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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

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Read Into Me-Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights

Steve Harrington x Shy! Reader

CONTINUE READING THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 2,849

Date Posted: 04/27/2020

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We starting something newww friends! If you liked or commented on my post about this series, you’re on the tag list! If you want off lemme know, it’s seriously no big deal. I’ve been working on this one for awhile, so if you liked it, please flash me a reblog or a reply! Criticism is always appreciated!

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Flowers poked up between the sidewalk cracks, little white and yellow daisies blooming skyward, their heads turning to bask in the sun. Spring was bursting all over Hawkins, making the town reborn in pastels and Easter bonnets. Babies crawled around in the parks in white outfits, their mothers not worried about grass stains and cooing over their precious bundles of joy.

You crushed the daisies under your boots on your walk to school. You made a point to. They were begging to be crushed, stamped out by your heavy black soles. You didn’t like spring, you hated babies in their grass stained diapers and drool covered cheeks. You couldn’t place why you hated the season, it wasn’t as if you hated the cold or the rain which plagued March and early April, you adored the sound of rain on the Plexiglas roof of your family’s sunroom, thunder in the distance and swirling grey clouds swarming the sky. Then again, that wasn’t what spring wanted to be. Spring wanted to be beautiful bursts of colour and birds singing from their nests, babies crying into life and everything turning green.

Your hatred might have sprung from all that green, your mother had insisted on you taking up an artistic skill, supposedly because it made young women more worldly and affable, and sat you in art classes where you painted bouquets of flowers and bowls of fruit for hours every week. You didn’t hate art; it had become a release for you, a place to vent your emotions and makes something from your mind’s spinning thoughts. You’d filled sketchbooks and canvases with images of aliens and stars and snails. You liked to doodle snails and hourglasses on the margins of your homework. But your favourite thing was to draw your classmates. You were a quiet person, a sensitive soul according to your grandmother, and so often time’s people would ignore you flat out or discount your presence. This didn’t bother you so much, it gave you the chance to look at them without anyone asking any questions, to sketch out their image in charcoal and graphite, covering your hands in black and grey smudges. Your hands were constantly stained black, up the side of your hand to the tip of your pinkie, which meant that your jeans and shirts and sweater cuffs were smudged and stained.

You were sat on the football field’s bleachers one cool April morning, your best friend Samantha Cameron sat next to you, thin headset around the back of her head. She was unable to pull the headset around her black spiked hair, purposefully ghastly pale with black lips. You could hear the muffled sound of Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees playing at top volume as her head bounced to the beat, her black high tops kicking at the seat below you. You had your sketchpad out, trying to capture the stiff movement of her hair with the graphite piece clutched in your hand.

Samantha turned to look at you with a smile “You get it right yet?” she asked. She could see the annoyance in your face as you rubbed at the drawing, trying to smudge the stray hairs trying to escape the harsh gelling she’d done that morning. Just like your drawing, you suspecting that she’d been unable to get it to do exactly as she wanted.

“It’s getting there, it’s not moving right yet…” you muttered, pulling your lip into your teeth, chewing hard on the skin.

“You have like, four of me as is, I think you’ll survive if it isn’t perfect.” Samantha chuckled, pulling her headset down around her neck, twisting her long strand of pearls around her index finger.

“And I like this one best, your hair is moving so interestingly today…” you swiped at the page, pulling the eraser gum out of the coils and rubbing out the mistake you’d made, adding more shake to the tips of the centre point.

“Besides,” you chuckled “I’m not gonna have the time to get any good sketches of you with post-its in your hair this year.” Usually, you and Samantha would try to take one class together a year, but she had to switch her English class to first semester so she could snag a gym credit to train for potential college reps. She wanted to be a Wellesley girl and get a scholarship for soccer and she needed to be a top performance to get one.

You sighed, turning away from her. “I still hate that Mr. Lawrence insists on group work…” you muttered. You understood her decision, but you felt a bit nervous about being on your own. You’d gone to school with the same kids for your whole life, but being on your own with no one to depend on socially for a whole semester scared you.

Samantha wrapped an arm around your shoulders “You’ll be fine, you know that he usually assigns partners anyway.” She said, rubbing your bare skin gently.

“I know I just really don’t want to get stuck with some nitwit.” You replied. On cue, the bell blared from the outdoor speakers and you closed up your notebook, sliding your graphite and eraser gum into the coils and shoving it into your backpack, stringing it around your shoulders.

Mr. Lawrence’s hair had gone white long before he’d begun to show to process of aging on his face. His only wrinkles were from tension on his forehead and around his mouth. His white hair was a sort of burst of smoke around his head, always puffed up around his head and never fully settled into a style. You smiled when you walked into his classroom, taking a seat in the far back corner. You’d already gotten a sketch of his puffy cloud hair, so you left your notebook closed. The rest of the class trickled in, clumped in their little groups and chattering loudly, taking up the seats around you. Nobody paid much attention to you, which didn’t bother you as much as it used to. It still left a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wished that you had your headset, so you could block out the sound from your peers.

You hoped that the seat next to you would stay empty, that people would avoid you and let you sit quietly. It hadn’t before the break, but the room had been set up in little table groups of four. Now, the room was set up in three rows, two desks pushed next to each other all the way down. Mr. Lawrence had already had to yell twice for people to not move the desks, a sign of little cliques forming. Vicki Clarke had tried to pull the desk next to you over to turn the end of the middle row into a fire hazard, causing Mr. Lawrence to yell out for a third time. Vicki rolled her eyes, but released the desk, taking the desk next to the free one, leaving a clear space between her and you. You didn’t mind; Vicki always smelt like artificial apples, from the cheap body spray she slathered herself in at her locker and the scent gave you a headache.

Tina Martins practically ran to Vicki as the bell rang out, immediately calling to Vicki “Move that desk over!”

Mr. Lawrence rolled his eyes “Miss Martins we are not moving any desks in this room. Take a seat.” He announced. Tina’s shoulders sunk, but she obeyed without an argument, taking the seat to Vicki’s right. Then, the reason for all the commotion walked in, late slip in hand.

Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was still something to talk about, even after being horrifically dumped by Nancy Wheeler, he was still a hot object around the school, especially for girls burned by the newest small town hottie Billy Hargrove. Vicki and Tina were two primed recent burn victims, Tina having tried and tragically failed to get Billy’s attention at her own house party and Vicki being the first ‘hump and dump’ victim of the notorious man whore. Steve’s sad boy behaviour had attracted the attention of many bleeding hearts throughout the school, letting themselves get their hearts drained by his succubus heartache. And here he was, puffed up like a robin, his bright red member’s only jacket mimicking the red breast on the bird, his hair perfectly coiffed and glinting in the florescent lights. Heartbreak had done his ego good, teaching him that girls were a dime a dozen if you were hot and sad. The concept of preying on vulnerable girls made you sick to your stomach.

Steve handed his late slip off to Mr. Lawrence and he stamped it with the date punch he kept on his desk. “Welcome Mr. Harrington, please take a seat so we can begin.” He said, his rectangular glasses sliding off his nose as he spoke.

Suddenly, the energy in the room changed. It was then that you realized the class was mostly girls and every single girl in the room was staring at Steve. It was obvious to you in an instant: they wanted Steve to sit next to them and they were all out of luck, sat next to friends or other girls desperate for the same attention. The bargaining began, girls whispering to the person next to them to move, sliding cool erasers or lipsticks over onto the other desk, peace offerings they hoped someone would take. Mr. Lawrence’s classroom had fallen to jailhouse rules and you sat wondering when the first person would pull their shank. No one moved as Steve made his way to the back of the class. Then, another thing became clear-you were the only person with a free desk next to them. Vicki waved shyly to Steve as he took the seat and you tried to disappear. The whole room’s eyes were now on you and unlike Steve you absolutely hated it. You wanted to disappear. Now, you were enemy number one to every girl in the room.

“Alright, let’s begin then, yes?” Mr. Lawrence clapped once and commenced the lesson “Welcome to your last two months of English! I’m passing around the breakdown for your final assignment and copies of our last reading for the course, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.” The class groaned. You’d been hoping for a lighter, more modern read, something at least from that century. But you knew that Mr. Lawrence loved a classic and had to follow the suggested readings for your grade dictating by the state. You took your tattered copy and wordlessly handed the pile off to Steve, who didn’t notice that it had landed on his desk until Vicki pointed it out with a giggle.

“Now, everyone turn to their desk mate. He or she will be your editor and writing partner for the final essay of the year!” your heart dropped. You were stuck with Steve. And he was an idiot. Every stupid thing you’d heard uttered from a classmate’s mouth had always been from his. He once asked who the US was fighting in World War two. He spent one class arguing with a teacher that Beth didn’t die in Little Women, not believing it even when the teacher sourced the exact page when Alcott revealed it. He once failed a health assignment because he mixed up the names for the parts of the male and female. Literally mixed them up, your seventh grade health teacher had provided them for the worksheets and told the class to cut the out and glue them on and he mixed up all the words into a pile. He was an idiot!

Tina’s hand shot up fast and Mr. Lawrence called on her. “Mr. Lawrence, can we be a threesome with Steve?” She asked loudly, smirking over at you. Vicki giggled at the word ‘threesome’, hands clutched over her mouth.

“But then what will Y/N do? She won’t have a partner.” Mr. Lawrence flashed you a small smile and you just about threw up. This was all too much for you, too much attention, too many people looking at you.

You raised your hand timidly “I’ll be fine if that’s what they want to do. I don’t mind working on my own…” you said, your eyes locked on the course breakdown.

“See, Y/N can handle herself.” Tina said. If you knew Tina to be anything other than mean and condescending, you would’ve taken that as a compliment.

“I want every student to have work edited and reviewed by a classmate before I look at it. I’m sorry, but I’m not making exceptions to the rule. If your desk mate wants to switch with Steve, then that’s another thing entirely, but you cannot be a group of three.” Mr. Lawrence laid down the law on that and moved on with the lesson. While Tina and Vicki attempt to convince one another to switch seats and let the other have Steve, neither would budge and Steve seemed utterly uninterested in their spat. To be fair, he didn’t seem interested in the lesson either. He had taken to drawing on the surface of his desk, scratching his initials into the wood.

“Now, for your first assignment back, I’d like you to write me a piece on your spring break. Nothing fancy, just one page typed. We’ll write the first draft today and exchange it with our partners to be edited and rewritten for Friday.” He announced “When you’re done, read chapters one through three of Wuthering Heights.”

With that, the semester had begun again and everyone went to work. Voices took over the room, people chattering around you. You felt a pair of eyes on you, but you flipped open your binder to a clean sheet of paper and began writing out your simple description of your break. You knew that Mr. Lawrence didn’t actually care about what you had done or had to say, only that you’d done the work and had proof of editing for it. This was a practise for the main event. Still, you could make a page out of art classes and driving to Carmel with Samantha to see some random band in the basement of a dive bar. You could even make it interesting for him. But, something still made your stomach churn. You didn’t want Harrington looking at your writing. You didn’t consider yourself the next Hemingway, but you could write an essay. What worried you wasn’t being told that you were wrong. It was letting him into your mind at all. You didn’t know Steve and he didn’t know you, what if he didn’t understand you? He wouldn’t understand you.

You looked up from your work to see Steve looking blankly at you. You met his eye, raising your brow at him. He looked away fast. You didn’t know what it was about, your hands came up to your face, wiping at your cheeks and mouth. Maybe there was something on your face. Maybe your hair looked silly. Maybe he was making fun of you. That had to be it. He was making fun of you. Vicki and Tina were always bugging you and Samantha, maybe he was joining in. It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Lawrence had forced you two to be partners. You pulled your body away from his, curling into yourself.

When the bell rang, you pulled your work into your bag, making a break for the door. You had your free period next and were desperate to finish your drawing of Samantha. You didn’t need to have her in front of you to catch the right details; you’d drawn her a million times.

You had barely made it into the hallway when Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a cocky grin “Whoa, slow your roll there kiddo,” he chuckled. Your skin prickled under his hand and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. You stopped dead in your tracks, pulling away from his hand carefully.

“So, how’re we doing this?” he asked, his attention moving from you to the yelp of Tommy Hanson. You didn’t need to look to know that Carol Perkins was beating him with her bag again. That was a weekly occurrence.

“Write your stuff and hand it off to me in class. I’ll edit anything up till forty-eight hours before it’s due. I’ll give you my stuff when you give me yours.” You said quickly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“Sounds cool,” Another cry from Tommy, this one more directed at Steve, drew his attention fully “Alright, I’m coming Hanson! See ya around.” He directed the farewell to you, bounding off towards the source of the sound. Even when his presence was gone, you still felt his fingertips on your arm.

Samantha threw her arm around your shoulders, rebooting your systems again. “Hey, what was that about?” she asked, leading you away from Mr. Lawrence’s classroom and towards the gym, her next destination.

“That was because you fucked me over.” You sighed. It was going to be a long month.

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 19: The Eleventh Hour

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

With Adrian no longer on death row everyone is forced to go underground; literally. Everyone takes time in the Shadow Den to regroup. Nadya finally talks about her visions.

[READ IT ON AO3]

When Adrian turns around he’s straightening out the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves; rolls his freshly healed wrists to get used to the movement again and then gestures widely to his audience of two for critique.

“How do I look?”

Nadya’s foot jiggles over her knee. “I dunno. Something’s just…”

“Just what?” Adrian’s never been one she’d take as vain but anything less than a perfect ten seems to worry him. He looks to Lily. “What’s wrong, will I not blend in?”

Lily’s present only in body — has to look up and push her reading glasses away from the tip of her nose to survey him. She nods and clicks her tongue, “Oh, I see what you mean.”

“Right?”

“Exactly.”

Adrian snaps to grab their attention. “Will one of you tell me what you’re seeing? Please?”

Nadya approaches him with a grin and pulls him down by the ratty collar of his borrowed shirt. The much stronger, much faster vampire actually squeezes his eyes shut when she reaches up and ruffles his hair; replaces his carefully maintained pressed comb with imperfect dishevelment.

“Much better.”

“Yeah,” Lily sets her computer aside for a proper view, “nobody here looks that put together. Not even my girl — and she spends an hour on her curls every night.”

With a scoff Adrian gives Nadya a playful push, mutters about his hair being just fine the way it is. But she doesn’t miss the quick turn he gives back to the cracked vanity mirror in the corner.

“Ready then? Let’s get going.”

The familiar smell of instant ramen makes Jax and Mari’s loft feel a little more homey; for Nadya anyway. Lily joins her girlfriend by the single stove and inhales with deep longing. They share a brief kiss before Maricruz gives Adrian her approval with a nod.

“‘Sex hair’ is a good look on you. For a dude.”

Jax and Kamilah look their way from where they sit across from one another at the small table. The sight reminds Nadya to make sure to check in on Brandon and Greer when this is all over.

Please let this all be over soon.

Nadya goes to sit on Kamilah’s side when Adrian pulls out a chair for her before first taking his own; wedges her in between the Council (well, former Council now) vampires like her personal bodyguards.

