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freesia-writes · 1 year

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OMFG!!! Congrats on the 500 sweetface!!! That's gotta feel amazing <3

For the prompt, could I possibly have #10 with Fives?

hehehe thanks so much friend! Heeeere you go! Also... these are getting LONGER... I'm concerned that by the time I get to #13 they're gonna be like 10k words, LOL. That being said, hopefully this is a delight! I never realized how nerve-wracking it could be to try to write for someone; you want it to be everything they ever dreamed of but you're a totally separate brain, with only one line to go off of! LOL. And it's so hard to end these! I want to write a whole novel off of each one. ;)

“You shouldn't be with him. You should be… with me." - Fives Word Count: 3.7k Content Warnings: None really Fives x GN!Reader with a boyfriend ;)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was arrival day, and you were already dreading the agenda that lay ahead of you. Two separate squads and their Venator-class cruisers were scheduled for a quick turnover, requiring immediate service, detailed repairs, and thorough inspection before being ready to go as quickly as possible. Somehow it felt as though it had been happening more often lately, and you were starting to wonder how many of these damn cruisers there were. Your team was starting to chafe against the longer hours and constant pressure, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel -- a few days off, provided there were no unscheduled arrivals that would throw the whole thing out the window.

The first cruiser docked with a whoosh, and the debarkation routine began. The previously-empty platform was suddenly swarming with mechanics, droids, shuttles, officers, and troopers, each headed in their own direction. Your boyfriend jostled your shoulder playfully as your crew headed for the ion engines, walking ahead of you to catch up with some other friends. You offered a feeble smile but weren’t quite sure what he was aiming for. Sometimes he treated you more like a “bro” than his girlfriend, except when he wanted… well… you know. But he had been kind and fun, taking you out to dinner and buying you things often, and while you could suggest quite a few ways you’d like to see things change, you didn’t want to be nit-picky.

You cleared the thoughts from your head as you saw a herd of troopers exiting the ship, a blur of white and blue indicating that it was none other than the 501st. Your face curled into an inexplicable mix of a grimace and a grin, scanning the familiar helmets out of habit. There it was… the tiniest flash of red, in a downward triangle right in the middle… And just like that, it took you back to that night, memories flashing across your mind to the rhythm of your footsteps as you continued distractedly toward the work that lay ahead.

Flashing lights, neon signs. Raucous voices, cheers, laughs. Good conversation, suggestive whispers, the effervescent warmth of liquor in your veins that fueled the anticipation of potential adventure and meaningless fun. The dark hair clenched between your fingers, the heavy breathing, the throes of passion and the gentle, intimate caresses afterward. That simple tattoo, a small 5, that you’d touched and kissed and fallen asleep against…

“Watch it!” A sharp voice broke you out of the replay, and you stumbled sideways as a couple of grumpy pilots made their way past. You could hear laughter up ahead, as your boyfriend and two others watched your distracted mishap. Flipping an obscene gesture their way, you pulled your bag higher up on your shoulder and hurried to catch up. Today was not the day to be daydreaming and dawdling.

What you didn’t see was the lone straggler behind the group of clones, now free of their helmets, exchanging quips and laughs as they headed toward their day of freedom. He shifted on his feet, holding his helmet at his hip, watching you scuttle toward the ship. His brow furrowed, a litany of expressions decorating his face, and he slowly turned to join his brothers, tearing his eyes from you and leaving them on the ground as he made his way to rest and refreshment.

The engines were a hot mess, requiring more than a few trips back to the supply station for some of the most abstract parts you’d ever heard of. What they were doing on this starship, you didn’t know, but they were definitely putting you through your paces when it came to maintaining it. You brushed the hair from your face, christening your forehead with grease, and smacked the maintenance panel shut with a huff. You were already late for lunch, and had skipped breakfast, and therefore were in an absolutely horrible mood.

The mess hall was fairly empty, most having finished their meals and cleared out by now. Your boyfriend had waited for you, surprisingly, chatting with some crewmates and beckoning you over when he caught sight of you with your tray. You slid onto the bench next to him, accepting his sloppy kiss and side hug as he finished the story he was telling, and promptly began stuffing your face with the most unexciting ration bar you’d ever touched. Most of the exciting stuff in the food line had been gone already by the time you went through, including the apples, which were one of your favorite things, even though they seemed plain.

“Whoa, easy girl, they’re not gonna run out of food!” came his playful taunt, and you elbowed him in the ribs in response. You’d initially loved the witty banter between the two of you, but sometimes the jabs had an edge, or didn’t quite land, and you were beginning to tire of it. Your complaints had been brushed off as being “overly-sensitive” or “not being able to take a joke”, so you let it slide, but you didn’t appreciate it quite so much anymore.

As the group of you headed back to the ship for hours of maintenance and inspection, a figure caught your eye on the side of the platform. A clone trooper, still in armor, was heading back toward the ship, scanning the herds of people bustling about their duties. You squinted, drawing closer, wondering why any of them would choose to be here when they had such little time off. Perhaps he’d forgotten something. But as you both approached the maintenance hatch, you saw the helmet clearly.

“Fives?” you asked, feeling awkward and excited at the same time. After your [pretty darn awesome] little fling together, you had both enjoyed some conversations here and there, but it had been clear that there wasn’t really any future there… He was constantly being toted around the galaxy, and you… well, you were stuck here. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about it since, though… What it would be like if your lots in life were different. It had been a one-night stand, yes, but there had been substance in your discussion, intriguing glimmers of personality, and a depth, kindness, and intelligence that had really left an impression on you. “What are you doing here?” you continued, watching him turn toward you quickly at the sound of your voice.

“Oh! Hi. I… I thought I left something on the ship,” he began, pulling his helmet off to reveal those rich brown eyes and sharp features. You began to form a question as to why it would be in the maintenance sector, but he continued quickly, “But while you’re here…” The couple of crew members with you, including your boyfriend, were lingering in the doorway as well, watching the interaction. “They’re doing a crew appreciation thing at 79s tonight, and I just didn’t know if you… all… knew about it. Free snacks and cheap drinks for mechanics and whatnot…”

“That’s awesome,” you said warmly, catching his eye with your soft smile. “Thanks for telling us.”

“Yeah! You… all… deserve it, with all your hard work. Anyway… Maybe we’ll see you there,” he said, eyes roving across the group before he retreated into the expressionless safety of his helmet. He gave you one last nod before turning to head out. You snuck a glance over your shoulder as your team climbed onto the ship, noticing his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as he walked.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” your boyfriend muttered as you exited the taxi in front of 79s.

“Hey. I never get to choose what we do. You said you’d be a good sport. Plus -- free food!” you said enticingly, feeling disproportionately enthused as the neon lights and bumping bass met your senses.

“I know, but a clone bar? I don’t know… isn’t that kind of weird?” he whined, taking your hand begrudgingly as the two of you made your way in the door.

“Why would it be weird?” you said, voice getting louder so he could hear you over the music. But you never heard his reply as the raucous noise of the bar took over.

* * *

“Okay, ‘free snacks’ may have been a bit of an overstatement,” you chuckled, a few drinks and three bags of salty crackers later. The two of you had come to an uneasy truce, settling to play cards and watch the various interactions going on around you. There had been a few arguments, some decent arm wrestling matches, and a general spirit of joviality that was infectious. Well, to you, at least. The music shifted to something right up your alley, and you rose to your feet, holding a hand out. Your boyfriend took it, with the tiniest of eye rolls, and followed you downstairs to the dance floor, making a quick swerve last minute to order two shots at the bar. You laughed, reaching a hand out, but he gulped one down, and then the other, to your shock and slight disappointment.

“Alright, now I’m ready!” he said, grabbing your hand and dragging you back toward the dancers. It was an improvement to his mood, at least, though you’d be talking about the rudeness of the act later, for sure. The dance floor was particularly full tonight; a number of ships had reported back to Coruscant at once, making for a diverse and colorful crowd. That familiar warm, tingly feeling was flowing through your veins and you smiled, letting the music fill your mind and flow through your body.

* * *

“Yoo hoo!” came the taunting call as Jesse waved his hand in front of Fives’ face. “Did you seriously just drift off mid-sentence? Man, that clanker must have hit your head harder than we thought, eh Kix?”

“That brain was damaged long before that,” Kix answered, running a hand over his closely-shaved hair and intricate skull tattoos. Jesse’s laughter was joined by Hardcase and Echo, who were reclining in the large booth with the rest of their brothers.

“Sorry -- got distracted,” Fives muttered, shaking his head and looking back to his squad. The conversation continued, with quips and jabs, as well as heroic tales that expanded each time they were told, but he couldn’t stop glancing off to the side. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor, appearing between the bodies all around you and then disappearing again into the crowd. There was a funny clenching feeling in his chest, as he remembered the scent of your hair, the darkness of your eyes, and the little gasp that had accompanied the way you moaned his name… Suddenly there was a funny feeling under his codpiece as well, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on whatever joke Hardcase was completely botching at the moment.

The dance floor cleared a little bit, giving him an unobstructed view of you, though he wasn’t sure if it were an improvement or not. Your boyfriend had decided that now was as good a time as any to try to grind on your backside like an adolescent horn dog, and you kept trying to shift to a more natural and fun way of dancing together but he was persistent. And getting a bit gropey. Finally, you gave up, and Fives watched as you left the dance floor, stalking to the refresher in a huff. The boyfriend slumped over to the other end of the bar, toppling onto a stool and waving to the bartender.

“Be right back,” Fives said, scooting out the side of the booth. “Refresher,” he muttered in response to the questioning glances, and was quickly forgotten as he edged down the packed hallway. He lurked awkwardly outside the doors for a few minutes, wishing he’d come up with a better plan, when you finally reappeared, sending a little jolt of energy down his spine.

“You made it!” he said with a clearly forced brightness, startling you out of your rumination.

“Yeah,” you answered, any joy at seeing him dulled by the disappointment of how it was all going.

“You alright?” he asked, tilting his head with apparent concern on his face. The way the hair on his chin accentuated the expression was adorable, and his interest lifted your spirits a little.

“Sorry, yeah,” you answered, getting jostled to the side of the hallway as a group went past. “Long day at work, regular life troubles, you know. Nothing crazy like the stuff you have to face.”

“Hm. From what I hear, getting shot at might be preferable to that sometimes,” Fives muttered, arching an eyebrow with a little sparkle in his eye. That got a genuine laugh out of you, which changed the whole mood of the interaction immediately.

“What is TAKING you so long?” came a belligerent voice, as “boyfriend” came staggering up behind Fives. “This guy bothering you?” he asked, jabbing a thumb at Fives, who wrinkled his nose in disdain at the pathetic creature next to him.

“No, we were just chatting,” you said quickly, noting the edge of the voice and the clumsy movements. He clearly didn’t recognize Fives, despite him having been the one to invite you here, a detail that was not lost on the clone, who gave you a look that couldn’t have been more plain -- really?

“Alright, well let’s go,” said the boyfriend, who wasn’t worth even giving a name, and he reached for your hand, giving it a sharp tug, which pulled you right across Fives, who found a sudden urge to grab you right back and tell this little womp rat to scurry off into a hole somewhere. You paused for a moment, turning back to face Fives, whose intense gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks for thinking of us,” you said, giving one last smile before being whisked toward the door.

* * *

The next day was not going well. You hadn’t slept much at all, tossing and turning with all kinds of thoughts and considerations that kept you from any sort of real rest. The boyfriend seemed to be in a crappy state as well, rubbing his head and squinting at the bright light as he worked next to you. There was a distinct tension building between the two of you, and you knew it was going to come to a head. It would be good, because there were things that needed to be said and addressed and changed and dealt with, but you weren’t one to look forward to conflict. Neither was he, so the two of you puttered about your mechanical duties until it was about lunchtime, when you set your wrench down with the intention of getting to the mess hall on time for once.

Alas, fate was not on your side. The walk between the shipyard and the cafeteria was just enough time to get into a huge fight with your boyfriend about last night, which ballooned to include topics like drinking, respect, joking, autonomy, and all sorts of other things. It was a hot mess, and while you tried to keep it civil, you were both tired, frustrated, and clearly triggered. By the time you got to the mess hall, it had reached the breaking point, and you turned to flee for solitude, tears streaming down your face, as he yelled criticisms after you, much to the surprise of quite a few onlookers.

You found a supply closet, smashing your hand on the keypad so the door would whoosh closed behind you, silently cursing the fact that you couldn’t slam it. You threw an arm up against the wall, resting your forehead against it and burying your face in the cool grey metal, surrounded by shelves and the whirring fans of the ventilation ducts above your head. You wanted to cry, but now you couldn’t, which somehow made you feel even worse. There were so many emotions, it was impossible to sort them out. You were frustrated with the situation, angry at yourself for tolerating so much, confused why there couldn’t be a middle ground, and despair at the aching pain of yet another failed relationship. Or had it failed? You felt sick to your stomach at the thought that, knowing you, it might just get patched up and continued, with hopes that this time it would be different. Were you really so stupid?

