but if it came down to it, she didn’t hesitate to drop a body. And she did enjoy tourtuing somebody for her enjoyment.  

“Look Erik-”

“Don’t say my name. First of all, I’ma kill you for what you did to me. But- I’ma make sure that shit is slow. Especially coming up in here fucking with her. And about that one, I’ma make sure yo ass wish you were dead.”

“Well you have your fun, let me know when everything is done so I can have someone come clean up ya mess.” she placed a kiss on his cheek before walking out. 

She knew that Erik was gonna handle business for her, maybe he’ll get a lil something for it.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Here’s a lil fact about me, I’m obsessed with Erik and reader being lords or mob bosses or whatever you wanna call it. 

Taglist:

@sociallyawkward18 @raysunshine78 

@justgetitoverwith0 

[skekheck]

Theory: UrVa’s Arrows Were Originally Meant To Incapacitate, Not Kill, skekMal

Maybe this is common consensus, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. On the surface, it seemed like urVa had wanted to put an end to skekMal at the Circle of the Suns and the Hunter escaped before he could finish the job. But then there was this line in episode 10 that always felt odd to me:

urVa: I had a dream that I was one that became two that became one again. I looked through my dark half’s eyes and knew Aughra was right. [...] ...The Hunt must end. 

It’s just “but urVa, weren’t you doing just that a day or so prior?”. But then after rewatching their standoff again it hit me: maybe urVa’s intentions were not to kill skekMal but to incapacitate him.

Let’s look at the scene again

SkekMal was shot a total of three times: the first one through his upper arm, the second around the bottom right of his torso, and the last through his upper leg (possibly thigh?). 

(Sorry couldn’t find a better pic of his leg shot)

Weird places to aim for if urVa had wanted to kill him, right? Wouldn’t he have gone for targets that would more likely result in death, like the throat or through the eye sockets? It’s not like he would miss: urVa’s a master marksman. Instead, all three shots prevented (or at least was an attempt to stop) skekMal without taking his life.

The first shot prevented skekMal from harming Rian. The second was retaliation for ignoring the Archer’s warning. UrVa flat out told him to not approach the Gelfling but you see the Hunter take a step forward anyway, prompting him to release the second arrow. The final one was an attempt to stop skekMal from escaping with Brea. Seeing as how urVa immediately collapsed after firing that arrow, it would have worked. However, he underestimated how committed skekMal was to the Hunt, considering he pushed through the pain to get what he needed done.

Those arm and leg wounds aren’t inherently life-threatening. The arrow in his torso, though, is more concerning. It’s possible it could have had or at least be at risk of damaging his organs. Now, the Skeksis have weird-as-fuck anatomy (that goes without saying) so we have no real way of knowing if it was endangering him or not. But considering the nature of his other two wounds, I don’t think it was a kill shot. A more serious wound, but not deadly if tended to. And that’s probably what urVa intended: he aimed for that spot in the hopes skekMal would stop to take care of his wounds. 

But Weren’t Both skekMal and urVa In Critical Condition?

Oh yeah, they still were and skekMal’s partially to blame for it. It’s not a great idea to move around too much with arrows lodged in you. The arrow heads and shaft could move around and cause more internal damage. SkekMal moving made what would have been minor to moderate wounds way more serious. Not to mention, he never stopped to pull them out and heal himself: he kept those things in. 

And let’s not forget how far of a distance between the Circle of the Suns and the Castle is. There are multiple versions of maps of Thra that have some siginifcant differences, but the main point is those two locations are pretty far from each other. Even if he used Bennu to fly all the way over to the Castle, skekMal would still have to deal with Brea thrashing around on his back. And it looks like he took a detour to grab a cage for her, which he then dragged through the Castle’s corridors. Baiting Rian and his friends just so he can fulfill his Hunt was apparently more important to him than his well-being (which is ironic if you believe skekMal’s philosophy surrounding the Hunt is his own way of self-preservation).

EDIT: Wanted to add that skekMal was in a difficult position in terms of what he wanted. He would know that if he’d pull those arrows out he would have to treat them right away otherwise he’d bleed to death. At the same time, he would also had to keep Brea from escaping. I think he weighed his options and found that he’d had more success just pushing through it and keeping them in then treat them later. SkekMal might had also thought the other Skeksis would be able to treat him if it was serious enough? 

And SkekTek Made It Worse

SkekTek is no doctor. He can cut up and research on animals all he wants, but that doesn’t count as medical knowledge. It’s painfully obvious he has no idea what he’s doing: his diagnosis and treatment of skekMal’s condition is enough proof of that. And speaking of which, skekTek’s diagnosis is full of nonsense:

Skektek: Subject suffers severe exsanguination. Extreme distress to the humus. [...] Imbalance of intrinsic fluids. Manifold ruptures in corporeal morphology. [Checks for a heart beat] Ah. Ah... . Expiration... is... [dramatic pause] inevitable.

Literally he’s saying skekMal has multiple holes in his body and he’s bleeding out. You know, pointing out the obvious. Also, I tried finding out if “humus” related to anything biologically, but all I could find was it’s a term for... soil made of organic matter. I’m not sure what he was trying to refer to, I think he was just misusing it to make himself sound smart.

EDIT: I have been told by a few people that skekTek might be referring the humerus, which is a bone found in the upperarm that’s forms joints at the elbow and shoulder. This would make more sense and would mean skekTek made a proper diagnosis. However, at least to me, it still sounds like he’s saying humus. Another skeksis repeats him and they also say humus, not humerus. Turning on the captions also has it as humus. This could either be a typo or skekTek did mean humerus, but said humus instead. 

And how he actually treats skekMal is atrocious. 

He pulls the arrows out without making any attempts to stop the bleeding, clean the wounds, or apply stitches. He’s letting him bleed out and he should at least know they need blood to live. Do you know what happens when someone loses too much blood? Among other side effects, organ failure and falling into a coma. SkekTek did eventually made an effort to heal skekMal by giving him essence, but it was too little too late. SkekMal’s condition was so far gone at that point he really needed Aughra’s essence to survive.

UrVa’s Intentions

And now we’re going right back to urVa. While thinking over on urVa’s actions, I started wondering if he anticipated skekMal wouldn’t stay put and that the Hunter would do his own self in by moving around with the arrows lodged in him. I mean, urVa is a mystic, an indirect kill would make sense. But giving it more thought, I don’t think that’s the case. A lot of his actions during the series suggests otherwise. 

UrVa was very contemplative, even saddened, about having to end the Hunt for skekMal. He is not like his other half: he respected and appreciated all life on Thra. He also sees the cycle of life as well as the wilderness as something untamable. This is implied while he was talking with Aughra in episode 4:

urVa: We do not get to decide when our part in the song is finished.

While urVa is one of the more proactive Mystics, he still is... a Mystic. He doesn’t believe he should manipulate or control what goes on around him and let things be. The Bestiary book points to the fact that while urVa did keep tabs on skekMal, he never interfered with his hunts. So it was a big deal when Aughra quested him with the task of stopping skekMal. 

Also I’d like to point out urVa and Aughra’s final conversation because it’s also important for this discussion:

urVa; And where does my path lead? Aughra: Into the sands to face the Hunter. urVa: [sighing and looks away from Aughra for a moment] I cannot defeat my dark half. Aughra: You will find a way. But not without sacrifice.  urVa: And if I fail? Aughra: The heroes of Thra will be lost. urVa: Mm... [pauses and takes a deep breath] I will end the hunt. Aughra: Good. Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed. We have much to do. [...] urVa: [pauses and looks at Aughra] Will we meet again, Aughra? Aughra: [stops walking, saddened] Hm... [faces him] Some things... even Aughra cannot see, old friend.  [urVa pauses and then groans, walks away from Aughra as they both parted ways for the final time]

He shows a lot of hesitance in completing this task. I’m sure he knew what Aughra was implying: that he may have to take skekMal’s life away but he still went and asked if they would meet each other again anyway. I think he was hoping for a positive answer, that it wouldn’t have to come to that, and seemed disheartened by her answer. But he still tried. He tried to stop skekMal in a way that, while not exactly peaceful, was not meant to be life-threatening. UrVa even pleads for him to stop... twice! The first time as skekMal was making his get-away and the second time while urVa helplessly watched him go after Rian again through the Hunter’s eyes. 

These two only had one scene together so we don’t really know the extent of their relationship. But if there’s one thing that’s clear was the conflict between them. I mean, during their whole duel, the characters were purposely placed on opposite sides of the room while making sure to show that skekGra and urGoh, a pair who were able to find harmony, were always side by side. It’s also in the way they address each other: while urVa does refer to him as his dark half, he also called him by his name. SkekMal, meanwhile, only ever referred to urVa as his title and nothing more. 

But I don’t think urVa had any ill-will towards his Skeksis. He seemed understanding of him and valued his life as much as he valued all living beings on Thra. I think if they both didn’t end up in a near-death situation, he’d try incapacitating skekMal again. However he understood and accepted his situation towards the end: with skekMal on an essence high, incapacitation method was no longer possible. If he allowed it to go on, all of Thra would be at risk. It was a desperate situation, but he knew Aughra was right. She gave up her life for the preservation of the world and urVa knew he had to do the same: for her and for Thra. The Hunt had to end and in order to protect the world he cherished he had to make the ultimate sacrifice. 

[laws-yellow-submarine]

Uhhhh hi? Lol I dunno if anyone remembers this, but this past May I mentioned I was going through quite a lot, and at the time I had a Hazel-focused Mother's Day angst one-shot half-written, that never got finished.

Well, it's 3:30 am, and it's finished! 😃 this was written on my phone, so it may not be well edited, and I can't guarantee it's 100% in character; but it was cathartic as hell. I won't be including this in Together With Fruit (it just doesn't fit anywhere), but I will say it's 100% canon to Hazel’s character/story. That being said, you don't have to read it if you don't want to - it's a little heavy, imo, and I won't be offended if people skip it.

But without further ado, I present: The Problems with Mother's Day

TW/CW: Parental angst, estranged parent relationships, mentions of death, feelings of inadequacy (if I need to add anything lemme know!)

Word Count: 2,052

-------

From the moment Hazel opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be a long day. The skies were cloudy, the waves choppy, and her roommate��s face was about ten inches away, smiling a little too sweetly.

“Ahh!” she yelled, jumping back in bed. “Nami, what the hell?!”

“Oh good, you’re up!” Nami chirped at her, doing nothing to alleviate the suspicion in Hazel’s gut. “I need a favor!”

“I told you before: if Luffy gets his head stuck between the railings, it’s better to just leave him there or he’ll never learn his lesson.”

“No, no, not that, silly!” Hazel glared further at the young woman, suspicion thoroughly piqued. “See, it’s Mother’s Day! Normally, Nojiko and I have a tradition of cooking a big breakfast, but since she’s obviously not here, I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” and then she flashed the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Hazel had ever seen. Which was saying something, considering how often Ace had tried to use that on her when they were kids. 

There was just one issue.

“It’s Mother’s Day?” Hazel groaned, rubbing one hand over her face. Nami took her groaning as a sign of tiredness, and enthusiastically nodded her head.

“Please, Hazel? My sister and I do this every year, and I’d really like to share it with you!”

Guilt gnawed at Hazel’s gut. How could she possibly say “no” now?

“Sure, Nami...just,” she sighed, “give me a second to get dressed.” And then Nami let out a squeal, of all things, hugged the purple-haired girl around the shoulders, and bounded up the stairs.

Left alone, Hazel took a deep, shuddery breath. Then she took another one. Then another, on and on until they became steadier, and the world didn’t feel like it’d swallow her up right there. She stood up, padding over to the closet the girls shared, and quickly threw on a plain t-shirt and shorts; something she wouldn’t be upset about getting messy. She threw her curly hair into a messy ponytail, squared her shoulders, and with a firm nod of her head, she followed after Nami.