“We don’t know how long we’re going to be hiding out here, Kamilah. You should work to blend in.”

Adrian’s comment draws a slow roll of her eyes. The moment she saw him safe and sound in person was the moment things started to back to normal for the closed-up vampiress. Already Nadya’s found it practically impossible to get any sort of physical affection from her.

She gives him the same brush-off. “I see no point in a ruse no one will believe.”

Across the table Jax doesn’t look up from where he’s scrubbing ash out of his jacket but he does cough out a laugh. “At least someone’s honest.”

But Adrian disagrees. “There are over a hundred vampires — at least — scouring New York for us. That’s not even taking into account who from our own Clans may have decided to turn traitor…” His voice grows a sharp edge. “We already know of at least one.”

Nicole. Her name and presence lingers over them like a cold breath. Now that her hand is healed courtesy of Mari’s blood she wouldn’t mind sustaining a repeat injury.

He continues, “We may be safe down here for now but this isn’t a permanent solution.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t.”

Nadya stops mid-thanks at Lily for bringing her over a bowl of ramen to glare Jax’s way.

“Hey — come on, now. We’re in this together.”

“You will hold up your end of our bargain,” Kamilah adds.

As his deputy takes her seat and pulls Lily into her lap Jax makes a gesture of slamming his wooden brush against the table surface. Hot broth slips from Nadya’s spoon and narrowly misses her thigh.

He looks at Kamilah with the same challenge as he had earlier.

“As far as I’m concerned any bargain of ours is done,” he growls, “you needed help getting Abercrombie here out of the Baron’s cells and that’s what we did. Giving him safe harbor in the Shadow Den is pretty much where my generosity ends when it comes to the likes of you. Don’t think I’ve forgotten anything that the Clans have done to me and mine up until now.”

Nadya can feel Kamilah’s aura change beside her. It makes her stomach turn; makes her a little less starving than she was a moment ago.

But before she can reach out and try to take the woman’s hand Adrian takes them all by surprise — leans forward on his elbows with laced fingers in front of a grim frown.

“We’re not trying to cast any of that aside.”

“Good. Then we can start talking about your reparations.”

“Now?” Adrian can’t keep a cool face. He isn’t the only one, either.

Maricruz winds one of Lily’s locs around her wrist — playing with it like it’s alive; a pet snake of some sort. “Not that anyone asked for my advice but if your goal is to keep on living then staying in town isn’t the best idea.”

“By now I suspect all public and conventionally private ways off of the island are well-guarded by their Clans.” Kamilah points out.

“Not to mention with the influence Vega has alone?” It makes Nadya shudder. “I’m afraid to see tonight’s paper. My Raines Corp. ID photo isn’t exactly the most flattering.”

“Really,” Jax snaps, “that’s what you’re worried about?”

“No, but if you really want to know everything I’m worried about I’d get comfortable because we could be here a while.”

The hunger is definitely starting to make her crabby — she starts eating so there’s something stopping her from running her mouth. They need to come up with a plan but nothing will get done if they’re at each other’s throats like this.

Pun not intended — but appreciated. Even if it’s only appreciated by her.

His chair squeaks when Jax stands up; tugs his jacket on with jerking motions. “I’ll say this one more time just in case you weren’t paying attention,” he leers at Kamilah and Adrian, “Mari and I risked our skins to get you out of there. I know firsthand how terrible the Cellars can be. But don’t think I did it out of pity or a sense of justice — she-witch here says you care about my people? Prove it. Start fixing what you broke.”

And Adrian takes every punch like a champ — sits there with the same calm and collected face he uses for business meetings, conference calls. The moment Jax starts harping on Kamilah, though, he looks ready for a fight.

Whether it’s the vampire feud or the rush of testosterone Nadya can’t tell — either way something’s gonna give, and soon.

So she gives first.

“Okay, Jax. Cool. We’ll keep that in mind.” Do not. Do not. Do not dare start something…

Adrian doesn’t. Jax turns away. No resolution is still better than conflict in her book.

The silence that follows is just plain weird. Even Lily — a master in the art of distraction-by-small-talk — starts trying to teach herself to whistle.

Finally Mari taps her girlfriend off of her; says more with her eyes than her words and Lily gives a sheepish “well, we’ve got work to do so…” to signal their hasty departure.

“You guys aren’t really going to run, are you?” Nadya surprises herself by asking.

She wouldn’t blame them if they did. It’s the smart thing, the tactical thing to do; try and get as far from the Council’s influence as possible and regroup; gather their strength then return to kick butt ten-fold.

Adrian sighs. “Nadya, please understand —”

He falls silent when Kamilah holds up a hand. The woman wets her bottom lip and when she speaks her words are, as ever, carefully chosen.

“Only once in my life have I turned tail to fight another day. At the time it was better to lose the battle for the sake of the war. And such cowardice has haunted me ever since.

“This is not a war — this is a mad scramble for power by creatures who think they understand what power truly is. I—we—will show them what it means to hold real power; and what happens to those who dare cross it.”

And then there were two.

Whether Adrian takes in the room around them because of natural curiosity or because he can’t look Nadya in the eyes — it doesn’t matter. She’s suddenly entranced by the way her hands look in her lap anyway.

She wants to go after Kamilah so bad but loyalty to Adrian keeps her seated right where she is. Doesn’t stop her from yearning, fleeting looks in the direction of the hall.

“Go ahead.”

When Nadya looks Adrian is standing; messing with the supposedly ‘perfect’ look that she and Lily had given him earlier. Less pressed lines and seamless folds; like the real Adrian is being revealed by shedding skin.

She pushes her chair in — goes to follow but Adrian stops her with a gentle hand.

“No, not with me.” He jerks his head aside. “I think it’s best if I do some thinking alone, anyway.”

It makes Nadya scoff. “No way — I’m not letting you go out into the plaza alone.”

“What, do you think I can’t take care of myself or something?”

“Well if the last few days are any evidence…”

“Nadya.”

“What if you’re recognized? What if they try to attack you?”

She’s just making up excuses. They both know it. Just like they both know she wants to take the opportunity he’s giving her but lord she’s terrified.

“I can take care of myself.” With both hands firmly on her shoulders Adrian looks down into her eyes — just like he used to back at the office. Before she knew he was a vampire; before everything that’s happened. “Right now it looks to me like Kamilah’s the one who needs a little help being taken care of.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says it; his approval. Not that she needed it but it definitely doesn’t hurt.

“Be careful, promise?”

“Of course.”

“No, you have to promise.”

She slips between his hands and wraps him in a tight hug. Not warm or cozy; he’s solid. And that’s what she’s grown to count on more than anything else. Because if he’s solid that means he’s there, and if he’s there that means he’s safe — that means she helped.

“Promise?” Nadya asks in a whisper.

“I promise.”

Kamilah’s stagnant figure in the middle of the hallway catches her off guard. Makes Nadya wonder if she made the wrong choice in trying now, of all times, to try and get the vampiress to talk.

She doesn’t have to clear her throat. Kamilah probably can’t hear anything over the thundering of her heartbeat.

“I…” Kamilah’s voice falters and doesn’t that set Nadya on edge, “I realized I have nowhere to…”

It’s not just Adrian who has lost everything in all this. Even if Kamilah chose to stay above ground the entire Council would be on her in an instant. Who else would break all the rules to rescue him if not for her?

She left to find some peace but there’s no peace to be found in a home that isn’t hers.

At her side Nadya gingerly takes Kamilah’s hand in hers — keeps it chaste; like a light at the end of a tunnel. “Here, this way.” And Kamilah follows.

She closes the door to Lily’s room behind them. Roommates again — until the end probably. But she knows her best friend wouldn’t mind sharing the space if only to help wash that lost look off of Kamilah’s normally confident features.

At least she looks a little bit like herself when her nose crinkles at the sight of Lily’s mess.

“It’s no penthouse condo, but…”

“No,” Kamilah contradicts, “no it… it is more than I have, and that is more than enough.”

Nadya rubs her hands over her bare arms quickly before common sense kicks in — brings her to the small and ancient space heater in the corner which comes to life with only a little fight.

Kamilah watches with unnerving focus. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah. Living underground must be great when you can’t feel the chill but some of us are still alive.” She tries to laugh — to make it a joke. Kamilah must not find it that funny.

The longer they stand the more the space between them feels less like a room and more like a chasm. One Nadya isn’t sure she can leap across.

Her dumb rambling mode kicks in in tandem with what Kamilah’s been holding back.

“So there’s this guy who sells —”

“We never discussed what happened —”

It’s so quiet a pin dropping could shatter someone’s eardrum.

“You—uh—You go first.” Nadya takes up the edge of the bed.

The woman in front of her isn’t the Kamilah she’s used to; still full of things unsaid as always but rather than picking them apart piece-by-piece and taking command she seems unsure. Hesitancy isn’t a good look on her.

“Very well.”

“‘Course.”

“We never discussed what happened in the Council chamber.” Not what she was hoping Kamilah wanted to talk about.

“I didn’t think we had to. We were both there.”

“You know it isn’t the trial I’m referring to.”

Yeah, she knows. She just doesn’t want to think about it. Thinks if she ignores it for long enough maybe it just never happened. That could be said about a lot of things that’ve gone down lately.

There’s a smooth finger under her chin and it brings her to look up; Kamilah suddenly closer than close. The overhead lightbulb hidden just behind her head casts her in a halo of light.

“Tell me what you know.”

“I… I can’t.” If I do you’ll pull away from me.

“It may be difficult to recall, but please try.”

“No, I physically can’t.” You’ll think there’s something wrong with me. I think there’s something wrong with me.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Kamilah…” Kamilah…

“Nadya, I beg of you.”

She’s so scared her mind doesn’t automatically slide into the gutter and that says everything. Makes Nadya swallow down the bile rising in the back of her throat. She closes her eyes.

It’s not like pulling up a dream — struggling to remember things beyond the strange details that make dreaming fun. No… it’s like unlocking a steel safe. It’s like opening a dam. No.

It’s breaking a dam.

And with nothing to hold them back the floodwaters rush forward in a churning mass of black water. Fill the room and seep into her lungs in their desperate attempt to consume every inch of her existence. The words burst from her. Tumble over one another giddy with freedom and eager to see the world beyond.

She tells Kamilah about the voices outside Marcel’s library. About the Painting within. Tries to conjure up some definition — old or new — to explain the emotion she felt when looking at it but it falls flat so she just moves on.

On to the nightmares that came after. The sticky, wet feeling of blood coating her body that she can’t scrub away no matter how hard she tries. Knowing the taste of Kamilah’s lips with the breath of a dying man still lingering on the tip of her tongue. Feeling victory and rage and the lust of the kill that she should never ever have to feel to begin with. Seeing Adrian as Soldier and Kamilah as Queen.

“And when you told Jax —” how Kamilah can understand her through her blubbering tears and pain she doesn’t know; is just thankful she’s not being asked to keep herself together, “— when you told him ‘never again’ I knew. I knew what you meant. I could see it.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“The corpses and the ash. The blood on your faces but… but it wasn’t their blood. It was yours — your kind.”

“Other vampires.”

“Mm,” she nods, “and the… the pain of the fallen kingdom and the promise of the new one. His promise.” Please dear god don’t make me say his name.

Kamilah doesn’t; she’s not doing a lot of things which is the scary part. Hovers over her now more of a demon behind firelight than anything with a holy halo and at first Nadya was glad it shadowed the look in Kamilah’s eyes but now she’s afraid of what’s being hidden; the revulsion — the judgment.

“And the throne?”

Even the word ignites a white-hot pain in her skull. Makes Nadya press the heels of her palms against her temples and clench her teeth and beg for it to end. She knows how to make it stop — she just doesn’t want to do it. Because talking about it makes it real. More than that it hurts Kamilah.

Cool ice brushes beads of sweat aside; moves little wisps of hair out of her eyes. Kamilah’s touch is still soft. Kind.

“It was his. His throne, his empire, his kingdom and crown and… and you took it all away.”

Nadya watches her own trembling hand reach up and cup the curve of Kamilah’s cheek. “You took away everything he built. Threw it back in his face. He built you a dynasty and you drowned it in his blood.”

Even if everything else is a fever-dream; a hallucination brought on by god-knows-what to torture her and proven to be nothing more than the result of a lifetime of bad choices and a crazy imagination… she’s certain in that. Certain in the only steady words she’s managed so far.

She knows it. Kamilah knows it too.

The same cold covers Nadya’s hand; not ice but the vampire’s touch. Holds her there; holds them connected in an intimacy she isn’t sure she deserves.

“I’m scared —” an exhale, “— KamilahI’msoscared.”

If Kamilah pulls away Nadya isn’t sure what would become of her. She feels incorporeal — nonexistent. Like a voice on the wind narrating the story but without a place in it.

But she stays. She keeps Nadya grounded. Roots her to the earth until she has the energy to find her body on her own.

What happens now?

Her body screams loud enough for Kamilah to hear — thankful she doesn’t have to physically ask.

“The things you have endured alone… why did you not share them; not even with your friend? Did you think she wouldn’t believe you?”

“No, she would…”

“Then why?”

Nadya takes in a breath so deep her lungs strain against capacity. The pain calms her racing mind.

“Because saying it aloud made it real. And I didn’t want it to be real.”

Suddenly the overhead light blinds her and Nadya throws the back of her hand over her eyes. Feels the place where Kamilah and her meet move down until she can see the woman on bended knee.

“You know more about events long gone than anyone left alive. Not just of Adrian, of the Council, of… of myself…” She fights down her words — something exists she isn’t yet ready to say. “You know of things Adrian and I would never have you know for fear you would see our true monstrosity.”

“What? Kamilah—no—I—”

A finger presses to her lips. “I see your pain, Nadya. I see what this burden has done to you. And I’m sorry — I’ve failed you. I can’t give you your answers when there are none to give.”

“You don’t know what’s wrong with me?” Kamilah shakes her head. Nadya’s heart sinks — there goes the small grain of hope she had that in her centuries of life Kamilah might know something.

Kamilah’s rueful laugh takes them both by surprise. “Of all the vampires for you to endure the memories of, too. I knew him better than anyone and even I would not suffer what lurked around in his twisted mind.”

“… Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Their eyes meet sharply. Kamilah eases herself back onto the bed beside Nadya and, in a completely unprompted display of affection, coaxes her to lay on her side with her head in the woman’s lap.

“Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”

“It’s okay,” if this is Kamilah’s idea of apologizing she’s so happy to forgive her. “There’s just one thing.”

“Hm?”

“If you think you see me blushing it’s — well I’m not. I know it looks like I am but it’s just the crying. Crying makes me blush.”

She looks up to an amused sparkle in the woman’s eyes. The feeling of sharp nails carding through her scalp is soothing — a constant motion that doesn’t require remembering or crying or trying to speak through the pain. She basks in it selfishly.

“Which is it,” muses Kamilah, “are you not blushing, or are you blushing but from the tears?”

While Nadya gapes like a trout the figure above her seizes advantage of the opportunity. Leans down and lets cold lips linger on her feverish brow.