The door slid open, and you flattened against the wall, hoping that whoever it was would find their supplies and leave without even noticing you were there. But when it closed, and no footsteps were heard, you shifted slightly to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone had come in at all. To your surprise, a fully-armored clone stood just inside the door, ducking his head to peer through the many shelves that lined the walls, making the rather large closet feel incredibly small and claustrophobic.

“Fives?” you said in disbelief, leaning out from the shelves you’d crammed yourself between.

He let a single curse word fly as he jumped to the side, knocking over a stand full of brooms and mops, sending them all clattering to the ground as he frantically tried to regain his footing. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling as though you’d already emptied yourself of all the crying and anger and pain. He stood tall, righting his crooked helmet, and cleared his throat, staring at you from within the helmet.

“You scared the kriff out of me,” he said, modulated voice still sounding a bit shaky.

“Sorry?” you answered, having no idea how to go about this conversation with all that had transpired. “Why are you coming in a supply closet?”

“I heard you…” he said quietly, pulling his helmet off now and setting it on a shelf nearby. “I wanted to see if… if everything was alright.” His face was earnest, but there was a nervousness to his gaze and stance.

“Ugh,” came your ashamed response at the spectacle you’d provided in the halls. “It’s fine. Or it will be. I don’t know. This isn’t really how I usually am…” Why were you explaining yourself to him? Perhaps it was because he was the first person to seem to truly listen to you and care about you in a while. Perhaps you felt a need to justify yourself. Or perhaps you were still just reeling from it all.

“And how are you, usually?” he asked, taking a step closer and leaning against the shelf next to you. “You seemed quite a bit more lighthearted when we…” he drifted off, grasping his hands together.

“It’s just been a long week,” you offered, shrugging it off.

“Are you happy?” he said suddenly, with a confidence that came out of nowhere. His chin lifted slightly as he regarded you. “I know we didn’t know each other very long, but in what time we did have together, it was clear that you are incredibly intelligent, witty, and fun. In more ways than one,” he added, hoping the insinuation would bring some levity. It did bring a tiny smirk to your face, as you wiped some leftover tears from one eye, thinking about the slightly adventurous escapade you’d enjoyed. But it was quickly overwhelmed by confusion at his words.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I… I didn’t just forget about you, you know,” he said, swallowing and pausing for a moment. “I figured you weren’t interested in anything else, and I was shipped off…”

“And now you’re back to judge my choices?” you snapped, shocked at your own vehemence. Clearly, you’d been on your last straw… about six straws ago… He straightened in surprise, holding up his hands in surrender.

“No! I just…” he stopped again, lowering his hands slowly and taking a deep breath before speaking in a quiet, solid voice.

“You shouldn’t be with him. You should be… with me.”

His amber eyes were locked on yours, simultaneously intense and kind, confident and vulnerable. You were reeling at his words, mouth slightly open. You were sorry for your sharpness, sorry for your assumptions… And sorry for your choices as well. The way he put himself out there had a wildly disarming effect on you, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. How could he say something like that when you were clearly a mess?

He closed the space between you, slowly approaching with tentative caution, and lifted a hand to your face. His hands were rough yet gentle as he cupped your cheek, eyes growing larger as he took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’ll respect your choices, always. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and seeing you here… seeing the way he treats you… I just… I had to say something.”

You searched for the right words to say, but could find none, instead closing your eyes and nestling into his warm hand. A single tear squeezed out and rolled down your cheek, falling to your shoulder in silence. He continued, voice softer now, “I know I don’t have anything to offer you… no stability, no future, nothing. But you deserve better than… that… at least… And I’d like to do my best… while I can.”

You lifted your hand to his, pressing into it as though you could communicate your overwhelming emotions through a single touch. A small smile curved the corner of your lips, and you felt a sudden freedom at the prospect stretching out before you. Opening your eyes, you felt as though your chest would explode as you saw his face, so close to yours, so earnest in his affection and admittance, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. Reaching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, grateful, hopeful kiss. His sharp inhale was quickly followed by the warmth of his embrace as he wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against the shelf behind. When you finally came up for air, you leaned your forehead against his, a thousand questions held back by the simple savoring of the moment.

“Fives,” you whispered, and his heart leapt at the way you said his name, “I’m a mess.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in again, lips brushing yours as he answered, “Well I’d love it if you’d be my mess.”

#star wars the clone wars #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #fives #clone trooper fives #fives x you #fives x reader #fives fanfic #fives fanfiction #fives lives #tcw fanfic #clone fanfiction #clone fanfic #clone fanfics #clone x reader #clone x you

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super-ion · 1 year

Text

Ion & Emily

Honeymoon - part 3

(I can't find the link to part 2, so here's the AO3 link)

With a last furtive glance down the street, I knock on the door. It's a plain little townhouse on a plain little street, very easy to miss.

Actually, it actively tries to be very easy to miss. The only reason my attention doesn't slip right off is because I've been invited here before.

It sounds like magic, and honestly… I'm pretty sure it is… I mean there is super tech that can do that too, like variable perception fields or whatever. I honestly don't know how all that works. I could ask Sarah to explain it, but she's currently suffering a concussion.

Speaking of…

"No…" she hisses into my ear with a slur. "He's going to violate causality at us!"

I suppose I should clarify that she could explain variable perception fields. Magic straight up freaks her out. She's got like three PhDs, advanced physics and stuff. Nothing about Dr. Hands' powers make sense to her.

Before I need to knock again, the door opens and there's Hands, wearing nothing but a fluffy pink bathrobe and a pair of slippers. He's just like this portly guy, gray and balding. He could totally be someone's weird uncle or something.

The fact is he's almost literally older than dirt. Like, I'm pretty sure he was like a mischief deity in Mesopotamia or something. These days, he's a low stakes supervillain and the DM for our ttrpg group.

"Ah!" he says with delight. "Jennifer! I was hoping you and your…"

He pauses and takes in Sarah and me.

"This is not your beautiful wife," he declares.

"Hi Hands!" Sarah says with a weak wave. "I'm rescuing Jen!"

Dr Hands raises a bemused eyebrow.

"It's a long story," I interject. "Can we come in? We need a place to crash and she needs medical attention."

"Ah, well," he says with a welcoming grin. "I'll have you remember that I am a doctor."

"I thought you taught anthropology."

"Hm? Oh, yes. Well… I did serve as a field medic under Wellington during the Peninsular campaign. I do remember a thing or two about it."

Yeah, the great thing about villains is sometimes they just casually drop the fact that they served in the Napoleonic wars and you just gotta roll with it.

He gestures us in and lends a hand getting Sarah settled on a sofa in the sitting room.

Like, literally lends his hands. That's what he does, he conjures disembodied hands. It's one of the creepiest things I've ever seen, and that's saying something for my line of work.

"Will your bride be joining us?" he asks as he gets Sarah settled.

"Uh, yeah," I reply. "She's just cleaning up some… stuff. Listen, can I borrow your shower? I'm kind of gritty from being kidnapped."

He nods enthusiastically, and motions down a very long hallway. Did I mention that the interior of the house is impossibly spacious?

"Seventh door on the right," he says. "I'll keep the light on for her, don't worry."

"Thanks Hands! You're the best!"

He offers a genial bow and I make my way in the direction of the indicated room.

The adrenaline is wearing off and I'm exhausted. I'm worried sick about Emily, but I have no idea how long I'll be able to keep my eyes open. I tentatively reach out with my powers and am rewarded with a spike of pain in my head. That lightning bolt really did a number on me…

Yeah, I'm no good to anybody like this.

Emily can handle this.

She's fine. Totally fine. She used to do this all the time.

I'm worried sick.

I open the designated door and… holy shit.

It's like a whole honeymoon suite, giant bed, satin sheets, so many candles everywhere. Huge glass doors overlook majestic mountains and a lake that glitters in the moonlight.

Yeah, I know, the front door was in Paris and this room is in… the Alps? The Pyrenees?

Magic, remember?

Anyway, the shower is amazing. It's one of those lavishly big walk in things. Absolutely perfect temperature and pressure.

Of course, when I get out, there's a satin night dress and robe waiting for me.

Okay, that sounds creepy. I swear Dr Hands doesn't have a creepy bone in his body… or… well, not like that, at least. He's good people, trust me.

It fits perfectly, accenting my assets and downplaying the dysphoric bits. It's perfect and I finally let my guard down. Ion goes away and Jen takes over.

Jen is worried for her wife - desperately, achingly.

I pace the bedroom a few times, get tired, sit down and fidget for a few moments. Maybe I should just put my head down, rest my eyes for a little bit…

***

"Hey," someone murmurs softly in my ear.

I blink awake and there's the most beautiful woman in the world. Her hair is mussed and sweaty and the costume has a few scorch marks, but otherwise, she's perfectly unharmed.

I throw my arms around her and pull her into a desperate exhausted kiss. She relaxes into me in relief.

I try to drag her closer, but she grunts in protest.

"Babe," she gasps as she breaks the kiss. "I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms right now, but I very badly need to change my clothes."

I reluctantly let her go and she draws back, but her eyes linger on the gown.

"That's really fucking hot on you," she says.

There's a flutter in my chest and my face heats.

This woman is my wife. I'm somebody's wife.

God, I love her.

"How about you?" I ask. "You look fantastic."

She cocks a whistful grin and turns to show off her ass.

"Don't get used to it," she says. "Special occasions only… and don't you dare make a habit of getting kidnapped."

I smirk at that.

"Okay," she says reluctantly. "I gotta hand it to Sarah, she did a good job… don't tell her I said that, I'd never hear the end of it."

"Ah…" I say. "Yeah, about Sarah…"

A flicker of concern flashes across her face.

"Is she…?"

"She's fine… probably. She's in good hands."

I pause for a moment. She closes her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh at the pun.

"Soooo… she uh… tried to kiss me," I admit.

Emily raises her eyebrows at that.

"She also told me breaking up with you was the biggest mistake of her life," I continue. "Or maybe breaking up with John and Dale was the biggest. She wasn't really super clear on how it stacked up."

Yeah, I'm rambling a little bit.

Emily sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"I wasn't going to tell you," she said, "but she drunk texted me two weeks ago."

She takes me by the shoulders and fixes me with a desperate look.

"Jen. We need to get them back together."

I nod.

No idea how that's going to work given that they're archenemies… and Dale… I'm not super clear on how he fits into their super dynamic.

One thought has been nagging me though since the almost kiss. I chew on my lip and debate saying it.

"Okay, but consider… if we wanted to, you know Sarah would be totally down to… you know…"

"Excuse me?" she deadpans.

I raise my hands disarmingly and make a tiny laugh.

"Kidding! I'm kidding!" I say. "Mostly kidding…"

"Oh my god, you're a menace," she says and drags me into another kiss. "Listen, if you want to scratch that itch, go right ahead. I'm cool with it, but count me out. I do not want to have a threesome with my ex. Who, by the way, if you recall, is your brother's ex and also my brother's ex."

"Okay, fair point," I reply. "So how do we get them back tog-"

"No," she says, placing a finger to my lips. "That's a tomorrow problem. Right now, I am taking a shower and you are going to join me. Then we're going to bed."

A grin spreads across my face and I'm suddenly a lot less tired.

#ion & emily #lesbian #transgender #supervillain oc #superhero oc #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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occasionallyish--archive · 3 years

Text

i started writing a thing but i ended up scrapping it all because it doesn’t quite fit the vibes i’m going for- it kind of fits as a prologue for the new version lol, though i’m not gonna use it ‘cause then that’d make it too long.

but i’m too proud of my writing to just scrap it all! so i’m gonna post the original version here!

it’s tadashi yamaguchi (from haikyuu) x a goth neutral!reader. word count is 715, and i decided ion want to go thru and edit anything past what i’ve already done ,’:^)

last week, there’d been a rapid-fire rumor spreading about a new student coming to karasuno high. he didn’t quite know how it started, nor was he even often one to care, but suddenly tadashi found himself swept up in the same wonder that this rumor seemed to pose to many of his peers.

