#and they always seem very obviously. not decorative. but the purpose they serve is a human one if that makes sense. we want to see what’s

[quietwingsinthesky]

if i ever end up writing even’s actual first encounter and adventure with the doctor, one of the running themes is going to be how there aren’t any windows on the ship.

which doesn’t seem like such a big thing at first, but that’s from our point of view, or the doctor’s, because we (and him) know the size of the universe. we know what space is, maybe not entirely, but enough to know the shape of it, yeah? we know what stars look like even when their light is a trillion years and miles away. but there are no windows on this ship. and even has never seen the night sky, has never seen a star or a planet or just the empty space that’s separated from them by feet of metal and a great deal of luck. even has lived their whole life inside, and space is not a thing they can see or touch. it’s an abstract threat beyond their walls. they could not imagine the enormity of it if they tried.

they don’t know the shape of the ship either. imagine someone let you run through a maze and then told you to draw it. you could draw the corridors you walked through and the dead-ends you ran into, but could you for certain say that you ever found the edges of it? that know the walls on the outside look like the walls on the inside? how big is it? and really, what you should be imagining is that your maze is one of a dozen different mazes all tied together with rubber bands, and none of you actually know what the whole thing looks like, and you don’t have time to talk through the walls to figure that out because if you stop moving for too long, the food dispenser at the end won’t give you anything despite reaching your goal because you were too slow, better try harder next time, stop talking and start running.

even isn’t surprised that the tardis is bigger on the inside. it doesn’t hit them until the doctor lets them see the ship they were on from the outside. like a farewell wave, opening the doors of the tardis as she orbits the ship, and even takes in the shape of it first. (they can’t figure out where they lived, where they worked, from the outside. they don’t recognize any of it.)

but then they see everything else, beyond the ship, while the doctor is standing behind them and saying something reassuring, ‘they’ll be alright without you, don’t worry about them, we fixed everything’, absently, kindly, because he knows they need a moment alone to say goodbye but someone has to stand at the controls and the silence gets to him a little too much. doesn’t see that even’s eyes are so, so wide staring beyond the ship at the universe around it.

it’s too big. they panic. they shut themselves inside the tardis.

that’s what gives the doctor pause. makes him waver, here, because even’s good companion material, they’ve got that spark in them that makes them want to help, whatever it takes, (this is what will undo them, eventually.) and he doesn’t want to leave them there. but you can’t just take something out of its natural habitat and expect it to flourish. that’s how you get wilting leaves and patchy coats and enough stress to kill something from heartbreak alone.

‘i can take you back,’ he offers. it’s the last time that’ll ever be true, but if he knew that when he said it, it’d be a very different kind of story. so he doesn’t.

even is shaking. tearing up. scared. elated? hiccuping on little gasps of air. the stars are beautiful, and terrifying, and now that even knows they exist, they can never go back to before they knew.

the doctor is cruel like that. he wants to show you the universe.

but here’s what’s true now and will be true forever: even doesn’t want to go back. i mean, god, could you blame them. one day, in a few years/decades/centuries/after the long way round to the end of the universe and the short trip back, he’s going to tell them that they can either say to his face that they’d rather he’d left them on that ship or they can stop adding it to his list of sins. they won’t be able to.

so they say no.

and they pull the doors back open just a crack, wide enough for one eye, small enough to shut again with the tremble of a hand. and they peek back out at the universe they’ve been living in. they don’t notice the ship, as the tardis breaks her orbit, speeding further and further away to a destination its passengers will never see.

that’s why there are no windows on the ship. well, that, and it wasn’t very well-designed in the first place.

[vergilthelibrarian]

In God's Name.

Part 2

You were taught to believe in God. To trust in God because he is always watching, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint God now would you?

To believe in God is to fear God.

To fear what he may do to you if you didn’t believe in him. If you didn’t trust him. If you didn’t give yourself entirely to him.

As a child, you believed, only because that's what you were told to do, but as you became older, you began to wonder why God needed to be feared in ordered to be loved.

You wouldn’t trust a mortal king if he needed fear in order to have control so why would you trust an immortal being that calls itself a God?

The people around you warned you about the wrath of God and that you should never utter his actual name. That only the priests can say his name and communicate with him. Again, you didn’t understand. God is supposed to be loving, right? You were always told how loving God was as a child but the more you became older, the more it seemed that God’s love was conditional. You needed to obey him in order to receive his love.

Mass was over for the day, and you decided to hang out at the church. It was a normal thing for the residents to just hang out at the church when mass was over. Whether they were continuing to pray, catching up with friends, gossiping, the church served other purposes besides religious ones and it was generally open every day except when they needed to do private ceremonies.

Whenever you stayed around after mass, you couldn’t help but admire the statues and stain glassed windows and paintings that decorated the church. The candles that lit up the hallways that weren’t renovated with electricity yet… It was beautiful and you always felt a sense of peace whenever you were here.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in God, you did.

You believed that a God or even multiple Gods existed, but you were questioning this God’s true intentions. The God you were taught to believe in.

As you rubbed your rosary, you walked past a door that was slightly open. Faint voices coming from the room made you stop in place and you began walking to the door, peeking in to see what was happening.

You see two priests guiding a young man who was a priest in training. He was reading from a book, whispering something. Your grip on your rosary became tight, your nerves were beginning to tingle with a sense of anxiety, but you couldn’t explain why. Yet though you were beginning to become anxious, you couldn’t look away. You were a very curious thing.

As you continue to watch, you heard the young man say a name, and though it was a whisper, you heard the name as clear as blue skies on a sunny day.

“Vergil.”

Suddenly, the air around you became cold, and a heavy sense of dread began to fill in your body. You knew right then and there that you just heard something you weren’t supposed to. Yet you still couldn’t look away, and as you continued to watch, your breath became caught in your throat.

A man with striking white hair soon appeared from an opening, a portal. His face was stoic, his sharp, piercing eyes were an icy blue, and he towered over the 3 men despite the men being rather tall themselves.

You needed to leave.

Whatever those 3 were doing, you obviously had no business knowing and besides, the sense of dread you were feeling intensified the moment the white-haired man came into your view.

Before you were about to turn away however, you gulped, freezing in place as you suddenly made eye contact with the man.

He held his gaze on you, looking directly in your eyes, and you found it hard to look away from him. You found it hard to breathe. Soon, a small smile grew on the man’s lips as he continued to gaze into your eyes and the 3 other men looked to see where he was looking.

“How long have you been here?!” one of the men said angrily as he began to make his way to the door and that alone broke you out of your frozen stupor and you ran away from the door. What you didn’t see however, was the white-haired man giving the priest a deadly glare, telling him without words to not move.

You ran to the entrance of the church, running off the premises and just kept running until your legs felt sore. As you stopped to catch your breath, your mind was racing with a million and one thoughts.

And that one thought in your mind that stood out from the million was: Did I just see God?

And if you did see God, if that truly was the God you were taught to love, fear, and worship, you now knew his name, something that you weren’t supposed to know.

You decided that it would be good to not go to mass for a while.

Curiosity truly is both a blessing and a curse…

[alltimefail-sims]

Girl why the fuck one of the kids only got an air mattress in your build...

Not gonna lie, this ask made me laugh. You're quite the eagle eye! Honestly, Beau has an air mattress for more than one reason, and I'm not sure if this is a rhetorical question but I'll take any opportunity to explain the lore around my sims! 👍

Let's unpack this under the cut ↓

It's important to note that the Brokes are a family from TS2 who are known for struggling financially and being, well, broke. (You might know this, but just in case I wanted to start there).

That being said, for the sake of realism I wanted all their furniture to feel haphazardly mismatched, hand-made with scraps, inherited from family members, or purchased very cheap at second-hand stores or yard sales (maybe even found in the dump/on the side of the road). For storytelling purposes, I imagine Beau just aged up out of his toddler bed and they don't have the money to get him a whole "big kid" bed yet with Brandi having a recently dead husband (who provided their main source of income) and a whole new child she wasn't expecting (hence why their bed is a pack-and-play and she has the changing table set up in her closet due to the lack of space).

Their household funds are currently under $1,000. Brandi is a waitress and is making less than minimum wage, largely depending on tips to make up the difference. The air mattress is obviously not ideal or a long-term solution, but that's what she can afford right now so that is what Beau has. I mean, Dustin's bed frame is made out of scrap wood and even Brandi's bed is very cheap (it's probably the first "adult" purchase her and Skip made when they got married). Beds in the Sims AND in real life are actually pretty expensive and a luxury item for people in poverty (ESPECIALLY bed frames which serve no function other than looking nice) so all things considered, I just didn't think giving all of them super nice beds was realistic. 🤷‍♀️ I promise it wasn't just something I did randomly for like the outdoorsy aesthetic of his room (I wasn't aiming to give his room a set "theme" anyway).

I also want to note that any "nicer" items you'll see in the build - like Dustin's gaming system (albeit it's the less expensive one) - are also "storytelling choices" on my end. I don't have my priorities mixed up or anything, Dustin just has a history of petty crime/criminal friends, so I imagine some of the nicer items in his room to probably be stolen or bought with money he made in a less-than-ideal way. Or like, there might be an antique decor item here or there (like the ceramic chicken in the kitchen) and I see that as something Brandi inherited from her grandparent's own kitchen (and little things like that emphasize my personal headcanon that her and Skip have country roots).

TLDR; I'm detail crazy. Like detail insane. No (normal) person needs to care about or have an explanation for these menial decisions but I do. Trust me when I say that the choices I make in a build always have a reason, even if that reason seems stupid lol.

[djarrex]

Countermeasures || 1

Archives

Fives x ofc!reader

x | next chapter ->

| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of lust? is that a warning? otherwise, nothing yet ;)

chapter summary: Renna (you), an intern who spent the entirety of her internship thus far filing paperwork in the archives of Tipoca City’s medical wing, finally is able to work with a real patient - that patient just so happens to be Fives.

note: Renna will basically be taking the place of AZI-3 in the Conspiracy arc. A lot of the dialogue I wrote is from the episode, and of course I added more to dig deeper into Renna and Fives as characters. When this idea came in my head I was only planning on writing it as a oneshot. As I starting writing this, however, I realized there was so much more that could be done with it since this arc is both a good one and a sad one. If you’re ready to go on this journey with me, then keep going under the cut! <3 Also, I wanted to add that there will be POV changes in this chapter. I don’t know if I’ll stick with that going forward, but we’ll see.

* tbh special thanks to @bvcketfvcker for coming up with the series title and being da Best™ 

***

The archives of the medical wing in Tipoca City, the capital of the watery planet Kamino, were always so cold and lonely. Every single day of your internship thus far has included you being nearly drowned in paperwork, no real field experience to show for it.

You’ve been on Kamino for your medical internship for what, close to six months now? You were still stuck doing paperwork. Maybe at the six month mark you’d be moved up to sterilizing all the medical equipment, which would seem terrible to anyone else, but at least you’d be in proximity to anything remotely “medical”. You were longing to get your hands dirty, to start real field experience, to learn how to heal. You wanted to help people, to help anyone in need. You wanted to learn the practices for saving someone’s life. Everything you wanted, you could not get if you were stuck in the archives with paperwork as your only companion. 

You decided within your first month that you would not let the paperwork and lack of real purpose get to you. So, you made your situation better by wearing - to the best of your ability - a positive attitude. On the day that marked the end of your first month here, the Kaminoans told you that music can be played in the archives as long as it’s not too loud, so you brought in a small radio the very next day. The start of your second month was a little better than the day before. You hummed to the music playing on the radio as you tried to make a game out of filing the paperwork. Turns out, not even a simple game could be made out of something so boring and tedious as filing paperwork.

You lost count of the days you’ve been in Tipoca City, within the archives shelled by the stilted dome structures, after your second month. Every day was exactly the same; you filed and shredded paperwork, organized reports, and finished filling out medical reports that the Kaminoan doctors didn't even want to bother with. Every day you woke up early, headed to the archives, and spent your entire day there in solitude until it was time to head back to your quarters for the night. Lunch was always dropped off to you by a couple of guards from the Kamino Security Team. The guards were always in full grey and white armor but you already knew what they looked like; they were clones, and you’ve seen their face in every file. They were handsome, sure, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of them out there. 

You were pretty sure you were coming up on month six of your monotonous internship. Waking up and getting ready was a routine ingrained in your bones. You were taking the regular route to the archives from your quarters when you were stopped by a couple Kaminoan doctors on the way. To your surprise, they asked you to follow them, which you were hoping translated to you not having to work in the archives anymore. Maybe month six was the lucky number.

You walked behind the tall and slender creatures through unfamiliar halls. You had no idea where you were following them to, but anywhere was better than where you were originally heading. 

They kept walking, with you in tow, when you passed by the only Jedi you’ve ever really spoken to - Master Shaak Ti, a calm and collected Togruta who was known to have a soft spot for the clones here on Kamino. The Jedi nodded in greeting to the Kaminoans in front of you, then over at you. With no words spoken, you were now following the Jedi through the halls, still unsure of the destination. 

Just around the corner, you saw two very decorated troopers coming towards you. They donned blue and white armor with a ton of other accessories. As they got closer, the one trooper removed his helmet and carried it at his side. This trooper had the usual dark brown hair and kept the common clone cut style. The way this clone walked with his helmet pressed to his hip had awoken something in you, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what that something was.

“General Shaak Ti.” The other clone removed his helmet as he greeted the Jedi. He was blonde and sported a closely shaved cut; despite having the same face and body, the two clone troopers looked completely different. They were unlike any clones you’ve ever seen.

That’s when you noticed another trooper laying on a stretcher behind them; his hair was long enough to be worn in a bun, a tear drop was inked underneath one of his closed eyes. He was also unlike any clone you’ve ever seen - especially since he appeared to be unconscious, He was hooked up to oxygen, you also noticed, as two guards pushed his floating stretcher right by you and around the corner, out of sight once they went down the hall.

You realized how zoned out you were and quickly snapped back to reality - only for only a second, though - as you became transfixed on the clone in front of you on the right, the one with dark hair. You scanned his features a little more now that he was closer; he had a dark goatee that framed his chin and his right temple had the number “5″ inked on the skin. His armor was crazy different from the armor the guards here wore. He looked... good. Uh oh. 

For just a brief moment, the “good looking” trooper’s eyes broke away from his conversation with the Jedi and met yours. Slightly embarrassed, you snapped your head forward and glued your eyes to the Kaminoan’s ankles in front of you.

Just as you started listening in on the conversation, the two clones, the Jedi General, and Dr. Nala Se broke away and turned the corner in the same direction they took the unconscious trooper.

Kriff. You missed the entire conversation. The Kaminoans started moving forward, and you assumed you were still supposed to follow them, so you did. You still had no clue where you were going, but you’ll get there eventually. 

***

Fives’ POV

Fives walked to the left of Rex, a long-neck doctor in between them, while Tup’s unconscious body was guided by two Kamino guards behind them. 

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now.” The long-neck broke the silence. Fives was worried for his friend. No one, not even Kix, could figure out what was wrong with him. Why would Tup shoot and kill General Tiplar? Fives noticed Tup was acting somewhat strange right before it all happened, but didn’t think too much of it at the time, Now, he’s racking his brain, trying to understand what set Tup off. He’s a good soldier, a good man. He’d never do such a thing in his right mind. 

It was suggested that Tup be sent to Tipoca City, to Kamino, back to his roots, for a better chance of figuring out what was wrong with him. Fives gladly accepted the offer to escort his friend there, and was overjoyed that Rex came along with them.

General Shaak Ti came into view, and the troopers came to a halt. Captain Rex greeted the General, and she turned her attention over to Fives.

“Fives, am I correct?” He nodded. Tup was being pushed from behind them and then around the corner in front of them, quickly going out of view. The General spoke again, her eyes glued on the unconscious trooper being led down the hall. “You’ve served with Tup?”

Fives was desperate to be by his friend’s side right now. “Yes.”

Then he saw you. You, a foreign species to Kamino. What were you doing here? It had been a while since Fives was last on Kamino, but he was sure there weren’t any others like you here before unless they were Jedi - but the only Jedi known to hang around Kamino was General Shaak Ti.

He had noticed you tailing the long-necks before you had even come entirely into view. Fives let his eyes flicker over to you as Tup was being taken away, only to have locked eyes with you for but a second. He noticed you blushed right before you snapped your head forward, obviously embarrassed that you’d been caught staring. General Shaak Ti’s voice broke Fives’ trance - didn’t even notice he was losing focus once he caught your eyes - and it was all over in less than five seconds. 

“You must come with me.” 

Fives quickly snapped his attention back to General Shaak Ti, “with... all due respect, General, I can’t just abandon him now.” The Jedi General smiled reassuringly, and turned to lead Fives and Rex down the hall in the same direction Tup was taken. 

Fives knew where his undivided attention should be, and that was on Tup - his friend - his friend that for some reason just gunned down a Jedi in the heat of battle in the space station just outside of Ringo Vinda, only to come to with no memory of what he had done. Fives cursed himself for thinking of you when his friend was about to be strapped to an exam table, being poked and prodded like some kind of lab scurrier. 

***

Renna’s POV

Dr. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino, approached you once you had gotten to the head medical lab and informed you that you’d be the one who would start procedures on a clone trooper who had potentially been exposed to a virus of some kind. You nodded, all too giddy as you gladly accepted the task.

You were escorted by two guards to where you’d be working with the patient. When the door whisked open, you slowly made your way into the quiet room, the door shutting quickly behind you. You glanced to the right, noticing the window that would normally allow you to see into the room next door was blacked out - put into the privacy setting. Strange. 

“You?” The deep voice - a voice that sounded like honey in your ears - put a halt on your thoughts about the darkened window. You knew it was the voice of a clone; the only voices you ever heard were either the slow, drawn out words of the Kaminoans or the clones’. Of course a clone would be in that room, of course a clone would be the subject of your testing.

Who you didn’t expect to see was the clone trooper you saw in passing not even a half hour ago - the one with the dark goatee and number 5 tattooed on his temple - the one who made you blush when he caught you staring. 

You felt yet another blush heat your cheeks before you even registered it was happening. What the hell were you blushing for? He’s a clone, and you’re here to take blood samples and body scans to make sure he’s okay. You knew you were staring at him like a fool, and for way too long. You shook your head slightly in an attempt to reorganize your thoughts. 

“You ok, Miss... miss?” He stood up from his seating position on the cot, and cocked his head to the side with his arms folded across his chest. You nodded your head slowly.

“Renna,” you nearly whispered your name to him - the words almost came out choked - for some reason you had forgotten how to speak in Basic for a moment. 

“Look, Miss Renna, I am not a threat. Neither is Tup.” 

Your brow raised as you studied the clone’s expression. It was hard; his eyes were piercing and his brows were furrowed. Crossed arms flew to his sides, hands tightening into fists. No doubt he was feeling angry and confused.

“T- Tup?” Was that the name of CT-5385? “You’re referring to CT-5385?”

“Tup! The trooper in that room right there?” He pointed over to the darkened window, “He’s a good soldier, my friend, and he’s in the room next door getting - getting tortured by those long-necks.” A beat. “None of us clones go by numbers anymore, by the way.” You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to think about what to say next. You inhaled deep through your nose, then slowly out through parted lips, watching as his expression went from angry to more... afraid? Worried?

“Trooper, I promise Tup is in good hands. I’ve been briefed on his- his condition... they - we - just want to find out what made him kill Jedi General Tiplar, that’s all. They’ve asked me to do a couple of procedures on you, take some notes, since you were close with Tup. Maybe we can find something in you that will help your friend.” 

The trooper’s expression changed again, softening as his fists unclenched at his sides. Surely he had to understand the gravity of the situation; when you were briefed, it was mentioned that no one on Kamino had any idea why CT-53 - Tup - shot a Jedi General in cold blood, or why he keeps floating in and out of consciousness, murmuring things like “kill Jedi”. Clone trooper Tup seemed to have no memory of what he had done; and so far, no scans were showing anything wrong with him, though his health was deteriorating.