“Initially I found your expressions overzealous and unnecessary,” comes a whisper in Nadya’s ear, “but now I think I’ve become fond of their dramatiquement.”

“Well I am a bit of an acquired taste.”

“Not by Adrian’s description.”

Every thought both good and bad flies out her ears at that — gives her brain less distraction and lets it focus on the dusting trail Kamilah creates down to the dip of her chin. Her throat just beyond.

Nadya holds her breath. Stares wide-eyed up at the uncovered light until she doesn’t have to blink to see spots and then some. Just waits.

And though her body tenses in the anticipation of pain Kamilah isn’t deterred — lands a kiss to the hollow near her chin before righting herself back above.

“Breathe, Nadya.”

She obeys a little too enthusiastically. At least one of them finds it funny.

“God, I’m such a soggy pancake.” Probably not the thing to say. Who explains that to someone who was alive before pancakes even existed? Not that it stops her rambling from trying. “It’s — uh — Lily and I, we —”

“Say no more.”

“Yup, good idea.”

But now the vampire’s interest is piqued. “Care to explain why you are… as you said?”

No, she’d really not care to in the slightest.

“Because this is definitely not when I had in mind when we came in here.”

The nails stop mid-stroke. It takes Nadya way too long to realize they won’t start again until she continues. If Kamilah knows her weak spots already she’s doomed — no question.

She squirms but complies; “I guess I just… we went into the trial but kissed before that and I thought, you know, with Adrian out of immediate danger we might take the time to — you know — just…”

“Sleep together again?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Not outwardly. Ah ah —” before Nadya can turn away in shame Kamilah’s grip tightens in her hair; keeps her right where she’s wanted, “— did I say you could move?”

How the hell does someone answer something like that? “N—o…?”

“Correct. Stay.”

She stays. Oh boy does she stay.

Over her head Kamilah looks thoughtful. Hums so low it’s a catlike purr while she loses herself in her thoughts and Nadya’s hair.

“Though we are out of the immediate danger, it would be best to wait until we can fully dedicate a time to discuss what happened before the trial.”

And because it isn’t the ‘making you quiver in orgasm was fun but doesn’t bear repeating’ she was expecting Nadya stops breathing again. This time, though, it’s a good thing.

“I’d like that.”

Kamilah drags a fingertip over the round of her cheek. “I would as well.”

She’s seen the kind of strength older vampires can have; seen Kamilah lift a stone slab like it was nothing and the power of the Council combined fighting off a wall of greying snarling Ferals.

But all of the vampires — at least the ones she’s met — in the Shadow Den seem pretty new to the life. Maricruz is the oldest around as far as she’s aware. And if older vampires somehow wander into the strange life of the outcasts they likely don’t stay long.

So it makes her wonder just how many of the Shadow Den’s loyal gathered together to help move the old and worn stone fountain from the surface down below to the center of the plaza. And did they know, heave-hoing together, what their teamwork was going to be used for?

When asked why the plaza’s community avoided even looking at the fountain and the shrine it had become, Lily had told her that it was a thing of respect; “Some of them don’t want to look at familiar faces,” she’s said, “and those who don’t know anyone just feel uncomfortable seeing the dead. They might not be human anymore but that… that stays with them — us.”

Which means Nadya isn’t surprised to find the end of the plaza occupied by the fountain’s importance mostly empty. She’s gotten used to it.

Adrian hasn’t.

It must be daytime up top; stalls unoccupied and vendors packed away for their hours of sleep. She’s struggling keeping a body clock these days but habit is habit.

The center piece of the fountain must once have been three or more people; their humanoid shapes remain but the rest has been chipped away or eroded from the seasons. Discolor and rust still runs freely where water used to pour. The base of the fountain is wide and still empty; sprawls outward to a short stone wall that acts as a rim.

It’s just as ramshackle as the rest of the Den but that doesn’t stop it from looking out of place. More like it belongs in a Roman ruin than underneath the old subway tunnels of Manhattan.

“Can I join you?”

Adrian doesn’t say anything — which isn’t a no — so Nadya steps over the rim and sets herself on the rim beside him.

The light of dozens of candles flicker in his eyes. It’s how he would look in a church, Nadya thinks. Can’t get the image out of her mind once she sees it. Adrian in the place of a traditional mourner in front of the rows of candles placed for the memories of the dead.

There’s no breeze to make the little flames whip on their wicks. They burn constant and bright. Illuminate the polaroids, drawings, names written in both delicate cursive and angry blocked marker.

These are the fallen.

And the longer Nadya looks at him the more he changes; the more Adrian takes on each and every name, face, and candle in their memory on as his own burden.

What does someone say to that?

“I recognize a few of these faces.”

Adrian starts for her. Starts in the worst way possible and it makes her heart sink because that’s exactly what she didn’t want to her. But he wants to talk about it. Maybe he needs to.

Nadya places her hand over his; silent permission that he takes.

“When we first began the Council we knew there would be difficulty making things just; making them… amenable for all those involved. Not just because we were demanding those who followed us to change their entire way of life — but because we were still on the heels of… of the worst possible scenario. I won’t deny that on some level we were being led by our fear to force change. Or at least I was…”

She squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to, Nadya.”

“But to me?”

He tears himself away from the memorial; fixes his watery eyes on her with determination.

“I think you’re the only person who might really understand.”

“Why?”

“You’ve seen both sides. You have loved ones on both sides.”

“So, what,” she snorts, “I’m Switzerland for vampires?” Bad timing for any joke. He doesn’t laugh — but doesn’t pull away.

Adrian just goes back to torturing himself with every addition to the fountain of the lost.

“We had bigger Clans at first. New York was booming, you know? It still is. But they became too hard to manage. Too many people kept toeing the line and there comes a time when ‘making an example’ becomes just pure punishment for punishment’s sake.

“So we went down, and down… to the number we have now. It was enough. Small; strict in the eyes of some like Marcel or the Families in the South, but enough. And we made it clear that if our laws weren’t to your liking then you could leave and find a living somewhere else.”

“But —” She stops herself; literally bites her tongue. It’s not her place to argue. She doesn’t know what it must have been like to make those choices.

Only Adrian’s feeling a little masochistic at the moment so he urges her to continue with a look.

She sighs — tries again; “But… well, think about how that sounds, Adrian. You’re telling people to agree to your terms or leave what might be the only lives they’ve ever known; the only place they’ve ever lived.”

“If they wanted to Turn that badly then they would have to live with the risks and consequences.”

“But you’re acting like everyone has that choice.” It was a naive way of thinking and maybe something she would still think if not for Lily — having to make that choice for someone was the hardest in the world. It makes her think of Liv, and the little girl Jax doted on named Lulu, and Jeremy who sells the roasted nuts. None of them had a choice.

And those were only the ones she’d met.

“I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have —”

“No, you’re right. And maybe that kind of thinking would have helped things change earlier… when they needed to. Not now when it feels like it’s too late.”

Both of Nadya’s hands on his forces Adrian to drag himself away from his self-imposed punishment of witness again. She feels for him — feels with him — but refuses to let him wallow here in self-pity.

“I refuse to let you wallow here in self-pity,” says Nadya because sometimes she just can’t not speak her mind, “because it’s not too late. You can make changes.”

“But all the casualties…”

“You can’t bring them back; no. But you can make sure they don’t need to bring down another one of these things when they run out of space.”

It gets the barest quirk at the corner of his lips. Better than nothing. Nadya reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes — anything less than Wall Street is not his look and that’s just the fact of the matter.

She continues; “You want to help, Adrian. That’s so important. And you will help, too, trust me on that. Only when your name is cleared and you’re safe, though.”

His glance is harrowed with a worry he works hard to keep below the surface. “You make it sound simple. It won’t be — please know that.”

“Oh trust me — I do,” god she does, “but at this point if I don’t try to lighten the mood then no one will, and imagining you all trying to get this done with a big dark cloud over your heads is honestly giving me massive anxiety.”

Because he’s Adrian he turns a simple hand-hold in solidarity into putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in close against him. She snakes her arm around his waist and does the same — lets the world know there shouldn’t even be an atom of space between them.

When things are better — when things are right again — this is how it should be. How it will be.

“There are days when I regret ever bringing you into my world Nadya,” whispers Adrian against her hair, “because you’re human — so wonderfully human — and you shouldn’t have to see the ugly parts of the world like this. You shouldn’t be in danger like this.”

It takes her a second to find something to grab onto but she manages to pinch his side as hard as she can. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Shut up and stop thinking like that. I chose this — remember? I chose to know.”

“And I thank whatever gods there are that you did.”

They pull back and exchange familiar smiles. “Really?”

“I don’t think I would have made it this far without you; so yes.”

“Just consider me your lucky charm.” It might not be the biggest smile in the world but it’s not as hard to muster this time around.

Nadya stands and pulls him up by his hand; makes sure he doesn’t trip over the fountain rim and tugs even harder so he doesn’t look back one last time. “Come on — we have a game plan to get to.”

“Wait, don’t we have to actually plan first?”

“Yeah yeah, that too.”

It’s hard for Nadya to give her presentation with even a percentage of her usual flair without the proper materials. But Lily could only find her markers in three different colors and while she’d rather make use of the Raines Corp. brilliant smartboard she makes do with a flattened cardboard box and extra imagination.

With everything scribbled down, bullet-pointed, and circled for extra emphasis she caps her marker for a final time and rounds on the balls of her feet to face the captive audience.

“So… what do we think?”

Jax scoffs and slips lower into his chair. “I know what I think.” He has to quickly duck a punch from Lily, who reaches over Maricruz to do it, and while Nadya’s thankful for the support she has to shake her head.

“No no, we need to be honest about this or it’ll never work. Go ahead, Jax.”

He straightens. “It’s a crazy, dumb plan. And it doesn’t even get us to the people we need to get to.”

“Yeah, I dunno chica — I think he has a point,” Mari shrugs beside him, “why would we go after these small fish instead of the big catch? Sure we’re not enough numbers to take on their whole Clans but, I dunno, get them all in one room and we’d probably hold our own pretty well.”

She gets it, she does, but Nadya’s already gone over everything three times; a feat to be memorialized taking into account her lack of coffee the last few nights.

“One more time — I’m only saying this one more time!” She goes to smack a marker against her makeshift board and instead it goes flying into the corner of the room.

“At the trial everything was going pretty decent — barring, uh, Adrian being in a torture chair — until two key things happened. One: using Nicole as his key witness. Both of them lied about having documents and evidence and whatever they needed to make Adrian look bad, which means they’re in it together. Vega knew Nicole’s testimony would be taken seriously because of her status in the company —”

“— and because of our longstanding history together.” Adrian finishes for her; grits his teeth and she can hear the crack and grind of his knuckles as he keeps himself in check.

“Exactly. And if they’re in cahoots — Lily stop laughing — then that means Vega’s promised Nicole something. We need to find out what that is.”

“Probably something to dislodge the stick from her…”

“Lily!”

She holds up her hands in a dramatic claim of innocence; doesn’t stop from high-fiving Mari.

After a sigh Nadya continues; “Then there’s the Trinity. I’m sorry, but you vanish for almost a century and then just so happen to reappear at the same party that gets attacked, and come forward as witnesses against a guy you don’t even know for no obvious reason because — what — you’re good-hearted people? Nope; I’m not buying it.

“They’re in league with Vega somehow. I don’t even want to start thinking about how, or why, or whatever, but they lied about Adrian’s alibi and that’s what made Vega’s case in the end. So if we find out why they lied and what they’re getting out of it we might be able to… I dunno; re-negotiate? Or change their minds, or something.”

“But we’re not doing that for Nicole, right?”

“Not a chance.”

Kamilah switches her crossed legs and stares at the board with a pensive frown. “While a sound theory — it operates under a great deal many assumptions. And they will not take lightly to accusations without proof.”

“Well we may be a little short on proof, but I’ve got plenty of enthusiasm and I find that usually makes up for most things.” For example: the fact that she’s utterly terrified to see Valdas and Isseya again; yet still continues on with enthusiasm despite the fear.

Mari raises her hand — humoring her only just since she doesn’t wait before speaking. “So who do we pin down first?”

“Ah, yes, see, that’s the problem. One’s gonna alert the other no matter what — Vega and the Council too no doubt — so…”

“So we divide and conquer.”

All eyes on Adrian gravely rubbing his chin. “It isn’t an ideal plan but this isn’t an ideal situation. At least if we get at both on separate fronts we can buy ourselves just enough time to skip town should things go badly.”

Kamilah nods. “Agreed.”

“So who goes where?” asks Nadya.

“As much as I’d like to confront Nicole about what she’s done I don’t want to risk being seen entering the building. She knows the ins and outs of that place just as well as I do — any underground entrance will be covered during the day and at night I’ve no doubt she’s got Clan backup. Kamilah, Nadya — you two would be in the same danger.”

“Well that solves it quickly —” Lily starts pointing fingers, “— Team Clanless gets to B-and-E Raines Corp. again and Team Partycrashers go after the rich bitches.”

Out of all the stunned faces it’s Adrian who recovers first. “Team… what?”

“It was spur of the moment. I’ll think of something better.”

But it’s a sound idea — makes the most sense. There’s no way she’s letting Adrian confront the Trinity alone; even if she has to swallow down the memory of Isseya’s clawed hand around her throat.

“We have a plan then.” Nadya tries not to sound so hesitant — either shares the feeling with everyone else or they’re content to ignore it for her.

Jax glances at Lily’s watch. “Four in the afternoon — we’ve got three hours to prepare what we can. We meet at the van and split once we’re above ground…” He trails off, seems unsure if he should keep going — does anyway. “Should we make a plan for after; set up a rendezvous point?”

Nobody answers. They’re all thinking the same thing: there’s being optimistic and then there’s being foolish — and trying to plan that far ahead is definitely foolish.

They go their separate ways yet again. Nadya watches turned backs wade through the tension all the way up to their waists.

Three hours to overthink everything. That’s what her brain says; screams it actually.

Then there’s a soft hand on her hip and the familiar smell of Kamilah’s perfume behind her. A thumb stroking under her shirt makes her thoughts fade to whispers. Lips on her neck make her weak in the knees.

Her chin is tilted aside in a kiss and her mind goes blissfully blank.

#bloodbound #playchoices #choices bb #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #jax matsuo #lily spencer #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #oc: maricruz espinoza #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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mahou-queen · 4 years

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♡52 Weeks of Lolita Questionnaire♡

In a recent Lovely Lor video, Lor answered questions from Loliprompts’ questionnaire “52 weeks of lolita”. It seems like a fun list of questions and I thought I would answer them too~ ♡

1. What is your favorite brand, and why? What’s its history? ♡ I guess my favorite brand would have to be Angelic Pretty. I love a lot of other brands, but the majority of dresses in my wish list right now are Angelic Pretty. As for their history? I don’t really know haha, I guess I should research that a bit.

2. How would you describe lolita fashion to a curious person you met in passing? ♡ I always just say I am apart of a fashion club? People don’t generally require more than that but if they did I would probably tell them that it’s an alternative fashion based on Victorian fashion and we have a fashion club and we get dressed up and meet for tea and stuff.