“...what do you think they’ll be like? the, uh, new student, i mean..” he asked, shuffling slightly from his spot beside tsukishima. just like they did any day, the two were walking to their first class, together. there was a little pause, before the giant blonde delivered a shrug. “i don’t really care what they’re like, if they aren’t a bother.” he responded honest-as-always, though of course more blunt than his freckled friend could ever care for. still, tadashi looked up to him. “why think about it?” said freckled friend gave a little sigh, eyes drifting to the floor below him. “i dunno... i guess i hope they’re nice...” his words were mumbled and, in actuality, tsukishima probably didn’t hear him. and so the two made it to class without another word.

after everybody was settled in and attendance was about to be called, there was an unusual little knock on the classroom door- it was quiet, but yamaguchi was sure he’d picked up on it. and to prove his thoughts, his teacher opened said door to have a hushed conversation with somebody the boy couldn’t quite see. but then the professor cleared his throat, standing at the front of the room where he could speak at his podium. “some of you may have heard that we’d be getting a new student, this week. well, they’re here now and they’re ready to meet you all- please treat them to a warm welcome.” he spoke with a smile, one that perfectly contrasted the embodiment of ‘doom and gloom’ that walked into the room and toward him. “why not introduce yourself, [l/n]?”

they moved to stand behind the teacher’s podium, and judging from their expression they didn’t seem to have any particular thoughts on such. they jutted their thumb up, awkwardly pointing to the middle of their own chest. “i’m [l/n] [y/n]. it is nice to meet you all.” there was a brief but heavy silence, during which tadashi watched [l/n] visually realize that this wasn’t really a place they liked. their neutral expression fell into more of a frown, and their [e/c] eyes darted away, apparently avoiding any eye contact. “i’m looking forward to the rest of the school year, with you.” but the words seem somewhat forced and, with a few more words exchanged with the teacher, the new kid went to go occupy a seat somewhere near the back of the room. aside from their awkward approach, yamaguchi looked at them and felt near intimidated. they wore thick, black lipstick and their eyes were made sharper with the use of eyeliner. and shortly before they passed his desk, he was sure he noticed that they were wearing a choker. before this, he had no idea karasuno’s dress code even allowed makeup- at least, not in such a bold fashion.

after that, class went on as usual- maybe with a little babying directed at the student least likely to have already been filled in. either way, tadashi didn’t give [l/n] much of a second thought, until it was time to pack up and head toward his second class for the day. he and tsukishima went to join up again, outside of the classroom. as yamaguchi stood near the door, waiting for his friend to finish packing up, he caught snippets of a conversation, “[l/n], this is kohana. you share most of your classes with her, so i figured that she could sort of act as a guide for your first week, here. how does that sound?” “sounds okay, yeah.” [l/n] mumbled, saying something that he didn’t quite hear. “oh, yeah, that works!” kohana was a popular girl- rightfully so, though, with just how friendly she was to anyone and everyone. “i’ve gotta talk with some friends real quick, and then i’ll meet right back up with you about 5 minutes before class starts, yeah?” “um, yeah, i’m good with that..” he heard the other mumble just before his best friend met his side.

the original plan was for [y/n] to end up highkey ditched, so they just kind of stand there all awkward fhdns. but then bby yams is all “i. i think i wanna go say hi-” tsukki’s just “you do you” and yams ends up talking to [y/n], even tho they highkey intimate him sometimes. but then he realizes that, “oh, wait a second, you’re a really cool friend” and they become cool sorta half-friends

then one day [y/n] was sposed to invite yams to lunch and he goes to tsukki all “so ion wanna ditch you but like-” tsukki doesn’t mind tho. he’s all “ah, yeah, i don’t mind. i’m not going to keep you from somebody you like.” which has yam’s head spiraling because just what kind of like was he referring to, but then he realizes he might be smitten for his super cool super awkward goth friend

#lishterature 2021 #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#yamaguchi #tadashi yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #tadashi icons #yamaguchi x reader #reader x yamaguchi #quish 2021

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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nobody knows where we might end up (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr)

Summary: Brooke makes eye contact with Vanessa - no, Dr. Mateo - and has to resist the strange urge in her chest that wants her to bolt for the nearest door and leave the fucking hospital. Blood is rushing in her ears and it’s a bit harder to breathe and she’s pretty sure that her lungs should be at full capacity. So why does she feel like she’s about to keel over?

“Oh, we’ve definitely met.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is wry, her eyes narrowing in Brooke’s direction.

Fuck. She’s Dr. Hytes, for Pete’s sake. Neurosurgery god. She’s not going to be intimidated by a cardiothoracic surgeon, of all people, no matter their past… history.

Hospital AU.

AN: I’ve had some free time recently and surprise surprise, started another multichap fic. Special thanks to writ for listening to me ramble about this idea, helping me brainstorm, and betaing (as well as providing hilarious commentary). Also thanks to multifandomgeek for being totally understanding of me having a WIP with a similar prompt to their latest fic even though they’ve both turned out so different, as well as for being a great cheerleader of mine and having the cutest headcanons for it. Enjoy!

(then)

“Welcome to Human Physiology One.” The professor’s voice is sharp as he surveys the packed lecture hall with a beady gaze.

Brooke unconsciously straightens in her seat. Her fingers drum against her desk, a mixture of nervous energy and excitement alike.

She’s made it to the University of Toronto for Health Sciences at the undergraduate level, which means she’s one step closer to getting into U of T’s prestigious medical school a few years down the line. She’s already secured shadowing and volunteer jobs in most of the hospitals located along Hospital Row, because, well, she has to.

How else is she going to become a surgeon?

The professor continues on. “This course is going to cover all of the major bodily systems - circulatory, neurological, urological, immune systems, and more at the basic level. Enough to give you a general understanding of how they work.”

He fixes them with a beady gaze. “Make no mistake, though. The introductory nature of this class doesn’t mean that it’ll be easy like the rest of your 100 level courses. If you are expecting such, feel free to leave through the doors now.”

No one does.

“Very well.” The professor pulls up a PowerPoint. “You can read the syllabus on your own time. We’re starting on neuro.”

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry-” Brooke looks over to see her row being disrupted as a girl in an oversized jacket that brushes her thighs shuffles in towards the only empty seat left in the lecture hall. The one beside Brooke.

Brooke feels a flash of irritation. Who’s late on the first damn day?

The girl settles in, dropping her messenger bag and pulling out her laptop. She flashes a smile at Brooke, one that falters when Brooke doesn’t immediately return it.

Brooke turns away from the girl, turning her attention back to the lecture. Her hands fly over her keyboard, writing down everything that is coming out of the professor’s mouth because what if something he mentions now ends up being really important and shows up on the final exam? She doesn’t want to miss anything.

Except for the fact that the girl’s leg is bouncing up and down beside her.

Brooke’s trying to write a note about synapses and neural clefts, but the girl is twitching so much, leg bouncing on her seat, that she finds focusing on the professor’s voice practically impossible. The edge of the girl’s shirt-dress is rising higher and higher over her thighs, revealing more and more of her fishnet tights underneath-

Nope. Brooke’s gotta focus. She’s missed at least two things that the professor’s said already and it’s only the first lecture. She can’t start off like this.

Brooke keeps typing, albeit a bit slower because the girl’s bouncing leg is incredibly distracting and god fucking damn it, why can’t people just sit still in class?

But then the girl raises her hand, leaning forward in her seat and Brooke realizes that she’s missed the question that the professor has asked the class. Shit.

“Yes, you.”

“In an action potential, sodium ions rush into the axon and de-dep-depolarize it.” The girl rattles off the information like she’s fucking Hermione Granger or something, though a little less refined.

“Exactly.” The professor looks pleased. Damn it. “And your name is?”

“Vanessa.” The girl, Vanessa, looks satisfied with herself, leaning back in her seat and returning her attention to her laptop.

Bouncing her fucking leg once more, because of course she is. But Brooke’s not going to be distracted by her again. She’s going to get the next question, because that’s what she does.

Her hand shoots up before the professor even finishes speaking.

“Yes?”

“Acetylcholine is the neurotransmitter that is necessary to complete the reaction.” Brooke rattles off the information that’s thankfully familiar to her from grade twelve biology with ease.

“Very good.” Brooke feels an air of pride rush through her at the professor’s words. “Name?”

“Brooke.” Not a bad idea to make herself familiar with the professors in all of her classes from week one. Put herself on their radars.

“Excellent, Brooke.” The professor turns back to his lecture slides then, oblivious to the rush of adrenaline that’s currently going through Brooke’s system.

She’s pathetic sometimes, she really is. But hey, if it gets her the good marks that she’s going to need in the future, does it even matter?

Vanessa answers question after question and asks ones of her own that make Brooke stop and think along with the professor. Brooke has to admit to herself, albeit bregrudgingly, that Vanessa is smart. Really smart. It’s undeniable, from the way her hand pops up every five minutes.

Brooke may or may not be feeling a little threatened, intimidated by the girl beside her - how’d Vanessa get so smart? And why hasn’t Brooke thought of the questions she’s asking, like the one about hyperpolarization?

Brooke shoots another look at Vanessa from behind her hair, hoping that she isn’t too obvious. In her earlier annoyance, she’s missed how pretty the girl is. Vanessa runs a hand through her hair, pushing the dark waves out of her face and leaning forward to type notes with her other hand.

“Brooke?”

“Huh?” Fuck. She’s completely missed the professor’s question. Of course. Typical of her to do something so stupid on the first day.

Brooke starts to rack her brain for a generic answer based on the lecture slide when Vanessa nudges her. “Graded potentials. That’s the answer. Say it.”

Well. She has nothing to lose at this point, does she?

“Graded potentials?” Brooke says it loud enough for the professor to hear, though she almost doesn’t hear her voice herself from how loud her heart feels like it’s beating.

“Good.” He continues on without a second look at their row, and Brooke lets out a sigh of relief.

Vanessa truly, utterly saving her ass isn’t what she expected, but she’ll take what she can get. “Jeez. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no big.” Vanessa’s smiling at her again, one that reaches her eyes and makes them crinkle and on an unrelated note, Brooke feels her stomach flipping with what must be indigestion. “Brooke, right?”

“Yeah.” She whispers it because the professor is still talking, after all. “Vanessa?”

“That’s me. My friends call me Vanjie, though.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “How’d you get that nickname from the name Vanessa?”

“I didn’t.” Vanessa winks at her but then turns back to the front, lifting up a hand to answer a question before Brooke can protest.

How did she even catch the question that the professor asked in the first place?

Brooke tries her best to go back to paying attention, but it’s hard when Vanessa is beside her and some of her long hair is on Brooke’s desk, looking really soft. Brooke has to resist touching it - she’s not a creep.

Brooke’s notes during the rest of the lecture are most definitely not up to her usual standards, though she only has herself to blame for it. She’ll do better next time. She has to.

Though if Vanessa’s beside her again, she may have a problem. Not that she’s all too mad about it anymore.

Vanessa’s out of her seat the second that the professor wraps up, pulling on her oversized jacket on top of her shirt dress. She sticks her laptop into her messenger bag before turning towards Brooke, who definitely has not been watching Vanessa the entire time. Nope. Absolutely not.

“So, you this keen in all of your classes?” Vanessa has a smile on her face as she says it.

“I’m not a nerd.” Brooke’s protests are feeble because she kind of is - not that she wants to admit it.

“Didn’t say you were. It’s kinda cute, though.” With that Vanessa winks, pulling her bag onto her shoulder and heading towards the aisle to leave the lecture hall.

“This time next week?” Vanessa shouts it at her from the aisle as she leaves, and for some reason it makes Brooke flush crimson.

The lecture hall is almost empty before she realizes that she has to pack up her own books and leave, too.

(now)

“The resection is scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM. Bar any information that we’ve possibly missed in our review just now - which is highly unlikely - the surgery should be successful, leaving Mrs. Reynolds tumour-free in no time at all.”

No members of the surgery team, not the nurses, the anesthesiologist, nor any technicians question Brooke’s words. Just how she likes it.

No one mentions that the success rate for this particular pituitary gland tumour removal is less than 10%. Because with Brooke, odds like these don’t matter.

She’s that good.

Brooke wraps up the preoperative meeting with a wave of her hand, letting the members of her surgical team leave to return to their respective duties.

She checks her watch. She has a craniotomy scheduled to take place in half an hour, then a consult with a particularly complex patient and the team at 3, then some time allotted for her research. A pretty breezy day by her standards.

Brooke heads in the direction of the hospital Starbucks next, intent on gulping down a double espresso before her next operation. Can’t be opening up a patient’s skull uncaffeinated and tired.

“Dr. Hytes!” Brooke’s head snaps up at her name while she’s waiting for her drink order to be ready. No one is usually bold enough to call for her like that except for-

“Dr. West.” Nina West, Chief of Hospital and pediatric attending surgeon, not to mention Brooke’s fellow alumni from medical school.

“I was hoping I’d catch you. Got some pretty exciting news.” Nina’s eyes are practically sparkling.

Brooke takes a sip of her drink. “The only thing that could explain that smile is if we’ve finally hired a worthy-”

“We finally have a new cardiothoracic surgery head!” Nina’s excitement radiates off of her in waves. Sometimes, she reminds Brooke of a Disney character. “Someone who is actually renowned and has appropriate qualifications and who I had to fight off St. Joe’s Hospital for. But we got her!”