You walked over to the counter where the sterilized needles and scanners resided and started to prep the equipment, reading over notes to see what it is you needed and what you were supposed to be testing him for. Reading through the notes, you realized this trooper’s designation was ARC-5555, and the tattoo “5″ on his temple made sense now. It was actually kind of... cute.

It was silent for a couple minutes while you were getting everything ready when a loud, airy sigh coming from behind you made you turn around to face ARC-5555.

“The name’s Fives.”

***

Fives’ POV

Fives was getting more worried for Tup by the minute. His rising frustration didn’t help, either. General Shaak Ti had engaged the privacy setting on Fives’ only view of his unconscious friend, leaving him in the dark as to what the long-necks were doing to Tup in the room next door. 

Fives sat in the room in silence, alone with his worries and doubts. You were out of his thoughts at this point; the worry and fear he felt for Tup swallowed him whole - until you were the one walking through the door. It could have been any Kaminoan, any droid, yet you were the one they had sent. 

His eyes wide, he watched you slowly walk in as you immediately set your attention to the darkened window to the right side of the room. Fives wanted to know if you knew what they were doing to Tup, why they were hurting him, why Fives wasn’t able to be there by his side. He had a million questions, almost all of them relating to Tup, except for the ones he had about you. 

Fives was sitting on a cot on the other side of the room, and you hadn’t noticed him yet. What is she doing here? Who is she? She definitely isn’t a long-neck. He wanted to ask you all kinds of questions, a mix between wanting to know more about Tup and wanting to know more about you, but all he could muscle out was one word. 

“You?” Fives shook his head in disbelief as the first word he said to you left his lips. It did manage to get your attention, though, because you turned away from the dark window and were now staring directly at him. Fives felt his heart beat just a little harder when he could finally take in your whole figure in more than just a quick glance. You were beautiful - more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and wearing the same thing he saw you in earlier; a tucked-in dark grey skin-tight top that came up your neck like clone under-armor blacks did, a white lab coat that came down to your ankles, hugging your curves in all the right ways along the way. The coat was open in the front, save for the one buttoned part right at your waist, just barely keeping the coat together. Your black boots were knee-high, your black leggings tucked into them. You stepped closer to Fives and his heart started racing; he was completely in awe of you, but there was something else, and it made warmth head straight to his groin.

***

Renna’s POV

Fives. That was his name. Not ARC-5555 , just like Tup wasn’t CT-5385. “No clones go by numbers anymore,” he had informed you. Being waist-deep in paperwork all the time never gave you an opportunity to actually work with the clones. All you knew about the clones were their designations, along with whatever the paperwork was filed for. It didn’t occur to you that they had names. 

“Look, is Tup gonna be alright? Have they found anything out?” Fives’ eyes were pleading, begging for some kind of reassurance. 

“Please, sit down.” He huffed, but obeyed. “We’re using hyper level tests, so we should get the results fairly quickly.” He nodded his head, thankful for any little crumb you could give him. “I’m gonna need to get started now, okay?”

Needle in hand and ready to go, you preemptively apologized. 

“Wh- ow!” You jabbed the needle into the side of his neck, a sympathetic smile on your lips. 

“I said I was sorry!” You chuckled quietly. Fives rubbed at his neck and you made you way back over to the counter, inserting the needle into the port next to the computer. 

“Well?” His hand still rubbing at his neck, you squinted your eyes to read the results displayed on the screen. 

“Everything... seems normal.” You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but you were happy your very first patient wasn’t immediately dying on you.

“Oh, great! That means you can let me out, right?” The excited tone in his voice made it quite difficult to relay the next part to him.

With an apologetic smile, you walked back over and sat on the cot across from him.

“Actually... I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Fives. I was instructed to keep you in quarantine until we’ve pinpointed the exact cause of Tup’s breakdown. We can’t risk any further casualties.” You couldn't bear to look at him now, so you glued your eyes to a fresh scuff mark on the toe of your boot.

“Like I told you before, I am not a threat, and neither is Tup!” You looked back up at him when his voice raised. Fives wasn’t angry, or at least it didn’t appear that way. He was worried for his friend. 

“I- I believe you, Fives. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make those kinds of calls. I’m just- just an intern. This is my first day not filing paperwork in the archives. I don’t- I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my first real patient.” You stood up to leave the room, letting your hand rest on his shoulder for just a moment in an attempt to comfort him. Something you never thought you’d be doing - comforting a clone. You told him you’d be back later to check up on him and to perform any tests the doctors deemed necessary. Then you left.

***

As you headed for your quarters for the night, you couldn’t help but think back on your introductory meeting with your very first patient. You replayed your short conversation over and over in your head; you transfixed on his voice, the raw emotion in it that went straight to his facial expressions, and the way he looked at you. You’ve seen his face many, many times in the files you were doused with daily, but most of the clones on Kamino didn’t have anything significant to mark them apart from one another - no scars, tattoos, different hair styles, and were generally clean-shaven. When you first saw Fives, his tattoo and facial hair was what did it for you. You hated to admit it, but you may have just accidentally gotten a crush on the ARC Trooper.

This was all new to you. You never realized clones had such... emotion. Or capable of such emotion, for that matter. You were kept in the dark for the entirety of your internship on Kamino, and now you understood why. You weren’t Kaminoan, you weren’t a Jedi, you were just an intern. In their eyes, there was no reason as to why you should engage the clones, so they kept you busy with paperwork every day. You wondered if you were physically kept away from the clones because you were also human, and therefore were able to share the same emotion and ideals as them. That idea wouldn’t have made sense to you if you thought about it earlier today, but now that you met Fives, it made sense.

Maybe the Kaminoans were fearful that you would be a distraction to them, or them to you. 

***

Tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567

[1994sunflower]

Maybe a heaven to you blurb where Mikey makes you squirt for the first time???

this is just….so much more than you asked for. i got a little carried away hehe but hopefully you don’t mind. hope you like it!

in which you squirt for the first time

“Mikey, someone could walk in.”

“Then you have to be quiet, don’t you? If you don’t want the others to hear.” His three fingers were still knuckle deep in your cunt and you were having a hard time doing just that. You felt the distinct bucking of your hips against his hand as he moved his fingers quicker in and out of you.

You hadn’t done it on purpose. All you heard was about the costume party and you had the perfect costume, one that wouldn’t be hassle to get; one that you knew hundreds of other girls had used for this very occasion. How could you know the pretty angel costume complete with a set of wings and halo would capture your boyfriend’s attention in that way?

Granted, you should have guessed when you saw the pure white color of the costume. It was a color that always seemed to drive your boyfriend wild when it was on you. And this was full white head to toe. The wings were small but with your small figure, it seemed to be just the right size for you. The white flowy dress hugged your waist just right, a generous amount of cleavage seemed to always be shown, and the hem left a little less to the imagination when it came to your ass and would downright be useless if you decided to bend down. But you didn’t wear it to purposely rile Michael up. It was just an easy costume to find. After years dating him, you thought you had exhausted the list of his kinks and turn ons. Apparently, you were wrong. It seemed that seeing you in an outfit that symbolized his favorite thing about you, pure innocence, was something that brought out any sexual frustration he had buried inside.

He hadn’t seen you in your costume until the night of the party. Granted, you hadn’t told him what you were wearing which made his reaction that much more exaggerated.

His eyes were wide when you met him happily just outside his house. His eyes trailing down your revealing but cute costume. They lingered more than necessary on the wings and halo. It was erotic. Like his wildest fantasy was being delivered to him on a silver plater and he couldn’t think of much of anything else but fucking you with your costume still on, the wings flapping uselessly against his thrusts and the halo being crooked from the position he would have you in.

He’d be corrupting his very own personal angel, an angel inside and out, tainting the perfect white of your angel outfit with his dark desires, taking you in a way a man as cruel, mean and aggressive as he was had no business in doing. But he did anyway because you were his and despite all odds, you loved him in a way no one could ever understand. In a way that let him do whatever he wanted to you. He was so lucky he had gotten a girlfriend that could please him as much as you could.

“Let’s just stay home tonight.” He had suggested, his eyes never leaving your costume and one of his hands even reached down and moved the silky fabric just enough for him to push it up and take a glance at the matching white lace panties you had underneath. Fuck, he was already hard just from looking at you.

But you squeaked and pushed his big hand away, letting your skirt fall back into place and looking around to make sure no one else was walking on the sidewalk and saw what happened.

“No, I want to go to the costume party.” You had whined, your bottom lip stuck out in plea but you didn’t see that pouting expression with your big eyes served to just make his thoughts run wilder and dirtier. Your halo made you seem so much more innocent and he wanted nothing more than to ruin that for himself.

But he gave you a warning instead, one of his hands grabbing a hold of your face to make you look directly into his eyes. “If we go, I’m going to fuck you at that party.”

You hadn’t believed him. But thinking back, there was no reason for you to doubt him. He’d never been the guy that shied away from anything like that before. But instead you just giggled like he had said a joke and rolled your eyes.

And he followed you, for what it was worth. Followed you all the way to the party, hands moving tirelessly on your waist, fingering the wings on your back, and sometimes moving up or down to cup your tits or your cunt. Each time you gasped but, if you were alone on the streets, you let him have his fun. You had hoped it would be out of his system by the time you got to the house party a few blocks from his house.

You thought it was, when you arrived. He hadn’t made a move to do anything except get you a Pepsi while you talked to as many people as you knew. Because this wasn’t a frat party, it was a house party, so you actually knew a few people. Somehow, that made your stomach erupt in butterflies even more when Michael finally leaned down to whisper in your ear about thirty minutes after arriving.

“Come on.” He had been patient enough. You started at the surprise that, he had been serious at the porch of his house. He took a hold of your hand and you let him lead you away from the party and into the nearest empty bathroom he could find. He closed the door behind him. It was a tight space and you weren’t sure what it looked like to everyone else to see him so obviously follow you into the room.

That seemed to be the least of his concerns as he turned back to you and took you in. He’d never loved your small size more. You were staring up at him, you reached just barely to his chest and your halo just a few inches more. So you were left staring up at him with naive wide eyes, a blush decorating your cheeks and your angel wings running vertically along your shoulders with your white dress flowing as you moved your hips side to side.

You could pretend you were surprised he would attempt this somewhere public all you wanted but you were just as turned on by the idea as he was. But maybe you should’ve taken him up on his offer to stay home instead of doing it in some random person’s bathroom.

So when he lifted you up and set you down on the counter, you wiggled your hips with a giddy pep. But, leaning back against the wall, his eyes followed your movements like a predator followed a prey and that was exactly how you felt as he stalked up to you. The unnerving thing was how much you liked it.

“Maybe we should wait until we get home…” You said softly but even you could hear how little you actually wanted him to stop.

But he just stared at you with cool, non-persuaded eyes. “I gave you a choice.” And you had chosen here, at the party.

He spread your legs with his hands and, flipping the hem of your dress up simply, he moved your panties to the side and sinked a finger inside of you. You were so wet, the only thing that slowed him was your walls tightening around him. Even if it was only one, you still closed your eyes and, with your arms holding you up on the counter, you leaned back just slightly. When he added the second and third, you moaned out and whined his name. He was stretching you out good and as he began to move them as deeply as he could, your hands fisted up on the counter.

“You’re soaking, baby girl.” He thrusted his fingers inside of you at an even pace that had you clenching around his him but it was when he put them in knuckle deep in you and curled that you had to bit your tongue to keep from screaming out. Instead you just bucked your hips against him desperately and moaned loudly. You hoped the music of the party would be enough to drown you out. You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this, but the risk of being caught was a lot hotter than you expected.

Michael moved his fingers in a beckoning motion and you felt him reach the particular spot that always had you spasming around him. And you did. Your stomach tightened and you felt your climax approaching as you begged for more. You are almost drooling with want, needing him to get you there like you knew he could when he stopped.

“No!” You cried out at what escaped you. Tears were pooling in your eyes at the frustration. But he just smiled wickedly up at you, enjoying the desperate glint in your eyes. He was teasing you, teasing you until you were crazed when sexual want. Until your white angel dress and halo meant nothing because you were begging for release that only he could give you, you would be craving sex, craving being destroyed by his fingers and dick. He wanted to rip your halo off and ram into you by pulling on your wings.

He watched you carefully as you begged for your release. “You can finish when I say you can.”

He did that to you many times after that. Always seeming to find the perfect angle with ease and bringing you to orgasm before snatching it away from your grasp. He had you whining, hips bucking like a whore, wetness pooling on the counter and eyes crazed with desire. Maybe it was his way to punish you for deciding to come to the party anyway, despite his warning.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Tearful pleads escaped your mouth in wildness and that paradox between your actions, words and the holy outfit you were embodying was too much for him. “Please, I’ll be a good girl.”

He loved the way you sounded so broken when you said that. So he decided to have mercy for his Angel.

“Bend over.” He commanded as he stood to his full height, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as you all but crawled to move to the floor with your weak legs before moving back up and leaning over the counter. Your halo was already threatening to fall off.

Michael wasn’t wearing a costume. He just had a plain grey shirt and jeans on. And he made no move to take any clothes off, instead just taking out his dick by pushing his boxers and jeans down a few inches.

He made sure you didn’t take anything off either. All he did was move your dress so that your lace panties were exposed to him, your legs spread in anticipation. He told you he was going to fuck you at the party, you just never expected how much you would want that too. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Moving your panties to one side, he let his thick cock spread you even more as each inch sunk into your cunt. Your eyes nearly rolled back to your head at the slow decent of him inside of you. You took a hold of the edges of the counter in front of you.

Through the mirror in front of you, you could see each movement of your body as he thrusted into you mercilessly, the large blush on your cheeks and your fucked out face already delirious from the pleasure and need to orgasm. God, you looked like a slut. What had he made you become?

Eventually though, he had bottomed out in you and you gasped at the feeling. His thrusts were rough. So rough, the collar of your shirt, already showing more than ample cleavage had moved down to expose your tits fully to him. You looked ruined. Your tits out, your pussy filled with his cock, your halo halfway off and your wings bounced like they were flapping behind you with each thrust.

Destroyed because of him.

His little angel bent over and fucked in the bathroom of a crowded party. You were tainted, corrupted beyond saving by a man that many saw as the devil himself.

At that thought, one of his hands moved to your throat, choking you tightly and the other down to your cunt where he began working on your clit. At the lack of air and the intense pleasure that made you feel with each thrust inside of you that had you bouncing pathetically under him, all you could do was moan out in high pitches. Sometimes, you opened your mouth but no sound came out, just a choked back sob of pleasure. After all that time of being denied your climax, this felt so good. Like a reward. Michael tried not to dwell on how fucking good you looked like that, crying for his cock, begging for more because he had corrupted you so good. His fingers circling your clit expertly had you clenching around him tightly. You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t care anymore where you were, that there were hundreds of people on the other side of the door.

“Fuck off.” Michael yelled out suddenly, glancing at the door for just a second before returning his attention to you. It showed just how out of it you were, how crazed you were for his cock driving into you that you hadn’t even heard the knock on the door. Michael hadn’t even faltered in his thrusts.

God, you hoped the music was drowning you out. Hoped they hadn’t heard your desperate moans and whines. Your filthy cries as nothing but the word ‘yes’ could escape your mouth.

Michael, for his part, felt like he was living a dream. His angel under him was closing around him so good. He lifted his shirt just enough to be able to watch as his dick drove into you. Your walls clenched around his girth. He groaned out at each slapping sound that rung through the empty room. Your walls hugged him tightly. He definitely wasn’t going to last much longer. The music of the party died out in the room and instead, the only sounds in it were the two of you. He paid special attention to the way his tattooed arm clashed against your bare skin and the white of the costume that still clung on to your body. It had him thrusting harder and growling under his breath. His fingers never faltered on your clit.

“So good, little one. You’re taking me so well.” He leaned down closer to you. “My angel’s such a fucking cock slut, isn’t she? Such a good little hole for me to fuck. Taking me like you’re made for it. Where all those people could hear. What happened to being the shy innocent angel?”

He was hitting your g-spot continuously. He took one of your wrists in his hand and pinned it behind your back, holding on as he drove into you. His thrusts varied between slow, languid and fast, taking his time to relish in the moment. Each stroke had you crying out from under him, pressing your cheek against the cool counter, it might have been the angle or it might have been the sight of you that drove him to thrust at just the right spot. His slow thrusts had you feeling everything, every inch, every bit of him as your walls stretched apart for him.

His fingers on your clit had your hips moving to meet his thrusts. It was almost too much, the stimulation. Everything felt too good. You tilted your head back as he began an unforgiving pace. With each flick of your bundle of nerves and each thrust reaching deep and hard into you, you felt yourself that much closer to the release you had been chasing all night. And still somehow, Michael found a way to slow down just enough for it to be prolonged even more.

“Yes, just like that.” You were sweating and desperate when you opened your mouth, “Right there, Mikey.” You begged.

Michael stared at you impassively. The only sign of just how much the visual of your tongue out begging for him, your cunt full of him while your angel costume was open and ruined effected him was when he choked you harder. Holding you still enough, he moved to be directly at your eye level before spitting into your mouth. Your delighted moan was sinful as you swallowed his spit. He was at wonder at how exactly you could still look so demure even after you let him spit in your mouth and taint you however he wanted.

You felt your release and this time he didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. His thrusts and circular motions on your clit never ceased and instead got impossibly faster as his desperation grew to meet yours. Your legs were shaking, spasming, when bursts of wetness erupted from you.

Michael pulled out to allow your liquid to fully shoot out and watched in wonder as your body convulsed under him, as you squirted all over your his cock, his jeans, the tiled floor. Your eyes were closed as helpless shrieks left your mouth at the unfamiliar sensation, you tried to close your legs as your cunt gushed, but they were shaking too much from the euphoria that you couldn’t manage it. The relief at finally, finally getting to reach your climax mixed with the overwhelming pleasure of his orgasm, so much greater than usual, had you grasping at nothing.

“Fuck.” The sight of you had him coming too, splashing your legs, pussy and even onto your dress. Not that you were in the right mind frame enough to get mad at him for it.

He’d never seen you squirt before and a surge of pride arose in him that he had done that to you. Made you feel so good, had your legs shaking uncontrollably from the pleasure, had you so weak. He was the first man to make you squirt. That, along with, the fact that your now cum stained angel costume was still on you made everything even hotter. Seeing you become so wild and unfolded because of him, how beautiful you looked even you writhed and screamed helplessly against his stimulation and work, was possibly the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed.

“Good girl, you fucking drenched me.” He picked your weak frame up when he saw you were unable to hold yourself up by your trembling legs and set you down on the counter. He let go of your throat enough to tug at your hair, moving your head so you could look at what exactly you had done. “Look at the mess you made.”

Your face was red as you took in his ruined jeans and your cum trickling down your two thighs and legs, pooling below you on the floor. Embarrassment soared through you and you whined, pulling away from him and covering your face with your hands. You weren’t sure which was more mortifying, that you had just exploded over him or that the evidence was in a stranger’s bathroom.

When Michael chuckled, you finally looked at him with shy eyes. You’d never squirted before, never even really knew you could. It felt good, so good, and you felt awe at Michael for making you feel that way. Your body still felt as if it were buzzing. You tried to wrap your mind around exactly what happened but all your thoughts had disappeared, fried and replaced by the blinding pleasure you had felt by Michael’s actions. Whatever he had done to you was addicting and had left you exhausted.

But you weren’t sure what his reaction would be. Was it too much, too messy?

Whatever you thought it would be though, pleasantly ended up being Michael grabbing your neck and pulling you in for a firm kiss. “That was so hot, baby girl. You have no idea.”

“Really?” Your voice was small, uncertain. And Michael felt himself twitch at the sound. He had just absolutely wrecked you, leaving you shaking and soaking, and marked you to prove it, but yet you were back to the innocent, shy little angel you were dressed to be. His jaw tightened.

He let out a disbelieving laugh, unsure of how you couldn’t see just what that sight, the knowledge of how good he made you feel, did to him. “I just made you squirt while you’re dressed like a fucking angel. I don’t think I’ve ever cummed faster.”