3. What style do you think is the most underrated, and why? ♡ qi and wa lolita. I almost never see them, or see interest in them which is a shame because there are some really beautiful dresses out there that are suited for these styles.

4. What does the phrase “lolita lifestyle” mean to you, and do you, or would you like to, adhere to it? ♡ lolita lifestyle is when you try to bring lolita or lolita-esque aesthetics into every aspect of your life. Maybe wearing lolita every or most days, and having a very “loliable” home/room. I could never be a lifestyler because I have other fashion interests. Also lolita is not appropriate at my workplace.

5. What do you think constitutes lolita etiquette or good manners? ♡ I don’t believe there is any “lolita etiquette” I think you should just be yourself. Good manner are good manners, don’t be rude to your comm members, don’t dance on the tables at a tea party. But that’s just commonsense I don’t think there is a way to behave that is lolita.

6. Does your style change with the seasons, or do you dress the same and try to bear the cold/heat? ♡ I try, but admittedly I am awful at it. I try to keep berets in the cooler months, as well as long sleeves. BUT I’m a sucker for ankle socks and I wear them all year despite the cold and I do freeze my legs off at winter meets.

7. Do you have a fashion role-model? What do you admire most about them? ♡ I actually have several! I will list them and their instagrams here: sleepyriri - Her coords are so dreamy looking, very light floaty aesthetic which I love. She also has her own lolita brand! Le_verger_sucre - Her coords are so pink and princess-y. I find myself sharing her photos a lot. Fannyrosie - the classic lolita queen. Need I say more? Tokimeki.bunny - I love the cuteness of her coords. They always have a lot of extra elements and are so well balanced. She’s also really good at coordinating printed tights which I am awful at. Tsumikko - Lavender QUEEN! I love her use of aprons, layering, and color balancing. Very light, floaty vibes. Milkcircus - Print QUEEN. Her use of prints and patterns absolutely inspires me. Coords are always very multi-dimensional Cursed.Kaiser - They’re coords are honestly so cool, there’s a kind of drama in them that I really like. Darkxdelirium - She almost made me want honey cake with her impeccable coording skills.

8. What are the top 10 things you love most about lolita? Can you also compile a list of things you hate? ♡ I don’t think I can come up with 10 but I’ll do my best. ♡ Loves: The community aspect, the ability to reclaim my femininity through lolita, the creativity that goes into building coords, crafting to make one of a kind pieces, being able to feel beautiful without being “sexy”, having a hobby to focus on when I need something to escape to.

♡ Hates: Second-hand market price fluctuation, brands still releasing dresses with a max 96cm bust, buying petticoats, storing my stuff (especially purses), brands who charge astronomical prices for low quality materials (AP purses, Q-pot jewelry, etc).

9. How strict are you in applying the rules to yourself? To others? ♡ I am pretty strict on myself. For a long time I was terrified to be seen as ita. I was even afraid to wear bodyline for fear of being ”ita” even though my coord was good. These days I am less strict on myself and worry much less about these things, but I still struggle to get out of the strict mindset from time to time. others? I love experimentation even if I am afraid to do so so I am really not too strict on others, if it works, it works, and I am not going to criticize anyone.

10. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever incorporated into a coord, or the weirdest material you’ve ever worn? ♡ The weirdest thing I think I have ever worn in a coord were a pair of korilakkuma bell earrings. As you can imagine, bells on your ears? not great.

11. What’s the story behind your discovery of lolita fashion? ♡ When I was a senior in high school, a new girl started attending my school. She wore fairy kei and sweet lolita to school. We became friends through art class and eventually she ended up teaching me about the fashion. She sold me my first dress, and later my first brand piece. I am really glad to have met her and to have been exposed to lolita. You can follow her on instagram here

12. What is the one item that you’ve owned the longest? ♡ I still own my very first dress I got in 2012. Bodyline Squirrel Party. However, I am planning to sell it since I’ve worn it in everyway I can think of.

13. Do you think lolita is only about clothes, or does it also encompass a certain attitude or mindset? ♡ Lolita is about the fashion. All kinds of people are lolitas and they like it or wear it for different reasons.

14. Have you ever decorated a room or other space (car?) with lolita aesthetics in mind? ♡ My old bedroom used to be very “kawaii”. I love pink so my car stuff, my desk, as much as I can get away with, is pink.

15. Is it possible to be too obsessed with lolita? ♡ If lolita is interfering with your ability to pay your bills, or to be happy, or to focus on school or work or family then you should probably pull back. Some people do get very absorbed by things and in those cases it can become too much.

16. What are you favorite and least favorite trends? Do you think it’s important to follow them, or to do as you like regardless of them? ♡ My favorite trend ever is the chiffon half blouse. So comfortable, affordable, light, cute, and much more size inclusive. Least favorite trend? mis-matched shoes from the 2010 era. I like my shoes to get equal wear. I think these days more than ever, you can really just do whatever you want. Wear the fashion is right now is like anything goes which I think is great,

17. How do you define “lolita cosplay” and how do you feel about it? ♡ Lolita cosplay is stupid. sorry

18. Are there other fashions that you wear regularly, or are you an everyday lolita? ♡ I don't wear other street fashions anymore. I used to wear fairy kei and himekaji but these days I just dress regular outside of lolita.

19. Do you look for bargains to save as much money as possible, or are you willing to make sacrifices for high-quality products? ♡ I try to find the best prices when applicable but if I am in love with something I’ll do what I have to do.

20. When was the last time you wore lolita, and what did you do that day? If you wear it daily, when was the last time you went OTT or extra-fancy? ♡ The last time I wore lolita was in April lmao. For a virtual meet-up with my comm.

21. If you were to combine lolita fashion with an unrelated style or theme, what would your new creation be? ♡uhhhh I honestly have no idea at all.

22. What is your favorite accessory, and why is it your favorite? ♡ I have 2, 2-way bow clips from back when bodyline had a massive “sundries” section. They're no longer available and haven't been for a long time. I am really glad I got them, I wish I had bought more sundries when that section was still there.

23. What’s your favorite online lolita community or forum? Are there any that you avoid? ♡ I don’t have a favorite tbh. I have never been on 4chan and I never will be.

24. What is your favorite theme (e.g. school loli, pirate loli, nurse loli) or motif (e.g. deer, music notes, stars/constellations)? ♡ black and gold stars! Valentines day! fruits! gingham!

25. Is there any music that you associate with lolita? ♡ orange caramel lol

26. Will you ever be too old for lolita? ♡ never

27. Do you enjoy sewing? Why or why not? ♡ I don’t know how to sew :(

28. How does your location affect your involvement in the local lolita community? Would you like to move elsewhere to be closer, or perhaps farther away? ♡ I drive about 1.5 hours for meetups because that’s the closest active comm. I do not mind so much. I’d like to maybe be closer.

29. Does your sleepwear resemble lolita at all? ♡ not at all. I sleep in oversized t-shirts

30. Can you admit to any unpopular opinions regarding lolita? ♡ I hate peeking bloomers. I’m sorry :(

31. How do you feel about Visual kei or Jrock, and do you feel it’s related to lolita, or not? ♡ Love it, and absolutely. Visual Kei is like lolitas relative.

32. Whether or not you wear them (looking at you, Ouji), do you prefer the look of skirts, JSKs, and OPs with or without prints? ♡ I like both, but these days I am appreciating non-printed items more.

33. How has your style evolved over time? ♡ It hasn't really, just gotten more refined.

34. If applicable, what other communities do you belong to? What other identities do you adopt? ♡ I’m queer, so the LGBTQ community is important to me.

35. What are your favorite shoes to wear with your style, or what’s your dream pair? ♡ I love heels. I do not like flat shoes because I like to elongate my legs. I don’t have a dream pair.

36. Would you, or have you ever, dressed your pets in lolita? ♡ lol I’d try but I don't think it would work.

37. How do you feel about people who wear lolita for Halloween? Does it depend on whether that person is already a lolita? ♡ Wearing lolita for Halloween as a lolita is fine, but wearing it as a costume is kind of meh.

38. Excluding fashion shows, what’s the most amount of outfits you’ve ever worn in a day? ♡ just 1 haha

39. What’s your worst lolita horror story? ♡ I don’t really have any. I one time went with some of my college friends to a con and I left my dorm building in full sweet early in the morning. I was afraid my dormmates would see me cause I did not want to explain but luckily no one was awake and I made it to the van unscathed.

40. Do you like sweets? If so, what’s your favorite dessert? ♡ I love angel food cake

41. Do you have any beauty products, health routines, or special diet to keep you at your best? ♡ I take co-q-10 for my eczema, I like laneige lip sleeping mask, especially in the winter.

42. What were the best and worst meetups you’ve hosted? If you haven’t hosted, would you like to someday? ♡ I wanted to host a garden meet this summer but covid ruined that. Maybe next year.

43. Who is your favorite artist? If not famous for lolita art, do you think they have lolita appeal? ♡ I love a lot of artists, some of them I think are lolita-adjacent because their style is kawaii. I’ll list some here: jisaaaa! ubokhee MISOART_ meowwniz gojio_ hanavbara Fancy Surprise Arcade Healer Yurie Sekiya and many many more. Go stalk my following on instagram for lots of kawaii artists.

44. How do you feel about wigs? Do you wear any, or style your natural hair? ♡ I used to wear wigs, but my hair is too long now so I use my natural hair with fake bangs.

45. What’s your favorite animal motif? ♡ bears?

46. Have you ever visited a brand’s shop/boutique? If so, what was your reaction? If not, what shop would you most like to visit? ♡ I want to visit AP San Francisco

47. Do you think posting photos of your coord online is a crucial part of belonging to the community? ♡ YES, it’s how we all stay connected and inspired

48. How has the lolita community changed since you became a part of it? Where do you see lolita heading in the future in terms of community and networking? ♡ I think it’s become way more accepting and accessible. When I got into lolita there were virtually no legit resellers, the community was entirely on livejournal, buying second hand was a nightmare. Buying anything! was a nightmare. There was so much stress around looking “ita”, and the superiority of brand. These days its just not like that. So much amazing taobao brands have really helped even the field for lolita. We have so much more access to the clothes, the community, everything. It’s great. I only see it getting better as years go on.

49. What advice would you give someone who is nervous about starting lolita? Or do you think they should learn their own lessons? ♡ I think too many lolitas today rely on seasoned lolitas to tell them everything. I would say, go watch lovely lor, read @lolita-tips and look at other peoples coordinates. Lolita Tips tumblr taught me basically everything I know back in the day and it a wealth of info and concrit. Part of what makes the lolita journey so great is the research, the learning, the mistakes. You don’t wanna be like someone else, you wanna be you. So you really need to do the work yourself so you can put your personal flair into the fashion. That’s when it’s at its best.

50. What’s your dream dress/garment? Is it a faraway goal or have you obtained it? ♡ My dream dress was AP sweetie violet jsk in lavender. Which I got in 2019. My new dream dress is AP rose tea garden jsk in navy. It’ll probably be a while before I can afford to buy one.

51. How do you feel about the stereotype that lolitas are full of drama? What’s the worst drama you’ve ever witnessed or been involved in? ♡ I think any and all groups of people are bound to have drama. I don’t believe that’s specific to lolita at all. I personally have not been involved in any lolita drama.

52. Are you loyal to any particular makeup brands? ♡ I am very particular about my makeup because I do not like to use certain ingredients. I really like Pacifica. But I also like some Korean brands like The Saem, MISSHA, and TonyMoly.

This was super long but I had fun answering all the questions. Have you done this questionnaire? I’d love to see your answers~

#about me #lolita asks #loliprompts #52 weeks of lolita #lolita fashion #egl community #j fashion

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prosenkhans · 5 years

Text

Kobe

And they were going to a youth basketball tournament.

Just think about that for a second. When we distill what actually happened yesterday to its essence, it was a group of parents and coaches bringing their young girls to an organized youth basketball game on a nondescript Sunday morning in January. There is nothing more vanilla than that. Then it ended. Just so suddenly.

I can online imagine the fear those 3 girls had in that chopper in its final moments, the bargaining that went on within the minds of those parents as that hillside emerged from the morning fog. I am not lucky, blessed, or even really deserving enough to know the joy of parenthood. However, even the least empathetic of individuals would be hard pressed to deny that Kobe was utterly in love with his family, and Gianna to her father. All the videos, the images, and interactions caught for celluloid and digital posterity, all of them showed a family deeply appreciative of one another. Beyond all things, that seems to drive this feeling of devastation further up my throat.

The level of tragedy is defined by the amount of potential lost within such an event.

That fact that Gianna and her friends were 12 and 13 is more than enough to gut most people with a soul, however, the potential lost goes beyond even that. He seemed happy. Genuinely. Kobe seemed happy in what was in store for the rest of his life, his “second act”. The stone cold competitor with the icy scowl and bared teeth had transitioned into a statesman, an ever present and positive force within the game of basketball. Where once there were thorns, we now saw the pedals of the rose. Hugs and high fives. Congratulations and teachings. Puppets and children’s book. What we saw was a man secure in his legacy, and very much looking forward to the next chapter of his story.

But that story ended before the sequel could truly begin. As a group of people very much looking to see how the story would continue, we are left to wonder about what those potential chapters would have said. How would he have spoken during his Hall of Fame speech? Would he talk shit, or be humble? What number would be on his chest when his statue would be unveiled? Would he demand 2 to Shaq’s 1? Would we be lucky enough to be in the building when he and Gianna would sit courtside at a game? Would he still allow us to show him appreciation and stand an acknowledge the cheers? Would he be embarrassed by the continued adulation? Would we see him at UConn games, or maybe in an Oregon sweater? Would he be a leading voice in promotion of female athletics and the WNBA? Would he still allow us a peek in his mind, dissecting basketball games for public consumption? Would he write the stories that he wanted to tell? Would he make more art? Would he go on Kimmel and talk smack about the current stars of the game? Would he still smile and wave and take a selfie with us if we were oh so lucky to meet him? Would he continue to push us to be better? These are all questions in which we will never get an answer.

The hero’s journey is not supposed to end like this. The hero fights the good fight, gives all he/she can give, and then ride off into the sunset.

And I use the word here appropriately in this case. No, not a hero in the sense of how your parents and role models should hopefully provide the “hero” role in one’s life. No. Kobe Bryant was a hero in the sense that Superman is a hero to anyone that paid attention to his exploits. To my generation, a group of kids and adolescents that grew up watching him, Kobe is as much of a hero to us as Batman, Wolverine, and anyone else that wore a color coordinated uniform. He was an individual blessed with glorious purpose, a res on detra. And what made it better was that he was real. Real in the sense that we could actual see him be super, see him share his gifts, in real life, gallantry made flesh. What makes a superhero super anyway? Simple. Belief. We believe that when they dawn that cape, put on that cowl, they will be there to ensure everything is all-right. That everything gets the ending that we the masses so badly want. That they will come through when we need them the most. When Kobe put on that purple and gold tunic, he became our superhero. He gave us that belief, that sense of the universe being set right because he was our guy, and he would make it so. With him gone, it just doesn’t feel the same.