“Must be someone pretty incredible to get you this excited.” Brooke is curious as to who could have gotten Nina this riled up. Brooke had declined a spot on the selection committee a few months prior, busy at the time with one of her research trials. She hasn’t heard any gossip on the floors as to who the chosen candidate could be. Not that Nina will be able to hold it back for much longer.

“I’m supposed to give her a tour of the cardio floors and the team today. She’s just moved back to Toronto, so she’s starting next week. In fact, she should be in the atrium here any moment now.” Nina cranes her neck, trying to look around the space.

“You still haven’t told me who-”

Brooke is cut off when Nina calls out, looking past Brooke towards someone behind her. “Dr. Mateo! So nice to see you again!”

Mateo?

No. Couldn’t be.

“Wonderful to see you too, Dr. West.”

There’s no mistaking that voice.

Fuck . She’s screwed.

“Have you met Dr. Hytes? Pride of our neurosurgery department. A bit separate from your cardiothoracic surgery expertise, but maybe you two have run into each other sometime at a conference before?” Nina’s grabbing Brooke’s shoulders, turning her around to face her and Brooke winces, squeezes her eyes shuts because no, no, no.

Except when she opens her eyes, there she is. In the flesh. Nearly eleven years later.

She has the same wavy long hair but has swapped her undergraduate outfits for a pencil skirt and blazer and immaculate makeup and fuck.

She looks good.

Brooke makes eye contact with Vanessa - no, Dr. Mateo - and has to resist the strange urge in her chest that wants her to bolt for the nearest door and leave the fucking hospital. Blood is rushing in her ears and it’s a bit harder to breathe and she’s pretty sure that her lungs should be at full capacity. So why does she feel like she’s about to keel over?

“Oh, we’ve definitely met.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is wry, her eyes narrowing in Brooke’s direction.

Fuck. She’s Dr. Hytes, for Pete’s sake. Neurosurgery god. She’s not going to be intimidated by a cardiothoracic surgeon, of all people, no matter their past… history.

It doesn’t matter. Brooke’s a professional. She’s the shit. Everyone in this hospital knows it.

So she puts on her best neutral facial expression, walks up to Dr. Mateo. Towers over her, naturally (like she always used to, not that it matters). Raises an eyebrow.

Dr. Mateo stares right back. Still makes Brooke’s heart flip in the same way.

Nah, probably just some acid reflux. She needs a Tums.

“Nice to see you again.” Brooke says it with a tone that implies that it most definitely is not nice to see her again, no ma’am.

Not that it’ll matter. They’re completely different disciplines. Who’s to say that they’ll even interact?

“I could say the same.” Dr. Mateo’s tone, meanwhile, implies that she most definitely cannot say the same. But considering how things ended, who can blame her?

Brooke chances a glance at Nina, who looks really fucking confused, her nose wrinkling. It makes Brooke want to laugh. Oh, Nina. Not quite privy to this part of Brooke’s history.

Who needs to know? It had happened a decade ago. She’s moved on, she’s a professional. They’re both professionals. They can act like it.

Right?

Brooke takes a final sip of her drink, turning away to toss the cup into the trash. She fixes both of them with a blank stare, lips pursed.

“Need to leave now or I’m going to be late for my 1:00. Shame.” As if Brooke isn’t absolutely itching to remove herself from the conversation, get as far away from her as possible because fuck, she really should have joined the selection committee and vetoed Dr. Mateo from the list of candidates.

“See you around the hospital, Dr. Mateo.” Brooke turns on her heel, walking away before Dr. Mateo even has a chance to answer.

Power or cowardly move? She can’t decide. But she needs the distance, needs to get away from Dr. Mateo and the memories that are rushing back to her, ones that she had locked away in the recesses of her brain because they were too much to deal with.

Brooke only lets out a breath and drops her head into her hands once she’s in a mercifully empty elevator. The closing doors feel a world away from Nina’s confused stare and Dr. Mateo’s disdainful look, neither of which she wants to deal with again anytime soon.

She’s interacted with exes before, remaining friends with quite a few of them, but something about Dr. Mateo makes her feel like she’s a time bomb, about to explode any second from the rush of memories and useless emotions that she doesn’t care for at all, at this moment.

Brooke needs to go to pre-op, get ready to scrub in and find her team, but her brain is finding it hard to focus on her plan for the upcoming surgery because Jesus Christ.

She’s fucked.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #hospital au #greys anatomy au #holtzmanns #nobody knows where we might end up #submission

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dopcmine · 5 years

Text

⋆ 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 — * ⋆ ╰ hey , did you happen to see DAMON NAM on campus today ? you know , the JEON JUNGKOOK look-alike in our seven am class ? yeah , that SENIOR . ah , well they had their SILVER NECKLACE on their desk this morning and left without it . i wanted to return it … but i have to get to class in five minutes . wait , don’t you see them around at THE APARTMENTS ? oh , great ! can you bring it to HIM then ? ugh , thank you so much. you’re the best ! now i know they get the rep of being EGOCENTRIC but you don’t have to worry . they’re always MAGNETIC . and who knows , maybe you two’ll hit it off ! i know that they’re a INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS major too . well , i have to jet before i miss my exam but i’ll catch you at the frat party later , right ? oh , you should bring DAMON ! it’s always fun having the PLAYBOY around .

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 :

fullname: damon nam

nicknames: none

age: twenty-three

d.o.b: april 15, 1996

zodiac: aries sun, leo moon, scorpio rising

gender: cismale

sexuality: bisexual

occupation: tattoo artist @ body electric tattoo and piercing

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 :

twt & insta handle: p7ayboy

insta followers: 1.3m

twt followers: 1m

tik tok: 750k

𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 :

cruisin’ around l.a with the windows down, drinking cold beers on a hot summer afternoon, old school music playing loudly from his apartment, late night kbbq dates with the gang, old childhood scars from fights and playing outside until late evening, silver jewelry around his neck and wrists, street racing, rolling blunts on the hood of his car, face smudge with oil and sweat working on his car, stumbling around the city on the lookout for his favorite food trucks, tattoos up to his neck and down his arms all the way to his back, a gold virgin mary necklace hanging from his rear view mirror, belting out to romantic spanish music drunk and slurring the words, always moving forward and never looking back, selfish tendencies, playing with people like a deck of cards, carrying a butterfly knife with him at all times

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 :

born and raised in east los angeles, damon had to grow up a little faster than his peers. he comes from a working class family, his parents both public school teachers trying to get by like every other family. being one of the very little korean-american families in maravilla, damon used to get picked on and bullied to the point he refused to get out of bed in his early elementary days. but like any kid, he made friends with some of the neighborhood kids that went to the same school he did, and they stuck by his side. it gave damon the confidence to stand up for himself now that he had his little group to the point he repeated the bad words they taught him in spanish to the same little boys that would pick on him, not knowing what it meant but knowing it was something about their moms that caused one his many first fights to break out in the school yard. after that, damon and his little band of misfits became a little notorious for getting into scuffles with other students.

he stayed in maravilla up until high school, venturing north to a new house due to his dad being offered the position of principal at a junior high. damon went on to attend lincoln high school but it wasn’t hard to fit in, nor was it difficult to fall into step with a new group of friends ( some of which he knew from his earlier days when he used to sneak out of his house with his friend and venture off ). high school was a ride, even if damon had found a place where he belonged people still loved to talk shit and damon loved nothing more than confrontation. he got into fights behind grocery stores, there was fights in empty parking lots where groups of people showed up before everyone scattered the moment they heard cop sirens down the street. damon did get caught once for a misdemeanor the summer before sophomore year and his parents had to get him out which was a hell of a ride home, both his parents almost losing their voices taking turns yelling at him.

it was that moment that his parents made him attend mandatory after school classes, starting smack in the middle of summer. it’s safe to say he was very angry about it but found no outlet to get it out on when he was confined to the library. he started doodling instead of doing his homework while he was in there, soon off he started drawing more and he had talent. he could draw any picture you put in front of him just by looking at it, and soon he started to create his own. that very same summer, on one of the rare days his parents let him out to go to one his friend’s birthday party, he met their older brother, covered in tattoos from his legs to his arms. old english font and a portrait of a woman he later learned was his wife. he was entranced by the ink that decorated the man, asking him questions as the man grilled the carne asada, coughing every once in a while the smoke blew in his direction.

too keep it short, damon wanted to do that. he wanted to draw permanent drawings on people and he wanted his own. he drew more, filling more sketchbooks with his own ideas and interpretations of others. he started working odd jobs after school, trying to save up for his own tattoo gun and ink, even venturing off to tattoo shops to observe them before he got told to scram. at the age of sixteen he had his own set and it wasnt long before his friends lined up to get their first tattoos done by damon. just little small things that didn’t require damon to worry too much about safety and health. the first tattoo he made on himself was a lucky eight ball and a match, now faded on the sides of his fingers.

at seventeen his got his fake id not only for booze but to get a job at a parlor -- not tattooing -- but cleaning up after them, keeping the store tidy and clean. he had a car at the time, an old beat up chevy, and it took him thirty minutes to get to body electric. the owner new damon was underage but he let him work anyway. point is, he was taken under his wing and became an intern, an apprentice, and by the time damon hit eighteen and got his tattoo license, he was able to work a couple hours at first. from 18 to now, damon has been in the same place with a booming following on social media -- which is thanks to his good looks and talent.

he’s been wanting to drop out of ucla because of how in-demand he is now. he’s tattooed celebrities, from socialites to rappers to all sorts of people. he hooks up his old friends from where he grew up for free, and his close friends at school too. but overall, damon makes hella bank now. which is why he finds school pointless, however, the owner of the parlor he works out told him that if he didn’t finish his bachelors he’ll fire him. the owner definitely grew to treat damon as a son, and wants him to venture out and travel with his talent, but he wants him to be smart about it and learn the ropes of the business industry. it’s why damon stays despite not being too happy about it, but it’s his last year and he’s going to make it one shot of patron at a time.

𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔:

damon is trilingual -- english, korean, and spanish ( considering he grew up in a heavily latinx/chincax neighborhood as a child, the language latched on to him ).

he’s very appreciative of the chicanx culture because he grew up around it, and they took him in despite not being chicanx himself he was still treated as family by his close friends. ( and also because i’m biased to my own culture and east los is heavily mexican/latinx )

he almost joined a gang but it was around the time he was forced into after school study where he found his outlet through art.

he knows how to dance pero like cumbias and shit, he’s hella good at it.

damon makes it his goal to be good at everything, it doesn’t even matter what it is.

he has a bmw he fixed up and uses it for street racing -- races which he wins most of the times ( just ask dae lmao ).

he can drive under the influence of weed but i do not condone this behavior !! but he can do it, but he’s beent doing it, don’t try this at home guys, or alone.

damon was a little heartthrob in high school though, going out with the girls and hooking up with some guys.

he was honestly one of the popular kids growing up, he was in THAT group that people longed to be a part of because they were always out mobbing, drinking, throwing parties and being out. they had fun, but they were also notorious trouble-makers.

his tik tok thing started as a joke because damon looked like the eboys that began to trend and now he has dae help him film them just for the hell of it, because why not. he’s got nothing to lose, it’s a good laugh in the end.

is a gym rat, he’s out there doing weights and bulking up and boxing because sometimes he just wants to procrastinate his homework and that’s valid, plus he’s gotta stay in shape with all that heavy drinking and weed intake.

patron is his best friend -- after dae of course lmao.

damon’s actually never been in love??? like he’s had maybe three s/o’s but it was never that serious? except maybe for his first one? but he’s never experienced something where he feels genuine care for a person and love, it’s mostly just lust and like the need to experience what it’s like being with someone but it never rlly takes off

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔:

gang shit: this one’s already taken up by whoever’s in the no homo chat but like, let me plot out dynamics with you all cause ion know how damon is gonna treat y’all characters if we don’t talk about it lmao

enemies: damon could always use some tbh, those are fun because damon grew up around people that have given him a hard time and he isn’t one to back down from a good altercation

an ex: listen, damon isn’t that great of a person he probably cheated on them only because he didn’t know they were exclusive and frankly, he doesn’t really even remember agreeing to be something but they were and even if damon knew, he still went ahead and did it.

highschool sweetheart, THE ex: listen this one is...particular and super specific. must be a girl/nb but latinx because i picture this being the person who really really taught damon more than he already knew, from dancing to romantic spanish music, etc. perhaps they weren’t in love but they did care about each other, damon even still has a gift i picture she gave him ( a gold virgin mary necklace ) hanging from his rear view mirror. this is like...when we can take up more chars ig? idk just thought i’d write it down

flings: hookups ig? except not people involved with dae cause he isn’t about to fuck no sloppy seconds lmao, if not he venturing out to usc away from ucla lmaooo

idk what else to add im so tired and this is so late and i just want to post it, so if y’all got anything else just hmu tbh

#bruins.intro #im late lol

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deojoon · 7 years

Text

sky blue : 1

cross posted on ao3

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Summary:

(trigger warning) how namjoon came across always and reflection or how namjoon began to love himself with help ! *this fic isn't for everyone, in no way am i romanticizing mental illnesses or what namjoon went through. if you don't like it dont read it thank you.