It was early, enough so that the sun had barely peaked over the horizon. With all the clouds in the sky, the seascape remained a rather dull blue, the orange of the sun’s rays blocked from view. Even Sanji, who normally woke up pretty early to get a start on breakfast, was still nestled deep in his hammock down below.

“How’d you manage to secure the kitchen for the day?” she asked as she entered the galley, deftly catching the apron Nami tossed her way.

“I told Sanji-kun I had something special planned, batted my eyelashes a bit, and he was convinced to sleep in for a day,” Nami explained, pulling the last of the ingredients from the fridge and setting them on the counter. “I’ve got the pancake batter covered, if you wanna get a start on the bacon!”

Hazel slid up to the counter, eyeing the array of food and utensils the navigator had set out. It had been a while since she'd made bacon - Luffy had a habit of stealing the still sizzling strips from the pan - but she dutifully set to work at the stove as Nami chatted on.

"One year, Belle-mere wasn't able to afford our usual breakfast ingredients, so Nojiko and I had to improvise," the younger woman was saying as she steadily dribbled pancake batter onto the skillet. "We snuck into the tangerine grove and picked as many as we could find, but we stuck to the smaller ones so they wouldn't be missed." Hazel hummed in acknowledgement, gut churning. "Nojiko set up an entire tray of tangerines cut into different shapes, but when Belle-mere tried to eat? Her face puckered up like this!"

Nami's face scrunched into an expression that resembled a dried up pufferfish, cheeks sunken in and eyes screwed shut, before she bust out laughing at the memory. Hazel smiled good-naturedly, piling more bacon onto the plate beside her, and Nami launched into another story.

"Oh! And then there was the year I tried to make the pancakes by myself for the first time! Normally that was Nojiko's job, but I convinced her to let me try," the navigator said, eyes far away as she expertly flipped another pancake. "The entire kitchen ended up covered in batter! I'm not even sure how it happened - I thought Belle-mere would be furious! I was so scared I hid in the closet, but I didn't realize I'd tracked flour behind me." Nami shook her head, smiling. "Belle-mere opened the closet door, took one look at me, and grinned this huge grin. She said it was the 'best year ever'..."

Hazel bit her cheek as Nami sighed wistfully. "Belle-mere was always saying that: it was the 'best year ever', no matter how much we ruined breakfast."

"Hm."

"Hazel, are you ok?"

"Huh?" Hazel glanced at her in surprise, then quickly resumed her task, tension coiling in her gut as she nodded. Just breathe, Hazel…

"Are you sure?" Nami asked, worry ringing in her voice. "You don't seem to be having much fun."

"I'm fine, Nami," Hazel grit out, flinching back as a drop of grease jumped out at her.

"No you're not! What's wrong?"

"Look, I said I'm fine, alright?!" Hazel snapped, turning from the bacon to glare at the young girl. "I just don't really give a shit about Mother's Day!"

Nami's gasp was accented by the galley door opening, their crew's footsteps halting as Hazel’s statement hung in the air. All at once, her anger fled, replaced quickly with burning shame at Nami's watery gaze. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, and the warmth growing in her cheeks, Hazel muttered a quick "sorry" before bolting from the room.

The others watched her go, breakfast momentarily forgotten, until the familiar thwap thwap of their captain's flip flops broke the silence, punctuated by Luffy’s excited cry: "Sanji! Food!"

--------

"I just don't get it!" Nami yelled as she sat at the table, anger, embarrassment, and guilt all warring within her. Hazel still hadn't returned to the kitchen. "It's just Mother's Day. It should be a day to celebrate!"

"I'm sure Hazel-chan has her reasons, Nami-san," Sanji said around his cigarette, unhappy that "his girls" were at odds. Luffy scratched under his hat. 

"What's Mother's Day?"

Luckily for him, Luffy was used to the incredulous stares his crew often bestowed on him. Even Zoro was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Wait. Could he do that?

"Even you should know what Mother's Day is," Nami scolded the boy as he inexplicably began to pull at the skin on his shoulder.

Luffy shrugged. "Nope!"

"It's the day you celebrate your mom!" Nami was met with a blank stare. "You know, the one who provides for you, even if it means she goes without."

"The one who encourages your dreams, and loves you unconditionally," Sanji added, a wistful look in his eye as he flicked his cigarette.

"The one who tells you stories, and tucks you into bed at night," Usopp chimed in, face alight with happy memories.

But Luffy merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Hazel already has a birthday, I'm supposed to give her two parties?!"

And then the room grew silent once more as the weight of his question settled on the others' shoulders. Nami felt her stomach clench, threatening to evict a breakfast she hadn't even eaten as she realized what had happened. She pushed herself to her feet, rushing out of the kitchen with barely a word to the others.

She had to find Hazel.

-------

Nami found her standing against the railing, on the complete opposite side of the ship. Hazel’s arms were crossed in front of her, the wind blowing through her loose, purple curls as she gazed out at the sea. The navigator approached slowly, suddenly nervous now that she was here. But before she could utter any apology, Hazel beat her to it.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. That wasn't very fair, and you didn't deserve it."

Nami's brown eyes snapped up to the other woman's face, still not facing her, and swallowed against the growing lump in her throat.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," she said, leaning on the rail beside her. "I should have asked you first. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be OK with it."

Hazel shrugged. "You had good intentions, at least. It's the thought that counts."

"Is it?" But Hazel didn't answer, and the two slipped into a heavy silence broken only by the crash of waves against the hull. "What happened to her?" Nami finally asked, shoulders tensed as she waited for the older woman to either answer or scold her.

Hazel only sighed. "Honestly?" she clicked her tongue, shrugging her shoulders and biting her lip. "No idea. Don't really remember her."

"But if you don't remember…" Nami started, eyes lighting up as an idea struck her. "Then she could still be out there somewhere! Maybe we'll find her-!"

"I hope she's dead."

The finality of the statement struck Nami dumb, mouth hanging open in shock at the woman's deadened expression. There was no waver in Hazel’s tone, no room for any doubt that she meant it. "What…?"

Hazel laughed through her nose, a bitter sound. "Sounds horrible, right? Especially today of all days? But it's true." Hazel’s jaw clenched, her fists curling around the Merry's railing. "If she's dead, then it wasn't a choice. If she's dead, then she didn't decide to -! She didn't just -!" Her shoulders shook, breaths coming out in ragged gasps, unable to finish the statement.

Nami reacted without thinking, pulling the shaking woman into her arms without hesitation. Hazel's voice broke, heartache echoing between them as she gasped out: "why wasn't I enough?"

"Now you look at me!" Nami cried, pulling back to lock her eyes onto Hazel’s. "Don't you ever think you aren't enough! Just look at everything you've done! We're all here because of you, Hazel!"

Hazel rolled her watery gray eyes. "You're here because of Luffy - I'm just emotional support." But Nami shook her head.

"Luffy may have brought us together, but he only got to where he is because you supported him! He thinks the absolute world of you, he loves you - we all love you! And you've done all of this without her! Screw her!" Hazel dissolved into a new round of tears, and Nami pulled her back into her warm embrace. "New tradition: from now on, let us show you how much we appreciate you, whether that's through breakfast together, or leaving you the hell alone."

Hazel choked out a wet, shaky laugh, fingers clutching tightly to Nami's t-shirt as the tears flowed through her. Finally, they subsided, and as she leaned back Nami helped wipe the remaining tear tracks away. Hazel took a deep breath, then another, feeling lighter than she had all day. Then, her stomach growled.

"I think I'm ready to go back to breakfast," she murmured, too drained to be embarrassed. Nami just smiled, linking their arms together as she led the way back to the others.

When they entered the galley, the pair were separated when a rubbery figure launched itself at Hazel. Luffy wrapped his limbs around his sister, squeezing so tight it was a wonder she didn't break a rib. "Hazel! Sanji made you coffee! He wouldn't let me try it but I did anyway - how do you drink that stuff?!"

Hazel just smiled at his rambling, wiggling her arms free of her brother's embrace, surprising the boy when she hugged him back (almost) as tightly, and kissed him on the forehead. "Heeey!" He whined, pulling away to angrily rub at the spot she'd kissed. "What was that for?!"

"Nothing, just…I'm proud of you, Luff." The boy's face broke into a grin.

"Shishishi! I'm proud of you, too! Now, let's eat!"

Finally, the Straw Hats gathered around the table, digging into their meal with an excited frenzy. Sipping her coffee, Hazel nudged the woman beside her. "Thanks, Nami," she said, smiling easily after the events of that morning. "But, for future reference? On Father's Day, you may just wanna let me stay in bed."

[berkmansimagines]

Gorgeous

Summary: Barry intervenes after a target slips something into your drink.

Pairing: Barry Berkman x hitman!reader

tw: mentions drugging, sexual assault

“Can I get a whiskey on ice?”

You take a quick look around before taking a seat at the corner of the bar. To your relief, the place is almost empty. You just wanted to get in and out of the bar as quickly as possible without being seen by too many people. You aren’t here for fun, you’re on a job.

The bartender nods back and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels. You don’t take your eyes off him as he pours your drink.

Your target works at this bar near Sunset and Vine. You had been hired to take out a bartender who roofies women’s drinks and then takes advantage of them. Your client was one of his victims. She didn’t know much more about him other than his general appearance and a first name- Joe. The client offered you more money to do a little investigating and confirm the target before taking him out. You didn’t mind the extra work, you were happy to take one less scumbag off the streets.

The bartender places the glass of whiskey in front of you.

You pull your wallet out of your purse and leave a crisp $20 bill on the bar, “Keep the change.”

“If you need anything else, I’m Joe.”

You quietly nod, putting on your best poker face. He looked just like your client described him: average height with dark curly hair and piercing eyes. This man is your target.

You peak down at your drink. Joe couldn’t have tampered with it. You watched him the entire time. After a moment of hesitation, you take a small sip.

When Joe looks away, you take out your phone and covertly take a picture of the bartender. You text it to your handler, Diane.

I think I found our guy...

Right after pressing send, you hear a large group enter the bar. You look up from your phone and immediately spot a familiar face in the crowd. It’s Barry. 

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. This just got a lot more complicated.

The two of you completed a hit together and have been hooking up in secret for the past few weeks. The sex is great and you’re having fun, but neither of you have defined the relationship yet. Honestly you’re a little nervous about it. You don’t want to ruin the good thing you have going now. The more serious your relationship with Barry becomes, the harder it will be to keep it under wraps.

You slouch down in your seat, hoping Barry doesn’t notice you. He’s the quietest of the group, trying his hardest to blend in but to you he sticks out like a sore thumb. The rest of those people aren’t like you and Barry. He definitely didn’t know them from work. Barry mentioned an acting class he was taking, you assume the group is some of his classmates.

Your phone vibrates in your hand. You see a new text message from Diane:

Client confirms it’s him. Good work. Let me know when it’s done.

You take a deep breath and put your phone away. From the corner of your eye, you see Barry talking to a pretty blonde. She looked so normal compared to you. You can’t help being a little jealous of her. You take a large sip of your whiskey.

Suddenly your eyes meet Barry’s from across the bar. His jaw drops. He looks just as surprised as you are. Barry is out with his acting class. You and the job were part of a completely different side of Barry’s life. And he did not want those two worlds to meet.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Barry excuses himself from the table.

Barry anxiously approaches the bar. He stops right next to you. Neither of you exchange eye contact. You’re both trying your best to play it cool. Before Barry can say anything, Joe approaches.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the bartender asks.

Barry orders a beer. Joe nods and walks away. Barry waits to speak up until the bartender is out of earshot.

“What are you doing here?” Barry asks in a low, tense voice.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you coyly reply, “Is that your acting class?”

“Yeah it is. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?” Barry repeats coolly.

“God, Barry, save some of that aggression for the bedroom,” you tease.

You shake your head and take another sip of your whiskey. The glass is almost empty now. Barry takes a deep breath and softens his face. He didn’t mean to come off so intense.

“I’m sorry, uh, I just wasn’t expecting to see you...” Barry stumbles through an apology.