“But I ruined your clothes.” You murmured. “And the floor.”

His smile was nothing short of devilish. “I’ll clean it, don’t worry. And about my clothes, trust me baby, I don’t give a shit. But if it’ll make you feel better, consider us even.”

Your gaze immediately dropped to your costume, already dreading what you were going to see. And just like his mischievous gaze told you, your white dress was splattered with his cum. Your breath hitched at the sight.

“Michael! Everyone will see when we leave.” You chastised but you didn’t know why you bothered when he had already moved your hair away from your shoulders gently and replaced it with his lips, suckling just below your ear. One of his hands came up and took the halo right off of your head.

He stopped only to whisper, “Let them. They already know you’re mine.”

He didn’t care, his mind still strayed to the vision of you squirting all over him because of how good he fucked you. He didn’t know exactly what he did, all he knew was he wanted to do it again and again. He wanted you to squirt for him every time, that knowledge that he could bring you so much pleasure. Only he could do that to you.

[rosyfingereddawnn]

heart of gold (chapter four)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: allen being a weirdo as usual, fluff, angst and friendship :’)

words: 4.3k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: folks!! this took a lot longer to write for a number of different reasons but hey!! it’s here now :) not much to say in this one cause i don’t wanna spoil, but if anyone has any theories, feedback or suggestions please let me know! hope you enjoy <333

chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

masterlist

playlist

------

“Dear angel, I hope you are faring well. This note, unlike the rest, is rather short. I felt I should be quick, and frank, too. If you happen to find yourself at the Bennett manor for the upcoming ball, I will be present as well. Perhaps, if fate allows it, we may meet, finally. I will be wearing a silver gown, with chiffon detailing. Look for me, and I will do the same. Forever yours, stranger.”

Stunned silence fills the elegant dressing room as Robert reads the short letter over once more, his fingers tracing the letters as though the action would reveal a devastating brand of trickery. For all intents and purposes, however, the letter seemed to be perfectly earnest; a fact that Bonzo, sitting next to him with a cigarette dangling from his lips, enjoyed reminding him of.

“Robert, she wants to meet with you. You want to meet with her. We must go to the ball. I’ll even help you pick out a suit,” he drawls, lazily throwing his head back against the plush cushioned chair as he gazes over at Robert. “I am convinced this is the longest you’ve gone without talking, to be quite honest.”

The blond sat unmoving, eyes never straying from the slip of paper clenched in his hands. He hasn’t spoken a word since reading it, and his eyes roam over each line as though he was unable to fully take in the words that flow across the page. Slowly, the man's eyes raise from the letter, meeting Bonzo’s as shock swims in the cerulean pools.

“Bonzo.”

“Ah, he speaks!”

“She wants to…”

“Meet you? Yes, she does,” Bonzo finishes the man’s sentence with a hearty chuckle, and his arm raises to pat Robert on the arm. The chestnut-haired man continues, shaking his head at the blond’s nervous antics. “We need to find you a suit; an expensive one, at that. The Bennett’s are just short of nobility after all. We might have to cut your hair, too.”

“What? Why would we do that?” The blond’s hands fly towards the tips of his golden ringlets almost unconsciously, and he cards long fingers through them. Uncertainty is painted upon his handsome face, and Bonzo smirks, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Just because you’re an actor, Robert, does not mean you need to look like one. Long hair signifies that you’re loose. Easy, if you will. Even if it does have a kernel of truth to it…”

“And you’re definitely sought after, are you not, Bonzo? Quite suave, if memory serves.”

Bonzo huffs out a laugh, and gazes over at Robert, as he blows a gauzy cloud of smoke into the air. A smirk graces his features as his lips twitch in an attempt to hide it, and he shoves Robert’s arm amicably. “All in due time, my friend. All in due time.”

“I’m sure.”

“Regardless of how I am faring in that particular department, we were talking about you, were we not?” Bonzo replies, locking eyes with Robert, earnest now, as he searches the man’s face. Seemingly not finding what he was looking for, his dark brows furrow. “Why are you so nervous in the first place? Women almost flock to you, yet you’re quivering at the possibility of meeting this one.”

Robert sighs, shifting uncomfortably under Bonzo’s penetrating gaze. He was as nervous as he is, because this woman… it’s as if she had known him all his life. She was charming, and intelligent, talking of wonderful novels and intricate poems. To Robert, whenever he read a letter she had written, he could almost hear her twinkling laughter, and see her smile that sparkled in his mind. Her soul was utterly beautiful, and it seemed to have entwined with his. Robert can only hope, however, that she feels the same.

“I… I do not know what she looks like, or how she is in person. That’s all,” Unable to let those thoughts linger in the tense air of the dressing room, Robert comes up with the best excuse he could muster under the circumstances. “I do think it is a cause for concern, is it not?”

“Well, Plant,” Stilling the shaking of one hand with the other, Robert returns Bonzo’s stare, until the moustachioed man smirks once more. He had obviously seen through the ruse, and it was only a matter of time before Robert became the laughing stock of the entire theatre. The two are locked still in a staring match, without a single movement from either. Oddly enough, though, Bonzo looks away first. The smirk still dangling from his lips proves that the conversation will be continued eventually. “I wish you luck, then. Truly, I do hope it goes well tonight.”

“Thank you, Bonzo. I appreciate your support. Truly I do.”

“I’m sure. Now,” Bonzo stands with a huff, stretching an arm out towards Robert. The blond takes it and raises from the comfortable chaise, and the two friends saunter out of the room, laughter following them. “How about we get ready for the ball? You must look put-together, and oftentimes, you’re not exactly the picture of elegance…”  Bonzo’s voice trickles out past the crack left in the door, and Robert’s squawk of offense rings across the empty room.

-----

Florence steps in front of the floor-length mirror that decorates her room, and she feels beautiful, for what may very well be the first time in years. In the beginning, Allen had showered her with compliments, and made her feel truly loved. His words soured, eventually, and she bore the brunt of his treatment ever since. Finally, though, she was doing something for herself. To make herself happy. If you ask anyone that truly knows her, they would point out that Florence was altruistic, almost to the point of self-effacement. She had lived much of her adult life playing an impossible role. Tonight, she meets her beloved actor.

Appearing suddenly behind her in the mirror, almost like a mirage, Emma takes in the way her friend is fiddling with the dress they had picked out together. It was a beautiful silver that gleamed in the dusky moonlight, with accents of soft chiffon that could only add to the ethereal quality. Dressed in her own gown, a canary yellow that made her eyes gleam like gemstones, Emma dares a smile of her own.

“Florence, you look lovely. Are you excited?”

“Oh!” Florence turns, dress swaying with the motion, as she finally notices Emma standing behind her. A fair blush rises on her freckled cheeks, and a carefree giggle leaves her cherry-red lips. “You look wonderful, Emma! James will not be able to tear his eyes away, I reckon. As for your question, I’m… incredibly nervous. I will be honest with you.”

“Nervous? Florence, this could be an incredible night. It will work out.” says Emma, purposefully not touching on the first half of Florence’s sentence. She didn’t want to think about James at the moment, or she would get distracted.

“I can’t help my nerves, because… what if this is all for nothing? What if he isn’t nearly as kind as he seems, and I am trapped once more? Emma, I do not know if I could bear it.”

“Ever the pessimist,” Emma sighs, a smile growing on her tanned cheeks. She grasps the other woman’s arm, thumb rubbing circles into covered skin, bringing Florence much-needed comfort. As soon as she lets the arm fall, Florence begins to pace around the room. Emma sighs and moves closer in an attempt to still the woman’s frayed nerves.  “Luckily for us, I am quite the optimist. Florence, he cares for you, and that is plain to see. You proposed that he wouldn't be quite what you imagined, but what if he’s more? In addition, if he is treating you unkindly at any point, you have the right to leave.”

“I… suppose you are right, Emma.”

“As always,” Emma scoffs jokingly, as she saunters closer. Her hand brushes a tendril of hair, which had fallen in Florence’s face in the midst of her panic, back into the sleek bun of golden brown. “Now, as much as I hate to subject you to this, Allen is waiting in the main hall. He needs you for the grand entrance, after all.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Ah, some sarcasm to start off the night.”

The women chuckle softly as they make last-minute adjustments in the clear surface of the mirror. Satisfied, they lock eyes, and arm in arm, they walk out the door and down the winding staircase to the main floor. Allen is leaning against a carved column, and, detecting the disruption, he scoffs and pushes to stand straight.

“Finally. I thought you would never be finished. Come, Florence,” Allen, seemingly for the first time, notices his wife’s companion, and the sneer that was almost permanently etched onto his face appears yet again. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Weston.”

“Likewise, Mr, Bennett.”

A tense silence permeates the room, until Allen clears his throat rather impolitely, and whisks Florence away with a final smrk drowning derision, and they’re gone. In the stillness of the room, Emma whispers, “Good luck, Florence.”

The woman reckons that she’ll need it.

-------

As Florence steps into the ballroom, her mouth falls open, a gasp tumbling past her lips. Flowers of every shape and tint decorate the gold-gilded walls, and lanterns pour faint yellow light across the room. The magnificent chandelier, crystals twinkling like stars, casts faint shadows across the faces of the guests, who promenade across the dance floor, mingling and laughing. Sets of double doors lead out onto a beautiful, moonlit balcony, the glow of bright starlight filtering in through the windows.

Stopping at the entrance, arm in arm with Allen and Emma at her side, she marvels as she takes in the sights. The ballroom, of course, was always as elegant and luxurious without the celebrations taking place, yet it seemed that Allen had wanted to go the extra mile. For what he lacked in kindness, Florence thinks, he makes up for in his apparent prowess regarding interior design. A quiet laugh flutters involuntarily past her lips, and Allen looks down at her, confusion drawing his dark eyebrows together.

“Florence, dear, what is it now?”

Caught, she shakes her head, a pliant smile gracing her features. Apparently satisfied, Allen looks back to the crowd that had gathered to celebrate him, propelling her forward with a hand that sits dangerously low on her lower back. Disgust souring her expression for a split second, she recovers, and plasters on that ever-present smile that feels like a lie.

“Welcome all. I am truly grateful that we could all gather, to celebrate…” Allen’s words seem to simply evaporate before they could reach Florence’s ear, as the woman’s gaze roams around the ballroom, searching for a head of perfect golden curls. Unable to spot the man she’s been writing to for the better part of a month, she sighs quietly, holding onto the sliver of hope that he had really come. Wrenched out of her thoughts by the hand at her back slipping perilously lower, she registers how Allen coaxes her to move, and she steps forward, staring at the scowl full of irritation on his lips. Locking eyes with Emma, who had moved further into the crowd, she is greeted by a comforting smile, and Florence nods her head in gratitude.

Allen, his hold firm, almost bruising on her arm, leads her around the room. She greets guests, many immersed in the same secret lifestyle as Allen, and Florence knows that she will forget their names completely come morning. Their smiles always seem to be too wide, and their eyes hold an intense look that Florence has spent years trying to decipher. She’s used to her role by now, pasting on a beaming grin that almost hurts the longer she holds it, and curtsying at every man they greet. Oftentimes they are ‘dear’ friends of Allen’s, no doubt just as sycophantic as her husband.

An hour or so passes, though it feels like an eternity to Florence, as Allen pulls her off to an unoccupied corner of the room. His hand slithers to land at her shoulder in what was possibly meant to be a loving gesture, though it sends chills down her back. Tilting her head up with a thick finger, Allen leans closer to her, his hot breath fanning across her face.

“I must go speak to a very important friend of mine. Roam around the ball, if you wish, but Florence, dear?”

“Y-yes, dear?”

“One wrong move, and this night could be ruined. Do try and be careful. I do hope you haven’t forgotten our previous conversation.”

With the thinly veiled threat hanging heavy in the air, he is gone, navy waistcoat fluttering behind him. Florence, shoulders falling from their tensed position around her ears, gazes out at the sea of faces, amusement and glee etched onto their features as they twirl around the room. The atmosphere is suffocating, and the woman glances back at the festivities, shaking her head solemnly as she slips out of the ornate French doors. Safe under the soft, starry cover of moonlight, Florence allows herself a deep, almost world-weary sigh, as her eyes sweep across the immaculately-tended gardens that decorate the back of the manor.

She’d lost Emma around the time Allen had paraded her around like a prize, and, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen James for quite some time, as well. He and John had busied themselves with serving beverages and appetizers on shining silver trays, but it seemed as though James had slipped away. She hopes Emma and James are together, finally working out the feelings they so clearly have for each other.

The clipped sound of footsteps against the cobbled floor of the balcony brings Florence out of her thoughts, and with another heavy sigh, she addresses the intruder, face still turned upwards to gaze at the glowing crescent moon.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that I am simply not in the mood to—” The sentence trails off, words dying in her throat as she finally turns around. Familiar golden curls sway in the light evening breeze, and cerulean eyes send ice water pooling in her veins. The slight smirk that sits elegantly on thin lips seems to waver slightly, as though the man was nervous, though he seems to recover quickly. He takes a step closer, and Florence can smell the soft, irresistible scent of sandalwood.

“I’m… It’s… It’s you.”

“Astute observation, love. You did tell me to look for a certain silver gown, did you not?” The smirk that her actor is sporting only serves to set every nerve on fire, and Florence sputters, all semblance of confidence leaving her, already lacking as it was. Her indignant expression only serves to make the man chuckle and shake his head fondly, silken ringlets swaying with the movement. His hair is much, much longer than what was thought to be socially appropriate, yet the man does not seem to care. He looks comfortable, rather easy-going, and his relaxed smile sends her stomach aflutter.

“It seems you take instruction well. That is certainly good to know.” Florence recovers enough to reply, her smile growing as she takes in the amused look on the tanned, handsome face of the man in front of her. Somehow, he was even more attractive, almost magnetic, to her the closer she looked.

“One of my many talents, I assure you,” Robert chuckles, eyes gleaming like jewels in the dim evening light. The stars were reflected in those deep blue depths, and if Florence stepped any closer, she swore that she would drown. “That is a lovely gown you’re wearing. The colour, especially, is remarkable. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you, inside.”

“You… noticed me?”

“You act as if that is difficult to do. If I’m honest, I was waiting for the right moment to steal you away. When you stepped out, I knew it was my only chance.”

“I-I must say,” Florence starts, chancing a look up at him through her eyelashes. She, hesitance clear on her face, steps closer to him, finally, and the beaming grin that lights up his face is the reward. “I’m glad you took that chance, then.”

The music that filtered, muffled as it was, through the doors seemed to swell and grow louder. Robert’s hand raises, ghosting his knuckles across her cheek as though he were afraid of breaking her, and he smiles, charming as ever.

“May I have this dance, love?”

Florence can only nod, as her hands slip into his, the friction caused by the warm, calloused feel of his palm somehow exhilarating to the young woman. He pulls her closer, placing his free hand on her hip. He was tall, much taller than Florence, and he gazes down at her as they sway together. Being here, in the arms of this stranger that she swears she had known her entire life, she feels content.

Hopeful.

Robert, subtle control in the way he leads Florence through the dance, is graceful in his movements, and perfectly respectful. His hand never strays from its place on her hip, and with a light squeeze to the hand in his, he spins her around, perfect synchronicity in their movements.

Florence’s eyes lock on something behind the man, then, and her lips turn up in a subtle smile. From her place on the balcony, Florence could see the staircase in the grand hall, just out of view of the ballroom. Through the window, hidden behind a carefully-carved pillar, she spots Emma and James, locked in a dance of their own. Emma’s hand, resting on James’ shoulder, rises to trail across the man’s cheek. Traces of the bruising that had marred the man’s face still remain, and Emma’s face contorts in a look of sadness at the sight. James shakes his head, lips moving with no sound to follow, and Emma gazes earnestly back at him. Slowly lowering her head onto James’ shoulder, they continue to rock back and forth. A beautiful private moment, for sure.

“What is it, love?”

“It was nothing. You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?”

“This is but a perk of being an actor, I’m afraid,” says Robert, twirling her around once more. Moonbeams dance around them as the light fall wind whistles in harmony with the music. “You know, I must say that I was quite surprised, that a single performance of mine endeared you enough to send me a note. Was it truly that enjoyable?”

“You are a wonderful actor, but that smart mouth of yours might get you into trouble.” Florence replies, a giggle marking the end of her sentence. Her eyes light up in bliss as blue meets muddy hazel, and they are alone, everyone inside fading into the background; simply an array of colours in a painting.

“My smart mouth? You are not exactly innocent in that respect. Speaking of… your letters. They were incredibly poetic. I enjoyed each one, I will admit.”

“A childhood dream of mine, if you can believe it, was to be a poet, or perhaps an author.”

“I would read every volume.”

The blush that blooms on Florence’s freckled cheeks makes Robert smile, and the laugh that tumbles from his lips makes Florence wish she could simply stop time, and live in that moment forever.

“You know what they say, love.” The confusion clear on the woman’s face brings a satisfied smile to Robert’s face, which Florence frowns at. She had never enjoyed not knowing, and the man had taken full advantage of that.

“And what, pray tell, do they say?”

“The shortest poem is a name. May I have yours?”

“I-I don’t simply give my name out to strangers. Perhaps if I knew your name, however…” The smirk that plays across Florence’s rosy lips makes Robert laugh, and unconsciously, he pulls the woman even closer. The music continues, ebbing and flowing, and the couple continue their dance, both physically and verbally.

“Hm, you are very cunning.”

“One of my many talents, I assure you.”

“And witty, too. It’s quite refreshing,” Robert squeezes the woman’s hip lightly, playfully, and she smiles up at him innocently. As beautiful as she was, which, in Robert’s opinion, could not be overstated, the actor detected a hint of sadness that hung around the woman like a shroud. He could see the way her smile never lasted for as long as he’d like, and how her eyes seemed to dim, a faraway look replacing the gleeful expression he had put there. Despite this, she seemed to have an inner strength that often remained under lock and key. She had shown a glimpse tonight, and he longed for another. Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts clouding his mind, Robert continues, smiling easily. “My name, love, is Robert. Robert Plant.”

“Robert…” Florence repeats, almost testing the name out on her tongue. “It suits you.”

“Now that we are no longer strangers, may I put a name to that beautiful face?”

“O-okay, I suppose it’s only fair. My name is Florence… Bennett.” The moment of hesitation was long enough that confusion paints Robert’s features, until recognition, and not long after, shock, wipes it away.

“Bennett, as in…”

“Yes.”

The couple had stilled, now, though Robert’s hand still warmed the skin of her hip through the gown. Florence, gaze firmly on the ground, refuses to look at Robert, whose mouth opens and closes, stunned.

“Robert, I-I’m sure this has changed everything, and… maybe it is better if we leave this here. I—”

“Florence, it’s—”

“I should go.” As soon as the words leave Florence’s mouth, she disentangles herself from Robert, and moves to re-enter the ballroom. Almost to the door, she feels a warm hand settle on her wrist. It’s soft; the hold. She could easily slip out of it, if she had wanted to. But she hadn’t.

“What—Where are you going?” Florence is still facing away from him, but she didn’t pull away, and Robert counts this as a good sign. He takes a step closer, the hold on Florence’s hand never wavering, and she winces when she hears the tap of his pointed shoes drawing closer.

“This is not fair to you… I hurt everything I touch, it seems, and… I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire, Robert. Please understand.”

“I don’t care.”

“Robert, I’m serious.”

“And you believe I’m not?”

“I will break your heart. Don’t do this to yourself… I’m not worth it. Please.”

Robert scoffs, then, and Florence doesn't have to look at him to see the determined line of his lips. She doesn't have to look at him to see how he is shaking his head almost bitterly. His thumb traces over the fine bones of her wrist like a feather, and as much as she wished with all her heart that it hadn’t, it brought her comfort.

“Break my heart, then. It would be worth the pain, being close to you. You, Florence, are worth everything. Anyone that says otherwise is delusional.”

At this, Florence turns around abruptly, and the storm swirling in her dark eyes is clear to see. A droplet of salty water trickles down her red cheeks, flushed with conviction, and she struts closer to Robert.