Notes:

i'm not gonna lie this straight up was the longest and quickest fic ive ever written. all because i was sad. it didn't turn out the way i wanted it to but its something. i kinda cried while writing it only because i sorta relate ? ion know. even though im a shitty writer you gotta start somewhere enjoy !

Chapter 1

: the beginning

I’ve always wondered how he did it. How Namjoon pieced himself back together. Did bts help ? did army help ? did a friend/significant help ? i’ve always noticed something about rm and it’s wasn’t till recently it got better.

It’s was a late night , early 2016, namjoon couldn’t remember the day of the week or date “fuck” he said as he sat in his studio chair looking up at the ceiling. It’s been about 3 days since he locks himself in the studio. This is couple months after his mixtape dropped and when the plagiarism claims had happened. The lowest point of his life.

He checks his phone to see with no surprise to see no new notifications. Namjoon sighed, he stretched his arms and with grogginess, he went back to writing. After even more hours of creativity, Namjoon passes out.

Namjoon woke up to see the time is now 5 am.

He gets up to leave the studio to check on yoongi. No matter what namjoon himself was feeling he thought of everyone else’s well being first. ‘it’s better this way’ he thought.

As he approaches yoongi’s studio he knocks on the door. He hears something crash, he starts to beat on the door calling his name “yoongi please open up”.

After a deep breath yoongi opens up the door breathless “what” he said harshly.

Namjoon walked in already knowing what’s wrong, closed the door and hugged yoongi. “take a deep breath. You’re okay. You’re safe.” Yoongi grabs namjoon tightly

Yoongi was upset, he was mad that he was frustrated with himself, that namjoon knows all too well when he’s mad, that namjoon knows how to make him feel better. Yoongi’s grip eventually loosens. Yoongi’s moves closer to namjoon's neck, just to inhale namjoon’s scent to calm himself. It’s a mix of pine, mint, and cotton candy which is surprisingly addictive.

(Not that yoongi would ever tell anyone that.)

With a now calm yoongi, namjoon asks “what were you doing exactly”

Yoongi still in his neck mumbling “producing. It’s not coming out the way I want it to maybe it’s because i’m not capable of making good music”

Namjoon squeezes yoongi tighter. “yoongi no matter what you’re the most creative person i’ve met. Yoongi don’t pay any mind to this small stump.

“but you don’t understand the pressure”

Once yoongi said that it hurt namjoon’s feelings a bit. Brushing it off namjoon replies “ come one let’s go home you need a break”

Yoongi just sighed and nodded, knowing arguing with namjoon at this point wouldn’t get him anywhere.

They left and went to the dorms. As they walked in seokjin was in the kitchen grabbing food for himself. Like a deer caught in headlights, seokjin jumped and dropped his leftover chicken.

“well there you are yoongi I was looking for you. When you feel better can you fix the bookshelf. Someone broke it” seokjin said glaring at namjoon.

Namjoon sheepishly smiles and rubbed the back of his neck. “sorry”

Yoongi had enough and grumbled “ stop breaking shit i’m tired of fixing it” he stomped away.

Namjoon’s sheepish grin dropped “ i’m going to bed”

As he walked to his shared room with taehyung he began to think about the inconvenience he caused other the members. He sighed and went to bed.

It’s now a Monday on their one month break. While everyone else is out having fun namjoon is stuck inside. its seems like everyone made plans without him yet again. It’s been like this for the last week. No human interaction, so he decided to call jackson to see if he wanted to hang out.

But of course, jackson was busy. Namjoon started to feel antsy. He started to scroll on twitter. Maybe seeing army will make him feel better. Namjoon felt worse after reading comments about how ugly and untalented he is. His mood worsened more and more.

When namjoon heard the door open he knew the rest of the members came back he quickly put his emotions in the back of his head. And walking into the living about to say something only to hear his members making fun of his singing as they listened to the song “adrift”

“he sounds like he’s dying”

“is he gargling a box of nails”

He had enough and went into the bathroom.

He sat down against the wall and stared at himself in the mirror.

‘why am I here’

‘I can’t even write good music without copying someone’

Namjoon shook his head and realized someone was knocking on the bathroom door. He got up and washed his face to see an angry taehyung.

“Finally, do you know how long I was knocking. Get out so I can go in”

Namjoon thought taehyung was concerned for him at first so he smiled but dropped it when he finished.

Namjoon went to his room grabbed his phone, laptop, and wallet and walked out the dorm ignoring everyone’s laughter.

He arrived at his studio locked the door and decided to read on naver thinking the news would make him feel better and distract him. Namjoon ended up reading two articles one about him plagiarizing and the other on how much weight he gained, how fat he is now.

Namjoon was at his breaking point but the one last thing that pushed him over was his parents texting him that they’re on vacation without him.

Namjoon began writing full of tears and sadness.

One morning, I opened my eyes And wished that I was dead I wish someone killed me In this noisy silence I live to understand the world But the world didn’t once understand me, why No, the other half is missing* It’s trying to hurt me I miss me miss me, baby, I miss me miss me baby I wish me I wish me baby Wish I could choose me

Why is it that I’m being so earnest Yet it’s not working out Always Always Always Always Always (I lost my all ways) Always (I lost my all ways) Always (I lost my all ways) Always (I lost my all ways)

If I ever meet God, I would tell him this That life is coffee that I never ordered I would grab him by the collar and tell him Death is an americano you can’t refill Are you sure that you’re alive Then, let’s prove it somehow When I exhale, there’s breath** On the window, there’s condensation You are dead You are dad, but you are dead Dead dad you don’t listen to me Dad please listen to me

After writing, the group's manager called him to explain the wings photo shoot and due date for the music.

After the long and exhausting meeting, he went back to the dorms to tell everyone the schedule and he got nothing but complaints.

“why couldn’t you pushback the date”

“all ways make things hard for us”

“ya I really don’t appreciate his at all”

“why’d you make our schedule so intense”

Namjoon ran out the dorm slamming the door.

Namjoon goes back into the studio and just stares at the wall, thinking about the stupid voice in his head repeatedly saying he doesn’t matter and wrote reflection.

I know Every life’s a movie We got different stars and stories We got different nights and mornings Our scenarios ain’t just boring I find this movie very amusing Everyday, I want to shoot it well I want to caress myself I want to caress myself

But you know, sometimes I really really hate myself To be honest, quite often, I really hate myself When I really hate myself, I go to Dduksum I just stand there with the familiar darkness

With the people that are smiling And beer, which makes me smile Coming to me softly, Fear, which holds my hand It’s okay because everyone is in twos or threes It’d be nice if I had friends too

The world is just another name for despair My height is just another diameter for the earth I am all of my joy and anxiety It repeats everyday, the love and hate directed to me Hey you, who’s looking over the Han River If we bump into each other while passing, would it be fate? Or maybe we bumped into each other in our past life Maybe we bumped into each other countless times

In the darkness, People look happier than the day Everyone else knows where they’re supposed to be But only I walk without purpose But still, blending in with them is more comfortable Dduksum, which has swallowed up the night Hands me an entirely different world I want to be free I want to be free from freedom Because right now I’m happy but I’m unhappy I’m looking at myself At Dduksum

I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself I wish I could love myself

Namjoon now lying on his studio floor hear knocking on his door. He ignores it and goes back to sleep.

'why do they even bother with me'

#rm #namjoon #bts #bts angst #namjoon angst

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faequeen40 · 8 years

Text

Songbird

I regret nothing. Voltron hell has drawn me in and i am unrepentant. XD

After an ambush on a strange planet, Lance is captured in Keith’s place. Will the others be able to rescue him before Lotor breaks his new prize?

Read on AO3:http://archiveofourown.org/works/10379589/chapters/22923033

The mission had been a simple one in hind sight. A routine excursion to a largely quiet planet that the Castle had detected a distress signal from.

It was only once the Lions had breached the atmosphere of the heavily forested planet that everything went to hell.

Seven kinds of hell, to be exact.

Keith banked sharply to the left, the very tip of Red’s claws just barely evading the blast of the ion cannon that fired upon him. Four large purple battleships had suddenly appeared in the sky of the planet, the weather rapidly turning to rough winds and storm clouds as the Galra made their move. Keith was recovering quickly from the sudden appearance of the newly-uncloaked battleships but it soon became clear that the other paladins were rattled.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Lance screeched, the piercing quality of his voice making Keith flinch, his sensitive hearing making the note unbearable.

A hastily muffled curse echoed through the com, a string of Spanish profanity coming from Lance’s channel as Blue danced away from the rapidly firing fighters that descended from the battleships.

“It doesn’t matter where they came from. What’s important is that we need to regroup!” Shiro called, a pillar of steel in his voice, “We need to form Voltron.”

“Easier said than done right now, Shiro.” Keith groused, slamming forward on the controls, lava roaring from Red’s maw to eliminate the fighters in front of him, “I don’t think they’re going to give us the time to regroup!”

“We have to try!” Shiro hissed, a dark streak cutting across the sky as Black flew, explosions marking her path across the clouds.

“Is there anything we can use to our advantage?” Lance called, his Lion flitting closer to Yellow, ice coating the battleship he was fleeing, “There has to be something!”

Laser fire filled Keith’s view momentarily and he hissed as Red jerked sharply under the barrage. He growled under his breath as he maneuvered, body pressed back into his pilot’s chair as Red rolled and dove to escape the crowd on her tail. Once he managed some distance, they flipped around, lava annihilating the threat. He paused for a moment, glancing quickly at the screens on his control panel, noting the slight damage to Red’s side.

Above him the clouds roiled, finally releasing their load in the form of heavy rain, lightning sparking across the sky and striking the side of one of the battleships. An explosion rocked one side and Keith suppressed a grin as Lance whooped over the com. “Finally something good!”

“It’s not over yet.” Hunk said worriedly, Yellow staying close to Blue as the two Lions held off the fighters accosting them.

“I have something that might help.” Pidge said, her voice steady even as Green twisted around the side of the exploding ship, “My scanner says there’s a mountain range close by. The storm must have masked it. We might be able to lose some of the fighters in there and regroup.”

“Nice eyes, Pidge.” Shiro grinned, “Alright, paladins, let’s lose them!”

Keith felt a wide smirk stretch his face, hands moving expertly over the controls as he led the way in the direction Pidge indicated, the smallest of the hills leading up to the mountains becoming visible as he rocketed towards the range. Red cut through the air smoothly, her speed leaving the speeders in the dust as she ducked between the hills and ridges. Fighters exploded behind him as missed the sharp turns and twists that he made, crashing hard into the cliffs and valleys of the broad valley.

Keeping an eye on the map to his right, Keith spun through the air with Red, letting himself get lost in the sheer joy of flight for just a moment before he dove deeper into the range, his own red blinker drawing ever closer to the black, blue, green, and yellow blinkers.

He skidded around a cliff side just in time to narrowly miss Blue and he frowned at the com as Lance squawked in alarm. “Watch where you’re going Mullet!”

“Reflexes getting a little slow?” Keith teased, chest lightening at the outraged noises coming from Lance’s end.

“Maybe your piloting’s getting a little slow.” Lance returned, the tone of his voice giving Keith the perfect mental image of his cocky grin, “Galra Keith seems a bit sloppy.”

“Don’t project yourself onto me, Lance.” Keith deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the Galra modifier that Hunk had apparently gotten Lance to start using.

“I don’t project anything but awesome.”

“As cute as you two are, if you could stop flirting, we’d really like to form Voltron now.” Pidge said loudly, her face speaking volumes from where her video screen was projected on Keith’s panel.

Immediately flushing, Keith sent a look at her screen before dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. Grumbling under his breath, he opened one of the private lines to Green and flicked the switch to mute himself in the group com, Lance’s laughter echoing over the line. “Pidge, you are not helping.”

“How am I not helping, Casanova?” She chirped, blinking her eyes innocently, “I only tried to get you two back on task.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh really?” Pidge smirked, “Goodness. That crush must have gone away pretty fast.”

“I don’t know why we tell you anything.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Pidge cackled, “But trust me, Keith, I’m doing you a favor. Did you hear him deny that you were flirting?”

Keith paused for a moment before his eyes widened. Pidge nodded at him before giving him a wink. “You’re welcome.”