“It’s fine. I didn’t know you were coming here either,” you sigh, then casually drop, “I’m actually working. On the job now.”

“Wait, what?!” Barry’s eyes widen. You couldn’t possibly pull off a hit now, there are people around.

“The blonde’s cute. Do you like her?” you ask bluntly, changing the subject.

“Sally? She’s just a friend,” he answers.

“Friends like you and I are friends?” you roll your eyes.

Barry frowns, like you knocked the wind right out of him.

“Is that what you think? That we’re just friends?” 

“I don’t know what we are. We never talk about it…” you sigh.

“Y/N, we’re not just friends. You mean more to me than that…” Barry quietly tells you.

He rests his hand on top of yours. Your heart skips a beat. The electricity between you two is undeniable. You turn your head and see Barry’s gorgeous ocean blue eyes looking into yours. You could get lost in them for hours.

“Barry…” you breathe.

“Is this guy bothering you?”

You and Barry are taken out of your moment by the bartender, Joe. Barry glares at him. You shrug defeatedly. As much as you wanted to continue this conversation, you still have a job to do. 

“No he’s not,” you shake your head, “He was just going back to his friends.”

Barry nods. He understands why you can’t talk right now. Barry takes his beer and reluctantly heads back towards his table.

You take another large sip of your whiskey while watching Barry walk away. The glass somehow feels heavier. You look down and notice the glass is much fuller than before. The bartender senses your confusion.

“You looked like you could use another drink. It’s on the house,” Joe tells you.

Your entire face drops. You were so caught up in your conversation with Barry that you didn’t even notice Joe switch out the drinks. And with Joe’s history, you’re now nervous he put something in it.

You shake your head and push the glass aside. 

“No, one drink is enough for me. I...I should get going.”

You still needed to be sober for the hit. You told your client that after identifying the target you would get the job done as soon as possible. When Joe gets off work, you plan on following him home and finishing it there.

The moment you stand up, the room starts spinning. All of a sudden you feel very dizzy. Something isn’t right. You rest your hand on your forehead. 

“Are you okay?” you hear Joe ask.

“I’m...I’m fine.”

You take a step and almost stumble over before grabbing hold of the bar. You’re taken off guard when you feel someone wrap their arm around your shoulder. They help you remain on your feet. You look up and see the person holding you. It’s Joe.

“I don’t think you’re in shape to drive. I’m done with my shift. I can take you home,” he tries ushering you towards the exit.

“No...No, I don’t want to go with you,” you mumble, finding it more difficult to speak with each word.

You try to get out of Joe’s grip but he’s too strong. You’re so dizzy and feel yourself fading. You’ve never felt so weak. As Joe leads you towards the exit, you keep trying to pull away.

“Hey what’s going on guys?”

Joe stops in his tracks. You look up and see that Barry is blocking the way.

“She had too much to drink. I’m taking her home,” Joe tells Barry. 

Joe is putting on his best ‘nice guy’ act. Barry isn’t buying it. You try your best to keep your focus on Barry but it’s hard to see straight. Barry’s never seen you like this. He knows something is wrong.

“I don’t think she wants to leave with you,” Barry shakes his head.

“What’s it to you, man? Just back off.” 

Joe tries to get around Barry but he doesn’t budge. The hitman towers over the average height bartender.

“That’s my girlfriend. So how about you back off?” Barry says coldly.

Barry reaches out and takes your hand, gently pulling you out of the bartender’s grasp. He wraps a protective arm around your waist.

“C’mon, I’m taking you out of here,” Barry calmly whispers into your ear.

You hold onto Barry for support and he helps you out of the bar. Barry spots your car parked across the street but you were not in the right condition to drive. You could hardly stand. Barry starts walking you towards his car.

“How much did you have to drink, Y/N?” Barry asks. 

Barry’s confused. You seemed perfectly fine when he spoke to you.

“Joe...I think he put something in my drink,” you try to explain.

“What? The bartender that tried to leave with you?” Barry’s eyes widen.

When you reach Barry’s car, he unlocks the door and opens the door on the passenger’s side.

“Yeah… He’s my target. He did this,” you tell Barry as he helps you into the car.

“Are you sure?” Barry asks in a serious tone.

“It was him,” you answer drowsily. 

Barry quickly goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat. You are barely sitting up straight and your eyes are closed. Barry gives you a concerned look before angrily staring at the bar. He’s quietly seething.

“Barry…” you speak up, getting Barry out of his own head.

“Yeah? Are you okay?” Barry asks softly.

You lean over and nuzzle your head into Barry’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say before passing out.

RING, RING, RING

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. Your head is throbbing. You rub your eyes until they open. You immediately notice that you aren’t in your bedroom. This is Barry’s room. He’s peacefully asleep right besides you. You look down and see yourself wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweats. Last night was a blur, you don’t even remember how you got to Barry’s place. 

RING, RING, RING

You pick up your phone from the bedside table and finally look to see who’s calling. It’s Diane, your handler. You were supposed to finish the job last night. She’s probably pissed off at you right now. You take a deep breath, wishing you didn’t have to answer. You would be in big trouble if you ever bounced a phone call from Diane. 

“Hey Diane,” you answer quietly, hoping not to wake Barry.

“Y/N, good job taking out the target last night. I’ll get the money to you in a few days,” Diane tells you.

“Wh...what?”

Your jaw drops. You don’t remember everything from last night but you know that you definitely did not do the hit. You glance down at a sleeping Barry and quickly put the pieces together. He finished the job for you.

“You forgot to call me last night when it was done. Don’t forget again.”

Diane hangs up. You sit stunned for a moment with the phone still to your ear. If this was any other circumstance, you’d be frustrated with Barry. You pride yourself on being able to get the job done without help from anyone. But this was different. Barry saved your ass twice last night, first with Joe and then finishing the hit. You promised the client that you’d take care of it last night and Barry helped you keep your word. Your memory is a little hazy but you think Barry called you his girlfriend at one point.

After a beat, you put your phone back on the bedside table and snuggle up next to Barry. He sleepily wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. You close your eyes and fall back asleep in your boyfriend’s arms.

[oz-the-sorcerer]

Royalmelody BUT IT'S THE SIMS 4!! (pt.2)

part 1 👈 if you are wondering

Hello, my fellow "I wonder how many AUs Oz has, what the heck" ppl, I have come to feed y'all, again. :D

So; a bit of reminding from the first post and other things (bcs I haven't posted about sims royalmelody since last summer):

-they are famous (Kylan's for music and Brea is for writing, she also sells some of her paintings)((and idk why I made them like that, maybe i thought they deserved it lol))

what goes on now:

-Kylan has become a 3-star celeb while Brea is still 2, she is very close to 3 tho

-I hate their current home. It gives me nightmares, has lots of unfunctional things like their kitchen sink, some chairs, their trash can and bathtub (k word me pls I'm so tired)

-so I'm building them a new one! >:D

-they sometimes T pose when the game glitches and they abruptly stop whatever they are doing to T pose only for a millisecond, but it's too funny so I forgive the Sims for this LMFAO

-NPCs always making stupid entrances and they poof out of existence because it's so crowded

-they give autographs now, those two :D

-they are still dating

-anyways, I guess that's it, thanks for reading!

-jk :D here, have some more screenshots in-game 👇:

-firSTLY, I UPGRADED HOW THEY LOOK!! Those two were literally Kyle and Brianna before, not Kylan and Brea and I am proud of how they look now! (left row is old, right row is the new look)

-when I found Brea's current hair I literally screamed lol

-and Kylan's face is just...him. u get what I'm saying? *o*

***

-cooking is good, but... cooking together? even better ✅

-the man's sneezed on a salmon once and decided that was not an important thing smh

-Brea does too many tricks with knives, I'm scared

-you know damn why I took a screenshot when it involved pink petals and I refuse to explain further😌

***

He came home running, heart, beating even harder than before.

"Brea?" He checked if she was at home first. She told him this morning that she would go to the gallery but there she was, probably writing another chapter for The Dew Tree.

She looked up at him from her desk, not expecting him anytime soon.

"Kylan? Hi!" He nearly skipped towards her and held her hands, smiling wide.

"You won't believe me if I tell you..."

"Whaa-AT!" Brea yelled when he started spinning with her in the middle of their colorful living room. He laughed at her shocked face.

"I got the nomination!"

"What?" She stopped him before they crashed into the sofa, not just because she was dizzy or anything but she wondered if she heard him right.

"I got the nomination for The Best Song!"

"Oh my God?!"

He finally did it, she thought. They hugged so tight that she couldn't breathe for a second.

"You are going to get that award, honey." She told him after they separated.

"You really think so? I don't want to get my hopes up, though, this is the first time I am getting a nomination." He was being self-doubtful again, so she just rolled her eyes and giggled. She knew how people loved his song, they even played it everywhere. Then, she pointed her finger to his heart and poked.

"You, sir, are going to get it."

His smile came back quickly after that, holding her hands again and doing a little dance with her. A bit childish, a bit sweet.

***

yeah, that really happened. :3

HE GOT THE BEST SONG AWARD (look how happy he is while giving his thanks speech) ((this also happened: "I couldn't have done this without this amazing woman... who is now waving at me to shut up because she is embarrassed. :D" ))

-congratulations hug! (AS HE RIGHTFULLY DESERVES!!)

-there was a random sim that got SO MAD when Kylan got the award. She glared at them all evening lmao stay pressed sistah that award is his

notes: sometimes when I stop time to get a screenshot, their position looks like a different interaction instead of what they are actually doing, making the game more fun uwu (like that lil dance above)

Well, I have lots of screenshots however; I will leave it from here for this part because this is already 10 pics lmao.

[breakfast-cereal]

The Beat Of My Heart- Reddie

Yesterday’s Oneshot

Reddie Week Day 5: Prom Night

Richie adjusted the cuffs of his suit. He was excited. So excited. He felt drunk, but he couldn’t be. He wasn’t sure why Prom was so exciting. He hated school. He hated the teachers and the students. School really wasn’t his scene. Maybe he was excited because this was a night were people could be who they want. Either, no one payed attention or they cared too much for it to offend anyone. Richie wasn’t a good dancer, so it wasn’t like he was going to be showing off some epic skills either. He pushed back the feelings and sucked in a deep breath. The breath was holding the feelings and he would have to try to keep that breath inside to keep the feelings at bay. He released the breath and all the feelings flooded back like water rushing over a dam.

Bev and Ben waved Richie over. They were probably the best power couple out there. Bev and Ben fit like puzzle pieces. They could spend days together without wanting to walk out. Their relationship was built up with building blocks. Sometimes, it’d nearly topple, but fixing another block could always help that.

Bev wrapped her arms tightly around Richie and Ben gave a him a small smile. “Hey, Rich! Thought maybe you wouldn’t come.”,

“Aw, Bevvie, you always make me come.” Bev slapped Richie upside the head and Ben frowned. “Sorry, Haystack. Promise I’m not trying to steal ol’ Bev-o from ya.” Richie forced himself into his best southerner voice and Ben and Bev both chuckled.

“I’d never leave Ben for anyone, especially not you Rich.” Richie fake gagged as Bev placed a soft kiss on Ben’s cheek. Ben blushed a bright red. They were that sickly sweet couple everyone hated because they wanted to be them.

Stan and Bill followed in soon after. Stan’s hair was falling on to his face. He blew his hair, his resting bitch face extremely prominent. “Stan The Man! Can’t believe you actually made it. Thought you’d be busy jacking off to birds or whatever you do.” Richie threw his arm around Stan. Stan shrugged him off.

“I don’t ‘jack’ off to birds, Richie.” Stan huffed with annoyance, “I bird-watch and write notes about them in my bird journal.”,

“Sounds nerdy, I’m out.” Richie chuckled. He could understand why he was so excited to be here. Even with only 4/6 of the other losers, it was still wonderful. He and his friends had been through thick and thin, nothing would ever compare to this. Nothing would beat the banter, teasing or the glares.