I’ve been asked through the years on why Kobe holds such esteem in certain pockets of our culture. Every time someone asks me that question, I always think back to the quote from Norman Vincent Peale.

“Aim for the Moon, and you’ll still land among the stars.”

Within the fast majority of the collective consciousness of sports fan, there is one name that is always associated with Kobe Bryant. And that is Michael Jordan. Now I was lucky enough to have watched Jordan as a very young kid, fully appreciating the skill and special athlete I was observing. There is no denying of that. However, Kobe was different. Coming in during Jordan’s waning years, Jordan and Kobe never clashed at their individual apexes. A spry and almost cocky kid, you were drawn to him. He was just a few years older than I, and thus making him a huge part of those who would call themselves a millennial. While Jordan was seen as God upon high, the antecedent ruler of the NBA, Kobe quickly became the scrappy upstart. As the years went by, we were able to follow him on his hero’s journey, watching and developing into what he eventually became. A transcendent figure in basketball. And his game was so beautiful. The efficiency in his ability to score. The complete mastery of all phases of the game. His footwork was exquisite, it was art. His ability to hit the most impossible shots, and give you the faith he would make it. You had the sense watching him that no other human had ever played basketball as beautifully, skillfully,and as passionately as Kobe Bryant. You have to remember, Kobe played for 20 years. For most of my generation, that is more than half our lifetimes. We literally couldn’t imagine basketball without him in it. But why was his story so compelling? Simply put, Kobe was really the only one daring enough to challenge Jordan at his own game, the apprentice succeeding the master. He shot for the Moon, and had no qualms letting you know that’s what the hell he was doing. And I’ll say this. He touched down on those sands, stomped his feet, and pounded his chest, as to say “It’s mine now.”

The whole comparison debate and legacy really doesn’t hold much water. The game changes. Everything about the sport changes. The names change with each passing generation. However, Jordan and Kobe represent something quite different. While the pioneers and legends helped move the rocketship of basketball through the void of space, we can honestly say that Jordan was the first man to touch down on the Moon. He is the Neil Armstrong of basketball in a sense. All credit given. However, if he’s Neil, Kobe is Buzz Aldren. They are on that same rocket ship together. Jordan may have touched the sands of immortality first, but just like Aldren, Kobe followed him down that ladder and followed those footsteps to the same place. His legacy, his imprint, is right up there with the first. It is the sequence of history, with one’s value not diminishing the others’. And just like Aldren’s actual footprints on the moon, Kobe’s legacy will be set eternally, looking down upon us from high.

But what will that legacy be? There is this silly debated, a national question of “who is the greatest Laker, Magic or Kobe?”. I always found the question silly. In short, the wrong adjective is being used. Magic, who is naturally gregarious, warm, and a welcoming personality became a leader and 5 time champion in his legendary career. Apparently you can’t be in Magic’s presence without wanting to hug him. He is the most beloved Laker. Beloved. Kobe, simply put, is the most revered. Revered. Kobe once said, “I always want to outwork my potential.” That was Kobe as a Laker. Sometimes cold, often surly, he was a driven kid that became a man obsessed with being the best. And it drove some people, competitors, and even teammates away at times. However, as a person who was privileged enough to watch his entire career, he did the one thing we can only ask for as fans. He lived up to his potential. As the world of athletics change into self branding, load management, and disconnected passion for the process of improving as a professional, Kobe stands as the shining example of someone who literally gave all he could to his craft. By blood, by sweat, and by tears.He dared to be great, unapologetically striving for perfection. He knew he was the best, and made sure that all his competitors and people watching were aware of that fact. He accepted the responsibility of the dawning the mantle, of being the standard bearer, the face of a sport. He certainly failed at times, but he never wavered in his journey. Often the most talented player in the room, his work ethic and drive was that of a player with a fraction of his gifts. And we loved him for that. You never felt cheated when you saw Kobe Bryant play. He squeezed every ounce of the potential within himself and left if on the hardwood floor for all of us to behold. He gave us championships, memories for the rest of our lives. He gave us that. He gave us himself, and we were so happy to see him walk off that court, thank him, and let him enjoy his next chapter. And now he wont.

I can go on and on about this. I still don’t have the ability to eloquently describe all the thoughts and feelings about all this. I’ll just lastly state that we are lessened by the loss. Not just as Laker fans, or basketball enthusiasts. We are lessened as a generation when our hero’s depart with words left unwritten. We are lessened by all potential lost. But we go on. Jerry West, with tears in his eyes, said it best about his surrogate son.

“A singular word, Kobe, will resonate forever.”

In a city that is defined by the brightness of its stars, the most brilliant of them all has dimmed from view, and future seems so much more caliginous than it did just a day before.

#kobe #kobe bryant #black mamba #kb24

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ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut · 5 years

Text

Karma

Summary: Futaba gets more than what she bargained for when she proposes Akechi is gay. Futaba/Goro

Disclaimer: I don’t Persona 5

————-

“He’s gotta be gay.”

The other phantom thieves looked towards their youngest member curiously, blinking several times, not quite getting her statement.

“What?” Akira asked her. Futaba rolled her eyes.

“Akechi—he’s gotta be gay.” Futaba repeated. Everyone blinked at her before Ryuji starting snickering into his coffee, trying in vain to hold in his laughter.

“That’s… interesting.” Makoto was able to voice out.

“How do you know?” Ann asked. Futaba scoffed.

“Come on! Don’t tell me you guys haven’t realized it! He’s always coming in here to flirt with Akira! I’ve been watching them dance around each other and I’m waiting for my OTP to become canon!”

Akira dropped the mug he was cleaning while Ryuji spat out his coffee, laughing obnoxiously. Even the rest of the Phantom Thieves looked amused.

“F-Flirt?” Akira parroted. Futaba wagged a finger, grinning.

“Come onnnnn. He’s never once ogled Makoto, Haru, or Ann! And don’t deny it boys! I know you guys done it!” Here Yusuke, Ryuji, and Akira spluttered, faces turning red. The three mentioned girls blushed prettily at the thought of Akira ogling them.

“I-I would never degrade myself with something so improper!” Yusuke exclaimed. Futaba gave him a deadpan look.

“Says the guy who has entire drawing collections of these three.” She voiced. Now it was Makoto, Haru, and Ann turn to splutter, turning their glares onto Yusuke. He shrunk down in the booth, sweating at the women eyeing him.

“It’s purely for artistic purposes I swear!” Yusuke cried as they proceed to wail on him.

“Ha! Serves you right, Yusuke! You know our ladies are fierce!” Ryuji was dying with how much he was laughing. Futaba’s grin grew even wider.

“So I guess those pictures I found on your phone are just for art as well, Ryuji?” Futaba sang sung and the three angry women turned their attention to the blonde next. He waved his hands in front of him rapidly.

“She’s lying! I respect each and every one of you!” now it was Ryuji’s turn to fight off the girls trying to get his phone. Meanwhile Futaba busied herself with stealing Ryuji and Yusuke’s curry as Akira sighed, sliding into their empty spots. He gave her a stern look.

“You just love to tease everyone, don’t you?” he scolded, but Futaba knew he wasn’t really mad. He could never be mad at her. Futaba grinned maniacally, rubbing her hands together.

“It’s more fun that way! Life’s too short to not torment one’s friends.” Futaba answered gleefully. Akira eyed her in disapproval.

“One day it’s going to bite you in the butt, you know.” Akira remarked. Futaba shrugged.

“Oh hush, no one can out-tease me! Now, back to the matter at hand, Akira, when are you and Akechi gonna tie the knot? Do you think he’s going to confess to you? Ohhh won’t it be cute if you do some cheesy stuff like kiss in the rain?” Futaba snickered. Suddenly, Akira smirked, seeing something behind her.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Akechi yourself?” Akira grinned. Futaba stopped laughing, blinking and turned to see Goro Akechi, the one and only detective prince giving her a stern look. She paled, wondering why Akechi suddenly seemed scary.

Akechi then smiled his usual polite smile, but Futaba still felt wary. There was something about Akechi that seemed off. She hoped he was just annoyed with work and not because he heard her.

“I’m sorry, what was that you were saying about me and Akira kissing, Sakura?” Akechi asked nicely, but Futaba felt warning bells go off into her head. So much for not hearing her…

“Errr… ummm…” Futaba unintelligently replied. Akechi moved closer to her, and Akira smirked.

“I’ll leave this gremlin to you Akechi. Hey guys, let’s go up to my room.” Akira called to the others. They saw Akechi looking down at Futaba, and they knew the navigator was finally caught. Not arguing, they dragged Ryuji and Yusuke’s unconscious bodies upstairs. When the door clicked, signifying she was on her own, Futaba nervously laughed.

“I-I was just joking Akechi! I always tease everybody.” Futaba tried to show no offense, but what scared her is that Akechi smirked, eyeing her darkly. Futaba gulped, backing up into the booth. Akechi came closer, kneeling into the booth.

“So my sexuality is interesting to you?” he said smoothly, looking sadistically delighted at her squirming. Futaba blushed.

“W-well! I mean! You never look at Makoto, Ann, or Haru so I just assumed…”

Here his eyes turned hungry and his smile was predatory, making her heart race. Why did he look like he wanted to eat her up?

“Perhaps someone else suits my tastes better? Did that occur to you?” he asked her, still with that smooth voice of his. Futaba felt the effects from his maxed-out charm intensely. Akechi crawled closer to her, lifting a gloved hand to finger her cheek. Futaba gulped as Akechi smirked wider.

“O-oh? W-w-who?” Futaba stuttered out. Akechi inched his face closer, his lips so close to hers, but before Futaba could freak out, he turned his lips towards her ear, one of his hands snaking up to her neck where he cradled her head and the other on her hip, drawing circles into her flesh under her shirt. Futaba blushed brighter.

“Oh, you know, she’s pretty mischievous. She likes to tease others, but it seems when it’s her turn, she turns into a shy mouse.” His tongue darted out and it licked her earlobe. Futaba gasped as Akechi started placing open mouthed kiss on her throat, biting and sucking lightly.

“I-I’m not a mouse!” Futaba protested, her breath hitching when Akechi found a sensitive spot to suck on. He chuckled, sucking the spot even harder. Futaba was sure all the blood vessels in her face were going to burst soon. “A-A-Akechi! That’s going to leave a mark!” she cried.

“Good.” He told her bluntly. His hand at her waist went under her shirt, caressing more of her skin, teasing just below her chest. Futaba gasped. “Then people will know you’re mine.”

“I didn’t agree to this!” Futaba whined, but it was cut short by a moan escaping her as Akechi towered over her, tilting her head so their mouths could meet. He ravished her mouth, tongue caressing hers possessively. Futaba squeaked.

Yup. Those blood vessels must’ve burst by now.

Futaba didn’t know what to do. She’s never kissed anyone. Akechi dominated her, aggressively wrestling her tongue with his. Video games did not prepare her for this! She shyly stroked his tongue back as her adrenaline went into overload while Akechi continue to pet her. He growled appreciatively at her response. He ripped off one of his gloves roughly, his bare hand now caressing under her breasts, skin on skin. Futaba felt hot all over, as his other hand clutched at her hair.

‘Dating sims did not prepare me for this. Dating sims did not prepare me for this. Datingsimsdidnotpreparemeforthis!!!’

“Wrap your arms around me, little mouse.” Akechi took his hand out from under her shirt and grasped one of her wrists. Futaba numbly followed, her brain pretty much short circuited already, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with his hair a little. Akechi smirked down at her flushed face. His usual princely smile came upon his face then, laughing at her softly. “You’re so cute.”

“T-Then I can go?” Futaba asked in a daze. Akechi’s eyes darkened and Futaba knew her answer. He inched his face closer to hers, frowning.

“Now, little mouse, I have to teach you a lesson first. Not noticing my affection? I can forgive that. You’re too sheltered after all. But to outright say I’m after Joker needs to get itself out of your head as fast as possible. And the only way to do that is to stake my claim on you.” Akechi told her menacingly. Futaba gulped, feeling dizzy from his personality changes.

“Don’t I get a say in this?!” Futaba exclaimed.

“Considering you haven’t pushed me away once already tells me your answer.” Akechi smirked. Futaba spluttered.

“B-but! You maxed out your charm! It feels too good! You must have a cheat code!” Futaba cried, pointing at him. Akechi looked downright amused.

“I maxed out my charm, huh? Is it stronger than Joker’s?” Akechi teased, but Futaba could see if she picked the wrong one, there would be consequences. Futaba face was practically glowing. How have her blood vessels not burst yet???

“I-I’m not the best judge here.” Futaba tried to weasel out of the question, and her answer made Akechi’s face darken again. Futaba cursed herself. Akechi pinned her down on the booth again, biting harder on the sensitive spot on her neck.

“It seems I need to do more convincing for my little mouse to give me the correct answer.” He bit down and Futaba winced, knowing there would definitely be a bruise there. He licked the spot gently, soothing her. She slid her hands over his chest and Akechi gave a growl of approval, using a hand to cup her ass and pull her closer to him. Futaba felt every muscle he had as they rubbed against each other, and it did nothing to stop the harsh beating of her heart. On the contrary, it only served to make her more hot and bothered.

Akechi rejoining their lips didn’t help her sensory overlord either. She could smell only him. She could feel only him. She could taste only him. Her senses, her very being, was dominated by Goro Akechi and it felt so good that she felt she was going to explode, and she wasn’t sure if any revival spell could bring her back.

She snaked her hands up shyly, playing with his hair softly, an attempt to stay grounded, but even touching the skin on the back of his neck with her hands electrified her as well as him. His hand tightened on her ass as they rubbed against each other. Was she affecting him in the way he was her? Did she make his entire being ignite like an inferno with every brush of friction like he was doing to her?

As if sensing her dazed state, Akechi parted from her, staring down at her curiously. Futaba stared back, sure she was in another world, because there was no way these feelings were of this world.

Her hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, surprising Akechi before Futaba smashed their lips together clumsily, her inexperience clear. However, it didn’t matter to Akechi, who groaned in pleasure and leaned her back against the booth softly. His gloveless hand came up, caressing her neck and cheek tenderly, before slowly parting from her mouth the final time. They stared at each other, panting, unsure of what to do now.

After a few moments, Akechi seemed to have decided she had enough torment, and separated from her painstakingly slow. He stood up, replacing his glove on his hand, never taking his eyes away from Futaba, laying there, blushing prettily just for him. Not Joker.

The beast inside him was sated for now, but he knew he’d come back for her, and make her fully his. He was too greedy—too selfish—to let her out of his clutches now that he’s gotten a taste. She shouldn’t have kissed him like that. She shouldn’t have given affection.

Now he can’t let her go.

Masking his feelings, he gave her a polite grin, holding out a hand to her to help her up.

“I think you’ve kept Akira and the others waiting long enough, Sakura. I just wanted to stop by, but I’ll be heading out now.” He told her in his usual princely attitude. Futaba took his hand shakily, not easily recovered from his passion like he was. He was careful to not pull her to him again. If he got his arms around her, he’d steal her away forever.