Momentarily stunned by the information, Keith flipped on the group line almost absently, jumping when Shiro’s voice roared through the com. “Come on! Form Voltron!”

Keith leapt into action alongside the others, reveling-as he always did- in that remarkable, almost ethereal feeling that came along with being joined into Voltron with the others.

He felt whole as if a part of himself had been missing for so long, the slight brushes of the other minds of the paladins putting him more at ease despite the overwhelming danger that they currently found themselves in.

After so long in space together and the battles they fought, forming Voltron was nearly effortless. In a matter of moments, the Legendary Defender of the Universe stood amongst the mountain range, the pour of the rain nothing to the colossal robot.

“Alright guys, let’s go take care of this.” Shiro encouraged, his energy along the bond strong and comforting, a breeze at one’s back on the way home.

“They won’t even know what’s coming.” Lance snarked, his mind making Keith think of the mischievous waves of Earth.

“We gotta be careful with this storm.” Pidge cautioned, the solemnity and peace of the forest in her section of the bond “We saw what the lightning did to that battleship. I’m not sure what would happen if we were struck.”

“Plus, it would be awhile before we could get anything fixed. I can’t really reach Allura or Coran right now.” Hunk added, a feeling of tremulous but steady earth emanating from Voltron’s left leg.

“Then we’ll just have to take care of this fast.” Keith said confidently, feeling Red’s fire blaze through his veins, driving his adrenaline higher.

They nodded as one, flying from out of the mountain range under the cover of the storm. As they drew closer to the battleships, Keith plunged his bayard into its slot, the sword of Voltron forming in his Lion’s grasp. “Let’s take down the battleship that got struck first. It’s already weakened so it should be an easy target.”

“Yes sir.” Keith answered, gripping the controls in front of him with relish.

The rain and clouds covered their approach, letting them hover over the damaged battleship before the first of the fighters noticed them. With a wild cry, Keith pressed forward on his controls, Voltron’s sword whistling through the air as they descended. The blade bit into the scorched side of the ship, cleanly slicing through it and sending it crashing to the empty forest below.

In another swift movement, Voltron turned, a graceful change in direction pushing the sword through the mass of fighters that attempted to bring them down. Keith could feel Lance at the back of his mind, pride in their accomplishment and it made his stomach flop.

Maybe he could try talking to Lance a little more when they made their way back to the Castle.

The blistering screech of an ion canon pulled Keith back from his reverie and he shook his head dismissively, mumbling curses under his breath. Damn Lance and his distracting….everything.

“Keith, focus.” Shiro called, “Two more battleships to go. We aren’t going to be able to sneak up on them.”

“I got it.” Keith snapped, adjusting his grip on the controls in front of him.

Voltron pressed forward through the fray, blade and shield alternatively slicing and bashing against the fighters that drove against them. “The Galra have entirely too many fighter ships.” Lance whined, “Like seriously? How many could they possibly have? They have to run out sometime right?”

“They’ve had ten thousand years to build up their arsenal. Maybe they have some kind of factory?” Hunk mused, the two legs beginning to engage in a heated debate over their theoretical factory.

“Lance, Hunk. Not the time.” Shiro sighed, directing Voltron through the ebbing tide of fighters to the second battleship, “Keith, on three!”

“One.”

“Two.”

A sharp crack of lightning drowned out the sound of Shiro’s voice and Keith screamed as Red’s cockpit immediately lit up with blue light, the screens and panels sparking dangerously. His body felt like it was on fire, electricity shrieking through the metal of the pilot’s chair.

The feeling passed as soon as it happened and Keith shuddered in his chair, limbs still jerking erratically from his electrocution. “Keith! Buddy, answer us!” Lance yelled, the com blazing back to life in the wake of the strike.

Red pressed at his mind insistently, her end of the link awash with pain, confusion, and worry. “I’m okay.” Keith gasped, trying and failing to get his limbs under control, “Just, just give me a minute.”

“I don’t think we have a minute.” Hunk hissed, “That ion cannon is about to fire.”

“Keith, we’re gonna pull back.”

“No!” Keith roared, “We can do this. I can do this. I’m fine. Keep going!”

He could feel their worry at the back of his mind but he pressed forward, slowly regaining the sensation in his hands. He jammed his controls forward, the sword in his grasp slicing into the ion cannon with wild abandon. Keith’s shaking hands jerked along, the sword darting into the battleship once more and retreating when the ship burst into flames.

“One more.” Keith panted, his body screaming at him as he continued to cling to consciousness, “We only need to take down one more.”

“We need to pull back.” Shiro said sternly, “You just took a lightning strike. We have no idea what that did to your lion, Keith.”

“Red and I are fine, Shiro!” Keith growled, “We need to take of this threat now. The more battleships we take down, the more we hurt Zarkon. Let’s finish this.”

Keith could sense Shiro’s disapproval over the sheer wave of worry coming from the others but he set his jaw firmly, waiting. Finally, Shiro sighed in resignation. “Fine. But we are going to talk about this when we get back to the castle.”

Voltron flew forward, the fighters mostly decimated by this point and the final battleship all but defenseless underneath their assault. The blade brought the ship to a swift end and Keith breathed a sigh of relief as Hunk and Lance whooped at their victory. He cast a glance to his screen, frowning when he could see Pidge staring at him in worry. “We really need to get back to the castle and get you and Red checked out. You’re not looking so good.”

Keith turned his head, stalwartly not looking at Pidge as the familiar wholeness of Voltron came undone, the one returning to the original five. Red floated silently for a moment before perking up at last, flying alongside her sisters towards the atmosphere of the planet.

“So is it safe to say that yet another distress signal turned out to be a trap?” Lance said dryly, a wry look on his face as Keith looked at the screen.

“I know the Paladin Code or whatever says we have to go help every time, but there’s gotta be a better way right?” Hunk offered, “You know a way that doesn’t end up with us ambushed?”

“Maybe that’s something that we can bring up to Allura? Get eyes on the situation first?” Pidge suggested, “We could put together some kind of scout bots maybe? I still have some scrap left from that trash planet we found.”

“Let me know how that works out.” Shiro said approvingly, “It can help us act quicker in real emergencies too.”

Keith let the voices of his teammates wash over him, feeling woozy and tired now that the adrenaline from battle was beginning to wear off. He could vaguely see Blue from the corner of his eye and Lance’s worried face soon came to dominate his screen. “Lancelot to Mullet. How is everything? You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“I’m good, Lance. Just got struck by lightning. Feeling a little tired.” Keith deflected, letting himself stare at the screen in front of him.

Lance’s oceanic eyes looked him over searchingly before crinkling as he smiled. “We’ll get you some time in the pod when we get back. You feel like sparring when you’re back to 100%? I’d hate to kick your ass before then.”

“Were you the one struck by lightning? Because last time I checked, you’ve never beaten me.”

“First time for everything fly boy.”

Keith chuckled at that, wryly noticing how Lance’s face lit up at the sound.

Maybe he had a chance after all.

He opened his mouth to respond when a great hulking mass filled his view, the sharp purple edges drawing his attention away from Lance. The view screen collapsed immediately and Keith stared at the massive ship with trepidation.

It was similar in size to the great flagship of Zarkon’s fleet but the designs were more elegant, an emphasis on aesthetic over sheer terrifying power.

The ship was beautiful in a warped, horrifying way.

A view screen opened abruptly, static filling it before it melted away to reveal an unfamiliar face.

They were undoubtedly Galra. The sharply pointed ear, lavender skin and viciously serrated teeth left no doubt to that part of their heritage. But unlike the Galra they were familiar with, this one had long pale hair and striking crimson lines tracing patterns on their face, eerily similar to the witch, Haggar.

“Greetings, paladins of Voltron.” They said smoothly, voice deep and sibilant in a way that made all of Keith’s survival instincts shriek.

Whoever this was, they were bad news.

“I apologize for the delay in our introductions. Father has been quite selfish in keeping you to himself.” The Galra purred, “I am Prince Lotor, heir to the Galra Empire and High Commander of the Eastern Territory. And never fear paladins, there’s no need to trip over each other to show yourselves to me. I already know all about you.”

Keith flinched as he made eye contact with the Prince, Red’s unease growing with every moment the flagship hovered in front of them.

“When I discovered you had strayed into my humble corner of the universe, I simply couldn’t resist coming to meet you myself. Especially when I learned you have a half-breed among you. I must insist upon a chat. We are a rare breed after all. Not many races survive birthing a half-Galra. We are quite special. What do you say, Red Paladin?”

Rage flooded Keith and he gripped Red’s controls so hard his knuckles creaked, Red’s growls answering in his head. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That really is too bad. But as I said before, I really must insist. We are kin, you and I. You don’t belong with the Paladins of Voltron.”

Old doubts threatened to rear their heads at Lotor’s words but he squashed them mercilessly, weight in his chest lifting when he heard Lance scoff.

“You must be as dumb as you are pretty if you thought that would work. Voltron is exactly where Keith belongs.”

“A pity then. I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

A high-pitched whine was the only warning they received before a wide beam shot from the front of the flagship, the searing light catching both Red and Blue despite their best attempts to dodge it.

Both paladins screamed as they caught the psychic backlash of their Lions’ pain, Red’s systems flickering as the damage she had sustained earlier was compounded by the newest hit. She abruptly tilted and Keith swore.

The heavily forested earth of the planet below rushed up to greet them, Keith frantically pulling on the useless controls in an effort to level out his freefall, Lance’s swearing and the cries of their teammate’s flickering through the com.

“Hold on you two. We’re on our way!” Shiro yelled, the Black Lion diving after her damaged sisters.

“Shiro! They’re going to fire again!” Hunk relayed, Yellow trying her best in incapacitate the heavily armored cannon. “I can’t take it out!”

“Shiro, you have to move!” Keith roared, “Lance and I can figure it out!”

“Damn it, Keith! I’m almost to you!”

“Shiro, Keith’s right.” Lance groaned, “Just keep Prince Fancypants busy. Once we crash, we’ll keep a com open and find a way to get out of here.”

Precious seconds ticked by as Shiro hesitated, the high pitched whining beginning to ring in Keith’s ears once more.

“Protect each other.” Shiro said at last, Black turning on a dime to return to the flagship, jawblade gleaming in the flashes of lightning.

Keith let his breath out slowly, Red’s controls sluggish under his hands. “Come on girl. We have to slow down.”

Weakly, Red responded, her efforts aided as Blue flew closer, shielding her smaller sister with her larger, less damaged body. Despite their actions, they crashed through the trees with bruising force and the sounds of screeching metal.

Their final impact rocked both Lions and Keith jerked forward hard, slamming his forehead off the panel in front of him. His head spun from the hit, black spots dotting his vision as something hot trickled down the side of his face.

“Keith, my man, please talk to me.”

Silence reigned for a moment as Keith tried to gather his thoughts, a groan escaping him at first. “I’m here, Lance. I smacked my head off something but I’m okay.”

“So says the guy who just got electrocuted. I’m coming in. Have Red open up.”

Keith sighed heavily in response, reaching out to Red gently. His lion purred at him, a weak jibe about his crush directed into his brain before she opened her mouth, allowing the Blue Paladin inside.

Footsteps echoed across Red’s interior and Keith tried to pull himself to his feet, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he couldn’t quite keep his balance.

Lance ducked into the cockpit just as Keith stumbled into the back of his chair, dizziness and nausea urging him to curl over the side.

“Jesus!” Lance exclaimed, rushing to Keith’s side and throwing one of his arms over his shoulder.

“Nope. Just Keith.” Keith said dryly, looking at Lance with what he hoped was a deadpan expression.

The Latino boy only gave him an unimpressed stare before snaking his arm around Keith’s ribs, his tight grip making Keith very thankful for the darkened lights of his lion. Lance wouldn’t be able to see how badly he was blushing.

“Come on, mullet. Let’s get you outside so I can do some damage control. Blue is still good to fly so if we need to, I can carry Red long enough to get back to the Castle. She’s not looking too hot right now.”

“Are the others doing okay up there?” Keith slurred, growing increasingly alarmed by his own sluggish thoughts and delayed response.

Lance looked at him in concern before pressing the com on his helmet. Keith stared for a moment before absently looking around the cockpit for his own helmet. He opened his mouth to ask Lance about it but quickly grew distracted at the intense look in Lance’s eyes.

“Shiro says that the flagship seems to be retreating. They ended up pushing quite a ways from where we crashed. They…why are you staring at me?”

“Why are your eyes so pretty? It’s distracting.” Keith mumbled, his own eyes narrowed and not entirely sure if he said any of that out loud.

“Seems you hit your head harder than we thought.” Lance smiled, pulling Keith with him as they made their way out of the Lion.

Keith immediately flushed but his muddled thoughts pushed him on. “You didn’t answer my question,” He groaned, “Why are you so pretty?”