“S-so-rry to brea-ake it to you, b-b-b but you’re like th-th-the epitome of nerdy.” Bill grinned,

“Nerdy, ha! I’m a sex god, Billiam. You’re just to jealous to admit that I’m raking in the pussy.”,

“You only want to rake in one person, and they’re not even here.” Bev sighed. Richie turned red and began to protest, but she put a finger to his lips. “Hush, we all know.”,

“I-it’s pretty ov-ov-obvious.”,

“Most definitely obvious.” Stan added. Fuck Stan and his bird-jacking.

Almost on queue, Eddie walked through the door with Mike trailing not to far behind.

“Hey, Richie being a prick?” Eddie smiled, leaning into Richie.

Richie adjusted his glasses, “Just talking about all the pussy I’m gettin’. What about you Spaghetti-Man.”,

“Ugh, I hate you.” Eddie pushes against Richie’s chest.

“I don’t hate you,” Mike spoke up, smiling.

“Thanks, Mikey! Finally, someone who likes me.” Richie dropped down to one knee, “Oh, Mike, will you marry me? Please, Mike, you’re the only one for me!”,

“Of course,” Mike smiles putting on a invisible ring. Eddie huffed and crossed his arms.

“What, you jealous you’re not getting any Richie. I’ve got lots of me to share.” Richie grabbed his crotch and Eddie stared further away.

“Fuck off, Rich. I don’t want any of that.” Eddie pointes at Richie and swirled his finger around to fortify the statement.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go see if someone spiked the punch.” Richie murmured walking off to the punch table. He poured himself and glass and sipped. Not spiked. He frowned, tempted to dump the punch back in bowl, but he had some common sense. He returned to his friends to see Bev and Ben had walked off to dance somewhere not here.

“God, couples are so cheesy.” Richie whined,

“Like you wouldn’t do that.” Stan grumbled, looking like he just wanted to leave.

“I think it’s kind of cute. It’s nice they like to spend time with each other.” Mike was always a romantic at heart, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Eh.” Bill still wasn’t really over Beverly. He tried not to act sour, but sometimes it’d come out when he didn’t try his hardest to control it.

A soft slow song filled the gym. Richie could see couples form and sway slowly. He spotted Ben and Bev dancing, looking like they were in their own world of just each other. Richie wanted to be with someone who made him that happy.

“I hate this part. All the couples get mushy. It’s gross.” Stan’s frown deepens. Must have missed his bird-jacking today.

“Why don’t you dance with me, Stan. I kinda want to dance.” Mike suggested, politely offering his hand to Stan.

Stan shrugged, “ugh, why not. I don’t have anything better to do.” Mike and Stan left off to the dance floor. Mike trying to twirl Stan, but failing miserably. Stan looked a little less bored.

After a few songs Bill had walked away with some girl, and Bev and Ben were nowhere to be seen. Stan and Mike were in the corner laughing, but Richie didn’t want to interrupt their world. He looked over at Eddie as a more upbeat song came on.

“Dance with me?” He grabbed Eddie’s out-stretched hand and pulled them to the main area.

They tried to move with the beat, but couldn’t help but step on each other with every second move.

“You suck, Rich.” Eddie chuckled, pulling Richie in close.

“So do you. We suck together.” Richie cackled at his own not-so-great joke.

“You’re not funny.” Eddie said, laughing.

Richie felt drunk again. He could now understand what Ben and Bev must have felt. He was in his own world with only Eddie as they laughed and danced. Their night continued and the more they talked, the more the drunk feeling continued. Richie would pay for it to last forever. At the end of their last dance Eddie had pulled him aside and placed a kiss to his cheek. Maybe Richie didn’t need to pay.

It was super fun to write this. I really enjoy writing things that are more light-hearted

*constructive criticism is welcome*

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 6

The Crystal Desert kind of grinds this liveblog into wheel spinning for a while.

The game expands one meeting with the Dousan and one funeral into four plot missions to prove yourself to Rek’yr individually and the Dousan collectively. The desert also has a bunch of new non-random encounter level/money grinding missions.

So I’m at a point where as a savvy watcher of the show, I know that the Heretic and Wanderer are the next big plot point but the game wants me to beat up things in a desert for a while first.

---

The Nest: Drifting Dunes

"The Dousan have asked the heroes to help rid their lands of a pack of Darkened Nurlocs"

I kind of feel bad murdering all these animals with super fantasy rabies when the show itself took a more compassionate approach to the concept.

Buuuut the Dousan won't scratch my back all the way to the circle of the suns unless I scratch theirs so whoops here we go attacking wildlife.

So I don't have to use Rek'yr here so I won't. He started off higher level than some of my guys. That will not stand. Instead we have good pal Gurjin, also good friend Kylan, good sister Naia, one of my original friends Breg who I sort of forgot about for a bit, and other original friend Alyadon.

Rian probably is sitting in the party waiting room wondering whether he's still the protagonist.

Nope, its Gurjin.

.... welp.

Hello unit called Nurloc Young who we have to beat to death before they can call for their mothers.

I killed the baby worms but I didn't like it.

And also the rest of the wildlife.

---

Woo rewards. Kylan learned Adrenaline. I thought that's something that people just. Sort of did automatically. But there we go.

Apparently its a passive that lets Kylan move an extra tile when under 50% HP. Which, yeah, that sounds like Adrenaline.

And Gurjin learns Deafening Roar. Hell yeah, Gurjin.

It lets him inflict silence on all adjacent units for three turns. Are we sure this is a Stone Warden ability and not a Librarian ability? Oh, right. Brea killed them all...

Oh! Opened up two non-random random encounters. Drifting Dunes "Fight a challenge to test your mettle" and Windy Cliffs "Fight a challenge to test your mettle." Huh. Lot of proving going on in this desert.

I should already be talking to a delightful Heretic and here I am trying to win hearts and minds.

---

Well, might as well do some non-random encounters and see whats up with them. Surely not a bar fight in the middle of the desert, right?

Windy Cliffs: Encounter

Time for Breg, Alyadon, Rek'yr, Brea and Boggi to get some extra proving in before dinner.

I have to beat up several Dousan to prove myself? Havent we been over this?? There's not going to be any Dousan to join the great gelfing alliance at this rate! I'll have beaten them all up to prove myself to them!

Okay. Wow. Maybe I did need to prove myself. Those dern Dousan paladins can sling a mean rock. They killed poor, sweet Alyadon!

Although the really annoying part of the level is that the windy cliffs are windy and one of the enemies got blown to the bottom of the cliffs and I had to climb down to beat him up. You'd think a fall from a cliff would make him less eager for fights but this is The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics

Nothing stops these Gelfling from beating each other up.

Oof. My reward for beating a non-random encounter is that I unlocked another non-random encounter at Crystal Desert Outskirts where I have to, you guessed it, test my mettle.

Well here we go.

---

Crystal Desert Outskirts

This encounter has a bunch of Gelfling thieves so I think this is less about proving my mettle and more about the Dousan trying to murder and rob me.

Rude.

Time for Alyadon again (since she got knocked out last time), Rek'yr again, Hup yay, Deet, and Gurjin.

One of the spawning spots for my party is way on the other side of the map separated from the rest of the friends by all the enemies. I'm convinced that this is a mugging.

Yeeeeeah. I lost.

Its all Gelfling thieves getting two turns to my turns and picking my guys off with bolas. It went suuper bad. I ended up with Gurjin vs their last guy and I tried healing but he got to attack twice to Gurjin's one very slow turn.

I guess I proved my mettle was bad...

Tried again with Alyadon, Rek'yr, Kylan, Boggi, and Rian.

This time went a lot better, what with packing the team full of the faster peeps. Try and rob me, I'll show you whats what.

And to the victor (me) go the spoils (sweet new moves)

Alyadon got Maneuver. I'm terrible at using simple buffs though. Rek'yr got Daring Strike which attacks a Marked and Poisoned target which is a level of synergy I don't know if I'm capable of. But wow that possible damage. And Kylan gets Eye Shot, in which he shoots someone in the eye. Geez, Kylan.

---

And for the final not-random encounter mission. Time to test my mettle at the Drifting Dunes. The previous testing my mettle did not count.

At least this time its Arathim instead of Dousan. Don't know what they're doing out in the desert. Working on their spider tans.

I feel awkward about killing the Arathim when they're meant to be my friends. Gurjin will hug the crap out of them. But later.

Although. Some of these beefy spider units are called Arathim Devourers and that gives me a scare.

Hup (and nurloc friend), Deet, Gurjin, Naia, and Breg lets gooooo

Its my policy to take my lowest level people into non-random encounters, for they need the execution points more. And its only a level difference generally. Got to keep everyone roughly even.

Boom. Compared to the previous non-random with the thieves, this was straightforward. Mettle tested.

And! Deet learned Overthink hah, Naia learned Edged Slice, Breg learned Daring Strike, and Gurjin learned Bandage. Don't know why he only learned how to do that at this point in his life but I'll take it! This was a good spider beating day for learning new moves.

---

Hopefully in the next chunk of game, I’ll finally get to the Heretic and the Wanderer.

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 26: To Have and To Hold

A moment of respite in the midst of war and chaos. The comfort of knowing that one’s loved one is just within reach. Having someone to hold, and just holding.

In other words: It’s wine and poetry night in Skyhold, and the boys are making the best of it :)

Read here or on AO3!

(art by @le-mooon​) 

************************

“Lavender and lemon blossoms. Interesting.”

Tristan lifted his head from the edge of the tub where it had been resting and eyed Dorian questioningly. “What?”

“The soap you use,” he replied. His back was pressed against Tristan’s chest, his voice vibrating through him when he spoke. Low and smooth, making the water itself ripple. “I could always detect the lavender, and I knew there must be some sort of citrus in there, but I could never quite place it.” He reached out for the soap bar, bringing up to his nose to smell it again. “Simple. Unsophisticated. A touch mundane, perhaps. It suits you quite well. I approve.”

Tristan laughed softly at his teasing tone. “I’m glad you find my unoriginality appealing.”

“Amusing, amatus. I think the word you’re looking for is amusing. I guess there is some beauty in simplicity, but let’s not overdo it, yes? Next thing you know, you’ll be washing with the ash soap they use in the kitchens.”

“That might not be such a bad idea. I’ve heard it takes the grime right off. What? It’s true!” He laughed at Dorian’s horrified expression, leaning forward to nuzzle his ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I wouldn’t let you walk about with a man that smells like a well scrubbed kitchen pot.”

“Good,” Dorian chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I almost feared you were being serious. One can never know with you Southerners.”

Fingers skimming over the surface of the warm, soapy water, a smile still lingering at the edges of his lips, Tristan let the weariness and tension of the last few days bleed out of his limbs. The fire in the hearth crackled softly and doused the room in a warm glow, the only other light coming from the bright orange glyph Dorian had cast on the bottom of the copper tug to keep the water warm.

“Fascinating,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

Dorian’s eyes were closed, his head resting on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan buried his nose in his hair, breathing deeply. “I find you fascinating.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Tristan smiled at the soft hum that sounded at the back of Dorian’s throat. “How do you maintain the glyph? Are you channeling now?”

“Just a little. This is a relatively small one, so it only requires a trickle of magic to sustain it.”

“And you can do it just like that? With your eyes closed?”

Dorian’s smile widened. “You’d be surprised how many things I can do with my eyes closed.”

He was relaxed, almost melting in Tristan’s arms, his features soft, his breaths even and smooth despite the low chuckle that rumbled in his chest. Tristan let his eyes roam over the curves and planes of his body, sprawled as it was before him, submerged in the warm, cloudy water. He was… exquisite. Sublime. God-like. Real. He was real, tangible, there. Beautiful and daring, sharp-witted and eloquent, a shining example of all the qualities the ideal man should possess, those that philosophers and thinkers had debated on for centuries. Tristan wondered for a moment exactly what Dorian had seen in him. He had been average in most of his endeavours on the best of days, let alone now, that every new day was an opportunity for all his shortcomings to be exhibited for all the world to see. Most people, he was sure, saw him just a step away from failure.