“You don’t know what Allen Bennett is like, and you do not deserve to. I will beg, if I must. Please, don’t do this.”

“Love, you will not sway me on this. I feel a genuine, special connection to you, and this month of writing to you has been… truly perfect. I am not giving up on you… on us, because I could get hurt.”

Florence knows that if he insists once more, she could not stop him. She wants Robert, and everything that comes with him; of course she does. She would be irrational not to. But she knows how Allen is. How possessive he is, even as he revels in the arms of another. Robert is an amalgamation of everything that is good in the world, it seems to her then, with a heart of gold to drive the point further. She could not forgive herself if anything changed that.

“Robert…”

The man in question slips into her space, a long finger lifting her chin to face him. A traitorous tear trickles down her cheeks, and Robert wipes it away with a thumb, looking into Florence’s eyes all the while. Enraptured with each other, they press closer, and Florence can feel Robert’s breath fan over her face. His hand caresses her cheek lightly, and her eyes flit down to his lips. Their noses touch, and then, as if divine intervention, the door opens. John steps onto the balcony, smirking into his hand as he watches the couple spring apart.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt. Florence, your… husband is looking for you.”

“T-thank you, John. I will be right in.”

John nods, and disappears back into the ballroom, with a private smile directed at the woman. Looking back at Robert, Florence takes in the hint of a flush on his own face, and knows that she must look the same. Tentatively taking his hand in hers, she interlocks their fingers in a loose hold, in case they are forced apart once again. That is as close as she’s willing to get in such a public area, now that she knows Allen is on the prowl, but Robert smiles at her all the same.

“When can I see you again, Florence?”

“Allen is… I believe he is out often, this coming week. I will write to you.”

Robert nods, and squeezes the hand resting in his, a smile playing about his lips. He pulls away, then, and moves to the door, when a hand curls around his once more.

“Robert?”

“Yes, love?”

“Be careful.”

With that, she slips around him, opening the door and stepping through. The scent of her perfume, something light and floral, dances around him as she passes.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx @sophiazeppelinchick @reincarnated70sbaby @grxtsch @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @thebeatlesuniverse @dreamersdrowse (let me know if you want to be added!)

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

On Wednesday, you begin to bake, cut, and fill.   The ingredients are pulled from the borrowed kitchen — eggs, butter, buttermilk, vegetable oil, sugar, flour, baking powder, unsweetened cocoa powder, and vanilla. The oven is preheated to three hundred degrees fahrenheit and the round pans are greased. The four of you measure and mix together the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients.    Once it’s all ready, it’s baked while the ganache filling is worked on. Heavy cream, butter, chocolate, and a pinch of kosher salt are melted together with two tablespoons of brewed coffee to deepen the flavour. It cools and thickens, a fluffy texture that melts against your palate.    And when the moist cake is out of the oven, it cools too before being cut and filled.   “Alright, folks.” Namjoon dusts his hands off, shutting the fridge door. “Now on Friday, we just cover, dowel, and stack. Since the wedding is on Saturday, we want it to sleep overnight.”   “We’re going to have to prepare decorations tomorrow,” Sejeong says. If there was anyone’s cake that she wanted to perfect, it was her own sister’s. “Crumb coat the cakes and smooth the frosting, colour the fondants, make the flowers. Just so we can get it prepared in time and not be rushing on the last day.”    “Okay.” You offer a smile. “Are we still going with lavender?”   “That’s the plan. But we can worry about that tomorrow. How have you two been? Any problems?”   You glance at Jungkook, meeting his eye, but you divert hastily. “N-No, we’re fine. We’ve been enjoying ourselves. Thank you for bringing us along.”   “That’s not a problem.” Namjoon laughs heartily, practically glowing with a healthy tan. “We’re happy to have two more sets of hands. God knows the wedding is hectic and stressful enough, right, honey?”   “Chungha is having it tougher.” His wife sighs. “We’re just glad to get this done and over with.”   In between family feuds and relatives duking it out, you don’t need to tell them that you and Jungkook are incidentally sharing the same room over a mistake in booking. They have enough on their plates as it is.   But just because you don’t talk about your issues doesn’t mean that they’ve magically vanished.   Even if you wish that were the case.   “Morni—”   The moment you open your sleepy eyes, Jeon Jungkook has manifested in the mirror. You choke on your toothpaste, toothbrush sucked into your throat like a vacuum, lodged in. You choke it out and sputter.    Jungkook’s shocked awake, eyes widened as he pats your back.   You cough and rinse your mouth. “Oh my god. You scared me to death!”   “All I said was good morning!” He shoots you a look, leaning in too close with his still sleepy demeanour, fluffed hair and swollen face. “Are you alright?”   “Obviously not! I almost died!”   You’re not okay. Very far from any semblance of ‘okay’.   For one, you can’t look the bastard in the eye. You can’t stop yourself from perspiring. It’s as if your best friend is someone worthy to be fearful of…   No. It’s not that you’ve become afraid of Jungkook. You’re nervous.   “I’m going to shower.”   “Sounds good.”   It shouldn’t be surprising. He even warned you. But the moment Jungkook starts to strip off his shirt, you’re caught off guard at how he didn’t wait for you to leave ⁠— how comfortable he is with you. You have half a mind left to sprint out of the bathroom. Nearly falling over. Barely catching your stumble.    Jungkook watches with his brows raised incredulously.   The bathroom door eventually shuts and you change as quick as you can, and run out of the room without a word. Like you’re being chased by loan sharks.   “Hey, Y/N.” After ten minutes, Jungkook comes out topless, having forgotten to grab a shirt. But he pays no mind, toweling off his head. “We should get room servi—…...Y/N?”   The doe-eyed boy looks around, realizing that you’re gone.   You’ve headed across the resort to the restaurant for breakfast. Finally, you’re able to have a meal in peace without having to lift your head to see a big nose and brown, doe eyes.    You grab a healthy serving of eggs, toast and cereal. And you pick a good table to look out and enjoy the view.   But fifteen minutes into your meal, someone suddenly plops down across from you.   You’re startled to death again.   “I can’t believe you ditched me.”   “S-Sorry…” You look away. “I was too hungry to wait.”   “Could’ve told me at least. I would’ve hurried up.” He spreads cream cheese on his bagel, ruffled mop of hair flopping as he moves. He’s dressed like a true tourist again, this time with a hawaiian shirt that’s bright orange with blue florals all over it.   Jungkook’s eyes are round and buggy as he bites down and he hums in satisfaction at the taste. “So what are our plans for today? It’s the only full day we have left before we have to work on the cake.”   “I don’t know.” You stand up. “I finished. Should go back to the room. I have a stomach ache.”   “Really?” His left cheek is puffed out with food stored inside. “But I just got here.”   “Nature calls.” You run off, leaving your best friend in the dust.   It’s horrible being stuck on an island with Jeon Jungkook.    No matter where you run or how you hide, he’s always there.   “How was the—”   You scream.   “—bathroom trip.” Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed deep.   “You scared me!” You put your hand over your heart where it’s pounding hard, threatening to jump out of your chest.   “But I didn’t do anything,” he defends, mouth drawing open as he gestures around, perplexed at how you could be frightened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, with this many people around. “Are you sure you’re okay?”   “I’m fine. H-how’d you even find me?!”   “I don’t know, I was just heading back to the room. The resort isn’t that big.” He shrugs and finally is able to get a good look at you. Jungkook slowly smiles at your one-piece swimsuit. “Are you going in for a dip? I can join.”   The thought of Jungkook ripping off his shirt, jumping into the pool and getting all wet with you has your knees weak. It’s not a healthy idea.    “No. Changed my mind. It’s kind of….cold out for a swim. I’m probably going to go back inside to change.”   “Y/N. It’s hot. It’s like a hundred degrees out here.”   You muster stiff laughter. “Well I’m feeling a bit chilly. Gonna go back and change. See ya!”   You sprint off again, in a completely disoriented manner. Jungkook shouts your name when you nearly slip on a puddle of water by the poolside and almost crack your head open. But luckily, you catch yourself and throw him a half-hearted smile and an exaggerated wave goodbye.    Part of you wishes you would’ve just fallen into the pool or hit your head. Maybe it would finally knock some sense into your brain.   There’s no reason for you to be so nervous around him. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about — IU fanboy, the biggest nerd of the universe, officially the worst flirt on this planet.   There’s absolutely no reason for your stomach to flip. For you to be unable to retain eye contact with your friend. For you to suddenly be so self-aware and conscious of him that you feel nervous when he’s around and nervous when he’s not. There’s no reason whatsoever…   “You need to get your head straight.”   You’re muttering to yourself as you walk. You probably look crazy, but need to hear it out loud. If no one’s going to help you by saying it, then you’ll say it yourself. “Focus, Y/N. Focus—”   A blood-curdling shriek tears from your stomach when there’s suddenly knocking. You turn to see Jeon Jungkook beside you, separated by a window, but laughing hysterically at your reaction. His nose is scrunched, mouth drawn up into that boyish smile of his.   He’s inside the fitness center in a white tank top, sweating enough to make his hair damp, and the dark stands are pushed back against his head. That little shit is scaring you on purpose now.   “Are you shitting me, Jeon Jungkook?!” Your fist pounds against the glass and you fail to notice how everyone else in the gym is whirling their heads around at the noise.   The resort attendant runs up on you.   “Ma’am, please don’t bang on the glass.”   “S-sorry.”   Jungkook is in bigger hysterics now, bent over and grabbing his stomach, laughing loud enough for you to hear through the window. His smile is excited, eyes lit up.   Everywhere. Every corner you turn to. Every path you take. Some way or another — whether you’re talking to Namjoon or Chungha, hanging at the bar, around the pool, on the beach to watch the waves — no matter how hard you try to evade him, Jungkook is always there.   You didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid him. He’s truly like the plague.   Or maybe a curse.    Better yet, it would be more fitting to call Jeon Jungkook the year-round Christmas grinch. He’s here to ruin your life, ruin your holiday, and make your head filled with him and only him.   “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”   He finally asks after crawling into bed beside you that night. His hands are folded on top of his midsection and he’s staring up at the ceiling even if he can’t see when the entire room is drowned in a comfortable darkness.   You muster some laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”   The sheets shift and from the little light coming through the terrace glass doors, you can see him looking at you. And you can feel his body warmth with the small distance. “I would hate it if you were a hypocrite since you don’t like when others ghost you.”   “I said I’m not,” you whine. The lie gives a tickle of guilt in your gut. “You shouldn’t accuse people after they’ve already defended themselves.”   “Okay.” The corners of his lips quirk. “Just making sure. I don’t want to scare you off.”   You scoff, eyes adjusting enough to be able to look at him. It’s quiet, with him beside you underneath the covers, too close but too far. Yet somehow, in spite of the silence of your room, it’s still very noisy inside your head. “You really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?”   “No. And I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Jungkook grins and he teases, “You’re not a coward, Y/N. Right?”   “Psh. Go to bed, Jeon.”   “Hmm, I’m not tired, but I do know an activity we can do together that’ll tire me right out.”   “Yeah, my fist meeting your face.”   He laughs and you roll over, tugging the covers up to your chin.   You don’t say out loud, don’t admit it, but you are a coward.    One big coward who pretends to face the truth with courage, but actually learnt to run and hide in the face of trouble. A coward who can’t face the music, who’s actually wide awake like he is, but won’t say it. Whose heart is stuttering too loud to try to slip underneath the seduction of slumber.    You won’t admit the funny feeling you get when your gaze sets upon Jungkook. You won’t acknowledge it even when it’s screaming into your ear drums and drumming against your rib cage. You won’t confess that the nervousness you feel is far from platonic.   It’s hard not to feel stuck on Jungkook. These days, the last person you see before you sleep is him and he’s the first person you see when you wake up. He’s both the beginning and the end.   “Hey, Y/N.” You’re stirred away by a soft voice calling to you. “Wake up.”   When your lids peel back, you see him. The strands of his black hair nearly tickle the skin of your cheeks and he smiles tenderly at you. “We have a long day. Come on.”   You’re a coward and you have been for some time now.   //   Friday is the busiest day of the week. It’s the eve of the wedding and where you’re in the kitchen for hours on end.   Between the four of you, the lilac-coloured fondant is rolled out to cover the chocolate cake and ganache frosting. The dowel rods are inserted and the cake is stacked. Once it’s to Sejeong’s satisfaction, the decorating process begins. The sugar lavender that you made yesterday is used, placed delicately in the correct positions and you work on tracing a lace pattern on the bottom most layer.   Hours later, with muscles sore and eyes stinging, she’s finally satisfied.   It ends up looking magnificent. All the effort is presented in front of you — the cake is a soft purple colour, lavender flowers made from gum paste and real lilacs edible.   “It’s too pretty to eat.”   “It always is.” Sejeong smiles. “But when we do, it’ll be delicious.”   Namjoon stretches his arms over his head, making noises as his bones crack. “I’m starving. What time is it?” He checks his watch. “I think the snack bar is still open. We should go eat now since we have to wake up bright and early tomorrow.”   “I forgot how much work it was to be a bridesmaid.” Sejeong sighs lightly. “Let’s just get the cake in the fridge for now.”   Jungkook and Namjoon carefully move the cake into the refrigerator area, a whole cold storage, and you take your aprons off, washing your hands. Sejeong turns to you and Jungkook. “Are you guys hungry too? You probably are since we’ve been working so late.”   You exchange a look with him. “N-No. We’re fine.”   “Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, brows raised.   “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll probably call it a night.”   “Same here.” Jungkook offers a smile, following your lead.   “Well alright, I’ll see you both bright and early then! Good job, you two.” Namjoon smiles and both he and his wife leave the kitchen, talking to one another until their voices fade away.   Jungkook then turns to you with his brow raised. “Are you really not hungry?”   You look down at your stomach and it rumbles. You wonder if he can hear it too. “I thought I’d give them alone time since we’ve been busy all day….”   An extended sigh pulls from the man’s lungs.   Jungkook smiles and as he passes by you, he ruffles your hair. “You’re so unnecessarily thoughtful sometimes….”   You turn around, trailing after him. Jungkook opens the fridge and hums, eyes searching.    “What are you doing?” you ask curiously.   “Looking for ingredients since a little someone said they weren’t hungry and now we can’t go to the only place still open.” He grins easily. “So unless you want to go back to the hotel room and wait half an hour for room service, I’ll cook.”   Jungkook sounds so self-assured that you comply, finding your place on a stool as he begins to pull out mushrooms, shallots, parmesan cheese, butter, and starts digging around the cupboards. “You can cook?”   “’Course I can. I’m a master of the kitchen.” His eyes flicker up and the little shit mocks you. “Why? Can’t you?”   “The pan always burns,” you mutter.   “Is that why you can’t melt chocolate over the stove?” he questions with a glint of mischief.   “For the record, I’m getting better. It’s not like I do it intentionally anyway. But are we even allowed to use these ingredients, Jungkook? Won’t we get into trouble?” It’s not your kitchen after all — just a small space the resort was willing to let you use.   He merely shrugs. “We have to live a little.”   You sit on the other side of the island, watching him closely.    Jungkook finds a can of chicken stock and heats it over the stove in a small saucepan. Then he moves to chop shallots and mushrooms, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, forearms revealed as he works the knife in a constant motion that’s therapeutic to listen to. Jungkook fries the shallots and mushrooms over the hot oil and butter in a skillet, tossing and flipping them as they sizzle.   He works fluidly, in a rhythm without needing to stop and think twice. It’s fun to watch.   “What are you making?”   “Mushroom risotto.”   “Sounds fancy.”   “It is,” he lies.    In your ignorance, you’re unaware that it’s actually an easy recipe. You’re also oblivious to the fact that Jungkook is secretly beaming with gratitude that his dad taught him this recipe years ago. His dad was right that he needed to learn how to cook basic dishes to one day impress.   Jungkook adds the rice, coating it in the butter before adding a cup of white wine he found in the cupboards. Once it’s fully absorbed, he puts in the chicken stock and adds salt to taste. All the while, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He can read you like a book and your amazed expression feeds directly into his ego.   When Jungkook turns around to throw something in the sink, he lets his enormous smile slip.   “If we ever have the time, I’ll make you shrimp or chicken risotto.”   “You can make that?”   “Of course, cooking isn’t hard.”   “Pft. You really know how to do everything, don’t you, Jeon?”   “You said it, not me.”   He serves it on a big plate, even taking the extra step to clean the edges up with a napkin. You’re amazed and when he arrogantly urges you to take a bite, you can’t even tell him off. It’s delicious.   And once you say so, he can't deny how happy he is.   Jungkook is over the fucking moon. He would cook for you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

[voltage-vixen]

Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe

‘Tis the Season of Smut Challenge Day 1

Prompt: Kiss me under the mistletoe (NSFW)

Fandom: Voltage (Court of Darkness)

Pairing: Guy Avari x MC (Female)

“Could you be bothered to remove the blindfold now?” MC sighed, impatiently fidgeting on the couch Guy insisted she wait on.

“Wait for me,” Guy’s deep voice abruptly boomed. “I wish to show you something, but I must finish the final preparations beforehand. Your patience is required for just a little while longer.”

Earlier that afternoon, Jasper had summoned her to the royal’s private quarters, insistent that Guy had an urgent matter to discuss with her. Since the loyal valet refused to answer any of her questions, MC was left in the dark when she arrived at Guy’s chamber. Then she was even literally left in the dark when her vision was suddenly concealed by a blindfold that magically wrapped around the circumference of her head.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes continued to pass until MC stood in a fit of restlessness. MC was about to voice her annoyance when Guy’s single finger appeared to have slipped under her chin. She was enraptured by the powerful gaze of his red tinted eyes as the blindfold slid down to the floor. Her mouth opened only to utter a short gasp when she witnessed the state of the room outside the focus of Guy’s face. Taking a step back, MC surveyed the room and found that a Christmas transformation had occurred.

A fireplace roared in the chimney, while stockings hung from the mantle above. Next to Guy’s bed sat a tall lit tree decked in illuminating lights and ornaments. Classy gold garland decorated the walls, and a light snow fall appeared and trickled down from the ceiling creating a winter wonderland scene in front of the fireplace. Rendered speechless, one of MC’s hands drifted over her mouth while the other rested onto Guy’s arm as he embraced her from behind.

“My research indicated that this this time of year is special in your world,” Guy stated, admiring the way her eyes lit up brighter than any of the lights he crafted in the room. “Something about holidays being meaningful to your people?”

“Guy,” MC sniffled, tilting her head to allow Guy to wipe away the tears straggling down the line of her cheek. “This is beautiful! Thank you so much! But answer me this….why go through all this trouble for me? I’ve never mentioned celebrating the holidays to you before.”

It was Guy’s turn to dwell in astonishment by MC’s sudden line of questioning. Something happened to the prince that very rarely ever happened-a faint crimson blush that was barely visible to detection creeped onto Guy’s face. Not wanting her to witness this side of him, Guy hurried to turn away, but his intent was foiled when MC caught the sides of his face with her palms.

“Tell me,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead against his. “I’m speechless. Seriously, I didn’t hold any expectations, yet they’ve been exceeded. Why would you go to such lengths though?”

Letting go of Guy’s face, MC rose to the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes twinkled wide in wonderment, and she looked like a vision as the snow had begun to cling to her hair. Captivated by her alluring gaze, Guy’s heart pounded when her eyelashes fluttered at him. It wasn’t often that the Prince of Avari found himself succumbing to the whims of others, but the woman standing before him was an exception. For there was no other that owned his very being unlike her.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Guy leaned down to murmur into the nape of her neck. “I promised I would ensure your happiness if you stayed with me. I’ve only simply begun to fulfill that vow, but-”

MC stole the breath uttering Guy’s declaration when their lips collided together. Touched by his sweet sentiment, MC was overflowing with her feelings of affection and she was determined to convey her emotions physically since words couldn’t fully express how much she loved him. Guy seemed to have the same idea in mind since he tightened his grip on MC and collapsed back onto the couch. Their fingers frantically tore away at each other’s clothing whilst they explored the intimate canvases of their bodies.  