“Good genetics.” Lance winked, “And a good skin care routine.”

“S’not fair. Too pretty. Makes me all stupid and stuff when we fight.” Keith admitted quietly, his head throbbing and making his thoughts further fragment.

“You’re starting to worry me, Keith.” Lance said seriously, “We need to get you back to the Castle.”

Lance peered at him in the light of the Blue Lion, fingers gentle as he pushed Keith’s fringe away from the wound. The rain quickly soaked the two of them and Keith let out a happy sigh when Lance slicked his bangs back with a chuckle.

“It’s not as bad as I thought. You were bleeding a lot but it looks pretty small. Now I’m just worried about your concussion.” Lance murmured, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Keith reveled in Lance’s attention, a quiet purr rumbling in his chest at the gentle press of Lance’s fingers in Keith’s hair.

Lance looked confused for a moment before an indulgent smile crossed his face and he petted Keith’s hair more insistently. “I love your little purr.” Lance said lowly, enthralling eyes half-lidded and his face much closer than it had been a moment ago, “It’s cute.”

“’M not cute.” Keith argued, the haze brought on by his injury making him bolder and almost floaty.

“Hate to break it to you, mullet, but you’re the cutest.”

A small smile fought its way onto Keith’s face and Lance chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get back to the castle and meet up with the others. You need to get your concussion checked out.”

Keith whined at the loss of Lance’s fingers in his hair and shivered in the downpour. “Are you gonna forget this bonding moment too?”

Lance’s immediate laugh made Keith’s stomach flip, his tiny smile growing in magnitude. “At this point, I’m more worried about you forgetting it. Besides, I’d be upset if I couldn’t remember as you are right now.”

Lance’s voice deepened as he spoke, the timbre of it sending a shiver up Keith’s spine that had nothing to do with the rain or the cold.

Abruptly, Keith panicked, mind going blank as his face flooded with color. What was he doing?

“Are you flirting with me?” He blurted, blush intensifying when Lance barked out a laugh.

“Have been for a while, thanks for noticing.” Lance said softly, sliding a hand through his own hair.

“But….why?”

Lance frowned at that, expression becoming worried. “Was I reading it wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable? Keith, I’m sorry, I can stop. God, I’m so stupid…”

“No!” Keith cried, the word leaving him almost involuntarily, “No, I was definitely flirting back, please don’t stop. I just…I don’t understand? First we were rivals and I was pretty sure you hated me but when we lost Shiro and found him again, you’ve been different. Just why me? Why now?”

Lance’s eyes darkened with understanding and he slid a hand up along Keith’s jaw. “Why not you? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Keith. When Shiro disappeared, you did your best. You led us and we found Shiro again. Yeah. At the beginning, I was pretty awful to you but I don’t think you understand how amazing you are. Your flying, your fighting…Keith, I wanted so badly for someone to notice me the way I noticed you. It wasn’t until we lost Shiro that I really started to understand how I feel about you. You’re beautiful, mullet.”

Keith choked on the sudden lump in his throat, his eyes burning as he leaned his face into Lance’s hand. “We’re stupid.”

“I’m pretty awesome.”

Keith glared at him, heat fading from his eyes when he saw the soft gaze Lance was giving him. “Lance, I really like you. I like your jokes, even if some of them still go right over my head. I love how pretty you are, how your eyes remind me of Earth.” Keith said quietly, placing one of his hands over Lance’s, holding Lance’s gaze resolutely and ignoring the roiling of his stomach as he blurted his feelings, “You’re probably the best marksman I’ve ever seen and there isn’t anyone I trust more to watch my back.”

“You were doing so well until the end.” Lance chuckled wetly, blinking quickly.

“What was wrong with the end?”

“You brought up fighting together, you perfect little soldier.”

“We are literally in the middle of a war, Lance.” Keith said dryly, frowning at the beautiful idiot he had managed to catch feelings for.

“I’m well aware of that, cariño. All the more reason to take advantage of every moment we have together.” Lance whispered, pressing his forehead again Keith’s gingerly, the very tips of their noses brushing.

Keith felt his breath still in his chest, his heart beating so fast that he was convinced that it was going to rattle its way out of his ribcage. He was so close to Lance that he could see all the different shades of blue that made up his eyes, the icy crystalline color that hugged the edges of his dilated pupils and the deep midnight that made up the furthest part of his iris. Those eyes pulled him in and Keith wanted nothing more than to drown in their depths.

Neither moved for a moment, caught up in each other, barely breathing as they each waited for the other to make a move. At last, Keith’s impulsive impatience made the decision and he pushed forward, pressing his lips to Lance’s.

He silently reveled in the sensation of Lance’s impossibly soft lips against his own, Lance’s long fingers coming to tangle in Keith’s hair, pent up emotion urging them forward.

A tiny groan pulled itself from Keith’s throat when Lance pulled just slightly at the roots, their kiss breaking long enough to register the absence of sound and rain around them.

Alarm immediately flooded Lance’s face and he looked up, eyes going wide in fear. “Looks like they didn’t fuck off after all.” He breathed, eyes returning to Keith’s face with an intensity that rattled Keith to the core, “They aren’t getting you.”

Keith looked up as well, blood going cold as he registered the flagship hovering above them, lights homing in on where both Lions were crashed. He looked back to Lance, barely registering Lance’s determined expression. “What happened to the others?”

“They’re on the other side of the planet, convinced that Prince Fancypants ran off. They won’t make it in time.” Lance hissed, looking at his Lion intently.

“What are you doing?” Keith said slowly, thoughts still moving too slowly but a pit in his stomach warning him that something was brewing in Lance’s head.

“I wouldn’t be able to escape them while carrying Red and there’s no way in hell I’ll leave either of you here.” Lance reasoned, a strange expression on his face, “Lotor seems pretty fixated on you. Probably some weird ploy to get you to ‘switch sides’ so there’s no way he’d let Red get away and she needs repairs.”

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t you dare.” Keith growled, taking a step backwards, realization making him feel cold.

“You can yell at me later, hermoso. But he’s not getting you. Especially not with how bad your head is right now. I’ll have a better chance of getting away.” Lance said earnestly, trailing his fingers along Keith’s jaw, “I’m sorry.”

Before Keith could respond, Lance shoved him backwards roughly, making Keith stumble backwards into Blue’s mouth, her teeth closing with a sharp click. “Get him out of here, girl!”

Keith scrambled forward, slamming him fists against the metal that made up Blue’s jaws. “No! Lance, no! Don’t do this!”

“This was all I could come up with.” Lance replied, “Get back to the Castle. Get him out of here!”

Blue stood abruptly, her hesitance clear in her movements. “Please. Blue. Don’t let him do this.” Keith begged, feeling as Blue lifted into the air, “We have to go back for him.”

Keith skidded through Blue, shoving himself into the cockpit and falling into the pilot’s chair as Blue wove to avoid the flagship. He pulled at the useless controls desperately, trying to convince Blue to go back, begging her with any words he could manage.

When they were no longer under the shadow of the flagship, Blue turned at last, a desperate roar echoing through the forest as they saw Red caught in a tractor beam, eyes dark and jaw clenched shut.

Keith stared at the steadily rising form of his lion, knowing that Lance was hiding inside. “Blue, we can’t leave him. I won’t leave him like this.”

Blue growled in response, a mixture of anger and sadness emanating from the lion around him. “Take me to him, please!”

A moment of silence reigned before the coms clicked on, the other paladins becoming audible to him. “Lance! Finally! We thought something happened to you and Keith.” Hunk said cheerfully, “The creepy Prince guy ran off after we chased him around. Managed to break his crazy cannon and everything. He won’t be bothering us for a while!”

Keith’s breath hitched in an aborted sob at Hunk’s exuberance, the chatter of Hunk and Pidge going oddly quiet as Keith tried and failed to control the rage and grief welling up in him.

“Lance? Lance what’s wrong?”

A view screen popped up and Keith buried his face in his hands as Pidge badly stifled a gasp. “Keith? What are you doing in Blue? Where’s Lance?”

“He-He’s in Red.” Keith huffed, black spots returning to his vision, “He locked me in Blue and made her take me away. Lotor has Lance.”

A hoarse sob ripped its way from his chest and he gripped his hair in his hand, dizziness and darkness fading his vision.

“Keith! Keith stay with us!” Shiro yelled, “Pidge, I need a status on Red. Where is she now?”

“Red is in the flagship.” Pidge responded, a distinct edge of panic in her voice, “Shiro, they’re taking off!”

Static filled the coms for a moment before Allura’s voice filled the cockpit, weariness evident in her tone. “Paladins, there is a fleet approaching the castle. I need you to return immediately. The Castle defenses will be enough to hold them off briefly but not forever.”

“One of the Lions is in the possession of the enemy, Princess. We can’t leave yet!” Shiro said desperately, “Lance is on one of the Galra ships.”

The blackness in Keith’s vision grew darker and he swayed in the seat, his earlier electrocution and current concussion not helping him as he worked himself into a fury over the beautiful, selfless moron he had just kissed in the forest of a strange planet.

“Please. We have to get him back.” Keith whispered, his voice reedy and weak.

A huge burst of static made all the paladins flinch before blaster fire was audible through the coms. “Why are you all still here?!” Lance yelled through the coms, “Keith needs a pod right now. Go!”

“Lance we aren’t leaving you!” Hunk said, his voice thick through the coms.

“Keith is injured. I’m not.” Lance replied, a note of finality in his tone, “If something happens to him…..Just, please, I need him to be okay. I can wait for him to be okay. Besides, Prince Fancypants doesn’t scare me. Just hurry, okay?”

“Lance, don’t make us do this!” Pidge roared, “Don’t make us choose between you!”

“There’s no choice, Pidgey. Just take care of him for me. We have unfinished business.”

“I’m going to punch you right in your pretty face.” Pidge sobbed, Green materializing in front of Blue.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Lance.” Keith breathed, voice hoarse, “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Lance flipped the com off after his confession, heart pounding in his chest.

He was so scared. Here he was trapped in Keith’s unresponsive Lion, currently holding off the waves of droids that had forced Red’s jaws open in an effort to recover what they thought was the Red Paladin.

There were so many of them.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself, bayard firing almost constantly in his hands. Droids piled up by the mouth of the Lion, their destroyed remains funneling the droids in one at a time, making it easy for him to pick off their numbers. Eventually, they stopped coming and silence reigned.

Footsteps echoed and Lance tensed as they came all the way to the other side of the droid barrier. ��I’m rather impressed with how long you’ve held off my droids, paladin.” A darkly familiar voice crooned, “But it’s time to give up the fight. There are several high powered cannons currently aimed at this Lion. Unless you wish for it to be destroyed, surrender.”

“How do I know you won’t destroy it anyway?”

“Because I have no use for a destroyed Lion.” The voice sighed dramatically, “I do not wish to draw my Father’s ire for such an ill-advised plan. However, if you do not cooperate, I will risk it.”

The fear returned with a vengeance and Lance had to readjust his shaking grip on his bayard. “Do not keep me waiting, paladin. I am not known for my patience.”

Lance rose from his crouch at the back of the cargo hold, each step closer to the mouth of Keith’s lion feeling like the steps to a funeral march.

How would the Prince react when he realized he had the wrong Paladin?

Willing his bayard back to its original form, Lance stashed it in one of the cabinets before emerging from Red’s mouth, meeting Lotor’s eyes defiantly.

The prince’s face curled into a smirk, one pale eyebrow lifted in amusement. Lance took a few more steps forward, a tension he didn’t know he was carrying relaxing when Red’s barrier blazed into life.

“I will have to admit, I did not foresee this.” Lotor chuckled, “But I don’t think you understand what you’ve done.”

“I won’t let you have Keith.” Lance said proudly, lifting his chin as he stared Lotor down.

“You have prevented nothing, lovely Blue Paladin. You have delivered yourself as a prize and only added another reason for this ‘Keith’ to come to my side.”

“Prize?” Lance scoffed, “I don’t think so.”

Lotor was in Lance’s face before he could blink, clawed hand resting around Lance’s throat. “Prizes don’t think.”

Lance had a moment to pray that the others had gotten Keith to the castle before his world went black.

Lotor watched dispassionately as the Blue Paladin fell at his feet, Haggar and one of her druids standing behind the downed warrior. “That was unnecessary.”

“I think you underestimate the paladins. They managed to defeat your Father once before.” Haggar said haughtily, her eyes gleaming under her hood, “Give him to me. I can break him and use him against the others.”

Lotor looked at the human at his feet carefully, a clawed finger tapping at his chin almost absently. He was attractive, for the most part. Certainly a lot of raw potential. Perhaps with the right shaping, the Blue Paladin could become an ornament worthy of the Prince of the Galra Empire.