Yet, with Dorian he never felt like a failure. He never felt less, or not quite good enough, or broken. He felt whole. It felt odd.

He idly traced a line with his index finger from the perfect half moons of Dorian’s manicured nails where they rested on his knee, all the way up to his forearm, past the angle of his elbow, up his bicep. His skin glowed copper in the golden light, and Dorian hummed softly when Tristan leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss upon the curve of his shapely shoulder.

That was when he saw it; a small, barely noticeable scar on his arm, a darker patch on the otherwise unblemished expanse of skin. His own skin was riddled with scars, large and small, smooth and ragged, and it had become a habit for Dorian to trace his long fingers over them, asking for the stories behind them. A habit Tristan had come to look forward to, he had noticed.

“How did you get this?” he asked him, examining the small mark.

Dorian reluctantly opened his eyes to glance at it, then closed them again. “A proper gentleman never reveals his secrets.”

“Who said anything about propriety?” Tristan asked teasingly, to which Dorian scoffed.

“You’ve got me there.” He let out a soft sigh. “I’m afraid it’s not as grizzly and thrilling a story as yours tend to be. I got it when I was thirteen, while I was still in the Circle of Trevis.”

“You’ve never told me about your time in the Circle.”

“Circles. I did change a few. Besides, what is there to say? I was incredible. Everyone loved me. My professors revered me and waxed poetic about my abilities. If they could, they would have carved my likeness in marble and set it atop the entrance of the University of Minrathous, I’m sure.”

“Right. Of course. I should have guessed.” Tristan huffed a quiet laugh at Dorian’s sarcastic tone. “Is that the way things work in Tevinter? Do they move you about in different Circles?”

“No. But it was the way things worked for me.” He let his head fall back against the crook of Tristan’s neck, peering at the snowy mountaintops beyond the wide windows. “I was admitted to the Circle of Carastes first, when I was nine. I got into a fight with another magister’s son, and I was expelled soon after. Then I moved to the Circle of Marothius, then Trevis, then Caimen Brea… I could go on. The very last one I went to, Marnas Pell, was by far the worst. No other Circle wanted a mage with such a terrible track record, as you can imagine. I didn’t even last a month.”

Tristan’s heart clenched with the resignation in his voice. Pain, deep, visceral, seared him to his core. Was that what Dorian’s childhood had been like? Kicked about from Circle to Circle, never lingering, never growing roots, never having friends? He let out a slow exhale through his nose, trying to keep his voice level. “Did you get into fights a lot?”

“I was admitted in the Circle very young, and progressed very quickly. I was usually the most competent in my year and beyond. There were many that didn’t appreciate this.”

“Who were they?”

“Older students. Some apprentices. They didn’t like that I moved ahead so quickly, my powers and knowledge surpassing theirs by a wide margin. Some were vocal about it. The one that gave me this scar was particularly loud about his displeasure.”

Tristan frowned. “Did he bully you?”

“Me? Bullied? On the contrary. He challenged me to a duel. I beat him quite easily, but not before he managed a gush on my shoulder.” He brushed his fingertips over the small scar. “It was the first time I had attempted healing magic on myself, and it would prove to be the last. I only got this small scar; the burn scar on my opponent’s face is still visible to this day.”

“How old was that boy?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen? Blight,” Tristan breathed. “And they expelled you instead of him?

“Yes, well,” Dorian said with a bored wave, “I was the one with the terrible reputation, you see. He was the son of a magister, a powerful one at that. I had become something of a pariah at this point. He didn’t hesitate to call me that to my face, either.”

Tristan’s fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. Anger was bubbling inside him, thick and hot enough to choke him. He wrapped his arms around Dorian, pulling him close, as if that would be enough to shield him from the world. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he whispered. “Never again.”

Dorian let out a dismissive harrumph. “This isn’t always up to you, amatus.”

“I’ll make sure that it is.” He reached out, threading his fingers through his where they lay on his knee. “I would let the whole of Thedas burn if anyone so much as thought of touching you.”

“Now, this is either incredibly romantic of you, or incredibly insane.”

“What if it’s both?”

Dorian paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “Yes. That sounds about right.”

Tristan huffed in amusement, and Dorian lips widened in a fond smile as he rested his forehead against the side of Tristan’s face. A long moment of silence passed before Dorian spoke again. “Did you ever get into fights when you were younger?”

Tristan paused for a moment in thought. “No. Not when I was that young. Except for Tilly, there weren’t that many children my age when I was growing up. I did have a few friends… but I didn’t see them quite as often. Other than during those awful banquets my mother used to drag me to.”

“How did you spend your time, then?”

“When I wasn’t fencing or riding, I would go to the beach with Tilly, or read books, or… I guess I tried to study, too, occasionally.”

“You must have been a stellar student.”

“Why is that?”

“You are very bright, amatus. Not to mention surprisingly well read. For a Southerner at least.”

An odd sense of pride swelled in Tristan's chest with the earnestness in Dorian’s voice. Why did it make him feel giddy that Dorian thought him bright? He shook his head, scoffing. “My tutors would disagree with you. They were never particularly pleased with my abilities. I didn’t have an affinity for history, or maths, or science. I found them incredibly boring, and my tutors found me very dull indeed, compared to my sister. She was the stellar student, not I. They all loved her. Me, not so much. A maths tutor once called me “terribly obstreperous and frightfully obtuse” because I’d refused to solve an equation.”

“He called you that?” Dorian turned his head slightly to look at him, incredulity in his gaze. “What did you do?”

“I pretended not to care, but Tilly was very mad. Oh, she was fuming. She told Nelly, our housekeeper, and Nelly told our mother. The tutor was dismissed the next day.”

“Good. I would have boxed his ears if I had him right here.” Dorian’s furrowed brow relaxed, his thumb brushing over Tristan’s palm. “Were there no subjects that you did enjoy?”

“I was fond of my Orlesian tutor. Madame Clemence. A lovely woman. When she’d first arrived, she had tried to teach me Orlesian the same way she did with my sister; grammar, syntax, rules…" He shook his head. " I didn’t take to that very well. The letters would dance before my eyes and my tongue got tied in knots. In the end, she gave up trying to teach me the rules. She’d noticed I was fond of poetry, and started bringing me books with Orlesian poems. We would go out in the garden when the days were good, and she would read them to me. Then, she would talk to me about them until I was able to reply back.”

“She sounds like a fascinating woman.”

“She was. I would probably have hated Orlesian too if it weren’t for her.”

Dorian huffed, but Tristan could see the smile painted just at the edges of his lips. “That would be such a pity. Your Orlesian is quite irresistible. I could listen to you talk for days.”

“You could?” Tristan smiled softly. He brushed his cheek over Dorian’s ear, tracing its contours with his lips. “J’ai regardé devant moi, dans la foule je t’ai vue, parmi les blés je t’ai vue, sous un arbre je t’ai vue, au bout de tous mes voyages, au fond de tous mes tourments, au tournant de tous les rires, sortant de l’eau et du feu, l’été l’hiver je t’ai vue, dans ma maison je t’ai vue, entre mes bras je t’ai vue, dans mes rêves je t’ai vue…” He tightened his arms around him, sliding his mouth to his. “Je ne te quitterai plus.”

Dorian hummed against his lips. “I think I caught a few words of that.”

“I hope you did.” Tristan ran his thumb over his cheek. “I meant them.”

Time stretched on languidly while they lay in the water, warm like a wet embrace, their lips gliding in soft, velvet kisses. The moon hung close to the eastern edge of the night sky, thin like a nail, silver against a velvet blue canopy. They kissed and kissed… until a soft rumbling sound echoed through the silence.

Dorian edged back to gaze at him. “Was that your stomach?”

Tristan felt heat travelling up to the tips of his ears. “I, uh… yes?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I think… this morning?”

Dorian’s eyes widened in their sockets, and he pushed himself up and away from him. He was dripping wet, water running in rivulets down his body and pooling around his feet when he stepped out of the tub. He held out a hand to Tristan, who simply gaped at him.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

“W-where are we going?”

“You need to eat. The way you’re going, you’re going to be falling flat on your face any day now. Come,” he said, his fingers curling, beckoning, “I’m taking you to dinner.”

Tristan huffed a laugh as he rose to his feet, letting Dorian help him out and pat him dry with a soft cotton towel. There was something in that gesture, the familiarity, the sheer tenderness and care of it, gentle touches with no ulterior motive or desire. The simple act of caring for a loved one, and taking joy in the shared moment.

Tristan caught Dorian’s hand after they had both put their clothes on, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “So,” he said softly, “what are we having tonight?”

Dorian smirked playfully. “Whatever is left in the kitchens, of course. Beggars can’t well be choosers at this hour. Let’s pray it’s something edible and not that meat pie they keep serving at the tavern. Or, Maker forbid, that stew.”

Tristan shuddered at the thought of the thick, floury crust, or those tasteless stews that felt like boiled mush on his tongue. “I’d happily go another day without food if it meant not eating that foul stuff.”

“No. No, you would not. Not while I’m here. Now,” Dorian said, showing him towards the door, “I want to see that lovely derriere marching down those stairs and to the wonderful midnight feast we’ll no doubt be having very soon.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, yet couldn’t help the wide smile that blossomed on his face. He did as he was told, walking out of the quarters, Dorian in tow. Maighdin mumbled a quiet “Your Worship” when he informed her he would be going to the kitchens with Dorian. Alone.

“She’s quite nice, that girl,” Dorian said to him after they were well out of earshot. “Kinder than she looks. She actually came by the library a couple times while you were gone to ask me if I needed anything. I joked about wanting caramel apple slices to nibble on with the tea I was drinking at the time, and she brought me some the next day.”

“Did she?” Tristan tried to combine the image of stern-faced Maighdin and caramel apples. No, it didn’t quite fit. “Why would she do that? That’s hardly her job.”

“She knows we're seeing each other. Perhaps she feels the need to check up on me simply because I'm associated with you. She does seem very diligent. Cullen has chosen your guards well.”

Tristan’s brows furrowed as he walked on. “Yes, he has. I wish they weren’t needed, yet I’m happy with the people he has chosen anyway.”

Dorian shrugged, his steps falling almost at the same time as his. “You can’t change the way things are. Besides, they make you look intimidating. That’s what the leader of Inquisition should look like, isn’t it?”

“I think that was the idea from the start,” Tristan grumbled. “I’m glad that’s working, at the very least.”

“Not as intimidating as you look now, though,” Dorian said teasingly. “That scowl you wear could drive anyone in their right minds away.”

“How come it hasn’t driven you away?”

“I happen to be quite fond of it.” He turned to glance at him, head cocked to the side. “There’s this small line you get in the middle of your brows when you do it. It’s rather lovely.”

Tristan laughed quietly under his breath as they walked to the lower keep, a flush warming his cheeks despite the night chill. The narrow staircase before Josephine’s office was long and dark, seemingly unending as they descended to the bowels of the old keep. The damp there was far thicker than upstairs, permeating the stone walls and clinging to the dampness than still lingered in Tristan’s strands. They walked along the corridors, illuminated only by the dancing light of torches, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The underground level was thoroughly empty at that hour, and Tristan found that he could breathe more easily now that it was just him and Dorian there. He had almost forgotten there were other people in the keep other than them, when they heard the shuffling of boots, hushed whispers, the sound of fabric brushing against fabric.

Dorian and he exchanged a quick glance before cautiously approaching. They hadn’t even taken a step before a slender female figure dashed past them. Tristan had just enough time to glimpse the black hair gathered in a long braid that flowed down her back, her grey washerwoman’s cotton dress rustling around her feet as she ducked around the corner.

A man followed soon after, but he didn’t flee down the corridor like the woman had. He stood before them, blinking, his dark eyes wide as realisation dawned on him.

“Y-your Worship,” Nhudem mumbled. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then bowed before him, as if remembering himself. He was wearing his Inquisition armour, the golden eye on the breastplate catching the light of the torches as he moved.