Once they were both bare, MC climbed onto Guy’s lap. Settling herself over the heat of his arousal, she was about to lower herself onto him when a colorful flash up from above seized her attention.

Mistletoe.

MC’s smile sparkled in admiration at the twinkling decoration. The curl of her lips implied how obviously evident her joy was. Guy’s investigation into her former world’s traditions led to his discovery of the purpose that mistletoe served in retrospect of her customs. Yearning to witness more of MC’s innocent reactions, a beaming carnelian aurora radiated around the prince’s silhouette as he casted his powers to coat the remaining vacant spaces in mistletoe.

“Guy,” MC choked, her lower lip trembling from the surge of gratitude on behalf of the amount of consideration Guy put forth into preparing this astoundment.  

Stunned into a silence from Guy’s tokened generosity, MC nuzzled her head into his neck, lovingly expressing her appreciativeness for the thoughtful gestures. Wet tears streamed onto his chest, communicating the affirmation she held in her heart for him.  Driven by the desire of how ecstatic his actions impacted MC, the lust flaming from within his loins awoken his carnal instincts. His person trembled beneath her, longing to be joined in body and soul with the one he loved. Guy may be a powerful ruler, but underneath the surface he was just a man-and a selfish one at that. He had to have MC, and he had to have her now. Waiting was no longer a viable option.

“Every tear you shed is beautiful, but they’re even more beautiful when they are discarded from you coming undone by my touch,” Guy crooned, encasing the curves of her hips as he arose from the couch and sauntered over to fireplace. “However, I’m a greedy man and I demand more. Leave nothing unturned and show me all of you now.”

The flames roared in the fireplace while Guy placed MC down onto her back, allowing her to bask in the heat of the fire as his lips madly roamed her chest. Never one to neglect, Guy’s fingers traveled up the silk of her thigh, his fingers fervently stroking until the heat of MC’s nectar spilled onto him. Confident that she was ready to take him, Guy climbed on top of her. Gripping her ankle, he situated her leg over one of his arms before pushing himself as far and deep as MC was able to envelope him.

MC’s sensual cries echoed melodiously in his ears in sync to each of Guy’s thrusts. He uttered his own moan when her fingers curled into his back, madly clawing away at the warmth of his skin. Her face glowed from the perspiration beaded on her forehead. She was bordering on the edge of consciousness; each movement of Guy’s was delivering a rush of bliss that left her toes curling and her hands thrashing searching for the carpet to grip onto. Guy’s fingers swept down south of her body at a tantalizing pace and kept teasing until he reached the swell of her womanhood. His thumb massaged the sensitive bud, his rhythm deliberate and slow, eventually inducing her second wave of euphoria. Guy groaned as his arousal poured into MC, whose body was violently quivering from her elation.

He collapsed onto the floor beside her. Cradling her onto his chest, Guy played with her hair while MC snuggled closer into his warmth, comforted by the thumping sound of his heartbeat. She could always distinguish how much Guy cared for her by the delicate way he caressed her. MC relished in his affections and found her eyelids were growing heavy from how safe she felt in his arms….

“I pray that this will become a tradition of our own we can look forward to immersing ourselves in during future holidays,” Guy murmured lazily into her hair. “You can expect the future to be filled with joy, for one day you will be ruling by my side.”

MC didn’t respond, which caused Guy to prop himself up only to discover MC had drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Reaching over to intertwine their fingers together, Guy snaked his leg in between hers and placed gentle, languid kisses on her cheek before whispering a sweet goodnight to MC.

“Happy holidays, my future queen.”  

You can still join the challenge and find more info HERE!

[nose-bandaid]

the trees, the grass, the stars

Hi tiny!! I've been reading your stuff... and I love it 🥺 I'm a sucker for royal AUs and the masquerade one with Shinwon was lovely, I was wondering if I could request a Royal AU with Wooseok? I like the idea of rebel prince/princess!! But you can write whatever you like💛💛

Prince!Wooseok x (gender neutral) Reader | royal AU fluff + a little bit of comfort? | 2k words

synopsis: getting engaged to someone you barely knew, getting lost in the forest and tripping over a talking stump. none of it made sense, and yet they all added up to one of the greatest meetings in your life.

a/n: hihi !! @raspberrymuffings​ this is for you<3 prince wooseok hgngngn i loved writing this, sorry it ended up getting a little emotional, idk that’s just a habit of mine LOL, but i hope you enjoy:)

image from pinterest !!

=====

Did you mean to get lost? Of course not. You swore you saw something flash in the forest nearby and decided to follow its trail. That was it. A little curiosity never hurt right? 

Though it turned into an unintentional adventure when you traveled a little too deep into the woods.

Were you upset that you were lost? Not particularly. Being lost meant that you were away from the party and even better, you had a valid excuse to be absent.

Was it a big deal that you weren't at the party? Perhaps, because the whole purpose was supposed to celebrate your engagement with some prince from a nearby kingdom. The two families had finally decided that they wanted to come together, and they decided that the best way to do that (supposedly) was to have the two heirs married. 

But yeah, to you, it was still just a prince from a nearby kingdom because you've literally never met this man before.

Sure, you knew of him. That his name was Jung Wooseok, that his parents frequented your place for dinners. You've seen him milling around the town square sometimes — it's hard not to notice him when he towered over pretty much everyone else. And you’d say he was pretty good looking, if you had to give an answer, though you were usually distracted by the fact that his actions were the embodiment of youth. Last time you saw him, he sprinted by with 10 baguettes in his hands as curious whispers and frightened shouts followed him. They didn’t stop the boy in the slightest bit.

So hopefully this Wooseok was a really good guy, or else you'd had to do some major convincing to get yourself out of the engagement.

But that wasn't the concern right now because you were truly, genuinely, very much lost at the moment. You were certain that you've passed the same tree almost six times by now and all the mossy stumps looked the same.

You’ve never explored the forest on your own before, and now you regretted all the missed opportunities you had to play outside with the other children when you were little. Instead you thought your studies were more important.

You bit back a yelp when you tripped over something and almost face-planted into the tree in front of you.

"Ouch."

That was not your voice. That was most definitely not your voice.

The ground does not talk, the ground does not talk, the ground does not talk.

"The ground does not talk..." You whispered the mantra to yourself and dared to look down.

Your eyes followed the pair of shoes up to the mysterious man's face. His eyes bore right into yours and you finally came to terms that he was, in fact, laying on the ground, white suit and all.

"What?"

"Geez, I really did think that no one would bother me here, but I guess I was wrong." He sighed and rubbed his neck, bending his legs to make more room for you.

"What are you doing on the ground? In the middle of a forest no less?" 

He held a hand up and began lazily counting on his fingers. "Resting, relaxing, thinking... sleeping."

You didn't even hear his answer when you scanned his face once more and realized why he seemed so familiar. "Aren't you my fiancé-to-be?"

"I suppose so." He got up, brushing off the leaves that had fallen onto him and you wondered just how long he had been laying on the grass for. He then held a hand for you to take and he bowed. "A pleasure to meet you officially, my name is Wooseok"

"Likewise, I’m y/n." You replied and pondered over your next question before deciding that you didn't have to filter yourself so much in front of him. "Don't you care about your outfit? You have a party to attend."

"I could just get someone to clean it or replace it." He answered nonchalantly without missing a beat.

"So that's what it's like to be rich, huh." You deadpanned. "No pressure to keep an image? Lucky."

"Oh, I'll probably get scolded like hell when I get back, but I couldn't care less about my image. The only time I did was when I had my portrait done. They painted my eyes perfectly, and that's all that matters." Wooseok mentioned that last part haughtily.

"You do have nice eyes...." You admitted quietly, though you quirked your eyebrows at his odd fixation on that specific memory.

"What was that?" He teased way too obviously.

You decided to humour him and repeated, this time a little bit louder. "I said you have nice eyes."

He blushed and you watched him lick his lips in nervousness. It's as if he wasn't expecting you to give in so easily and you took note of that. You could definitely take advantage of his true shyness in the future.

"Th-thanks." He stuttered and you laughed. In the distance, you heard cheers coming from the party and the music started up again. Food must’ve been served.

You looked at Wooseok and tried to break the awkwardness. "I take it that you don’t really want to be here either. How long do you think we have until they come to hunt us down?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he went into deep thought. "28 minutes, on the dot."

You tilted your head. "And how are you so sure?"

He dropped a hand onto your shoulder. "Just trust me on this one."

You pursed your lips but didn't argue with him. "And what should we do during those 28 minutes?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't mind getting to know you better. At least, as much as I can, before our families force us to kiss in front of the crowd or something." He threw that out casually as he stretched (it was the truth, after all), but his voice wavered a little.

"True that..." You replied softly. The atmosphere grew a little awkward again as he kicked around the stones near his feet in silence.

"What were you doing before I tripped over you?" You asked to strike up yet another conversation and he let out a laugh at your question.

"I was looking at the stars."

"The stars?" You echoed as you strained your neck to look at the decorated sky. It wasn't often that you got to be outside at night, much less all alone, and you quickly realized how much you've taken the stars for granted.

They were beautiful.

"Yeah." Wooseok let out a huff as he returned to the ground to lay on his back again. He patted the spot next to him. "Want to join me?"

"Sure..." Your voice dwindled off when you touched the damp grass and then looked down at your outfit. There was no way you're going to get out of this without staining the fabric and you paused at those thoughts. What's a good excuse for a bunch of grass stains on your back? Would a clumsy trip cover it?

Sensing your hesitation, the other sat back up and began taking off the white coat that covered his suit. He then settled it onto the empty spot beside him. "Here, you can use this. I really couldn't care less about the stains, but I know you still got a reputation to hold."

"Unfortunately, I've already lost mine." You heard him quietly add to the side.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." You said.

He was a tall boy, so it made sense that he also had a long coat and you never would’ve thought of the benefits of that fact until today. Though it still wasn't enough to protect your entire outfit, it was sufficient damage control and you reasoned that you'd be able to come up with some kind of excuse for the few, inevitable stains.

For a while, you both laid on the grass in silence, watching the stars and occasionally putting the music history drilled into your minds to the test, naming the new song each time the band at the party switched pieces. The conversation then drifted back to your hobbies and you listened to Wooseok talk about his stargazing again.

He pointed a long finger at the sky and you tried your best to follow his gaze. "That's Aquila over there. Its brightest star is Altair. That one."

"I honestly have no idea which star you're pointing at, but you sure know a lot about stars." You commented lightly.

"I have a friend who loved space." He chuckled. "He always wanted to be an astronaut and wouldn't shut up about it. Then he got caught up in all his 'princely' duties and suddenly disappeared with his studies." He hummed. "I wonder where he is now, probably looking at the sky the same time we are. He always likes to keep his habits a secret."

Your expression softened at his wistful tone. "Maybe one day you could visit his place and see how he's doing? I could come with you if you'd like, keep some company. It could be another adventure, invite him along with us."

"That'd be nice. I think you would be good friends." He clicked his mouth and you waited for him to say more.

"You ever feel like everyone's growing up and you aren't?"

"Definitely." You replied.

"I know I'm immature, that's a well-known fact about me, but it's really because I'm clinging onto the childhood that I feel like I missed out on. All those classes and formalities, looking out the window and watching other kids play — why couldn’t I do those things too? Now that I'm all grown up, I have the freedom to do whatever I want, but suddenly all of my friends have turned into the person I was when I was little. They're grown up and stocked up on responsibilities and it feels like I missed out on my only opportunity to have fun..." He trailed off and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to put that load onto you so suddenly. All this thinking has, well, got me thinking, I guess. And the fact that I'm getting engaged today is a little off-putting, no offence. It's a big responsibility and I worry that I'm too immature to commit to it." He let out a deep breath and waited for your answer.

You never really thought about your life that way until you heard Wooseok put it into that perspective. Perhaps it’s because you’ve always begrudgingly busied yourself with your royal duties, but you suddenly found yourself agreeing to everything he said. The two of you were more similar than you initially thought, now that you've witnessed what's underneath his childish persona.

"If it makes you feel better, I understand what you're saying." You didn’t know why, but you felt the need to whisper. "I couldn't care less for titles, sometimes I wish I could live life as a normal person. Sounds more exciting."

Your conversation was interrupted by someone shouting your name, followed by Wooseok’s. That shout was followed by several more from different voices and you perked up, realizing that they were beginning their search for you. It must've been time for the actual highlight of the party.

Had it already been 28 minutes? That went by faster than you would’ve liked.

"They're finally coming for us." You looked over at Wooseok. 

All of the downcast emotions he was pouring out before were absent and a small smile was planted on his face instead. He took one of your hands into his and planted a soft kiss on the back of it. 

"How about we run away?" He suddenly suggested, and you choked at his words, not even having the chance to wrap your head around the fact that he kissed you. Even if it was just on the hand.

"You want us to run away?"

"Like not, run away, run away. I'm not going to pull a Romeo and Juliet on us, but we should mess around for a little while longer; get them to chase us." He smirked. "It'll probably give us about an extra five and a half minutes or so."

"You seem to be really confident with your numbers." You responded, hesitantly standing up to return the jacket which he slipped on without a second thought.

He shrugged. "If I sound confident enough, eventually someone will come along and believe me."

"Are you implying something here?" You laughed, appalled at his impudence.

"Maybe." He cheekily smiled and you felt your cheeks heat up. You couldn't tell if it was because of his jab or because he looked quite stunning under the moonlight, hair dishevelled and clothes stained.

The shouts got louder and the music stopped, but you ignored them and continued to laugh.

"Alright then, Sir Wooseok," You held a hand out to help him off the grass.

"Lead the way."

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 4, chapter 1

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

It took a moment for Morgan's head to stop spinning. However angels travelled, he thought, it certainly wasn't designed for people to come along. Not comfortably, anyway. Eventually he was able to take in the hall they were standing in. Bookshelves lined one wall, extending almost all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Several ladders provided access to the higher shelves, though they were sparsely stocked. A few dozen beds sat in orderly rows that looked as though they hadn't seen regular use in years. There was a hearth nearby, which didn't seem strictly necessary given the heat of the place. It was considerably less humid than the jungle, though, which was something of a relief. An archway was surrounded by decorative stonework but the corridor beyond it was partially collapsed. Numerous smaller doors sat open, the spaces beyond unlit and untended if the dust on the floor was any indication. The sound of metal on metal echoed in the large room, its source out of sight. Tyrael's voice also echoed as he gestured broadly to encompass their surroundings.

"Welcome to the Pandemonium Fortress. This is the last bastion of Heaven's power before the Gates of the Burning Hells. This place has been hallowed by the blood of thousands of champions of the Light. It will serve as the base of your attack on the remaining Prime Evils. You will find two emissaries of the Light ready to assist you; a healer, Jamella, and a smith, Halbu. Speak with them before you head out. They can guide you in ways I cannot."

Tyrael pointed in the direction of the metal sounds and Morgan started to walk almost without thinking, leaving Blaise and Cain to follow at their own pace. It was so easy to just follow the angel's instructions. The tiles beneath his feet gave way to dirt in some places, having clearly seen ages of use under multitudes of feet. The hall was almost silent now, though, except for the hammering. Perhaps the two emissaries Tyrael had named would be the only company here. That would be a welcome change from the bustle of Lut Gholein and the smaller but less predictable group of mages in Kurast.

Around a corner, the hall opened into a wide room. There was a tawny-skinned woman mixing ingredients in a rather complex and interesting alchemical apparatus atop one of a few large work benches. Behind her glowed a forge, illuminating the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man hammering something on an anvil. The woman, presumably Jamella, glanced up as Morgan approached to speak with her as requested. She raked a coldly assessing gaze over him.

"Hail to you, champion. Tyrael warned us of your arrival. What is that abomination?" She pointed to his left arm. Morgan glanced down at it.

"It's a golem. The original limb was damaged beyond repair, so I was forced to replace it."

Jamella sneered. "I'm sure I could have fixed it, if you'd been able to wait. My healing potions are second to none."

"I have had quite a lot of very strong healing potions. They did nothing to improve the damage, and I did not have the option of waiting."

She raised her eyebrows. "When you say quite a lot, how much do you mean?"

"Enough to develop a tolerance. I couldn't tell you the exact amount. I would prefer not to taste yours if it can be avoided."

"I see. And if your... golem is damaged, how am I to repair it?"

"You shouldn't have to. It self-repairs by drawing on my stores of magic."

"Good. Unless there's something else I should know, talk to Halbu next. You're going to need better equipment than what you've got."

"Nothing else. Thank you." Morgan couldn't recall the last time he'd had such a concise conversation. It was refreshing. He approached the smith as Blaise rounded the corner behind him. Cain was nowhere to be seen but the resonant sound of Tyrael's voice was audible. The scholar evidently hadn't asked his fill of questions just yet.

Halbu was only slightly more talkative than Jamella. He passed a critical eye over Morgan. "Magic user, right? Leather armour for the weight, engage from a distance. Don't need a shield if you're good enough at that, I suppose, but I can find you something small. I'm guessing that sword doesn't get too much use either, but may I take a closer look?"

Morgan passed his blade over, hilt first. Halbu ran through a series of quick examinations, only some of which Morgan could guess the purpose of. He turned to retrieve a different sword and offered it to Morgan. "Here, give this one a try."

The sword was obviously of superior quality, slightly heavier and balanced more towards the hilt. It had a faint resonance when Morgan felt for it. "It's very nice," he said. "What is the enchantment?"

Halbu looked pleased. "Just a little trick I picked up, keeps the blade sharp for longer."

"Ah. What would you take as payment?"

"You have already defeated one of the Prime Evils, and you are in pursuit of the others. That will be payment enough. It is our duty as emissaries of the Light to assist you in carrying out Tyrael's orders."

"Oh. That's... thank you." The dissonance grated a little. He did intend to follow the angel's command, but only because his aim aligned with that of the Order of Rathma. The final goal was the important thing, Morgan reminded himself.

"Unless you have a particular attachment to the armour," Halbu continued, "I can make you something much better. Might take a little while, though. I don't have forms in your size."

"No attachment," Morgan confirmed. It had simply fit him adequately while being light enough for him to manage without tiring too quickly. That assessment was accurate. It would be a rare luxury to have properly fitted armour.

"Well then, off with that so I can take some measurements." Halbu hummed as he worked, pausing occasionally to direct Morgan to lift his arms or turn around. The amount of contact required was unpleasant, but at least the smith was quick and efficient with the necessary touches.

"I also do the cooking," Halbu said as he laid a tape across the span of Morgan's shoulders. "I restock supplies once a week. Let me know if there's anything you can't or won't eat. You can write a list if that's easier."

Morgan considered his response as Halbu went on measuring. "I'm not picky," he said eventually, "I just don't eat much. I prefer to have a few small things at a time, rather than large meals." The smith grunted an acknowledgement.

Jamella raised her voice as she was speaking with Blaise, ensuring Morgan could hear her as well. "Outside the gate of the fortress you will find the outer steppes. You can follow the path down through the steppes to the plains of despair. To one side of the plains you will find the city of the damned, which houses the Hellforge. To the other lies the river of flames, on the other side of which is the derelict Chaos sanctuary. You would do well to familiarize yourselves with the whole of the area. Diablo and Baal could be sheltering in either place. This fortress is warded to keep it hidden from the demons' notice, but they will pursue you if you flee from them."

"Not going to happen, but thanks." Blaise noticed Morgan looking in her direction, and shot him a grin. "You almost ready?"

He glanced at Halbu for confirmation. "It's going to take me a while to work something up for you," the smith said, flipping through a stack of thick tanned hides. "If what you've got has served you so far, I'm sure you can carry on."

"Great. Never thought I'd be excited to go to Hell, but I guess there's a first time for everything. I wonder where the demons go when you kill them down here."

"The Black Abyss," Jamella supplied. "That's where they always go to be reformed. But the process takes time, so it should be possible for you to clear a path."

Blaise beamed. "Let's get started, then. Which is closer, the forge or - nah, never mind, we'll figure it out. Come on, it's time to hunt some more demon lords."