Decided, Lotor lifted the paladin by one slender arm, his limp body almost disgustingly light in his grip. “I think not, Haggar. I claim this one as a prize. I’ll do with him as I wish. I don’t think I’ll need your assistance in breaking my new toy. Although, a druid to assist in the reshaping won’t be turned away.”

“Toy? This is a paladin of Voltron.” Haggar hissed, “Cease with this foolishness and give him to me!”

“You couldn’t even hold on to the Champion before he became a paladin. Why should I relinquish my prize to you?” Lotor smirked, turning his back on the fuming witch with a flip of his long hair, “Crawl back to my father. I have no need for you.”

#voltron #v:ld #klance #lotor #my writing #fanfiction for the win #first fanfic for a while #and i straight up bang out like 6k words #hot damn #the angst is real #and it is coming #holyshitiwritefanfiction

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7483829 · 4 years

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songs that make me think ‘bout ya:

now there’s a buncha songs on this playlist lmao BUT i’m makin’ a list of the ones i deem notable to give more context to ‘em for ya (&why i attach em to you .) maybe they’ll mean more to you because of it :) some of them are songs that have little things/sounds/verses/hooks that make me think of you, sometimes issa whole song, or it’s just a vibe it give me so here we go:

1. whoa (mind in awe) by x: [“Won't look back on my mind, Won't let bad out my shine, Won't let you cloud my mind (x2), All my days, I was cryin', All my lows, all my highs, Told my Mom, "I'm gon' shine" ] tbh this whole song gotta nice wholesome vibe to it but this part stick out to me the most. everybody been thru bad shit but you especially. but you never let someone block out your shine or cloud up your mind w negative bullshit, you’re strong & you’re positive about shit even when shit ain’t goin right. thru the lows & the highs, you gonna make sumn of yourself. regardless of your past & present trials and tribulations, you gonna shine bright.

2. let’s groove by E, W, & F: i bet you like why in the fuck do this nigga got let’s groove on here 😂 a long ass time ago i had this random ass dream that me & you were in the mf 70’s dancing to this shit, it was very vivid lmao

3. 911/mr lonely by tyler, the creator: not gon lie this part: [“Call me some time, Please bang my line, you know I'll answer Call me some time, Please bang my line”] & this part: [“Five car garage, Full tank of the gas, But that don't mean nothing, nothing, Nothin', nothin', without you shotgun in the passenger”] just cuz i be wantin to hear from you but ion know if you busy so i just don’t say shit. i could have everything in life but if you wasnt by my side, ion know if life gon hit the same no more

4. november by tyler, the creator: the whole song for this one. the last time i remember having a true “november” was with you .

5. awkward by tyler, the creator: the whole first verse is damn near to a t what age we were, how we met, etc. + this album came out freshman year & i was listening to it one time in the spring and as soon as it started you walked on the bus. so yea anyway, this a big 1 for me

6. summertime in paris by jaden smith (f. willow) & greece by drake: both of these beautiful in they own way i guess. with s.i.p., its more focused on the time of year and with greece, it’s more focused on flying out the country asap like drop everything and goin to go hangout and get away from the bullshit & get taken care of type shit. they both kinda serve the same purpose, i guess. i like em both a lot & dead would love to take you to paris one day

7. roll up by wiz khalifa: pretty simple, played this song nonstop one summer & that happened to be the summer me and you were talking and linked up at the ave’s :)

8. foldin clothes by j.cole: this song mean a lot to me cuz cole breaks down societal norms, standards, & expectations of both men and women. i care about you so much bruh that i’d cook and i’d fold clothes for ya, something that a lot of niggas don’t do. it’s such a simple thing but it can mean a lot depending on the context

9. slow down & easy by mac ayers: this guy real lowkey but i highly recommend him. the whole album has a car theme and i just feel like this a car ride for both of us. sometimes we take separate cars, sometimes we in the same care & lookin in a different direction, sometimes we at a stoplight or we get caught speeding, etc. it’s metaphoric, of course, but we’ve always passed each other on the street or rode in the car together. we always figured it out

10. 1 billion views by exo-sc (f. moon): [“보고 또 봐도 질리지 않어, 영원히 반복 재생하고 싶어, 저녁부터 until the dawn, 넌 나의 인생곡 10억”] which translates to: [“Even if I see you over and over I don’t get bored, I want to play you on repeat forever, From the evening until the dawn, You’re my best song 1 billion”] — idk if you even like kpop lmao i never got into it fr, i just really like this song but this is kinda easy to figure out i guess. i can make all the playlists i want to try to explain shit but YOU’RE the song i wanna hear all day

11. cause i love you by lenny williams: this song is a mf classic. there’s a theory that this dude actually starting tearing up in the booth when he was makin this song, that’s how in love he was with this woman. ayyyy i can’t sing like that but a lot of the stuff he was sayin i relate to you, specifically: [“And the tears were running down my face, And my friend told me, He said, ‘Lenny, you just oughta forget about her’, But I told my friend, I said, ‘You know, maybe you've never been in love like I've been in love, And maybe you've never felt the things that I've felt’....... “And then it got so bad, It got so bad, Till one time I thought I'd roll myself up, In a big ol' ball and die, And then I met you, darlin', And you smiled at me”] . this is definitely a song i’d wanna dance with you to, like late at night & just be w you

note: this don’t mean the other songs don’t matter or nothin! there are just some key ones i really like and wanted to delve into a lil bit! thanks for reading bruh & i hope you like the playlist, mamas 💗

w/ love -

y. r.

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gryphon1911 · 7 years

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Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-281/320, f/5.6, ISO 400 @70mmgridded speed light just below camera on lens axis

It's always a pleasure when you get to work with great people. Working with Derrick Smith from American Monster has been a pleasure for us. BLP was asked to come in and get some marketing photos for social media and the company website.

I thought I'd take you through the process.

Derrick had been familiar with my work from other events that we've shot like editorial work from the Arnold Fitness Expo, our portrait work and street photography.

Derrick already had the models in mind he wanted to use, so that was not something that BLP needed to do. That is not always the case, as there are times when the client has a vision, but no models. If the models had not already been procured by American Monster, we could have used places like Model Mayhem or reached out on social media to find the talent. Just wanted to give a shout out to the models: Josh and Amanda Salley, Kyle Smith and Jeramy Weiss.

We met a few times prior to the shoot to discuss what we wanted to achieve as the end goal. Derrick is a great photographer and videographer in his own right, but he decided that he would much rather hand the reigns over to me to get the shots and he would take on the role of the artistic director for the shoot. At the pre shoot meetings, the goal was to get some environmental portraits and scenes, not too posed or staged...with a bit of an edge to them without looking over processed or cartoony. A hint of grit and grunge, if you will.

Location is important, and there were 2 for this shoot. The first being an outdoor oasis, just a 25 minute drive from our home location. We had farmland, pond, open fields...a lot to choose from. The second location was inside a gym.

So, we have the theme, the location....now we need to determine how we are going to get the look we want.

Going back to my office, I think about how I want to do it. Shooting is going to start at 9am, so we still have a good directional light. If we are backlit, we will want to have some fill light - better bring the off camera flash! I don't want a soft light, though - so I'm thinking bare light, grids or even a ring light type effect.

Image © Derrick Smith / American Monster Use what is available to you. Create a large softbox by bouncing off the back wall and ceiling!

With that tight of a flash beam, though, I'm thinking 2 lights - one key light for the subject and one auxiliary light source for the apparel logos. Reflectors too...bringing those...they are invaluable!!

Here is the gear list for those interested:

Nikon D500

Nikon D700

Nikon 24-70/2.8 AF-S

Tamron 70-200/2.8 VC

Tokina 11-16/2.8

Nikon 18-140/3.5-5.6 AF-S VR

Nikon SB-26 and SB-28

2 light stands

Opteka 1/4" and 1/8" honeycomb grids

RadioPopper TX/RX (Nano) wireless trigger system

Frio Cold Shoes

Interfit 5-1 fold up reflector/diffuser

Post processing is something I highly believe in. Some people feel that straight out of camera is the way to go. If I were shooting a news piece or editorial work, then I'd leave them largely untouched. In this shoot, we are looking for not only a representation of the products, but also a style to the images.

99% of my post workflow is done in Lightroom. I also use some plug-ins from On1 and Nik.

My flow goes as follows:

1) Run all the images through my Nikon Lightroom preset as a base.

2) Spot check each image to tweak the exposures

3) Do any cropping I might deem desirable.

4) Run the images through On1 Effect 2017 (these color images were run through the "Kryptonite" preset and then tweaked)

5) For select images, I may also run them through a monochrome processing. For those, I used Nik Silver Efex Pro "film noir harsh" or the On1 Effects 2017 black and white presets of "Kodak Panatomic 32" or "City Streets" - and as always, tweak as necessary.

Luckily, all these tools have a batch processing features so I don't have to touch each and every one.

First thing I do once on location is start scouting for shooting locations. The property is expansive, but the first thing that hits my eye is this tree with small leaves and that "weeping willow" style branches. Sorry to the tree people out there - I don't know the names of my trees very well. lol. The morning sun is hitting it in such a way that it is providing a great backdrop that will make the clothing the models are wearing stand out.

An expansive pond with lots of interesting props all around can be used as well...then we have the farm-esque side of the property with the iconic white fence, red barn and horses.

Alright, ready for the shoot. And off we go!

The Nikon D500, Nikon 18-140, Tokina 11-16 and Tamron 70-200 were used here along with the Nikon SB speed lights and Opteka grids. In some later shots, we used the white panel of the reflector and the diffuser panel. We will go into more detail in each of the shots - just check out the data underneath each.

Nikon D500 / Tamron 70-200/2.8 VC / Nikon SB-600 1/800, ISO 100, F/5.6 @75mm - on axis fill flash @ -1.0 Model: Amanda

Nikojn D500 / Tamron 70-200/2.8VC / Nikon SB-26, SB-28 1/250, F/4, ISO 100 @70mm - SB both gridded, one on face, one on graphic on tank top Model: Kyle

Nikon D500 / Nikon 18-140 1/400, f/5.6, ISO 100 @40mm Model: Josh

Nikon D500 / Nikon 18-140 / Nikon SB-26 1/250, f/5.6, ISO 100 @45mm Used the diffuser panel to cut the hard light from camera left, then filled in the hat and back with SB speed lights. Model: Amanda

Nikon D500 / Nikon 18-140 / SB-600 1/1250, f/4.2, ISO 100 @35mm SB speed light low and to camera left. grid skimmed the gun then on to models face Model: Josh

Nikon D500 / Tokina 11-16/2.8 1/400, f/5.6, ISO 100 @11mm Reflector to camera left to bring up shadows. Model: Kyle

Once wrapped up at the outdoor location, we head to the gym location. My lighting is going to be similar, but the vibe is a bit different here. While the outdoor location provided us with a gritty, earthy and relaxed feel - the gym gives us an intensity and a slightly different gritty feel. The energy is amped, and the models are no strangers to the gym. You can see almost immediately ion the shots the concentration and more serious tone.

The results:

We were closer quarters here and the ambient light was much dimmer. The D500 is great, but the APS-C sensor would give us a lot less room(proximity) to work with inside the gym. Breaking out the D700 and the 24-70 for the entirety of the gym. Nikon SB's still employed. Depending on the shots, we still used the grids, but other shots benefited from bouncing the SB off the back wall and getting more of a flood of light.

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-26 1/250, f/5.6, ISO 800 @62mm Double exposure created in Nik Analog Efex Model: Jeramy

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-28 1/250, f/5.6, ISO 800 @52mm B&W processing in Nik Silver Efex Model: Jeramy

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-281/250, f/5.6, ISO 800 @52mmImage flipped in post so graphic in mirror is not reversed Model: Jeramy

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-28, SB-261/250, f/5.6, ISO 800 @56mmone speed light bounced off back wall/ceiling other speed light gridded and run along the back bottom row of dumb bells. Post processing Nik Silver Efex Model: Jeramy

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-281/250, f/5.6, ISO 800 @70mmspeed light bounced over my head on back wall/ceiling Model: Amanda

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-28, SB-261/320, f/5.6, ISO 800 @24mmone speed light bounced on wall to the left other speed light just to camera left to light t-shirt graphic Post processing done in Lightroom CC Model: Josh

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-281/200, f/5.6, ISO 800 @29mmspeed light bounced off wall behind camera Model: Kyle

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-28, SB-261/200, f/5.6, ISO 800 @56mmone speed light bounced on wall to camera right other speed light gridded and shot low to illuminate foot area Model: Josh

Nikon D700 / Nikon 24-70/2.8 / Nikon SB-281/200, f/5, ISO 800 @70mmone speed light bounced off wall/ceiling camera right Model: Kyle

#IFTTT #Blogger

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