“What are you doing here, Nhudem?”

The man paled visibly, fists clenched at his sides. “N-nothing. Your Worship. I-I was… was on my way t-to your quarters and I… I-” He stopped, bottom lip trembling. He looked ready to pass out.

Tristan’s frowned at him. “Who was that-”

His question was cut short when he felt Dorian’s elbow nudging his sides. He glanced at him, and saw the minute shake of his head, and the smirk that curled his lips before he reined it in. With a soft exhale through his nose, Tristan turned to Nhudem. “Maighdin should be expecting you upstairs to relieve her of her duty. You are late as it is.”

Nhudem bowed eagerly again, throat bobbing as he gulped. “Yes, Your Worship. Of course, Your Worship. By your leave, Your-” Tristan waved him off, and the man bowed once more before walking- or rather running away.

“It seems your guard has found a lady friend,” Dorian said after Nhudem had disappeared down the corridor.

“Right.” Tristan sneaked a glance behind him, making sure there was no sign of the woman or Nhudem before resuming his march towards the kitchens. “Did you get a look at that woman?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“No. She was very fast. Why?”

Tristan worried his lip as he walked on. “I should tell Leliana.”

“For whatever reason would you do that?”

“They’re my guards, Dorian. I need to know who they associate with.” So far as he knew, Nhudem had been a widower for years. Leliana’s very thorough vetting had mentioned no other relationships, which meant that whatever had been going on between him and that washerwoman must have been fairly recent. Unless he was really good at hiding. Which was troublesome in and of itself. If Tristan had learned anything from having grown up around servants and guards is that they talked. A lot. His own guards would soon come to know more about him than his own advisors, if they didn’t already. He couldn’t afford to have them spilling that information during secret trysts in storerooms and dark corners.

It was odd, how much things had changed for him ever since the title of Inquisitor had been bestowed upon him. A few months before, Tristan himself would have clapped Nhudem on the back and never thought twice about the whole thing, but Inquisitor Trevelyan had entirely different considerations.

Dorian’s steps fell alongside his, his palm brushing against the small of his back. “You don’t have to be in control of everything all the time, amatus. Let your people have their fun. You know they deserve it.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his head, trying to shake off his unease. He took a deep breath, nodding. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“When am I not?” Dorian asked with a wink, placing a kiss on his temples. Tristan leaned into his touch, threading his fingers through his. It would do him some good after all to let go of the Inquisitorial mantle, he realised, if only for a little while.

Their steps echoed along the dark corridors, and the damp lessened more and more as they made their way towards the kitchens. The warmth from the fires that roared most of the day had seeped into the stone, hot to the touch even in the middle of the night. Tristan let his fingers trail along the ridges in the centuries-old bricks, relishing the silence, when he noticed a soft, eerie light coming from behind one of the many doors.

Without really thinking, he pushed it open. The smell of dust and old parchment reached his nostrils as soon as he took a step in.

“A library?” Dorian gasped, walking ahead of him. “An actual hidden library?” He immediately went over to the shelves, glancing at the book titles. His eyes grew wide, like a child in a sweet shop. “This is fascinating. Maker only knows what else is tucked away in this place.”

Tristan smiled at his lover’s enthusiasm, letting his gaze sweep over the many books on the shelves. Most of them were far too old for the letters on their backs to be legible. It surprised him how many things he still didn’t know about Skyhold- he had lived there for months, yet he kept finding new places every time he happened to wander aimlessly about. Not that he had been doing much of that lately. There was usually no moment to spare from his Inquisitorial duties, his days scheduled by Josephine to account for nigh on every single minute. They were filled with meetings, training, judgements -the list went on, seemingly endlessly- and by the time he finally got to meet Dorian at night all he had mind for was… well. When it came to Dorian, there were a few things he had mind for no matter his exhaustion or the time of day, but even they weren’t enough to sate him. Nothing could ever be enough.

“How’s your research going?” Tristan asked, his fingers brushing over the books’ hard leathery backs.

“Ah! I’d almost forgotten about that,” Dorian said, turning to him. “I think I’m on to something. Remember when I told you that I could tell that the Venatori glyphs looked familiar? As it turns out, they are.”

Tristan’s eyebrows shot up with interest. “Are they? You remembered where you’ve seen them?”

Dorian nodded enthusiastically. “I believe I’ve seen them before, in Minrathous. It was a very obscure piece of research, but I might be able to retrieve it. I’ve already written to Tilani. If she manages to locate the scroll again and send a copy of it to me, I may be able to find what the Venatori are trying to do. That should give us an advantage when we next encounter them…”

Tristan’s fingers strayed to the scar on his neck while Dorian spoke, where the Venatori blade had cut him so long before. Talk of them always made him uneasy. Thinking about how close he had been to dying at their hands was... unnerving. Had Solas not been there during that time in the Hinterlands to heal him… His lips tightened in a line as his guts twisted and turned. Knowing that he had only himself to blame was even worse. He had been so reckless back then, always dashing about, getting into fights he couldn’t possibly win. In many ways, it was as if he had been challenging his fate, pushing at its edges to see where it would snap. Wasn’t he still doing that, in a way? Wasn’t he testing his limits, day after day? How long before he actually met them? Even in his last encounter with those blighted Venatori, he had only been a hair away from getting burned to a crisp, and Dorian with him. He had almost died, and still he hadn’t been able to rescue but a single person. There was so much at stake, people’s lives hanging in the balance, while he teetered. While he stood, as a symbol of hope, even though he had very little. And how much blood had been shed, so that he may stand there? How much more before his task was done? Before-

“Amatus.”

Tristan blinked. He hadn’t even realised he had stopped listening, lost in his own thoughts. Dorian was holding him by his shoulders, concern evident in his features. Tristan rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Forgive me. I got distracted. You were saying?”

Dorian shook his head. “It’s alright. We can talk about it tomorrow. Now is not the time.”

“No, I really want to-” Tristan cupped his cheeks. “I want to hear everything about it. This is important. You’re important.”

“So are you. My research can wait. This night is for us. You deserve some time away from it all.” Dorian smiled warmly at him. “Tonight, the only subjects we’re allowed to talk about are food, wine, and all the things we’ll be doing once we get back to your quarters.”

“Sleeping, that is?”

Dorian clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “You’re dreadfully dull and I hate you.”

“Mm-hmm. Why do I find that hard to believe?”

Dorian returned Tristan’s cheeky smile with one of his own, pulling away to return to the dusty shelves. Tristan let his eyes linger on Dorian’s back for a long moment, following his movements. He wouldn’t mind simply standing there and watch him for a day or three; watch as long fingers brushed over the books’ hard leather spines, careful, light as feathers; as he pulled the books out, caressing their covers before tilting them open; as his brow furrowed in concentration, as his eyes glided over the letters, as he brushed his knuckle over his chin in thought. As he sniffed in contempt, snapping the book shut and placing it back on the shelf.

“Senseless drivel. The amount of Chantry propaganda in this place is shocking. How they found themselves here, I’ll never know. One would have thought that a place this ancient would have some decent books, but apparently this is not the case.”

“A mystery for the ages,”Tristan murmured in agreement, glancing at an entire shelf of biographies of various Divines.

Dorian let yet another book snap shut and placed it on the shelf. “I challenge you to find one book in this place that isn’t about some Divine’s or saint’s life or some other similar nonsense.”

“A challenge?” Tristan asked, perking up. “I like the sound of that. What do I get if I win?”

Dorian smiled wickedly at him. “That will depend on what you find.”

Tristan thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I’ll bite.” He glanced at the tomes on the shelf closest to him, squinting as he tried to read their titles, faded with time and obscured by generous coatings of dust. He drew one out, brushing the grime away. “This one doesn’t look so bad.”He handed it to Dorian, who peered at the book cover and huffed in amusement.

“Assorted Poems and Elegies of the Storm Age. Why am I not surprised?”

“It isn’t a Chantry book," Tristan said with a grin."What’s my prize?”

“Not so fast.” Dorian flipped the book open on a random page, peering at the writing. “Wilt thou love the Maker, as He thee? Then digest, My Soul, this wholesome meditation, How the Holy Maker In His Ascension, doth make his Temple in thy breast.” He glanced at Tristan, quirking a brow.

“Oh," Tristan breathed. "Right. I'd forgotten how much of the poetry from that Age is religious. Let me see.” He took the book from Dorian, flipping through the pages, scanning their contents until he found what he was looking for. A small poem, tucked away at the bottom of a sprawling epic about a Templar blessed by the spirit of Andraste. He handed the tome back to him, tapping the page lightly with his finger. “This one.”

Dorian shot him a lingering, apprehensive look as he accepted the book, lips parting slightly on a soft intake of breath. “He is equal with the Gods, that man, who sits across from me. Face to face, close enough to sip his voice’s sweetness, hear him laughing love’s low laughter. Fire in...” He squinted at the page. “I can’t make out the rest. The letters are faded.”

Tristan moved closer, placing his palm on the small of his back, reciting from memory. “Fire, delicate fire in the flesh, with flowing rein, gliding swiftly through every vein. Though ’tis death to me, I cannot choose but look on him; But, at the sight, my senses fly, I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die; I lose my colour, I lose my breath, I drink the cup of a costly death, Brimmed with delirious draughts of warmest life. Ears resound with noise of distant thunder, eyes gaze on stars that fall forever into deep midnight.” He gazed expectantly at Dorian, watching the soft light of the room play across his features as he tilted his head to the side.

“‘Eyes that fall forever into deep midnight’,” Dorian said after a moment, drawing out the syllables. “Is that some very elaborate way to say that someone kicked the bucket?”

Tristan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless.” He plucked the book from his hands, placing it back on the shelf. “I still win, though.”

“Not a chance. A single poem does not a decent library make. I need more.”

Tristan rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he continued searching through the shelves. He was never one to back down from a challenge. He was combing through a shelf filled with books of chants and psalms, when he saw a small, thin book, almost hidden behind the large tomes.

“Tristan de Lydes,” he whispered as he pulled it from the shelf and held it in his hands, heart thumping in his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Tristan de Lydes. It’s an old Orlesian epic. I used to have a book just like this. I took it with me when I left home, but it was lost after the explosion at the Conclave.” Tristan turned to look at Dorian, who had drifted from his corner of the room to glance at what he was holding. “It was my father’s favourite. He was so fond of it, he named me after it. He used to read it to Tilly and me all the time when we were kids.”

Dorian’s touch was light and tentative, his hand brushing the base of his spine. “You never talk about your father.”

Hazy memories, half hidden and half forgotten drifted through his mind unbidden, like smoke gliding over a fogged mirror. Smell of old parchment and burning smoking leaf. Light blonde hair streaked with white, gathered at the nape of his neck. Ink stains on crisp white sleeve cuffs, long fingers constantly fidgeting with the stem of his ivory briars. Carvings of flowers and birds around the pipe bowl.

Grey morning light streaming in through the wide window panes of his study, dancing dust motes catching the sun, settling on the books and scrolls that covered every surface. The sound of his mother's laughter as his father recited a silly poem, their tea forgotten in their cups. One of the few memories he had of his mother laughing like this, bright and carefree.

Light blue eyes, almost translucent, that grew more and more weary as time went by, absent, red rimmed, unfocused. The silence that spread over the Trevelyan manor after they had closed for good.

He clenched his jaw, his hold on the book tightening. “He died when I was very young,” he whispered. “I don’t remember him well.” He swallowed past the knot in his throat as he lovingly brushed his fingers over the letters etched on its leather cover. “After he passed away, Tilly and I used to read it to each other before we went to sleep. She loved the sappy, romantic stuff, while I wanted to hear all about the sword fights. We would argue about which part to read for ages.” His lips curled in a soft, reminiscent smile. “She always got her way in the end.”

Dorian’s arms slithered around his waist, drawing him closer. He rested his chin upon his shoulder, the side of his face touching Tristan’s cheek. “You could read it to me, if you’d like.”