Morgan followed gamely. Although he didn't share her degree of enthusiasm, there was a certain undeniable energy thrumming in him. This was important work. Darkness was making moves to tip the Balance in its favour, and had to be stopped for the good of humankind. And there were allies, excellent ones. With Blaise's strength and Cain's keen intelligence, and the support of Tyrael and the emissaries, there was some real potential for success.

[yandere-daze]

25. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?" For manipulative Yandere Bruno. Peace! Take care of yourself!

Of course! This is my first time writing yandere bruno so I hope I got it right^^  This is what I´ve been working on the last few days and it really got kind of long.

Enjoy!!

25. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?"

Cut for length!

Yandere! Bruno with prompt 25

It was a tranquil and warm evening in Naples, the sun slowly setting and the bustle of the city quieting down for the day. You were sitting in the living room, listening to the radio while waiting for your husband. Your husband´s name was Bruno Bucciarati and he was a very gentle and comforting person that cared about you a whole lot. You two have been living together for a few months now, you realize as you gaze down at the pretty golden ring on your finger. A testament to your love and happiness. Your husband was currently in the kitchen and cooking dinner for the both of you. You asked to help him with the preparations, not wanting him to have to do all the work, but he quickly declined and insisted for you to rest and relax a bit. Of course, you didn´t really mind, you could use the break, after all your head has been hurting the whole day already. The pounding, aching feeling in your head has been plaguing you more than a few times recently and you were never really able to ignore the pain, so you often took painkillers to alleviate the problem. You had been feeling like this for a long time now, ever since that one fateful day.

It was a few months ago, when you woke up to a world of white consuming you. You felt dazzled and confused as you looked around, your surroundings barely registering in your mind. Looking down, you noticed you were laying on a bed. Noticing an itching feeling on your arms, you examined your own body to find that you were wearing some kind of white gown and to your horror, the entirety of your arms where bandaged up, as well as your legs. Where you in a hospital? It looked like that was the case, but what happened to you? Why were you bandaged up like this? And who was the man sitting at the side of your bed?

This man had short black hair, neatly cut into a bob as well as very striking blue eyes. He was wearing an elegant white suit with some black dots here and there. What you found a bit strange were the extraordinary number of zippers on his suit that seemingly served no purpose at all. But you weren´t really one to judge, the suit did look good on him, you couldn´t deny that. More important than this man´s appearance though was the reason he was here next to you. You have never seen this strange man in your entire life, so what was he doing here?

Seemingly hearing you shift around in your bed, the man raised his head and smiled a charming smile at you. He looked relieved; you noticed the tension on his shoulders slowly vanishing at the fact that you were awake.

“Ah y/n, I´m so happy you woke up! I was so worried about you, you´ve been in a coma for the last 5 days! I was so scared that you might not wake up again.”, the stranger said as he gently grasped your hand in glee. His touch so soft, it was as if he thought you were extremely fragile, as if a simple touch could break you. Whoever this was, he seemed very concerned about you but you just didn´t remember him at all. Who was this man?

“Uhm thank you very much for your concern but sir, I don´t mean to be rude but…. Who are you? Do we know each other?”, you just had to know.

The man in front of you almost looks a bit offended for a second before a look of confusion crosses his face, his eyebrows furrowing as he seemingly thought something over. There was a short pause before his face lit up again, a gentle smile on his face as he directed his attention on you again.

“Do you not remember me? My name is Bruno Bucciarati. Do you know how you got to this hospital?”

“No I´m afraid I don´t…Bruno. In fact I don´t remember anything at all. All I can recall is my name and my age. What happened to me? And how do we know each other?”. You were so confused. Try as you might, you couldn´t remember anything that lead up to this situation. It´s as if everything was suddenly gone.

“That´s a shame..”, the man now known to you as Bruno contemplated before continuing. “I don´t mean to overwhelm you, but I am in fact your husband. We´ve been married for quite some time now. Look, this is the symbol of our bond together.”, he said while smiling.

He raised his right hand to show you a beautiful gold ring on his ring finger. Looking down at your own hand, you find the very same ring decorating your own finger. So this was true then? You were happily married but couldn´t remember anything? You felt exhausted, all this new information was too much for you.

“Is this really true? Why can´t I remember anything at all? I´m so sorry Bruno, this must be very upsetting for you. Me not even being able to remember my own wedding.” You felt genuinely bad for him. You felt that he truly loved you, you could just tell from his gaze that was directed to you. He must have done so much for you, how could you just forget everything? All of your shared time together?

Bruno was seemingly able to understand your train of thought, because he immediately tried to cheer you up.

“Don´t be sad amore mio. You lost your memories in an accident; it was not your fault at all so don´t beat yourself up over it. I don´t ever want to see you sad, you hear me? It´s not the end of the world that you can´t remember, we can just make new memories together! I´m sure everything will be okay. We can even have a second wedding once you have adjusted if you want that.”

He then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against your palm as you felt a fluttering feeling inside of you. He truly must care about you so much! You couldn´t believe how lucky you were to have him.

Looking up, your husband spoke up once again.

“As far as I know, the doctor said you were free to go as soon as you wake up. Do you want to leave the hospital together now? I can show you our shared home if you would let me.”

couldn´t deny that you wanted to finally leave behind these suffocating white walls around you. You also were a bit excited to see your new- uhhhh old home.

 You were kind of surprised to see how well decorated your shared home seemed to be. Everything looks amazing in your opinion! You obviously seemed to have a hand in decorating the place, it perfectly fit your tastes!

You two then came to a stop in front of a door, you almost bumping into Bruno. From what you could tell, this seemed to be the last room in the house, probably the bedroom.

Your husband looks back at you and gently urges you to open the door yourself, you should be the first one to enter the room. You carefully press down the door handle and open the door. What greets you blows your mind. You thought the other rooms looked amazing, but this was even better!

In the middle of the room was a huge double bed, tons of pillows piled on top, it had to be super comfortable! You were very tempted to just jump on top of it and go to sleep, the events of the day really tired you out. You heard a light chuckle from your right, looking over you saw that Bruno had entered the room as well and looked vaguely amused at your tired form.

“Feeling sleepy, cara/o? We can go to bed if you like, this day must have been very exhausting for you. But don´t worry, I´m sure you will feel right at home in no time!”

And with that, you two went to bed together, you falling asleep almost instantly despite the foreign situation.

After settling in, Bruno spends a lot of time talking about your relationship and how you two got together. You two met by pure coincidence at a coffee shop and had to sit down at the same table because there were no empty ones left. You then made pleasant conversation and one thing led to another, meeting each other more and more and eventually falling in love. Though Bruno absolutely insists that it was love at first sight for him. That he saw you and immediately felt a spark, he knew you were the one for him. He´s so glad to have you with him now! You´re just happy to know that you´ve managed to find a good match for yourself, someone that cares for you so much and would do anything for your happiness.

It´s been a few months now since you last saw the hospital, but your mental state hasn´t gotten any better. You still can´t remember anything from before you met Bruno in the patient room and it´s infuriating beyond belief. Sure you felt happy and comfortable with him, but you wanted to know so much more! But no matter how much you tried, your mind was as foggy as ever. Asking Bruno for insight on your past rarely did any good.

“Don´t strain yourself too much, darling. It´s okay if you don´t remember, we can always make new memories!”

Of course you want to make new memories with him but you also want to remember! It makes you a bit uncomfortable how ready your husband was to dismiss your past.

He was more than happy to talk about your relationship and how happy you both have always been but when you ask about your friends and your job? He immediately changes the topic as soon as it comes up.

“Are you not happy with me y/n? Am I not enough for you? I give you all the love I have to offer and that´s not enough? Those people weren´t good for you, you shouldn´t need to remember all of these painful memories!”

You really don´t know what to think anymore. Bruno is so nice and sweet to you, always looking out for you and making sure you´re comfortable but something doesn´t feel right.

Holding his hand doesn´t feel right.

Being in his arms doesn´t feel right.

Kissing him doesn´t feel right.

But whenever you do, you can´t help but see something flash in front of your eyes. A flickering image, gone before you can fully grasp it. But in your mind, you can see a different person, you´re sure of it. But all you can see is red.

Red eyes staring into yours.

Red red red red.

Dripping red.

Drips of red, forming a pool in front of your feet.

Someone laying on the ground.

Black and white clothes coated in crimson.

And then a flash of pure white.

A person in white, stained in red, walking towards you.

You feel a sudden surge of panic, an urge to run fills your entire being.

Panic.

Red traffic lights.

Red car.

Even more red.

Red red red.

Everything is red again.

And then piercing blue staring right at you.

You´re staring into Bruno´s eyes and the warm embrace that usually calmed you now set you on edge.

  Back then, you felt like you were on the verge of remembering something very important. But you weren´t exactly sure what you were meant to remember, you still weren´t. You wondered why you recalled this situation now of all times. The radio blared on in the background as you waited for Bruno to finish dinner.

“We are here to report the death of a man. His body was discovered just days ago, though doctors believe him to have been dead for some months now, judging from the state the body is in. The police are currently looking for any relatives or friends who might be able to identify…”

You notice that your husband had entered the living room as the radio went silent. You turn your head to see him holding a remote, as well as balancing the food in his other hand.

“Dinner is ready darling. I decided to turn off the radio so we can properly concentrate on our conversation. The noise is always so distracting from the important things.”, a gentle smile on his face as he puts down the food.

“You didn´t need to make my favorite, Bruno.”, you softly said.

“No, I insist. It´s only natural for me to do. I love you so much, why wouldn´t I cook your favorite dish for you? You´ve been so stressed and on edge lately, I decided this was the least I could do. You´re so important to me after all.”

Bruno poured wine for the both of you and then sat down himself. You two made pleasant conversation while enjoying the food he made. You then decided to tell him what´s been on your mind lately, the strange things you´ve been seeing, all the red. He showed so much concern for you so of course you were going to tell him!

He purses his lips, his brows furrowing as he thinks for a bit before deciding to finally answer.

“Darling are you sure you´re okay? That sounds very serious. Have you been taking the pills I bought for you? Maybe you should take some more, just in case. You´ve been talking about some very strange memories the past few days. I´m concerned, y/n”.

Yes, Bruno had been giving you daily pills for as long as you can remember. He said they were good to relieve the stress and anxiety you had felt after the accident, so you always took them. And he seemed to be right with that! Whenever you forgot to take the pills, you would get a pounding headache, feeling as if your brain was about to explode. You also sometimes saw these strange things, just like you did today. It seemed like you forgot to take your pills once again. You didn´t think it was too bad though, they always made you feel a bit loopy, feeling as if a heavy fog clouded your mind. You felt relaxed but also very hazy. You weren´t sure if you liked the feeling, you always felt a bit clearer when you didn´t take them.

So when Bruno got up to bring them to you, you decided to stop him and told him that you didn´t want to take them anymore.

He stopped dead in tracks, shoulders slightly tensing before turning around to face you. He was frowning, very apparently not liking the idea.

“Darling, you need to take these pills, they are important for you.”, he told you with a strained smile.

But you didn´t want to, so you kept declining.

He grew almost desperate at your continued refusal to take the pills, looking very panicked as his eyes widened and he started to wildly wave his hands around as he tried to convince you.

“Y/n come on, don´t be silly now. You just don´t know any better. I don´t think that´s the right decision for you to take. I know what´s best for you! Please don´t ruin this. You´ll thank me later on. I love you so much amore, so your health is my top priority! Just trust your husband!”

Something about his insistence didn´t sit right with you but you didn´t want to anger him further. For some reason you knew that you should never make Bruno angry, so you relented in the end.

As Bruno visibly relaxed and got up to bring your pills, you decided to keep eating your food while pondering over what just happened.

Hahh, eating risotto always made you feel at home for some reason.

  You woke up to an empty bed, your husband must have left for work already so you were on your own for now. You shifted your head to look at your nightstand, your daily pills already taken out of the box, ready for you to take. Come to think of it, this was how it always had been. You have never even seen the bottle the pills came in, Bruno always prepared everything for you.

For some reason, this new discovery gave you a feeling of anxiety. But why? He was your husband, why should he ever do something to harm you?

Still wanting to reassure yourself that everything was okay, you headed to the bathroom and looked for the medicine cabinet. It was supposed to be here somewhere. Looking around for a bit, you finally found the right bottle, you of course being able to recognize the size and the form of the pills you took daily by now. Carefully taking it out of the cabinet, you tried to read the label but were immediately confused by all of the complicated words written on it, so you just decided to look up the name on the front of it.

You were shocked when you looked them up and saw that these pills in particular were very infamous for their bad side effects, which caused them to not get sold anymore. These side effects included sleepiness, decreased concentration and extreme forgetfulness.

Extreme…forgetfulness?

You could swear you were hearing alarm bells ringing in your head. This couldn´t be. Was your own husband actively trying to repress your memories?! Does he not want you to remember something? But why? What reason could he possibly have? While you were lost in thought, you noticed he must have accidentally left the radio on, because it was blaring in the background again.

“Dead man now finally identified by coworkers as one Risotto Nero. The young man..”

You didn´t hear anything else anymore. Risotto Nero? Why was that name so familiar to you?

And then it happened.  

You felt an intense headache, your brain feeling like it might burst out any moment. And then… you remembered.

Risotto Nero, your former boyfriend. You were super happy together and were even planning to get married once his work calmed down a bit. He was not usually a very expressive person but with you, he felt comfortable. He felt like he was finally understood, like he could be at peace.

And then you met him.

Well you didn´t really MEET him. You just bumped into him while walking on the sidewalk, you quickly apologizing and then moving on with your life quickly forgetting about the man.

But it wasn´t the same for him, oh no. When he bumped into you back then and saw your beautiful face as well as heard your wonderful voice, he was lovestruck. This couldn´t be a coincidence, fate had led you two together! You were meant to be together! But you didn´t see him. No matter how hard he tried to contact you again in a crowd, you didn´t recognize him. It couldn´t be. There must have been a reason. And he soon found his reason. This monstrosity of a man, Risotto Nero held you captive. He was trying to separate you two out of jealousy. If he wasn´t there, you two could finally be happy together! So he knew he had to do something. And that he did.

You can now remember that day clearly. You came home from grocery shopping when you saw it. The living room was a mess, broken vases, toppled over furniture, definitely signs of a fight. And in the middle of it laid your boyfriend Risotto. A large pool of blood flowed out of his wounds as he laid there motionless. Dead.

You couldn´t believe this was happening. You ran over to his body and quickly felt the tears gathering in your eyes as you let out a loud sob.

You then felt a touch on your back and immediately tensed up. No one else was supposed to be here, so who was this? Did the attacker come back to kill you as well??

You then felt the strangers hand shift, moving towards your face and then gently wiping away the tears that have gathered in your eyes. Moving your head to at least see the bastard that killed Risotto, you were surprised to see someone vaguely familiar. You didn´t think this was someone you personally knew but you could never forget someone with a fashion sense as unique as this. The white suit, that was now bathed in red, with the zippers, it was all so familiar yet you couldn´t place where you had seen this before. As you continued to ponder over this, the man then spoke up.

“Shh darling, please don´t cry. It hurts me to see you like this. You should be smiling! After all this time we can finally be together! I´ve been waiting so long to have you in my arms and now my wish has finally come true.”, he exclaimed while tightly wrapping his arms around your shaking form.

“You….you bastard! What did you do to Risotto?! Why did you kill him! How could you do this?! What the hell are you even talking about? Now we can finally be together? How could you possibly think I would want to have anything to do with you after this?! You monster!”, you screamed out while pounding your fists against his chest, wriggling around as much as you could. He couldn´t be serious, did he really think you would forgive him and want to be with him after he killed your boyfriend in cold blood?

“Please don´t be like that darling, everything is going to be okay. I did this for us! I love you way more than anyone ever could! Just wait until I show you the house I renovated just for you, you´re going to love it!”

This man was definitely not sane and you desperately needed to get away this instant. Searching your brain for any escape plan that you could come up with, you had an idea. It was risky and most likely not going to work but you needed to try anything you could while you still had the chance. Who knew what would happen to you once you were brought to this house.

So summoning all of your courage, you raised your leg and kicked the man where the sun don´t shine and decided to make a run for it as he kneeled down in pain. This was your only chance to get away from him, you had to make it count. As you ran along the streets of Naples, you thought over what you could do to possibly escape this creep. You didn´t think going to the police would do you any good so what were you supposed to do? You thought possibly the best course of action would be to try and leave the country but would you even be able to accomplish that?

You were once again pulled out of your thoughts as you heard loud footsteps behind you. Turning your head, you were able to see that the man had now almost caught up with you. Shit shit shit what were you going to do now? He was so close to getting you!

“Amore please don´t run! This is for your best, trust me! You will be so much happier with me!”, the deluded man shouted after you. This was crazy, absolutely crazy. Watching him some more, you suddenly saw his eyes dramatically widening, his mouth forming an “o” as he then called out to you.

“No wait! Stop!!”

Stop? Pftt he wished that you-

CRASH

All you saw was red once again.

The red traffic light and the red car that hit you were all you could see before passing out and everything fading to black.

 And this was the truth of what truly happened to you. Looking at the bottle of pills in your hand, it was still so hard to believe. So all this time, Bruno has just been manipulating you? He gave you these pills to prevent you from remembering what happened and played the role of a loving husband when he killed your boyfriend in cold blood. You felt sick to your stomach and your legs were shaking. You had to get away from here. You had to leave this country. You had to leave now while you were still alone, you still had a chance you-

Cliiick

You heard the sound of the front door opening.

Bruno was home.

You tried to keep your cool when he entered the room and asked about your day. If you got heated now, everything would only get worse. You wanted him to be blissfully unaware that you recalled your memories now, that the whole gig was up. Who knew what he would do when he didn´t need to pretend anymore? You had to repress a shudder at the thought.

“Y/n? Is everything okay? You´re being awfully quiet. Did something happen?”, he inquired now, looking vaguely concerned, his brows furrowing in worry.

You didn´t know what to say. Who knows what would happen if you told him the truth? That was an absolute no-go as far as you were concerned. But you also didn´t think you could get away with lying, you´ve come to notice that Bruno is very sharp with these kinds of things. So not knowing what to do, you just kept quiet.

That must have been the wrong choice because he looked a bit angry now.

“What happened y/n? Tell me. I promise I won´t be mad! Why won´t you talk to me anymore?”

More deafening silence.

Okay he DEFINITELY looked angry now. His shoulders tensing as he bit his lip, probably trying to prevent himself from raising his voice too much.

“Amore please talk with me! I love you so much you have no idea, but I´m slowly losing my patience. Stop being so difficult.”

You couldn´t help but kind of snap at that comment. You were being difficult? Well look who´s talking! He freaking killed your boyfriend and basically kidnapped you! He played with your memories and manipulated your feelings! He was trying to make you fall in love with him, to imprison you in this house and never let you go! He was sickening!

So as you were standing there, trying to stop your ragged breathing, you felt pure terror in your stomach as you saw Bruno´s facial expression change from an angry one to one full of shock. Wait shit. Did you really just say that out loud? Why now of all times? Why did the universe hate you so much?

“What…how…you remember? But how could that have happened? I guess it doesn´t matter now. Y/n I love you! I killed him for us! He could never love you like I do, he doesn´t deserve you! But you weren’t able to see that, he blinded you. So of course I had to get rid of him! You looked so scared back then, it broke my heart! When I saw you get hit by that car, I almost lost my mind. I was so scared you wouldn´t make it so when I saw you wake up and not remember anything, I knew this was my chance. It was fated to be! So I´m sorry for not being upfront with you about this but I´m sure we will be able to work it out.”

“Work this out? You want to work this out? Hell no! I´m leaving! I don´t want to stay here for even a second longer!, you screamed out in anger as you tried to get up.

Keyword: Tried

You felt an absolute numbness in your legs and you weren´t able to move them at all. Looking down in surprise, you were terrified to see them completely missing from your body! How could this happen? What is going on? No no no no! You felt the tears streaming down your face as you came to accept the truth that you wouldn´t be able to escape from this. You weren´t able to escape from him.