“T-Thanks.” Futaba said, the aftereffects of their kisses leaving her body humming. She watched Akechi go before wobbling up the steps towards Akira’s room. She opened the door to see her comrades.

The Phantom Thieves took one look at her, registering the pretty blush, the multiple love bites on her neck, the dazed expression, and couldn’t help but grin.

“So… Futaba.” Akira started, grinning teasingly. “Is Akechi gay?”

Futaba just fainted.

—-

There you go! My first Aketaba! I hope you guys liked it! Let me know if you want me to write more Akechi/Futaba!

#goro x futaba #akechi x futaba #goro akechi #futaba sakura #persona 5 #crack ship #aketaba #persona 5 fanficiton #futago

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winterknights · 7 years

Text

WinterKnights - Anonymous Masterlist

This year's winterknights fest hit a fantastic total of 43 fanworks, including 7 pieces of art, 5 fic/art combos, and 31 fics. A huge thank you goes out to everyone who participated and supported the fest in its third year – you rock. Please continue to enjoy these wonderful creations and share your love with the creators below! Reveals will be going up early next week. ART ♥ When we fell in love, it snowed [Merlin/Arthur – G] They fell in love in winter. ♥ My Yule Tradition [Merlin/Arthur – G] Merlin always loved Yuletide but while Uther was king, the feast was banned from the kingdom. Therefore Arthur decided to celebrate it with Merlin secretly. Ever since that day, they kept their tradition. ♥ One Cup of Sugar, Two Cups of Magic [Merlin/Gwaine – G] Merlin and Gwaine do some Christmas baking! Or rather: Merlin bakes some cookies, and Gwaine is not very helpful. ♥ My Favourite Clotpole [Merlin/Arthur – G] You are my favorite Christmas gift. ♥ Winter Light [Merlin/Arthur – G] Merlin and Arthur enjoy their moments in the warm glow of Christmas lights. ♥ Santa is coming to town [Gwaine – G] Gwaine has a list and he's checking it twice 🎶 ♥ The Set-Up [Merlin/Arthur – G] When it's painfully obvious that two friends like each other and it reaches the point where everyone else starts an intervention that doesn't include actual confrontation that leads to a holiday lunch date with an ill-placed mistletoe. (No one will claim the idea as theirs) ART + FIC ♥ Like an Angel [Merlin/Arthur – 195w – PG-13] Merlin reminisces about his first Christmas with Arthur: a blond angel that fell from the sky! ♥ A Soft Spot [Merlin/Arthur – 889w – M] Arthur tells Merlin he wants to be more than friends. ♥ I get knocked down [Gwen/Morgana – 1248w – G] It was seemingly just another day working at the ice rink for Gwen, helping skaters stay on their feet. She hadn’t bargained on being swept off her own feet. ♥ In the Bleak Midwinter [Balinor/Hunith – 517w – G] Canon AU. Merlin turns up in Ealdor shortly after the events of 2x13, bringing a surprise guest to celebrate Yule with his mother. ♥ Ice Princess [Gwen/Morgana – 1709w – PG] Gwen’s attention is captured by the new girl at the ice rink. FIC ♥ Fried Chicken for Christmas [Merlin/Arthur – 27k – PG-13] When Vivian makes a comment to their friends, insinuating that Arthur is not the most passionate of people, hurt and embarrassed, Arthur decides to make her a homemade Christmas feast to prove that he can be romantic. After he almost sets the building on fire three times, help comes to him in the form of his neighbour from 514, a tall lanky fellow named Merlin, with two of the worst behaved dogs Arthur has ever encountered, who offers to teach him how to cook. Except, as their lessons progress, Arthur slowly comes to realise that Vivian may not be the one he really wants to cook for, but only if he has the courage to let go of all of his fears, and reach for the one thing he truly wants for Christmas. ♥ Shall We Dance? [Merlin/Arthur – 4473w – PG-13] It’s time for the Yule Ball, and Arthur has no idea how he’ll muster up the courage to ask out his crush, Merlin, so he suggests they go as just friends instead. Will it go well, or will there be hurt feelings and broken hearts at the end of the evening? ♥ Underneath the Tree Radio Mix (with some caffeine in between) [Elena/Mithian – 2398w – G] Elena's been pining over Mithian forever. Christmas may be just the time to rip off the plaster and let her know. ♥ A Present (From the Past) to Remember [Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Mordred – 4600w – R] Merlin has searched high and low to find the perfect Christmas present for his boyfriend, but perhaps someone else will appreciate it more. ♥ turn the white snow red [Merlin/Arthur – 7300w – M] There are tears on his cheeks by the time he's finished, but he wipes them away without acknowledgement. Pointless to cry over what must be done. Pointless to waste his tears on a sorcerer. ♥ Ice Bound [Gwaine/Percival – 1279w – G] Gwaine wants Percival to share his passion for skating. ♥ Love, Patience, Valour and Aster [Merlin/Arthur – 5916w – G] It’s the night after Camelot’s Yule celebration and no one even acknowledges that it’s the anniversary of Merlin’s birth. Not Gaius, not Arthur nor the knights. Of course, Arthur seems to have decided that it’s best to start the year as he means to go on, by being an enormous prat. But is he really? ♥ Art Class [pre-Merlin/Arthur – 862w – PG-13] Merlin fills in as a model for Percy's art class; it's as bad as he's expecting, but it's also kind of good. ♥ Let it snow [Merlin/Arthur – 1001w – G] Arthur doesn't like that he has to pick up his sister's Christmas present. The weather makes him even unhappier. ♥ An Arthurian Christmas Carol [Merlin/Arthur – 8514w – PG-13] Merlin hasn’t wanted anything to do with Camelot for many years now. But this winter solstice brings with it a spirit that shows Merlin his self-enforced solitude can bring about nothing but more misery. Merlin must change his ways before all that can be is lost forever. ♥ Just a Little Push for Santa [Merlin/Arthur, various side pairings – 3411w – PG-13] So, yeah, Arthur and Merlin were ridiculous and obvious, and Gwen was drunk and absolutely not responsible for the spillage of words that came from her mouth -- or whatever consequences it brought. ♥ Merlin's New Neighbour [Merlin/Arthur – ~2600w – PG-13] Shaggy blond hair, tall, blue eyes, and the most kissable lips. And shirtless.Talk about lust at first sight. ♥ Be Of Good Cheer [Arthur/Gwen – 935w – G] Canon AU. Camlann is over, and Arthur reigns triumphant over Albion. Gwen basks in the beginning of Camelot’s Golden Age. ♥ The Longest Night [Merlin/Arthur - 3231w - G] After magic is finally legalised in Camelot Merlin wants to make amends to the gods. The Winter Solstice celebrations create a perfect opportunity. ♥ At the Skating Rink [pre-Gwen/Morgana – 717w - G] Gwen's working late, but a few late customers make up for it. ♥ First Time Santa [Merlin/Arthur – 3479w – G] Merlin's never celebrated Christmas, so, maybe - just MAYBE - he's going a little overboard in preparing for his children's first one. As in, making his house look like a Hallmark film site. ♥ Jack Frost nipping at your nose [Merlin/Gwaine, Gwaine/Leon – 1525w - G] In Holly Lane lives a man and his twin daughters and a moody tenant. These have caught the attentions of a certain Guardian of Fun, Merlin Frost, who seems to think that frost and snow are fitting gifts for Christmas. What's going on? ♥ When At First You Don’t Succeed, Try Again x 5 [Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Will (minor) – 8500w – M] Arthur and Merlin have spent five New Year’s Eves together and have yet to kiss for various reasons: they’ve been interrupted, were ill, wanted to take things slow, had to care for a sick parent. Perhaps their sixth New Year’s Eve together will be their lucky charm. ♥ A Timeless Tale [Merlin/Arthur – 6035w – T] Bookshop owner Merlin Emrys had hoped that a Christmas eve snowstorm would mean he could go home early. But not everything goes to plan. Enter, Arthur Pendragon, the last minute shopper from hell. ♥ For Evermore [Merlin/Arthur – 1313w – PG] Merlin promised Arthur he would stay with him on Christmas and he had every intention to follow through. Even if it meant he had to Fall. ♥ Monmouth and Company [Merlin/Arthur – 7300w – PG-13] When property tycoon Uther Pendragon buys the building that houses Merlin's bookshop, it ruins Merlin's Christmas and threatens the whole future of the shop. Luckily he isn't the only one who loves this quirky place where writers can come and stay for free. His friends decide to try and convert Arthur Pendragon to their cause… ♥ Olden Days, Golden Days [Merlin/Arthur – 863w – PG] It’s December 1944 and the Hollywood Canteen is a popular spot for any serviceman looking for a respite from war. Arthur Pendragon, a soldier on sick leave meets an interesting volunteer who changes his night. ♥ It’ll Be Here for Christmas? [Merlin/Morgana – 1285w – G] Merlin orders his girlfriend Morgana the best gift, only it won’t arrive in time for Christmas, so he goes out to find another present. ♥ Oatcakes and Honey [Merlin/Arthur – 1562w – PG] Arthur's offering proves quite pleasing to one of the faerie folk. ♥ Meet Me in the Sky (We Were Waiting for You) [Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Gwaine, Arthur/Gwaine – 3319w – G] Gwaine wants to invite Merlin to the Winter Formal. Merlin's sure the whole thing is aimed at Arthur. Arthur, of course, thinks Merlin is an idiot. ♥ wintercearig [Merlin/Arthur – 16,155w – NC-17] Rise of the Guardians fusion/AU. Arthur always wears at least three layers in the winter, and he sleeps with an electric blanket and the heating on from late autumn until the middle of spring. Of those who know him, Morgana is the only one who notices, but she knows better than to say anything. If asked, Arthur will only claim it’s because he feels the cold more than most people. It's not even really a lie. ♥ The Gift at Yule [Merlin/Arthur – 3882w – G] At Yule Arthur had started a new tradition - changing one of the laws or bringing in a new one. This year he was intending doing something spectacular. Something that would change lives. Especially Merlin’s. ♥ The Yule Feast [Merlin/Arthur, various – 17,927w – NC-17] After famine forces Arthur to cancel the Yule Feast, the knights invite their unhappy king to a special celebration of their own. It's too bad that Merlin has the night off. At least Gwaine is at the party, passing out his special spiced wine—and not off snogging Arthur's servant somewhere, thank the gods. The company is pleasant, the wine potent. But the knights are up to something, and Arthur is too hungry and miserable to deal with it. If only he could figure out what they were having for dinner… ♥ Fated [Merlin/Arthur – 792w – G] To Arthur’s surprise and annoyance, he finds his soulmate on New Year's Eve. ♥ The One That Counts [Merlin/Arthur, other – 2227w – G] Five times Arthur didn't kiss Merlin at New Year's festivities, and the one time he did. ♥ And Then It Came, A Melody [Merlin/Arthur – 775w – G] Merlin wakes up to the new year, where nothing seems to be the same anymore.

#winterknights #winter knights 2017 #anonymous masterlist

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2187nomore · 5 years

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Finn’s Rules & Verses:

I got a request from someone who can’t see my pages while on mobile, so for anyone else having trouble here they are! Note that while I don’t change my rules much (or basically ever lol) the VERSES information here is definitely not going to be up-to-date because I am forever making new aus...but here’s a start, at least, to give you something to explore until you get back to your computers!

Mun is named Nicky and is well over 21. Muse’s age will vary. Multi-ship and multi-verse.

RULES:

Following and Mututals:

This is a sideblog of nickyrp and as such cannot follow back.

We do not need to be mutuals to send memes or starters. Feel free to throw things like that at me at any time even if we’ve never played or plotted before. If I’m not interested or just too busy etc I promise I will let you know politely and not just leave you hanging!

If you want to play please send me a message or toss me a starter; I’m bad at paying attention to my follower count and probably didn’t notice your subtle arrival! Or thought you wanted to lurk idk. Say hi!

If you are a multimuse with a lot of characters or a lot of fandoms all on one url, I may not follow you because that tends to be overwhelming for me. It’s nothing personal nor a comment on your writing style; it’s just more than I can easily keep track of, myself. (That’s why mine are all on their own sideblogs.)

If I can’t read your blog (small text, low-contrast colors, etc) I will not interact with your character. I don’t have the best eyes and straining to read sucks all the fun out of rp. If you need any of my formatting or color choices adjusted for your own ease of accessibility please let me know! I will do so happily.

You can reblog any of my shit (headcanons, graphics, verses, meta, whatever) even if you’re a personal blog, I don’t care; it’s all one fandom imo. That said please don’t reblog my interaction threads with other people because most rp-ers do not like their things reblogged and I want to respect that. If I reblog anything of yours you do not want reblogged just let me know and I will delete it; I promise it’s just because I thought the thing was cool and got excited!

Interactions:

I am always up for trying new things so if you have a crazy idea, please hit me up! I promise I rarely disintegrate anyone.

I am happily open to interacting with Original Characters! I need to know who your character is though, so if you don’t have a bio or background I can find on your blog I’m not going to be interested.

I will not write smut with anyone under the age of eighteen.

If I ever do something that upsets or confuses or offends you, please let me know. It probably wasn’t intentional and I always want to be called out on problematic behavior because how else can I learn to do better? I promise to react apologetically, not defensively.

Formatting:

I’m a visual person so I like icons and gifs and will almost always incorporate them. If you don’t want to use images that’s cool with me, but I majored in comic book art so I enjoy the marriage of words with images. I should further admit that interactions with visuals do tend to keep me more excited than plain ones – I’m shallow!

I’m not a big fan of fancy formatting. I don’t mind if you use it but I don’t. Feel free to adjust my formatting to suit your aesthetic if that makes you more comfortable, but I’ll likely keep mine simple.

If you need any triggers tagged message me and I’ll do so gladly.

I am extremely uncomfortable with reylo due to the fact that I interpreted Rey as being analogous to Jaina Solo within the opening minutes of TFA. If you play either Kylo Ren or Rey and enjoy that ship, I ask that you not reference it in any interactions with my Finn, and furthermore that you tag it so that I can blacklist. Thank you!

Canon & AUs:

I have as of yet read very little of the expanded universe materials for the New Canon (a few comics, the Thrawn novel, etc). As such, my portrayal of Finn may at times be lacking in regards to supplemental canon information. Please never hesitate to inform me of any details relevant to your character or any ongoing/burgeoning threads. I appreciate that assistance!

As far as the Legends EU goes, I have read most of the old novels (excepting NJO period) and many of the Dark Horse comics but that is a lot of material and I do not promise to remember everything. Please let me know if I make a mistake or assumption you do not agree with; I promise I will not be offended!

I will generally default to putting Finn into the canon of the Sequel Trilogy because that is where he comes from, but I am happy to play him in Legends Canon too – just let me know! If you don’t indicate verse/time on a meme or starter, I might pick another verse (or make a new one) so please indicate where you want to play if you have a preference!