Tristan huffed quietly. “I thought you hated poetry.”

“Not when you read it.”

The tenderness in his voice made Tristan’s heart swell, pushing away the shadows, like a shining globe made of pure starlight. He leaned against him, the warmth of Dorian’s chest soothing and comforting as it seeped through his clothes. They stayed like that for a long while, simply touching, simply holding, speaking little, perhaps not at all. The companionable silence, the presence of someone that cared for him, and that he cared for in return.

He could get used to this, he thought.

****

Tristan swirled the wine in his cup, bringing it up to his nose to inhale the rich blend of grapes, berries and honeysuckle. He tipped it over his lips, letting the dry red roll over his tongue, savouring the taste. “This is exquisite. 9:32 was an excellent year for Antivan wines. This one may actually surpass that Rowan Rose we found in the Hinterlands that one time.”

Dorian blinked at him, incredulous. “You must be joking. Rowan Rose is one of the most prized wines in Thedas. Only second best to Aggregio Pavalli. Antiva can never hope to challenge Tevinter in wine making.”

“Different years yield different wines. The one we found was from 9:26, and it had been a relatively poor year for strawberry grapes all over Tevinter, what with that pest outbreak. It was still good, but I dare say this one here is better.”

Dorian harrumphed, still unconvinced as he took another sip. “You Marchers wouldn’t know good wine if it hit you on the head with a frying pan.”

Tristan shot him a teasing smile, slithering closer to him. The embers in the kitchen hearths were still glowing, enveloping the wide room in a thick heat, and he was feeling slightly flushed under his coat. Dorian’s presence and the wine they had both been drinking was enough to make him sweat. “You seem to have a lot of opinions about Southerners. Specifically Marchers.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said, quirking his brow. “There’s one Marcher in particular I am chock full of opinions about.”

His scent tickled Tristan’s nostrils when he buried his nose in his neck. “Care to share them?” he whispered, placing soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. Dorian caught Tristan’s bottom lip between his teeth when it brushed over his, sighing softly. Sitting on the floor of Skyhold’s kitchens, tipsy from wine and heady kisses - could there be anything better than this?

“This isn’t going to work, you know,” Dorian murmured against his lips.

“What isn’t?”

“You think I haven’t noticed that you still haven’t finished your dinner?” he said as he gingerly picked up a small piece of pie from the plate beside them- the only leftovers they had been able to find. “Kisses don’t work in distracting me. Now, eat.”

Tristan scrunched his nose as Dorian held it before him with the tips of his fingers. “I don’t like it. It tastes like plaster. Plaster with a terrible filling. It makes me queasy.”

“I know. But this is all we have now. So, open up.”

Tristan smirked, brushing his palm down the inside of Dorian’s thigh. “Why does that sounds so enticing when you say it?”

“Oh, no. No, no.” Dorian swatted his hand away, dangling the pie before him again. “I told you I’m not so easily distracted. Don’t even try.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and huffed, accepting the vile thing. Before Dorian could withdraw his hand, Tristan caught his wrist, flicking his tongue over his fingers, drawing them in his mouth. Dorian’s lips parted on a silent gasp, his lids growing heavy as he watched him. Tristan smiled wickedly, placing his cup on the ground as he slid his mouth off Dorian’s fingers, then pushed him on the floor, climbing between his legs. Dorian let out a soft moan, threading his fingers through Tristan’s hair.

“Amatus,” he rasped, “we’re in the kitchens.”

“Are we?” Tristan said, looking around him with a perplexed frown. “And here I thought we were in Cullen’s office.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Positively hilarious.” He smoothed his palm down Tristan’s back, following the curve at the base of his spine. “What if someone comes in?”

“At this hour, it’s probably just us and a couple rats doing the rounds.” Tristan pushed himself up on his elbows, peering into Dorian’s eyes as he lay beneath him. Dorian watched him carefully, running his tongue over his pillowy bottom lip, over that indentation in its center that Tristan wanted to lick, and bite, and kiss. Maker help him, but he could spend an eternity just kissing his lips.

He took a deep breath to bring some focus back into his brain. “Would it bother you if someone saw us? Together? If it makes you uncomfortable, being seen with me…” He paused to swallow thickly. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that makes you unhappy. If you wish for what we have to remain a secret, so it shall be. I’ll do my best to hide it, and-”

“I want you, amatus,” Dorian whispered, cutting his sentence short. “I want to be seen with you. That’s what worries me.”

“Why?”

Dorian gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, then exhaled softly through his nose. “You and I both know how people will react. They will say that I ensnared you with my wit and charm. That I used evil blood magic from Tevinter to turn you into my plaything.”

Tristan shot him a perplexed frown. “Can blood magic even do that?”

“It can do worse than that.”

“Dorian,” he said, putting on a serious face. “I have something very important to say.”

“Yes?”

“I want to be your plaything.”

Dorian huffed a laugh, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, just stop it. I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I want to be your plaything. I want to be your plaything. I want to-”

Dorian stopped him with a kiss, chuckling against his lips. “I know you do, you terrible, terrible man.” He pushed a strand behind Tristan's ear, his silver gaze fixed on his. “Beis festis umo canavarum.”

“What does that mean?”

“'You will be the death of me'. Quite accurate in this case. Especially if your highly religious and anti-Imperium followers find out about everything you’ve just said.”

Tristan looked at him, his brows furrowing in determination. “They can try to pry you away from me, if they dare.”

“You’re full of lofty declarations tonight, aren’t you?

“You bring it out in me.”

“I’ve noticed I’ve been bringing a great deal out of you lately.”

Tristan laughed, cupping the back of Dorian’s neck as he brushed his lips over his. He deepened the kiss, savouring the sweetness of his tongue, drinking in the sound of his sighs, the pie and their wine entirely forgotten beside them. Tristan didn’t need any of that for sustenance, not when he had Dorian in his arms. He didn’t need food to eat, wine to drink, air to breathe.

He had him. He had him. He had him.

***

The first light of morning was slithering through the folds in the curtains of his quarters when they finally lay down to sleep. Enveloped in Dorian’s soothing warmth, Tristan felt there was nothing in the world that could disturb the calmness of that moment.

There, wrapped in the heat of Dorian’s body, surrounded by his sweet, earthy scent, with the gentle pull of sleep at the edges of his consciousness, was when the nightmares finally caught up to him.

[aerialflight]

Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

Snippet #16

District 4 was a close-knit, viciously friendly place. They share the mindset of you’re whether with them or against them, sharks of the sea who follow the scent of spilt blood, especially if it’s theirs. They bare their teeth into grins and laugh with bubbly enthusiasm to mask the sharp canines ready to bite. They can be gentle, kind. But they’re a picky bunch, and don’t have much thought for outsiders.

There’s a reason they’re one of the Career districts. Their whole livelihood depends on being fearless, to be able to jump into the water and take on whatever creatures they face. To be hunters, patient with their nets and waiting for the right time to strike with their fishhooks.

Thrill seekers, every last one of them. If it weren’t for the fact the world around them was contaminated and limited, they’d eagerly explore more dangerous waters, discover another world beyond the shallow reefs.

Brea has been told her entire life she’s far too practical for any of that nonsense. Her father would run a hand through her hair and affectionately tease her for her strict nature. Her refusal to go in the water other than to fish had kids deeming her as boring. She gets her chores done on time, weaves out blankets with fabric traded from District 8, and repeats the day like clockwork.

Being chosen for the Hunger Games was a death sentence for a girl like her.

She wasn’t blind or stupid, she knew her chances were slim to none. And even if she did survive, she wasn’t sure she would want to in the end. To have that much blood coat her hands and never be able to scrub them off was a concept she didn’t want to understand.

In that train leading to her death, the older victor Mags had pulled her aside with deadly serious eyes, and slowly enunciated four words with absolute care, determined to give this one advice to her among the many she already had given through gestures and written word.

“Ally with the outsider.”

Personally, Brea thought the older woman was completely unreasonable to ask that of her. Because it was never going to happen.

The outsider – Ichigo she recalled, the name strange and foreign on the tongue – was the very definition of insane.

He didn’t understand the silent rules everyone followed, spoke out when it could get him killed, and treated killers like they were merely human. He moved too quietly and was wilder than anyone she’s ever met. As strange as he was, he fit right in with the Victors he hung around more with than with his fellow tributes. Not that it was encouraged for the tributes to interact or get close to one another, but it sometimes couldn’t be helped when training together.

But it didn’t seem to matter either way. The orange haired enigma acted untouchable to his surroundings and even if Brea did take Mag’s advice into consideration, it would mean having to watch her own back even more than she was now. The strong belonged with the strong, and Brea didn’t belong in that category. It would mean putting herself in the line of fire.

No matter how kind and gentle the old woman Mags looked, how dazzling and shallow Finnick Odair acted, they wouldn’t be standing here today if they didn’t have a streak of ruthlessness in them. Brea heard the stories, seen the clips. Living in a district so aware of how food chains didn’t just extend to the food they ate, Brea was rightfully wary of those who proved to be more than how they appeared. Blending in or standing out were methods of a predator, or a very clever prey capable of surviving.

Either was a dangerous combination and the Capital was pack full of such people.

She could see it in the other Careers who smirked in her direction with arrogant disdain. See it in all the other tributes whose eyes glinted with determination or desperation to live.

Human beings hunting down human beings in this game that Ichigo seemingly refused to play in. Like he was better than them.

That was what truly made him infuriating. He was a predator who didn’t bother to hunt, content in watching the rest of them struggle and not lifting a damn finger to take advantage of it. Brea knew it was irrational. She knew Ichigo as an ally would be a boon, but in some ways, he was even worse than the Careers. His above-all attitude was implied by his inaction and refusal to train.

It made her grit her teeth, resentment building by the day as he sat by and did nothing.

All of that, however, changed on the second day.

It was the District 2 Career who instigated it. The boy, Lance if Brea remembered correctly. He had been casually hefting the spear at the weapon’s section of the training room with Panthea, the blonde tribute of his own district, when his gaze was suddenly resting on the unmoving, sitting form of the outsider like a shark smelling blood in the water.

Hair at the back of Brea’s neck stood up as Lance swaggered towards Ichigo with Panthea gleefully grinning next to him. The District 1 tributes, who seemed to have formed an alliance with them to the surprise of no one since day one, trailed behind with a caution that Brea found to be rare in Careers. Thad and Ace weren’t such terrible people as Brea expected them to be. A lot quieter than the blond pair, that’s for certain. Still, the way they moved screamed dangerous as their footsteps were quiet and their countenance confident.

She didn’t know what to make of them yet. Their true colors would be revealed in the games though, Brea had no doubts about that.

The whole room was suddenly quiet as all the tributes started to notice the impending drama that was about to occur. Brea would bet her District’s entire food storage that the sponsors behind the walls were watching as well, holding their breaths and waiting to see what would happen.

Ichigo, who seemed absolutely oblivious to all of this, remained relaxed and sitting with his eyes closed. If it weren’t for the deep breaths the cavity of his chest were taking, Brea would be tempted to think he was peaceful as death. He remained so even as Lance loomed over him, grinning bloodthirstily.

“Hey, Outsider. Having a good nap?”

Ichigo opened one eye by a fraction, the color gold underneath the lighting. Taking in the sight of the Career, Ichigo closed it once more in a dismissing gesture that spoke volumes of what he thought of his fellow competitor.

“I was until you showed up brat.”

Everyone stared.

Brea didn’t know whether to gape or laugh in shock.

Lance stood motionless for a full second before swinging the spear he was still incidentally holding up to Ichigo’s neck, his movement quick as a viper and face red with rage. Everyone immediately tensed, the atmosphere turning strained to the point of suffocation.

“What did you call me?” Lance spat out, looking enraged and incredulous at the same time. Like he never imagined someone would be stupid enough to insult him while he was holding a weapon.

Like the maniac he clearly was, the outsider didn’t even flinch as he slowly reopened both eyes. He looked unimpressed.