“Look what you made me do darling! Why did you have to say such hurtful things to me? You want to leave? I won´t let you. We were meant to be together, I knew from the moment I first saw you. So I won´t ever let you leave my sight, do you understand? So please don´t fight me if you ever want to have your legs back, okay? You can do that for me can´t you, amore mio?”

“Let´s make some new happy memories together and forget about everything that happened!”

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

 Wowee this ended up being almost 5k words! I´ve never written anything this long so I´m kind of proud of this one^^

Also remember the outline I was talking about? Well I showed it to @naranciabestboi for some thoughts and we both agreed that you needed to see this little bit of the structure I wrote down. This was for towards the end when reader remembers that bruno killed risotto:

Thank you guys once again for reading my writing and supporting me so much <3

[scripttorture]

Regarding ICURE, I have a character who is familiar with the process and a deep understanding of most of the mindsets and mental states involved in torture, interrogation, and captivity. Would that make resistance to the techniques easier? How would a willingness to engage and empathize with captors, combined with an awareness of their goals and methods and a greater than average degree of self-awareness and self confidence interact?

I’m mostly working without studies here extrapolating based on what I know.

 The only bit of this I can definitively answer is that knowledge of what torture does wouldn’t effect the high innate resistance we have to it. Resistance to torture is bound up in so many fundamental systems, like how our nerves physically register pain, that conscious knowledge wouldn’t make much difference to the outcome.

 It might make the character feel better or more confident though: ‘There’s no way you can force this information out of me’. It might also make the recovery process a little easier if the character is tortured. Knowledge about mental illness and how they’re treated can help people identify what they’re going through and process it more quickly. It can also make it easier to seek help.

 For those who are new to the blog ICURE is a combination of techniques that can be used to change someone’s beliefs over time. As with everything there is not a 100% success rate but unlike torture consistently applied ICURE can lead to a controlled change in the target’s belief system.

 It stands for Isolate, Control information, create Uncertainty, Repetition and Emotional responses.

 A group of characters attempting to use ICURE would isolate the target from other characters, ensure that the information/news the target gets lines up with what the group believes. They’d then attempt to create uncertainty about previously held core beliefs and respond in an overblown emotional fashion if the target attempts to challenge their own beliefs. Repetition of this, consistently over a prolonged period (months or years) can (but does not always) lead to change in core beliefs.

 For an example let’s imagine a story applying this to Bucky Barnes from the Marvel series.

 A group holding him might try to create uncertainty by underlining how long he’s been held and how his friends haven’t attempted to rescue him. They might give him news that his best friend has another group of heroes he works with now. Bucky has been abandoned, forgotten. And so forth.

 An emotive response in this scenario could be something like the primary care giver of the group (the person who most regularly interacts with Bucky, giving him food and trying to interact positively) flying off the handle when Bucky mentions his old friends. How can he be so ungrateful? Doesn’t he realise what the caregiver has risked and sacrificed to keep Bucky safe? Does he think persuading the group to ‘help’ Bucky and keep him alive was easy?

 You get the idea.

 My instinct is that knowledge of these techniques would make them less effective. These things are never 100% successful and I think consciously acknowledging the manipulative nature of ICURE would make it harder for the captors to achieve total success.

 However a lot of the reason these techniques work is because humans are social animals. We need interaction with other members of the species in order to remain healthy. And as a result we often change and adapt in order to fit in with new groups. We are geared to compromise in order to gain or maintain positive social contact.

 I am not a psychologist or psychiatrist but I do know that there a lot of research papers which suggest personal opinions can gradually change over time when we’re surrounded by people with differing views in non-coercive settings.

 This does not necessarily mean full conversion to another set of ideals. The impression I get is that it mostly looks like a series of small and subtle changes.

 For the sake of avoiding internet insanity let’s make up an issue. Let’s make up a character who grew up in an area where no one wears red and the colour has a lot of negative associations.

 This character moves to a different area where the colour has different connotations and wearing red is a neutral act. Over a period of years the character’s attitudes towards the colour might mellow. They might never wear red themselves. They might not decorate with the colour. But they’ve met a fair few people who occasionally wear red now and they’re decent people. They don’t judge people who wear red the way they did when they first moved in to the area.

 What I’m trying to illustrate here is that it’s normal for people’s views to shift over time. Obviously this does not always happen. People can hold extreme or vastly differing views when compared to their community.

 From a certain point of view my views are extreme. Most cultures in our global society accept and legitimise violence to differing degrees. Pacifism is the absolute rejection of violence*. If you take a moment to think about how often violence permeates all aspects of our lives (from child care to religion to politics) you’ll see what I mean.

 What I’m trying to illustrate here is that while we do adjust and change to fit in with the people surrounding us we can also cling to things that are very much against the norm. And that makes it difficult to answer any of these questions with certainty. There is a lot of individual variation.

 A lot of the techniques to resist effective interrogation are essentially a refusal to interact. But the longer someone’s held outside their community the less viable that is as an option. We can choose to do things that are harmful to us (including avoiding needed social contact) but it’s hard. Because it’s unhealthy.

 I think the way I’d approach this as a writer is to start by identifying the core values of this character, the things that are most important to them. Try to think of things the character absolutely could not compromise without becoming a different character.

 Circling back to the example of Bucky Barnes, a core value might be his relationship with Steve Rogers, his oldest friend.

 Once you have an idea of the core values think of the next most important value. And keep going.

 I tend to do this pretty instinctively. For me it’s a part of my messy, sprawling character creation. If you need to take a more visual or organised approach to figuring things out then a list (with the most important values at the top) or a circle (with the most important values in the middle) might be helpful.

 Next think through the same process for the group that has captured the character. Since it’s a group rather then an individual it should be simpler. (Because a group is unlikely to be as nuanced and complicated as an individual.)

 See if there’s any overlap which might be grounds for grudging mutual respect. Values like loyalty to your own group and taking care of the people on your side are good things to use for this.

 I would then look at the more peripheral values the character has and shift some of them a little over time.

 Keeping Bucky as our example I might put something like ‘American cultural values’ as a more peripheral value. Bucky seems to prize the culture he was raised in and consider it the norm. But it’s not something he bases his personality on or something that motivates him through the stories. So shifting that, having him not see it as the ‘norm’ any more, or adopting things his captors did would be a good way to show that he has been influenced.

 Obviously the right choice, the right value to shift, depends on the characters and the story you want to tell. The degree to which you want to shift the character’s values is also up to you.

 Bigger shifts, or more obvious shifts, could serve to cause conflict later in the story. This could lead the character to feel rejected, like their loyalty is being questioned after everything they went through.

 Bigger shifts could also serve a practical purpose in the story though. If this character has gained a greater understanding for the group they’re opposed to that could make them a much more effective interrogator. They might know how to establish rapport more quickly and earn the trust of captured prisoners. Which could in turn lead to more accurate information.

 Greater understanding of the group they’re opposed to could also help with strategic thinking/planning.

 Smaller shifts add less elements to the story. But that could be a good thing too depending on your story. If you don’t have a lot of time or space to explore new conflicts or skills then this approach would save you narrative space while still showing the character has been effected.

 It would also work if the point here is to show the character as mostly unmoved, unchanged, despite coercive external pressure.

 I hope that helps :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*In case anyone’s interested I personally define violence as harmful acts done without consent.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: maid outfit 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: tsukioka tsumugi/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.3k words

𝐚𝐧: as usual, i am very creative with titles haha. @3rdgymbros​ how... how long did this take? ahahaha but i asked my tsumu friends for advise on certain parts, so thank you bbs~

“We’re hosting a cafe! You’ll come visit me, right?”

From your request alone, it wasn’t difficult for Tsumugi to interpret it as you inviting him to a regular, perhaps aesthetically pleasing, cafe arranged by you and your peers. Nothing about your words nor your expression gave off anything that would convince him otherwise, so he accepted it as face value— you knew he enjoyed the ambience of cafes, after all.

“Of course I’ll go,” at the sight of your expectant gaze he agreed immediately, not putting much thought behind your explanation, or lack thereof. “I remember how competitive every department used to get.”

“Not much has changed in three years,” you shrugged, “a lot of people are doing food stuff too, and all of us want to be the course who earns the most money…”

You trailed off, the sudden upwards quirk of the corner of your lip making you look more devilish devious than the angelic nature he commonly associated with you.

“But I’m confident ours will be the best.”

Tsumugi wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t the least bit curious. This wasn’t a new situation, you trying to hide things to surprise or tease him, and like a moth to a flame he couldn’t help himself from trying to figure out more.

Maybe it’s the Psychology degree, or maybe it’s something simpler like him being your boyfriend. Regardless, the procedure was always the same from then on. First, maintain eye contact or at least keep his eyes on your face. Second, slip in a question,

“Mm? Why do you think so?”

“Well,” you tilted your head to the side, pupils trained elsewhere as though you were purposefully keeping him from getting a read on your face. “Everyone has a different concept or theme, and I think ours is easily the best.”

Even with your mostly tight-lipped disposition, he seemed to get a gist of what you could be talking about. Concept cafes were getting more popular lately, all with different gimmicks… maybe you guys were offering a special menu? Like those cafes with the colourful drinks or character meals?

When he asked you to confirm his guess, you only laughed and nodded wordlessly. That wasn't a no but there was clearly something he was missing. However before he could say anything more the two of you were already outside of your dormitory.

“Thank you for walking me back, Tsu-kun,” you lightly grasped his hands with your own, expression back to a pearly white smile and crinkled eyes as though the look previously on your face was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

“I’ll just message you which classroom I’ll be in, so remember to check your phone, okay?” you reminded him, “and if you don’t remember how to send a text back, just ask Tasuku-kun—“

“Haa… come on, I at least know that much,” he defended himself, his utterance drowning in a sea of your giggles.

“I was just teasing!”

You squeezed his hands one last time before slowly letting go of him, taking a step backwards as you began to see him off. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Definitely,” Tsumugi replied, a charming smile rivalling your own greeting you farewell, accompanied by the words of, “I’ll see you soon, my blossom.”

As he left the premises you had to wonder… how would we react when he saw you next time? Somehow… you found yourself excited just thinking about it.

Even from where Tsumugi stood at the end of the hallway, he could tell your group’s makeshift cafe was as popular as you predicted it to be, if the hustle and bustle and the constant stream of people leaving and entering the room were anything to go by.

It was easy to see why.

You texted him a few minutes ago, saying you had to be the one to welcome and assist him.

Then… were you also…?

Even as the distance began to come to a close and the anticipation started to bubble up, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you.

You stood in front of him, clad in a black, puffy, short-sleeved, Peter Pan collared mini dress with a frilly little skirt, the white trimmings stopping mid-thigh. Wrapped around your waist was a white apron with ruffled edges.

Really, the seed was already planted in his head as soon as figured out what type of cafe you were participating in, but when you brought back his attention with your words he found himself all the more embarrassed. How long had he been…?

“Tsu-kun… ah, no, I mean,” he looked up upon hearing you whisper to yourself momentarily, eyes unfailing to notice the cute little headband that crowned your head as you perked back up and fell back into script.

“Welcome back, master!”

You threw him your usual smile, but paired with how you greeted him he, all of a sudden, became too aware of the scorching heat rising on his face. In a futile attempt to hide it from you he immediately cast his gaze downwards, only to be met with a sliver of your thighs, the rest of your legs covered up by knee socks with a bow accent.

With all things said and done, there wasn’t anything too inappropriate about your outfit, what with this event being set in school, but even so it was that very innocence and charm that seemed to…

“H-huh?” He jolted as you pulled on the sleeve of his sweater, asking if he was okay and if he wasn’t so busy trying to un-fry his brain and look elsewhere he would’ve noticed a different gleam in your eyes, using your free hand to cover up your growing grin with the menu.

“I’m— I’m fine.”

No he wasn’t. If you bothered to move your hand upwards to meet his face, you probably would’ve burned yourself by the sheer warmth he was radiating. Still, you only giggled with a “master, come this way please,” as you turned around and requested he follow you.

He swallowed.

The straps of your apron met to form a cross on your back, the ends tied into a bow.

Aha, cute…

Darting his eyes away from your form momentarily, he was finally able to absorb the venue’s appearance. He’s attended classes in this room before, and while it was still quite obviously a lecture hall, the cutesy decor littered amongst the tables and chairs set a different mood for the scene.

As you led him to Tsumugi seat and handed him his menu, he was able to calm down and have his brain actually function think more rationally. You purposely left out the details to surprise him, that much was clear. As he moved his eyes away from the egg dish choices and to your face, the look of amusement you wore was evident to him, even if you tried to hide it.

If… if you were trying to play a game with him, then… he’ll do his best to compensate.

“Ahh, master, if you’re having trouble choosing then can I suggest the fried rice topped with character fried egg,” you looked at him through your lashes, connecting your index fingers together, “since it’s my master’s favourite~ ah! Or maybe the omurice? I’ll even write a special message for you, master~”

“Hmm… I’m happy with either one, since you’ll be the one serving it.”

Tsumugi watched you blink once, and then twice, watching you react to the sudden change. You probably expected him to not recover so quickly. Sure, he was still affected by how cute you looked, but as your cheeks began to be dusted with pink, he found you even more beautiful.

As you stumbled over your reply, he interrupted you with a question.

“Are you going to keep that outfit after this?”

Looking a little confused, you broke out of character and nodded.

“Then… could I see you wear it again in the future?”

want to order again?

i couldn’t figure out a way to write this in, but wouldn’t it be cute if after tsumugi finishes eating they have that thing where the maid and the customer take a photo or polaroid together? 

[vintagesimstress]

VI a. UV_0

(Previous: V. Adding missing body parts / Frankenmeshing / Finishing touches)

As promised, I'll finally talk about uv maps today. About time! Sorry it took so long; I hope at least you'll feel that it was worth the wait.

Generally speaking, uv maps are 2D representations of a 3D mesh. A mesh cut into pieces and made flat. TS4 meshes use two of them, called – very originally – uv_0 and uv_1. You can see them listed if you click the little triangular symbol in the panel on the very right (if you hover over the triangle, it says 'Data').

Why are there two? Because they serve very different purposes. To put it simply, uv_0 is responsible for the texture of your mesh, while uv_1 makes the mesh move with body sliders. Therefore we'll need to discuss them separately. Let's start with uv_0.

As you can see, uv_0 is the one selected by default. If you switch the mesh shading to 'Material' or 'Texture', you're going to immediately see any changes you make to it. The map itself is located in the window on the left – the one which we haven't used so far at all. Let's go into edit mode and then make that window bigger, so that we could see all the icons at the bottom.

Right now nothing is happening there. But let's just try selecting a random part of the mesh...

Important: when you use shortkeys, pay attention to your cursor's position! E.g. if you press b with your cursor in the uv map area, it'll activate the selection tool for the map, not for the 3D mesh.

You can see that a bunch of little dots appeared on the map! Those are your selected vertices.

Now, I don't know why this is the default option for Blender – your vertices being invisible on the uv map unless selected – but you can easily change it, so that you could always see them. You just have to click one of those tiny icons at the bottom. If you hover over it, it says 'Keep UV and edit mode mesh selection in sync'.

I find it way easier to work with this way: you can see all the vertices, and the ones which you selected are highlighted now, just like in case of the 3D model.

Then there's another important tiny button, right between 'UVs' and 'New'. If you click it, you'll see a list of all texture files associated with your mesh. In my case it's only two basic files: the body texture and the texture of the top I used as a base, but if you're frankenmeshing, that list can get much longer. Let's choose the original diffuse map.

You can see that the map reflects perfectly whatever is going on with the 3D mesh. The parts not covered by any texture use the skin texture instead. Not the whole texture of the top is used, because at the very beginning I cut off the bottom part of the mesh. There's also an abundance of vertices in the waist area, because I extruded the lowest row of vertices to make a skirt; and, as I didn't make any changes to the uv map yet, the new vertices appeared right on top of the original ones. In fact, if you select that lowest line on the uv map, you'll see that the whole skirt gets selected.

UV maps can also be useful for detecting weird stuff happening to your mesh. I can see that there's some line going across the top. I switched to edge select, selected it and found out it really is some completely useless edge going through my 3D mesh. No idea how it got there, but thanks to the uv map I could spot and delete it.

Just a couple of other tiny icons before we proceed to fixing our uv_0 map. Firstly, there's the little pin, which let's you – unsurprisingly – pin the currently used texture, so that Blender wouldn't switch to any other ones (yep, it likes doing it). Just click it and you're safe.

And then, right next to it, there's a little cross. Remember what I said about the list of used textures getting super long if you're frankenmeshing? It can get annoying if you don't need 80% of them, but have to scroll through them all whenever you want to switch from texture A to texture B. If you're sure you don't need a certain texture, select it and then shift-click that little cross. That'll tell Blender that this texture is not used, so it doesn't have to load it. You'll need to save your mesh, close Blender and reopen it for the changes to be applied!

OK. Now that you have an idea what's what, we can finally talk about editing the uv_0.

In case of TS4 diffuse maps, it's very important where you put your texture. Each category has its designated part on the map. It looks like this:

You can download the template in default, EA size (1024x2048) HERE, and a twice bigger one (2048x4096) HERE. In my own creations I always use the 2048x4096 format – it lets me fit in way more details without stuff getting badly pixelated – but that's obviously not a must. Now, at the bottom of the uv window, click 'Image' and then 'Open image'. Find the template you just downloaded and double-click it (or choose 'Open image').

Whatever you do with your uv map, there are two basic rules you have to follow. One, fit the vertices only in the place meant for the category you're working on. If you're making a dress, you can ignore the top/bottom division (although be aware that if you do ignore it, you won't be able to split your dress into separates), but that's the only exception. Don't let your vertices go into the shoes or face area. If you're making a skirt, stick to the area marked as bottom. If you're making a top, fit them all in the area marked as top. It seems obvious, but I've seen sooo many CC pieces which are incompatible with each other, because their textures overlap. Some of them are beautiful and even made by really well-known, established creators. So I think it doesn't hurt to overstress this point a bit. Please pay attention to it!

And two: don't move anything which is supposed to be bare skin. Or half-transparent texture printed on top of the skin (not 3D). It's an absolute no-no. Terrible stuff will happen if you do it. If you accidentally did it, then... Oh boy. You may try to move it back into the right position, but maybe it'd be easier to just delete those parts altogether and just append them anew (as explained in the previous part).

As for the parts which you intend to texture – so, in this case, your dress – you can theoretically put them anywhere you want (that is, as long as you stay in the top/bottom area and don't overlap the bare skin parts). Your map doesn't necessarily have to look like the ones made by EA. However, I think not following the EA style (top on the left, bottom underneath, sleeves on the right, any extra deco in the free slots) may result in your clothing being sunbathing-incompatible. I can't say for sure, as I don't have Island Living, so my sims don't tan, but I suspect the tan lines depend exactly on your uv_0 map. I don't think it makes any difference in case of Victorian dresses, but if you're making something more modern, which could leave some visible tan lines, you probably shouldn't go too wild while making your uv_0 map.

Let's go back to our dress. Because we used the top as a base, half of the work is already done. We only need to 'unwrap' the skirt (and any decorations, if you added them). There are 4 ways in which I usually approach it:

1) Selecting the rows in 3D view and moving them manually (g, y) on the uv map

It's not very practical now, when the skirt is already full of those horizontal lines, but at an earlier stage it would have been very quick and easy. The important thing is, you should do it before adding 'fillers' (i.e. those lines which you don't move, scale or whatever, but just add them and leave them as is). Depending on the size of your dress, you probably achieved the desired shape with 3-5 lines. Move them on the uv map, make sure the proportions look correct (you can always try to open some patterned image for a second, to see if everything looks ok – see part VI b) and only then add the fillers. They'll automatically appear in the right places on the map.