I also love making AUs whether canon-divergence or totally off-the-wall so please don’t hesitate to throw new verses my way! I love both plotting and winging-it when building new worlds, so don’t be shy!

Characters Relationships & Shipping:

Platonic Ships: For my interpretation of Finn, friendship takes precedence as the most important thing in his life right now. He never had a chance for much of that in his life before leaving the First Order, and he’s still getting used to the idea of caring about people and being loved in return. So please, bring me all the platonic ships – pals, mentors, comrades, buddies, frenemies – you can think of!

OTPs: My favorite ship would be Finn/Rey/Poe and I would be thrilled to play out some polyshipping. I also like the idea of Finn/Poe and Finn/Rey on their own, and while I don’t think TLJ gave us enough to build a Finn/Rose ship from I would be thrilled to explore that option properly in rp as well. Likewise Finn/Jannah although to be frank I like the idea of Ex-Stormtrooper BFFS even more than Ex-Stormtrooper Lovers, but really anything’s good there! Honestly provided that there is chemistry and a basis in friendship to build the ship from (whether that be formed via interaction or plotted ahead of time), I’m probably down. Interspecies ships with non-human characters are also welcome!

NOTPs: No teacher/student, adult/minor, or incestuous ships, please. Given Finn’s history, I am very unlikely to ship him with any First Order muses in anything outside a massively different AU but I’m not listing them as strict notps because let’s face it: I love AUs.

One-Way Ships: I will never force a ship on you. I expect the same courtesy in return. That said, you are more than welcome to have your character express unrequited romantic feelings toward mine. If it ends up crossing the edges of my comfort zone I’ll let you know!

Main Faceclaim: John Boyega

VERSES:

While I will readily play in canon verses, I am also a big fan of AUs and canon-divergent verses. If you don’t see something here that looks like your cup of caf know that I am always happy to plot out a new one! (Note that while I will always write Finn as being Force Sensitive, he will not always know he is and thus his connection with the Force will vary from verse to verse. Any questions, ask!)

SEQUEL TRILOGY VERSES:

Pulled the Trigger (alt-TFA): FN-2187 did not enjoy the battle – the slaughter – on Jakku, but he did what he was trained for. It didn’t matter that it made him sick. He obediently returned to Jakku to search for a droid and found more than he’d bargained for: a girl who thrashed half his unit with nothing but a stick. 2187 eventually got the drop on her but Kylo Ren’s impatience sent an airstrike, and in the ensuing chaos 2187 had no option but to pretend the reason he hadn’t shot Rey was because he was a Resistance sympathizer. They fled together and returned to the Finalizer to rescue the droid’s master. 2187 figured he would tag along and turn them in as soon as he got a chance…but they succeeded in their mission, and the longer he spent with the Resistance, the more he began to think he didn’t want to leave. Too bad he’s already reported their destination to the First Order…

The Newest Hope (alt-TFA): Finnick Peckhum has always been able to hear the voice of the Force. For years, he tried to ignore it – but eventually the call was too loud. Finn followed it Ahch-To, to Luke Skywalker. The self-exiled Jedi Master was reluctant to train a new student after Kylo Ren, but even he could not deny the will of the Force itself and gave-in, teaching Finn the Jedi arts – but another call summoned him back. The young Jedi Knight arrived on Jakku just in time to help a scavenger escape a First Order patrol. Finn heard the Force in Rey too, and knew he had to train her in the ways of the Force – and to find the Resistance led by Luke’s sister, Leia. With a Jedi Knight and his Padawan on their side, the Resistance finally stands a real chance. Together he and Rey will take the fight to Kylo Ren, intending to right the balance he upset with his turn to the Dark…one way or the other.

Another Kriffing Farmboy (alt-TFA): growing-up with a loving, hard-working family on a planet so far from galactic civilization it might as well not even be on the charts, Finn Peckhum never gave much thought to politics – until the First Order bombed Ennth and destroyed everything he ever loved. Frightened of their overwhelming might, Finn gave no thought to revenge until yet another low-paying freighter job took him to Jakku where he crossed paths with a droid and a scavenger desperate for a ride off-world. Agreeing to smuggle them in the ship he worked on in exchange for a hefty reward seemed like a chance to safely tweak the First Order’s nose until they blew up that ship, too, leaving Finn and his new allies to flee in the first wreck they could get their hands on. As things got more and more dangerous, Finn kept meaning to leave – but somehow, he never got around to it, and the next thing he knew General Organa was handing him a blaster and welcoming him to the fight…

There Is Another (alt post-TFA): while the lightsaber never called to him the way it did Rey, something helped him retain his humanity through the First Order’s brainwashing; something helped him hold his own against Kylo Ren with a weapon he barely understood…and that something was the Force. While Rey was off seeking Master Skywalker, General Organa helped tutor Finn in his own Force skills while his body knitted itself back together under the tender ministrations of Resistance medtechs. He might never be able to able to best a true master of the Force, not without more thorough training anyway, but Kylo Ren was no Darth Vader. And with the new lightsaber he’s just completed, Finn can’t wait for a rematch with the monster who almost severed his spine and broke his teacher’s heart…

Trusted Leadership (alt-TLJ): most of the Resistance’s leadership was lost in the explosion that wounded General Organa, but General Antilles had always been a cockpit warrior himself and hadn’t been anywhere near the ship’s bridge. When Poe took the plan he, Finn, and Rose had concocted to him, Wedge was happy to put his own resources behind the scheme and with a reliable slicer in tow, they infiltrated the Supremacy and shut down the tracking program, allowing the Resistance to escape. Holdo was furious with Antilles but he had the rank to whether her temper, and thanks to the timely arrival of Rey and Chewbacca in the Millennium Falcon, the infiltration crew made it back to the fleet only a little the worse for wear. The Resistance went to ground to lick its wounds and plan its next strike against the First Order, and Finn was officially inducted into the fight by a recovered Organa.

The First Pebble (alt post-TLJ): no one ever gave much thought to stormtroopers as people, not the First Order or the Resistance either. They were just there, anonymous and disposable shock troopers…but they weren’t. And Finn proved that both to the galaxy and to his former comrades. Within the stormtrooper ranks, his choice started a revolution. When word got around that he had even bested the mighty Phasma, not once but twice, well…it made all but the most strident diehards take notice. Now Finn wasn’t just some ordinary defector; he was a rallying cry. The first time a stormtrooper unit got in touch with a request for help defecting, Finn thought it was a fluke – but Poe Dameron knew better. He knew this was the start of an avalanche that might bring the First Order down from the inside…if Finn is brave enough to make himself the face of this new revolution.

Matched Lightsabers (alt TROS): in the wake of the Resistance’s near-obliteration on Crait, the survivors have to work harder than ever – which in Finn’s case means more than just running missions and pitching revolt to stormtroopers. It means training with Rey and Leia in the use of the Force. He was an uncertain, reluctant apprentice – but Leia was adamant that he learn, and Finn could no more say no to the General than to the Force itself. Confidence was his biggest hurdle. What business did a former stormtrooper have learning to master the Jedi arts? It wasn’t until he and Rey walked onto Exogol that Finn finally admitted to himself that he was a Jedi – a declaration that nearly killed him. Together, they managed to defeat the half-resurrected Palpatine and restore peace to the galaxy. Now Finn faces his biggest challenge: how to teach as well as learn.

The Next Jedi (post TROS): Finn never expected to become the first apprentice of the New Jedi Order – never really wanted it, if he’s honest. But the Force had been whispering in his ear for years and eventually, that whisper became a shout he could not ignore. Even with the First Order crushed to ash and dust, there is plenty to be done patching the galaxy back into shape and building a new government to keep people both safe and free; plenty of things for Finn to focus on instead of his training, working with Poe and Rose and Kaydel and Chewbacca…but Rey is stubborn, and so is the Force. Even if it scares him as much as it entices him, Finn is going to have to learn…and alongside his friend and teacher, someday construct a lightsaber of his own.

Stormtrooper Advocate (post TROS): Finn knows that Rey wants him to focus on his Jedi training while Poe and Rose want his help with their diplomatic efforts – but Finn knows who really needs him now: all the lost stormtroopers recruits who need to dig their way out of the First Order’s brainwashing and learn to be people. It’s a lot of trauma to recover from; a lot of indoctrination to unlearn. Alongside Jannah and her crew of defectors, Finn is spearheading the reclamation effort. Whether that means designing programs for prisoners, negotiating cease-fires with stranded units, taking whole bases down with stun-blasts for forceful deprogramming, or just giving broken kids someone to talk to, Finn won’t give up on these people. They're his people and it’s his responsibility to save them. If he doesn’t, who else is going to care?

Running All His Life (alt post-TROS): as long as Finn could remember, he’s been running away from something…but it wasn’t until facing Kylo Ren in battle that he realized that something was the Force – and that realization terrified him. Watching Rey struggle to master Leia’s teachings and learning more about how Ben Solo had become the monster in his nightmares only cemented that fear, and Finn did everything he could to deny what he’d long known was true: he could feel the Force, too. He knew he was being a coward, letting Rey face that burden alone; lashed-out at Poe for keeping secrets about his past out of guilt for his own silence…but he couldn’t, daren’t, admit the truth to anyone. When Rey tried to tell him she could sense the Force in him, he denied it; when she started searching for Force Sensitives to train, he threw himself into his work rebuilding a galactic government alongside Poe, Rose, and Jannah instead. But every day the voice of the Force in his head is getting louder; how long can he keep running?

A Knight Of Ren (alt Trilogy): the First Order tests all their stolen “recruits” for Force potential, and they found it in the one designated FN-2187. Trained alongside the next generation of the Knights of Ren – mostly taken from the First Order’s youthful conscripts, some gathered along the way – to wield the Dark Side and serve Snoke and Kylo Ren, Finn was loyal and devoted…and troubled. While he was a strong Force user, he could never fully commit to the power of the Dark Side; never completely embrace it. Knowing that his doubts made him weak, he did his best to push them away…but then he met the girl from Jakku, and his whole world went sideways.

LEGENDS EU VERSES:

Rebel Defector: just because snubfighter jockeys and ranking officers made the splashiest exits when they left Imperial service didn’t mean they were the only ones. For stormtrooper conscript FN-2187, the Empire was the only option – until stunts like the Rand Ecliptic and monstrosities like Alderaan changed his mind. Getting away from the Empire alive wasn’t easy, but when Finn was assigned guard duty for a Rebel prisoner he knew his chance had come. Talking half his unit into coming with him and dosing the other half in stun blasts, he marched the prisoner onto a Lambda-shuttle for transfer to the Lusankya…and then the rebellious stormtroopers overpowered the Imperial pilots, opened the Rebel’s binders, and jumped to freedom. Adjusting to service in the Rebellion’s infantry was difficult, but not as difficult as carrying-out Imperial orders. And maybe someday, he’ll make up for what he did for the Empire and can go on to have a normal life at last. (for Rebellion and New Republic-era interactions)

More Coming Soon! like literally as soon as soon as someone asks for or suggests one, I love AUs. Don’t be shy!

#rules #verses #rp style #ooc ramblings #for mobile users

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daebakinc · 7 years

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Mercy - Pt 2

Please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart. Even though you don’t mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC Genre: College AU, angst, romance, Summary: After a homework mix-up, you agree to tutor Jungkook in math in exchange for him tutoring you in dance. In more ways than one, you get much more than you bargained for. Parts: 1, 2 A/N: Some swearing. Also, I’m really sorry this has been delayed! I had some writer’s block&even after I finished, I couldn’t get to internet to post it. It’s one of the downsides to living more than 30 min from civilization. TT-TT

That night is indeed the start of a chain of events. The primary one of those events is that you and Jungkook spend almost every night of the next three months together. The only exception is game nights when he devotes himself to video games. However, even on the weekends, you somehow wind up spending several hours with him in that small studio.

Normally, your non-existent social life confines your comfort zone to your single room. That’s not to say you’re a crotchety hermit. You do have a few friends you love dearly, but most of the time you prefer your own company. But for whatever reason, Jungkook renders that rule null and void.

When you could spend time by yourself, you find you’d rather spend that time with him. Jungkook practices almost all hours of the day when he doesn’t have class, but he doesn’t mind you perching in the corner on the mats to work on your own things while he does so. He often forgets you’re even there. His eyes are fixed on his body in the mirror, following its movements, fine tuning them to be a perfect physical manifestation of the music.

It’s one of the most mesmerizing things you’ve ever seen. You learn for every ounce of talent he has, Jungkook puts in just as much hard work to honing it into true art. His dedication, his drive for constant improvement is just one of the many aspects of his you grow to genuinely admire. So too is his ability to give.

Mutual tutoring still happens, just not every day. You quickly discover alternating how you devote your time works better. One night for dance, the next for math. Trying to fit both in equally in one involves too much clock watching for either of you. Still, Jungkook makes sure that for every minute you help him in Pre-Calculus, he oversees your dancing, especially during midterms, which you both do passably well on.

Although your arrangement is casual, he still takes his teaching seriously. He goes as far as to devise floor exercises specially for you to practice a specific element. As he said the first night, he focuses on “baby steps.” Engrain the basics in your muscles so they become the building blocks of second nature. Sometimes you see Jungkook get frustrated, but he never verbalizes it. He just gives his head a jerky shake to roll it off and moves on. He’ll either demonstrate the correct movement himself, slowly, or guide your pliant limbs through it. The smile he gives you when you succeed on your own is worth every pull of sore leg muscles and drop of sweat.

After your respective sessions, you usually stay there to do other work as well. The long trek to your dorm is off-putting in the face of the studio’s coziness.

You’ll sprawl out side by side on mats you dragged onto the floor. Snacks litter the space between you, within easy reach and shared indiscriminately. After all, everyone needs breaks to focus on something else.

When you are working on math, you share a book. It makes helping Jungkook through trouble problems easier. At first, you keep a certain distance, never allowing your head to brush his as you both huddle over his paper. Within the second month of your friendship, that habit flips on its head.

Jungkook crosses the invisible wall he unconsciously presented first. You’re doing some reading for English while he’s reading for his history. You don’t pay attention when you see him wriggling around. Then a weight settles on your back. Small but worthy of notice. You stop mid-sentence in your notes and look back.

Jungkook’s head is settled in the at the bottom of your arched spine. His lips move as he reads, the fringe of his bangs half-covering his eyes, completely unself-conscious. A heat like the first sip of hot chocolate, burning hot then gratifyingly warm, bursts into bloom in your heart and overflows to settle in the pit of your stomach. You hurriedly look back at your notes before you can think about it too much.

What you thought was a fluke turns into new routine. One of you is always leaning, lying, or touching the other while studying. The relaxing power of simple human touch is one you always underestimated, but no longer. Resting your head in Jungkook’s lap or propping your back against his makes you feel homely, or in simple language, just plain good.

That should have been your smack in the back of the head. You should have seen it coming, but the most troubling development of your new friendship nonetheless catches you off guard: you fall in love with Jungkook.

It isn’t the kind of realization where the heavens open up with a blinding ray of sunlight to enhalo your enlightenment. It’s more like a jigsaw puzzle, minute pieces of his character coming together to overtake your heart.