“I called you what you are.” Ichigo shrugged, unconcerned how the movement jolted the blade so it would scrape against his neck. “If you’ve got a problem with it, then stop acting like one. Brat.”

He’s crazy, Brea thought somewhat deliriously. Or he has a death wish.

Lance seemed to think along the same lines, his grip on the spear so tight to the point one could see his knuckles turning pale.

“Do you want to die? Is that it? Cause I can make that happen for you.” He pressed the blade harder, just barely not breaking the skin. “It would be a mercy for someone as crazy as you.”

At that, the outsider’s inhumanely golden eyes opened fully, wide and unsettling as they pierced through the boy with a sharpness even more threatening than the blade on his neck. A feral grin was overtaking his features, for once not looking apathetic or what Brea now realized was boredom. He looked every bit as insane as Brea and everyone suspected him to be, untamed and animalistic with how sharp his canines suddenly looked.

“You can’t cut me. You’re afraid.” Ichigo said with utter certainty. His accusing stare dared Lance to deny it. “When you attack, you’re thinking “I’m afraid to cut them.” When you dodge, you think, “I’m afraid to get cut.”” Ichigo reached out a hand and tapped the blade pointedly. “There’s nothing but fear in your blade. And because of that, you can’t beat me. I called you brat because your resolve is weak.”

Without hesitation, Ichigo pushed the blade away from his neck with an ease that spoke of how little he thought of the boy, yes, boy in front of him. He stood up, his eyes never leaving Lance’s frozen figure. At that moment, the outsider looked so much older than he actually was. Never has he looked so separate, so much of an outsider than in this very instance.

In the dead silence, Ichigo took his leave, walking out of the room with his head held high and looking like a Victor already.

It was official. No way was Brea allying with a crazy who practically painted himself as a target after this stunt.

Notes: So, I'm alive? For anybody who's still interested in this fic, thank you for your patience and really sorry it took so long to update hahaha. Final exams are kicking my ass and this just somehow came out. Do I regret not studying instead? Absolutely. Would I take this chapter back? Hell no. So, at least there's something good about exams. It's the best time to stress write lol. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thank you to those still following this fic!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

AO3

[fmdxsujiarchive]

summary: a close producer tells suji the story of his twenty year-old niece falling in love with her first boyfriend, and it takes suji back to the days when she was young, stupid but in love date: multiple times around june to july word count: 2,205 words, excluding the lyrics notes: creative claims (full lyrics & composition) verification self-para for one day of twenty! not name-dropped but some very vague mentions of jae 👀

it’s been a couple of weeks since she’s submitted 26 for confirmation. the feedback that she received from the couple of in-house producers about the song had been overly positive. they say that they’re proud that she’s ventured into something a bit different and that going for a rock ballad style doesn’t sound too bad for her next album. suji knows that they’re mostly teasing her, but she appreciates the genuine support that she’s been receiving. she really wouldn’t be anywhere close to a singer songwriter if all these people surrounding her hadn’t been so helpful and supporting. 

she’s mumbling on about how many she should go find herself an actual studio to work in other than her home studio so that she doesn’t have to borrow equipment from a bunch of people inside the company when the producer that’s been allowing her to use his studio walks back in. he’s brought in some food, and she almost forgets how she hasn’t eaten in about five hours. she gives him a quick thanks. 

“hey, so my niece is turning twenty soon, and i was wondering what twenty year-old girls would like? i literally have nobody else to ask but you, suji-yah.” the look on his face tells her enough that he’s quite desperate for some advice, and she can’t help but chuckle as she takes a fry out from the bag. 

“i haven’t been twenty in so long, oppa,” she replies with a slight hum. “the most typical presents are roses, perfume and a kiss. i’m positive she doesn’t want the last one from you so maybe perfume? just go to olive young and ask them what’s popular these days with college freshmen. i’m sure they’ll be more than ecstatic to help you.” there was nothing special that she received on her turning of age day so she wouldn’t be too much help. 

“my sister—her mom—tells me she has a boyfriend already though so she’ll probably be getting all that from him anyway. isn’t there something more useful?” suji can’t help but laugh at the look of disgust that’s on minwoo’s face as he talks about his niece’s boyfriend. her sister hasn’t blessed her as the position of an aunt just yet, but she thinks she’ll probably understand the feeling one day. 

“if you want to be useful to both your sister and your niece, i say get her a laptop. that’s useful for college freshmen.” that seems to do it for him because he immediately whips out his phone and types on it. she assumes he’s making a note to himself or looking up laptops. either way, he seems to have hit the jackpot so she swivels her chair around back to the computer. 

she’s pulled up an older beat that she’s had drafted since preparations for her first mini album. it wasn’t polished enough then to be released as an actual song, but it was a soft beat that she enjoyed, and so she’d been working on it for a couple of days now, trying to polish it up so that it actually sounded like a song. 

“that sounds nice, suji. almost like a softer version of 26.” suji turns back around at the sound of minwoo’s voice with a raised brow because she hadn’t considered it like that before. the background sounds are quite repetitive as she’d been hoping to keep it minimal with the instrumentation, but now that he mentioned it, she could hear the similarities. “i guess? it has a lot less guitar though because i’m not trying to write another rock song, trust me. 26 was difficult enough though jaehyuk oppa was helpful when it came to the guitar in that one.”

he gets his eyes off of his phone to walk over to the screen. “yeah, but i think where the beat falls is pretty similar. not that it’s a bad thing. i actually think if you were to finish this, it’d go well in an album with 26. that is if gold star confirms 26 which they’d be stupid not to.” she gives him a light punch on the arm out of pure embarrassment from the compliment. 

“okay, yeah, my sister definitely wants the laptop. i think she just doesn’t want to buy one herself for her daughter. speaking of my niece, apparently she’s head over heels for this boyfriend. it’s her first boyfriend so can you blame her?” she can see that he’s trying to brush it off like it’s not bothering him, but she can see the clenched jaws as well as how he’s tapping the soundboard a bit too rapidly. “i think everybody thinks they’re in love at that age.” 

he nods in agreement before telling her how he needs to leave. she nods goodbye at him, and he doesn’t forget to give her one last burst of encouragement about how nice the composition sounds, and she gives him a thumbs up in response. 

now that her distraction was gone, she went back to the composition at hand. it was almost finished, but after minwoo had implanted the idea that it was similar to 26 but softer, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right decision to keep taking it. the instruments used are different, but the direction and sequence of things was similar. she puts it on repeat a couple of times before coming to the decision that she still likes how raw it sounds as it was originally drafted back when she was beginning to learn how to compose. she’ll take his words as meaning that her sound just really hasn’t changed too much. 

the volume of the background instrumentals don’t shift throughout the whole song, and she likes that about it. she continues to add a few new sounds as the song progresses, but it returns back to the original composition that she had in the very beginning at the end. the song progresses like it’s telling a story and that after the climax, it comes to a resolution just as it began. just the way she likes it. 

the completed composition is a step up from its very first original draft she created back in early 2019. she knows that her upcoming album is going to be released late into the year, and she thinks the way the muted bells and other instruments work together reminds her of walking on a fresh blanket of white snow. 

she hopes that it’s how others perceive the song as well. 

//

she’s on stand by in the middle of filming and hanging out in her car to avoid the harsh sunlight when she decides that she’s already memorized all five of her lines, and that’d she would like to use her time a little more productively. she takes out her cellphone as well as the notebook she keeps with her at all times in case she gets a burst of inspiration. 

she’s scrolling through her list of compositions that are naked without lyrics when she gets a kakaotalk from minwoo. 

[ hey! my niece really loved the laptop so thanks a lot, suji! but she’s always on a date with her boyfriendㅠㅠㅠ i miss when she was seven ] 

suji can’t contain her laughter at the whiny text, and she’s lucky that she’s the only one in the car right now. it would have been embarrassing to explain what she was laughing so hard about if anybody was around. leaning back onto the car seat, she tries to think back to her own life back when she was twenty. what was it like? was it as great of a transition as people make it out to be? 

twenty would mean six years ago which was exactly when she first debuted with fuse. she doesn’t remember any feelings of being in love around that time or really falling for anybody. all she can remember is the nerves she felt from performing on stage and just overall from being a rookie in the industry. looking back at the text that minwoo sent her, she smiles because his niece seems to be living the life. 

twenty. 

it’s made out to be some extravagant age, but nothing really changes much. however, korea seems to put a lot of emphasis onto the age. you’re suddenly allowed to drink, stay out during later hours and buy lottery tickets. though it also means you no longer can pay a discounted fare for the subway and bus, and that you’re suddenly thrown into a bigger society that’s no longer just school. 

but she can’t help but be a little jealous of minwoo’s niece. to feel like you’ve fallen so deep in love that you can’t live without your significant other though they’re both young. people grow out of love as quickly as they fall in love. she hears stories of how people were in the most beautiful relationships as college freshmen right when they hit twenty, and then they go through nasty breakups and then all marry someone else. however, when she hears those stories, the same people who curse their boyfriend or girlfriend at the same time also tell her that it was a meaningful time of their lives. 

perhaps that’s what’s so beautiful about being twenty. 

being allowed to do wild things, throw yourself into all these relationships but then look back at it and excuse yourself because you were young. because you were fresh, and you didn’t know any better. 

you know, there’s nobody i like so much these days that it makes my heart burst  not since that blue summer of our’s  that we passed through and suddenly faced breaking up 

there’s that feeling that exists when you first fall in love where you feel like you can’t live without the other person, and that you’re going to be with them forever. though she wasn’t twenty when she first felt it, she remembers the butterflies she felt as well as the way her cheeks would flush up at the mere thought of him. now suji looks back at it and laughs because just like minwoo’s niece, she was simply young and stupid but equally in love. loving at that age isn’t invalid, and that’s what she wants to tell minwoo, but she also understands why adults are quick to tell their adolescent children that nothing will actually last forever at that age. sure, there are the exceptions but most people are born as the rule anyway. 

the moment you turned away from me that night i cried alone so hard that i couldn’t breathe i’m still here the same

what was love to me back then?  somehow i don’t think i can love again

suji never actually confessed because the crush came and went, but she thinks that if she weren’t living her life as an idol, and that she was some regular college freshmen going through a breakup with her first love, this is how she would feel. somehow after losing your first love, you’re left with the thought that you can no longer love again. it’s only years later or when you’re meeting someone else that you tell yourself that it was such a silly thought to have. again, it’s the perks of being young. of being twenty.

back then when it was thrilling and clear back then when the whole world was brilliant  that time when i cried alone and hurt back then, at that time

one day in my twenties that seemed like it would last forever

it’s like the butterflies are back in her stomach as she writes down the lyrics as if she’s writing a boyfriend to some non-existent ex-boyfriend from her younger days. there’s a specific face that comes to mind that she does her best to try to erase because she knows it’s foolish; she knows that she’s completely over that now. she doesn’t feel her heart fluttering anymore around him, and she doesn’t blush at his every touch like she used to. or at least she doesn’t think she does. 

suji makes a mental note to herself to thank minwoo—or more like his niece—for being the inspiration to this song. if he hadn’t walked in on her that day and asked for the present recommendation as well as whine about how in love his twenty year-old niece was right now, she doesn’t think she would have been inspired to finish the song. 

it goes well with the soft instrumentals of the song, and she likes the way that it can act as a key to locked up memories that people most likely have of their first love, their first relationship, and their first heartbreak. 

a lot of people like to think that when they turn twenty, they magically turn into complete adults. they go above and beyond to prove that they can care for themselves only to look back at those days about five or six years later and cringe, kicking the blankets as they try to go to sleep with those memories in their head. 

but there’s a nice, cringey emotion that comes with the memory of coming of age. twenty, while legally now an adult, is a transition between still being young and learning more about yourself and the world. not just in love but all around. 

she scribbles little doodles and hearts around her finished lyrics just like she would back in school and closes the notebook with a satisfied smile. perhaps if this song makes it onto her next album, it’ll become one of her favorites.