2) Cylinder projection

You can also decide to unwrap the skirt. Select it, either in the 3D mesh or uv map window. Now, with your cursor in the 3D mesh window, press t to unhide the panel on the left and go to the 3rd category: 'Shading/UVs'. In the UVs section you'll see a button called 'Unwrap'. If you click it, a drop-down menu will appear, with different unwrapping styles/options. Choose 'Cylinder projection'. Watch out: your viewpoint matters! Before you unwrap, go to the right side view (num 3).

I took the screenshot from the wrong side, please pretend you didn't notice (-.-)

A whole bunch of new vertices should appear on your uv map – in a completely wrong place. We'll have to move them under the top. You'll notice, however, that if you try to move, scale or do whatever else with your skirt, it affects the lowest line of your top as well. That's because the top line of the skirt and the bottom line of the top are actually the same vertices, just duplicated on the uv map. You could select only that one line and edge split it (ctrl + e, in the 3D view), but an easier way around it is simply switching from vertex select to face select. Face select has some special powers when it comes to uv maps: it lets you not only move stuff separately, but also select parts of the mesh with L (multiple select with shift + L). Neither of those things works when in vertex or edge select mode.

Now you can simply scale the selection down and put it under the top. Adjust it in any way necessary, so that it'd align with the top nicely. Make sure that the faces are in the right places! Select the bottom-left face of the top and then, in the 3D view window (left side view, ctrl + num 3), click the face right underneath it. Is it the top-left one of the skirt on the uv map? If so, perfect! If not, you've got some manual moving to do. Just select any faces which are in the wrong place and move them along the x axis (g, x) till they are placed properly.

It should look fine by default though. That's exactly why we went to the right-side view before unwrapping.

If your skirt goes into the shoes area, scale it down along the y axis! (g, y)

Now the only thing left to do is to weld the vertices and get rid of the gap between the skirt and the top. Go back to vertex select and select the second vertex from the left. You'll see that – just as before – a vertex of the top gets highlighted too. Press W and, from the drop-down menu, choose 'Weld'.

Do the same for all the vertices in that line, except for the first and last one.

What about the first and last one? The problem is, they are all actually the same vertex. If you select  any of them, you'll see that the other one gets highlighted as well. Welding them would make them meet in the middle, and that's not something you want to happen. So what can you do? This time there's no other way around it than splitting. Select the whole vertical line (either the left or right one), move the cursor to the 3D view area, press ctrl + e and choose 'edge split'.

Now you should be able to weld each of those vertices separately. When you're done, select all (a) and (in 3D view) remove doubles (w).

And that's basically it. Of course, if you want to, you can dedicate some more time to your uv map, making sure everything looks absolutely perfect. You can, for example, edit certain lines – or all – and make them perfectly straight. Just select a line, press w and choose 'Align x/y'. It's especially useful for deco parts – you'll see what I mean once you get to texturing.

3) Professional tailoring (marking seams)

This method is quite crazy, but can be very useful in some cases – e.g. if you're making a patterned dress with a huuuuge skirt and want the pattern to look even. To use it, you have to imagine for a second that you're a tailor/seamstress and that your mesh is a real dress, made from real pieces of material. Where would this material be cut and sewn together?

Once you know where the seams would be, go to edge select mode and, well, select those edges. Then press ctrl + e and choose 'Mark seam'. Make sure you really mark all the seams which would be there in case of a real dress!

Once you're done, select your whole dress (or whatever it is that you're making). Do not select body parts! Once again go the panel on the left (if it's not there, unhide it with t) and this time simply select 'Unwrap'.

And now just go to face select, scale down the results of your unwrapping and put them anywhere (but in the right category :P). If something looks wrong, that most probably means you forgot to mark some seam. You'll have to go on a search for it. I'll be honest: I have zero idea of sewing, so using this method is quite tricky for me and I'm struggling myself with marking all the right edges as seams. I used it only twice so far, in my last 2 projects. Here's how my 1843 dress looks like after unwrapping:

As you can see, the uv map is plain crazy and, as mentioned before, definitely not tanning-compatible, but thanks to it later I didn't have to adjust the pattern to each part of the mesh individually – I could just fill the whole texture with pattern and only had to erase it from the parts which were supposed to be uncovered. It does make your life easier if you make 66 swatches :P.

4)  Projecting from view

Yet another unwrapping option, useful mostly for smaller, decorative elements. Or in general: for stuff which you can see properly. I use it mostly for bottoms (I mean... That thing 'closing' the dress at the bottom). Go to the bottom view (ctrl + 7), select the whole bottom part (might be easier to do on the uv map, now that you've unwrapped the skirt!) and, from the unwrap drop-down menu, select 'Project from view'.

Go to face select, scale the thing down and put it somewhere in the area for decorative elements. For example here:

Done!

***

Here's also a small general tip: it's always better to separate clothing parts from body parts on the uv_0 map. I'm thinking especially of the neckline. It's the only way to get a sharp, clear line; if you just paint the neckline in your graphic editor, it'll become blurry in game. It seems that the devs realised it at some point too, as at least some pieces from later DLCs have a gap in the uv_0 between the neck and the collar. Just select the whole top-bottom area, deselect the neck and move the part which should be textured a bit down.

***

Whichever method you chose, your dress has a ready uv_0 map. Now there's only one thing left to do: you should export the uv layout, so that you'll know where to put your texture. At the bottom of the uv map area, click 'UVs' and then choose 'Export UV Layout'.

A new window will appear. Save it wherever you want, under whichever name. The only important thing is, you must tick that little box on the left saying 'All UVs'. Then just click the 'Export UV Layout' button.

And that's all. Congratulations! You're fully done with your uv_0 map.

(Next: VI b. Changing the texture displayed in Blender)

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: and sings the tune without the words, ch. 3

Relationship: Jiāng Yànlí & Jīn Zǐxuān, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian

Additional Tags: Epistolary, Food, Music

Summary: An epistolary follow-up to “the thing with feathers.” Exchanged letters.

Notes: See end.

Previous fic in the series: “the thing with feathers”

Chapters: 1 | 2

AO3 link

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

To Jin-gongzi,

I sincerely apologize for the delay in writing back. A-Xian had an episode, like the one you saw, but he was unconscious for two days and very frightened and confused after he woke. I had a letter started before that occurred but am writing a new one now. 

I am glad you like Zihuang’s design. When a-die took me to the luthier, we discussed the various options available for both sound and decoration. Since my practice instrument was a shoo konghou, they recommended I choose the same, but the fong shou design called to me. 

I decided on the mother of pearl instead of a precious metal or jade because I liked the shine of it, but also for another reason. Before A-Xian fell ill, he and A-Cheng always brought me lovely shells they found while swimming in the river. They used to compete with each other to see who could find the most diving. So the nacre reminds me of them. I don’t know if A-Xian remembers this—perhaps I should mention it to him. 

I confess I am still a little distressed over A-Xian’s episode, so I apologize if I go off on tangents.

As a result of my childhood illness, I sometimes have dizzy spells. Largely it is under control, but Healer Kang said that improving my core might also improve my health. I’m happy that I can find a way to contribute to Yunmeng Jiang even with a weak body. I agree that there should be more avenues available to young cultivators who may not be able to fight monsters—if the sects encouraged such disciples to utilize their cultivation to heal or engage in other activities that would enrich the sect, it would only strengthen the sects!

Cooking is an activity I quite enjoy, and I would be happy to serve lotus root and pork rib soup sometime when you visit. My soup was the very first thing he remembered, actually. When A-Xian first came to us, he was scared and so malnourished, and I always cook it for him and A-Cheng, especially when they’re sick or troubled. I’m happy cooking it for him meant so much to him that it broke through his amnesia. 

Your suggestion about handstands was something I tried. It was very difficult, and I was so involved in trying to do one that I forgot Lan-xiansheng was coming to give me a music lesson. It was so embarrassing to be caught, as I was a little disheveled. But he smiled—I think he almost laughed, even, especially after I explained. 

He said your idea is sound, but I will need to work my way up to an actual handstand. For now, he showed me several exercises I can do to work on my muscles, and recommended I do the arm motions of sword forms with a light practice wooden one. I can move to heavier ones as my strength increases, and eventually I will be ready for handstands. Thank you for the suggestion. I am glad I can speak of this with you. 

I was unable to find a konghou score in our library, but I can write to Lan-xiansheng to ask if there is one in theirs. I, too, enjoy that song, though there’s a sadness to it, since it’s a farewell song. I may not be at the level where I can play it yet, but it is good to know what music you like. 

One of our cooks is from Lanling, but not near the capitol. I asked her about those dishes, and she knows them and will be happy to prepare them next time you visit. She’s also willing to teach me how to cook them! She cooked up basi pinggou for dessert once A-Xian recovered, even, and we all very much enjoyed it. It’s so sweet, and the texture is very pleasant. A-Xian and A-Cheng competed to make the longest thread of sugar.

Yunmeng cuisine is indeed known for its spice—but never take food from A-Xian, since he goes overboard with the spices. He dumps chili oil on everything, except my soup which he insists is perfect. 

I am very fond of re gan mian (hot dry noodles), and I like pianpiya (Hubei duck) which you might enjoy since one of the dishes you mentioned is a duck dish. As a dessert, I am very fond of sweet doufunao (tofu brains/pudding). 

A-Lian was a gift from the lotuses, our beautiful lotus meimei. A-Xian’s illness changed quite a bit for us. A-Niang became protective of him, and she started talking to a-die more. She also decided that we should seek orphans and street children and educate them so they may become cultivators, if they have the capacity, or take on a trade. She’s also made it her personal mission to rescue women enslaved at brothels so they might also be able to be educated and learn trades. Our family has grown, as has our sect, and we’re all very happy. 

I think a-niang is happy to have found more purpose, and to have reconciled with a-die. They had deep misunderstandings, I think. A-Xian’s illness forced them to talk, and things are much better now. 

I am including some of the rose petal candy you enjoyed with this letter. I hope it finds you and your family well.

Jiang Yanli

  To Jiang-guniang,

Your gift of rose petal candy is much appreciated. 

I am sorry to hear of your brother’s illness; you obviously care deeply for all of your siblings, so I have no doubt it was distressing for you. When I was there, he passed out for no more than a ke, which seemed from the reaction of everyone to be more typical. Yu-furen mentioned he was attacked and fell into a coma for weeks. It is quite understandable that you are distracted. Is he recovered?

The choices behind your konghou are interesting. I have not engaged in music beyond a rudimentary grasp of the suona as a pursuit of the six arts, but perhaps I should refine my skills and consider music more carefully. As you stated, we need not limit ourselves to the sword as cultivators. 

As such, I agree with you on pursuing cultivation for healing and perhaps the arts. I wonder if cultivation could be utilized in the visual arts, as well. I tried to speak of it with fuqin but he seemed disinterested and called the idea “quaint.” I believe it is a good idea—no one thinks the Lan quaint for pursuing musical cultivation, and I have heard a branch of the Wen sect is known for its healing cultivation. In fact, you might look into them, though I don’t know what branch it is. 

It sounds very much like you have used cooking almost as a healing art for the benefit of your brother. I wonder if, like with medicine, qi can be infused in food somehow. Maybe not for healing, but for other things like comfort. I have never considered this before, and I am enjoying this discussion. I may research it in the library here, but I would like to know what you find if you look into it as well. Regardless, your cooking sounds powerful on its own. 

I had not considered the status of your body, which you mentioned was weakened by your childhood illness, and I am relieved you did not injure yourself in the attempt. That is a very real consideration if you push your body too much; I once tried one of the more advanced Jin sword techniques before I was ready to and wound up hurting my shoulder. I’m glad Lan-xiansheng prevented any harm from coming to you. 

I will see if there is a konghou score for it in the Jin library, but it could probably be adapted for the konghou by a musician, perhaps with different levels so you can start with a simpler version and then progress as you improve. That’s usually how I learn footwork and sword technique. I’m not sure if your sect trains the same way. 

Your description of your brothers eating basi pinggou made me smile, as I do the same thing. It’s part of the fun of eating it when it’s hot. I’m happy to hear you enjoyed it, and I hope you also enjoy the other dishes when you get to try them. 

Some of our cuisine is spicy, but I can scarcely imagine eating something spicier than Yunmeng dishes—your brother must like strong flavors. 

I have been living in Koi Tower my entire life, but somehow had never gone to the kitchens before. The cooks were very startled to see me. I asked about the dishes you mentioned, and one of the cooks was familiar with Yunmeng cuisine. She cautioned me that the spice can be quite strong but can be adjusted to taste. In Lanling, our doufunao is salty, so I was surprised it could be a sweet dish. 

The cook kindly made a small bowl of it and allowed me to watch the preparation. She used ginger in the syrup. It was a little strange at first, since I’m used to it being a savory dish, but it was quite good. I asked if the kitchen would consider occasionally serving it for dessert with dinner and making it when you and your family come to visit, and they were amenable. 

I don’t quite understand what you mean by “a gift from the lotuses,” but it is not my place to pry. Yu-furen stated she was Jiang Wuxian’s adopted sister, so it makes sense that she would also become your sister upon his adoption. 

Yu-furen’s idea about orphans and street children seems sensible, especially given your brother’s past. Some gentry may be concerned about elevating the status of such children, though. She may face criticism for this, and for the other. I know a-niang hates prostitutes, but I don’t think it’s their fault if they’re slaves. What else can slaves do but obey? Rescuing them seems just. 

Your parents’ relationship has turned quite positive, and it seems good for you and your siblings. 

I am including some of my favorite malt candies in several flavors, and enough that your family can try them as well. My favorite is the date walnut candy. I hope you enjoy them. 

With best regards,

Jin Zixuan

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

Jin Zixuan is a little jealous that Jiang Yanli’s family is so happy and his, well, isn’t. He’s also tentatively fascinated by their discussion of cultivation, and a little mad that his shitty father won’t discuss it with him. He’s also aware of why his mother hates prostitutes but is not willing to say so. 

From fan-created maps, it seems Lotus Pier is in Hubei province, so I used several dishes from there as Jiang Yanli’s favorites. Doufunao is called tofu brains but is a kind of soft pudding tofu. In Shandong province it would be made with savory flavors, but in Hubei it’s made with sugar. Cantonese cooking apparently uses ginger with it, and the recipe I found also does. I also found a recipe for date walnut candy that looks divine. 

Also, apparently the suona is popular in Shandong province, but also kind of sounds like the mating call of a peacock and I just couldn’t help myself. Music is one of the six arts young gentlemen would be expected to have some proficiency in, so it makes sense that he has at least rudimentary competence. 

Jiang Yanli upped the ante by sending him the candy he noted enjoying. And Jin Zixuan is not one to be outdone, so of course he sent some back, and enough for her siblings to boot! This is a matter of pride!

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 19: A Festive Farewell

(Click here for chapter 18!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

There were many reasons why Severus hated Christmas.

To begin with, he loathed most customs associated with the festivity. Gifts were only given out of a sense of obligation, Christmas cards were completely pointless as they only gathered dust for a few weeks before one was able to throw them away without having to feel guilty, and let’s not even mention those annoying Christmas carols. For some reason, people also suddenly seemed to think that the season was the perfect time to get friendly with him and try to involve him in all sorts of “fun” activities – how absurd! And while he normally greatly enjoyed any time he got away from his bothersome pupils, the headmaster still always found a way to ruin it somehow. Not only did the old coot get crazier with his decorations every year, but he also forced Severus to take part in the annual Christmas dinner. However, what the professor found the most ridiculous was that the wizarding world would even celebrate a holiday based on the religious beliefs of Muggles. He could understand how those who grew up in or married into Muggle families might want to carry on those traditions, of course. But these days, even pure-bloods participated, and that was just ludicrous. But if he was being completely honest with himself, he really just disliked anything that reminded him of his childhood in the non-magical world.

This year, however, Severus had a whole new reason to hate Christmas. As one of the school’s Heads of House, this morning he had received a copy of the list of students who wished to stay in the castle over the holidays. But even after reading through it three times, he had not been able to find Hermione’s name on it anywhere; and while he would have never admitted that that was the cause, he had been in a sullen mood ever since. The prospect of not seeing her, of not talking to her for two whole weeks made his heart ache.

At present, the Potions Master was sitting at his desk and quietly watching as his sixth-years were streaming out of his classroom. To give the students enough time to make their way to Hogsmeade Station, the last day of the first term traditionally consisted of only the first period. Once the last pupil had left, Severus got up and walked into the storage room. He always liked to use the holidays to reorganise the small space and get it ready for the next semester.

But only a few minutes later, his work flow was interrupted when he suddenly heard the door to his classroom open. Stepping out of the storage room, he soon laid eyes upon the figure of Hogwarts’ Head Girl. She was standing a few feet away from him in the middle of the empty room, her round face makeup-free and her unruly hair pulled back into a half-updo. It seemed like she was already dressed for the long train ride back to King’s Cross: she was wearing a pair of casual jeans, ankle booties made of leather, a nude sweater and a light blue coat so big that it was threatening to swallow her small frame. As always, she was looking absolutely stunning.

“What are you doing here?” Severus spat. Seeing her now was only making his emotional turmoil worse.

Hermione was obviously taken aback by his reaction. “I came to say goodbye. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I did not sign up to stay over the holidays this year.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” he mumbled under his breath.

She gave him a confused look. “Um, well, I would have told you earlier, but it was kind of a last-minute decision. Yesterday, Ginny persuaded me to spend Christmas with her family at the Burrow, and so I had Professor McGonagall take my name off the list. Harry will be there, too, and I thought that maybe I could use this time to try and patch things up with Ron.”

Argh – whenever he heard that name, Severus could not help but instantly feel annoyed. He was starting to dislike Weasley almost as much as James Potter. He would never understand why someone as smart and amazing as Hermione Granger would want to be friends with a numskull like that.

“But before I leave, I just wanted to give you this.”

Severus watched as she pulled out a small metal tin from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him.

“What is this?” he asked before carefully unfastening the bow tied around it and lifting the lid. “… Biscuits?”

“I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation, and this was the only thing I could make on such short notice.”

He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “You made these?”

“Yes!” She let out a joyous laughter. “The house elves normally don’t let anyone touch their pots and pans, but I guess they’re still a bit terrified of me because of my past S.P.E.W. efforts. As long as I promised not to slip them any socks or hats, they gave me free rein to use their workspace. So this morning before breakfast, I sneaked out of my tower, baked these and used a static charm to keep them warm.”

Severus had to suppress a smirk. Oh yes, he still vividly remembered how she had used to so fiercely campaign for the rights of those magical creatures during her fourth year. It had been a pointless endeavour, of course, as the majority of house elves were submissive by nature and wanted to serve a master; but he still secretly admired her persistence and kind-heartedness. He picked up one of the cookies.

“Mmm,” he said as he took a big bite, a nutty flavour filling his mouth. “I have to admit that these are rather delicious. It seems as though your culinary capabilities are just as good as your brewing skills."

“Thank you for the compliment, sir, but I’m normally quite the disaster in the kitchen, honestly. But thank Merlin that not even a cook as disastrous as me could ever mess up this foolproof recipe from –“ Hermione made an abrupt pause, her smile disappearing from her face. “From my mother.”

The wizard frowned – why was she sad all of a sudden? But before he could ask her about it, the young woman took one look at her watch and immediately gasped.

“Oh no, I’ll have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train!” Biting her lip, her gaze wandered to the ground. Was she blushing? “But before I say goodbye, there is one more thing I’d like to do …”

Severus eyed his young apprentice with suspicion. As an experienced teacher of well over a decade and a half, he was all too familiar with the look she had on her face – it was the look of a student who was definitely up to something mischievous. But even so, he was not at all prepared for what happened next as Hermione stepped forward and embraced him in a hug so warm it could have melted mid-winter snow.

“I wish you a very happy Christmas, Professor Snape,” she whispered against his chest. “Being able to study under you is and will always be the greatest gift!”

For a split second, Severus was paralysed by the sudden intimacy. But then, one hand around her petite waist and the other entangled in her hair, he pulled her closer.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” he muttered back, inhaling the clean scent of her perfume.

And as he watched her disappear through the door not even a minute later, his cold, bitter heart felt just a little bit warmer.

(CHAPTER 20 COMING SOON!)