Jungkook’s passion for everything he loves, from dancing to video games. His cute bunny smile that crinkles his eyes and is at odds with the rest of him. His humility despite his accomplishments so that a compliment from you still makes him blush and cast his eyes down. His little acts to take care of you when he thinks you won’t notice. Bit by bit, you unknowingly give your heart away.

You are very good at keeping this secret from yourself. Denial is key. You tell yourself he is only a friend. You tell yourself the little shiver you now feel wherever Jungkook’s hands cover your skin or his chest presses against your back to demonstrate a movement is imagined. You tell yourself you catch yourself looking at him too long because any warm-blooded female would.

But then, Jungkook does something that has your heart pounding too loud for you to ignore.

During one of the rare times you aren’t in the studio with Jungkook, he slips in a puddle of sweat and falls. Luckily, he only twists his ankle. But it’s bad enough that the doctor wraps it and gives him crutches to use for a few days. He grumbles about it, but for fear of the wrath of his dance professor, he uses them.

Crutches mean dancing is off the table. Despite how close you’ve become, you still partially expect this to also mean you won’t see Jungkook as much. Instead, the same day, he shows up at your work during the last few hours of your shift.

You look up to greet the customer when the bell dings. The words stick in your throat at the sight of him. He waves at you and parks himself at a small table tucked in the corner by the coffee machines with his books. You hurry to chalk your suddenly irregular heartbeat to too much caffeine and return your attention to the line in front of you. No time for that.

When the stream of customers lulls, you slip out from behind the counter with cleaning rag and coffee in hand. Jungkook jumps when you set the coffee in front of him. “Columbian, iced, no milk, with a dash of sugar. Am I right?”

He nods and sets his phone down. He looks nice and snug in a black and red striped sweater that half hangs off his shoulder. Smiling he says, “I can’t believe you remembered that. Thanks.”

You laugh and tap your head. “It’s literally my job.”

“And you’ve got an elephant brain.” Jungkook takes a sip, giving an appreciative sigh. He glances at you with a frown. “Is it alright for you to do this?”

“It was time to brew a new pot.” You shrug. “It would’ve gone down the drain anyway. Besides, it’s not like you were going to buy anything.”

“I could’ve.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

He drops his indignant expression under your skeptical gaze and laughs. “You’re right. You’re right. I just needed to get out of the room and no one else is in theirs.”

“In other words, I was your last option. Thanks.” You huff in pretend hurt and turn away, secretly grinning when he grabs your arm.

“You know that’s not true,” Jungkook whines playfully. You can tell without looking he’s pouting in that nearly irresistible way. He doesn’t intend to be charming. It’s just a fortunate, or maybe unfortunate, effect.

Chuckling, you shake him off and stick your tongue out at him. “Yeah, yeah. See if you get any more coffees on the house out of me now, kid.”

Jungkook waits until you’re behind the counter again before calling your name. When you look up, he wiggles finger hearts at you with both hands. It’s a herculean effort not to giggle helplessly. Clearly taking your smile as forgiveness, he flips to thumbs up and returns his attention to his phone.

As both of you knew, your threat proves empty. Every new brewing means a refill if he needs it. You keep your eye on the math homework spread before him as well. Jungkook does do half of it, but once he gets frustrated with a problem, his phone is in hand two seconds later. The way his eyes dart around the screen clues you in that he’s playing a game. When he catches you catching him, he gives you a sheepish smile and goes back to the homework like a scolded schoolboy.

After the fifth time you find him playing a game, you glance at the clock and tell him, “It’s only ten minutes until we close. If you want, just leave the rest and we’ll do them in my room.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t even know if I did the ones I did right.”

“Pack up your stuff. I’ll carry it for you when we leave.” On second thought, you look around to find your coworker. Maybe she’ll let you leave early if you promise to do the same for her another night. Instead, you see someone you’d rather not heading for the door.

Many of your regulars come in solely for the coffee, wifi, and peaceful atmosphere. All they want to recharge their batteries in peace. They’re generally polite and don’t give you any trouble.

Nick is one of those regulars who’s the exception to the rule. He’s a graduate student, something he never fails to mention at least once a visit. Regardless of who serves him, he always has a sly comment that he obviously thinks is charmingly flirty. The predatory gleam in his eye makes them anything but. However, he carefully toes the line of harassment so a complaint won’t be taken seriously by management or the school administration. You wouldn’t exactly call him rude or even ugly, but the word ‘slimy’ comes up often when you and the other female baristas complain to each other about his latest advance.

Another frantic look around confirms your coworker must be in the back. Swallowing your discomfort, you plaster on the ‘I must be nice because you pay my bills’ smile anyone who’s held a job in customer service knows.

“Good evening, Nick. You’re cutting it close,” you say. You hide your hands out of sight, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to relieve the anxious discomfort in your chest.

“Working on that masters’ thesis,” he replies smoothly. He leans an elbow on the counter and smiles at you. “But I hit a block and decided I need caffeine and a beautiful face to get myself around it.”

You subtly shift away and ignore his comment. Keeping your eyes on the register to avoid Nick’s, you ask, “The usual?”

“You know it, babe.”

When you tell him the total, Nick already has a large bill ready. It’s a fight to keep from shuddering at how his fingers drag along your palm as he hands you the money. He does it again when you give him his change. You really want to scrub your hands clean after.

Since you’re still by yourself, making his coffee provides a reason to turn your back on him. You still feel his gaze boring into your back. Jungkook catches your eye when you go back to the machines. There’s a small frown on his face that lets you know he heard the conversation. He knows you aren’t comfortable someone using pet names with you unless you’re extremely close. After so many nights observing your body, he can read the tension bunched in your shoulders as well.

You look away and focus on making the coffee.

Nick’s voice grates your nerves when he unexpectedly says, “Hey, love. I’ve got a question for you.”

You add some extra flourishes of your hands so he’ll think you can’t look away from your work. “Yes, sir?”

“Please, ‘sir’ is my father. There’s only one situation I like being called that. Here, I’m just Nick.” His chuckle invites you to laugh at his wit. When you give him a half-hearted laugh, he continues, “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve come to the conclusion we should go on a date, so I’m going to need your number.”

Your hand jerks. Milk drips down the side of the cup and onto the counter. His demand surprises you, but at the same time, it doesn’t. You just really wish he hadn’t said anything. Conflict, or even the possibility of it, sets your stomach churning and your body trembling every time.

Taking your time, you wipe off his cup and securely place the lid on it. Your best work smile is back in place when you turn around and hand his drink to him. “I’m sorry, Nick, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Nick frowns, recovering quickly. He doesn’t even look at his drink. “Why?”

“It wouldn’t be professional behavior. I’m sorry, but no, thank you.” You turn your back on him again to start cleaning the splattered milk and coffee.

Nick follows you, leaning against the small glass partition. “Come on, just write it on my cup or something discreet like that.” His tone grows annoyed as he says, “If you didn’t want me to ask you out, why’re you always flirting with me? Men don’t like it when women string them along like a stupid tease.”

“It’s called doing her job.” Jungkook suddenly slides himself in front of the other man, forcing him backwards and away from you. Even leaning on one crutch, he cuts an intimidating figure.

“Are you her boyfriend?” Nick asks cautiously, eyeing the lines of muscle Jungkook’s T-shirt expose.

“No.”

The haughtiness returns to Nick’s voice. He puffs his chest and says, “Then this is none of your business. Butt out.”

You glance around, glad it’s almost closing so the shop is empty. Heart beating and clamminess taking over your skin, you whisper, “Jungkook, you really don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“If he’s harassing you, you shouldn’t have to put up with it.” Shifting his attention back to your suitor, Jungkook gives him a cold look. You’ve never seen such a look on your friend’s face. “She’s in the customer service industry. She has to smile and be nice to everyone or she’ll get reprimanded. Don’t you think it’s hard enough for her to act happy all the time to creeps like you who make her uncomfortable by coming onto her? Whether or not she has a boyfriend shouldn’t matter either. If you only respect her right to say ‘no’ because you think she’s another man’s property, no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend. Go educate yourself and get a fucking life.”

Your and Nick’s jaws drop. You manage to snap yours back into place, but Nick’s stays open like a suffocating fish’s. He stares at Jungkook a second longer before grabbing his order and slinking away with slumped shoulders.

Jungkook keeps his eyes on Nick’s back until the door closes behind him. He then turns to you, concern filling his gaze as he studies you. “Are you okay?”

You nod, hoping the wonder you’re feeling isn’t showing too badly. “Yes. Thanks. Really, you didn’t have to though.”

“Yes, I did,” Jungkook says firmly. “No one should get away with behavior like that.”

Intellectually, you know that. But standing up for yourself is a habit you’re still working on, and someone else defending you is unprecedented. His actions make you feel special and loved, another sensation you’re unused to. It’s indescribable. Before you cry from gratitude and emotion, you nod again and rush to lock the door so you can clean up, close up, and spend more time with Jungkook.

You’re both quiet on the slow, chilly walk back to the dorm. It reminds you of your first walk together. This time though, Jungkook takes the initiative and speaks first. His light-hearted recounting of a botched routine he and his friend Jimin made is clearly an attempt to make you feel better. You’re thankful for it and play along until you are calm and happy again.

A few hours and hot chocolates later, when your heads are hitting the paper more often than your pencils, it’s finally time to part company. You follow Jungkook to the door after he packs his things into his bookbag, stopping short when he turns around. Jungkook props one crutch against the doorframe and pulls you into his chest.

“Tell me if that guy ever bothers you again, understand? I’ll take care of it,” he says softly into your hair. He squeezes you tighter. “You deserve better than that.”

Although you’re unsure if you can keep that promise, you reply, “I will. Thank you.” You let yourself nestle closer into his soft hoodie and the safety of his arms.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

After you wave goodbye and close the door, you slump against it. Your heartbeat ripples through your body from head to toe. It disturbs the long-asleep butterflies in your stomach and sends them into flight. Your mind buzzes with what you’re finally admitting to yourself. Jeon Jungkook is most definitely nestled in your heart with no intentions of leaving. And you have no idea what to do about it.

‘Torturous’ is the only word that can describe the consequent debate you have with yourself. To tell Jungkook or not to tell Jungkook, that is the question. You’ve witnessed firsthand how flustered he gets when a pretty girl so much as walks past him. His mouth seals up like a safe. Suddenly, he studies the floor like it has all the answers in the world. For Jungkook to close himself off from you in this manner all because you strung three innocent words of a confession together would break you.

But to open the door for your relationship to become something more…. To be able to hold his hand when you walk together, to kiss his nose just because you feel like it, to curl up in his lap during late night movies. Your dreams may be small, but they are more tempting than all the treasure of Ali Baba’s forty thieves. Maybe you are greedy or weak, but those small things are all you can think of. Their constant invasion of your conscious makes you distracted, enough so Jungkook comments on it during your tutoring. You brush it off as being tired or thinking of an assignment, breathing a sigh relief when he lets it go each time.

By the end of the week, you can’t take it. You are going to tell Jungkook. You have hope if it doesn’t go well, he won’t abandon you. It’s in your prayers every night.

You’re still building up the courage to follow your decision when, one night, Jungkook bursts through the studio door. He looks bewildered and a little shell-shocked.

“Are you okay?” You rise from your seat on the mats immediately.

He nods his head but says, “No.” Jungkook drops his bag right at the door, strides over to you, and collapses. He closes his eyes as he leans against the mirrors. “You’re never going to believe what happened.”

“What?”

Jungkook sits up to look at you. “A girl just asked me out to the winter dance. Me!”

“Oh.” Your heart stops. You suddenly feel queasy.

“I know, right?” His words come faster as he babbles, “She’s an upperclassman and super hot too. Really, really good ballet dancer. We don’t even have a class together. I see her sometimes when I go talk to Professor Duncan, but I hadn’t even talked to her before now. It’s crazy.”

Already dreading the answer, you ask, “Did you say ‘yes’?” You hold your breath waiting for his answer.

He shrugs. “Well, yeah. How could I say no?”

“Yeah.” You shrink into yourself, a fist pulverizing your heart with each breath. Still, you smile through the pain and give him a forced, “Congrats.”

“Thanks, I think.” Half of Jungkook’s mouth turns upwards. He leans down to rest his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, cocking his head to study you. “You really think it was a good idea to say ‘yes’? What if I screw this up?”

“You won’t. It’s only a dance.” But in your mind, it’s much more. It’s your chance to reveal your feelings to Jungkook slipping away like quicksand.

His smile becomes whole and turns into a grin. “You’re right. It’s only a dance. Not like I agreed to marry her,” he giggles. “Wait til I tell everyone else an upperclassman asked me out!”

The thought makes you want to vomit but you laugh along. You don’t even know this girl but you envision her being everything you are not and everything Jungkook could want. All your plans and hopes are being dashed. Yet because Jungkook seems happy, you have no choice but to stand there and watch them turn to dust underfoot.

#jungkook scenarios #kpopwritingnet #bts scenarios #kpop scenarios #jungkook #bts #jeon jungkook

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drag-family-trees · 7 years

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Wreck Room Idol Meet the Performers (Part 1 of 3)

In NO PARTICULAR ORDER, here are the contestants for the comeback of WreckRoom Idol! Do you have early favs?

Alexander, age 21

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

What attracted me to drag was the Glamour and beauty of everyone even the king's I started doing drag as a queen and found myself as male being transgender female to male it makes me feel like I belong somewhere.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

My drag Persona is kind of dark kinda nerdy kind of cool he tries too hard to be liked by everyone. My stepdad influence is my drag he's always trying to win the favor of my brother and sister. Also music helps me feel secure.

How has drag impacted your life?:

Drag has impacted my life in helping me gain a family and great friends. It has also helped me become more true to myself and showing me that it doesn't matter who you are or what you do but you can be what you love.

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

I wanted to get into Idol because I know I will do well at it I feel like I can showcase myself and be true to myself..

Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

Expect more than you bargained for with Alexander you will see me and expect some punk rock songs but I will pull pop or even classic rock.

Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, why?:

I haven't honestly watched any of the previous Idols I don't want to psych myself out.

Quick catchphrase: GO!:

My catchphrase would probably have to be “oh shit!” because I don't really pay attention a lot of the time.

Porcelain Vahjeen, 22

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

I’ve always been attracted to drag because of the glamour and because the confidence that the Queen’s exuded. I always wanted to be able to have that confidence and really to be able to push myself and do things that made me uncomfortable and drag was a way for me to be able to do that and also to grow as a person along the way.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

If I had to describe my drag persona I would say porcelain is a space alien who came down to be a Stepford wife, It didn’t really work out so she took up stripping to raise money for the hungry orphans on her planet. I take a lot of my inspiration from either men or women really who either exuded the confidence that I want to show, had/have a glamorous lifestyle that I want or they’re just particularly funny. I would say other drag queens are where the majority of my inspiration comes from. I don’t particularly look to any specific person or group of people. It’s just always inspiring for me to see a queen go out in an unconventional outfit and a song the audience barely knows and turn it into something beautifully entertaining.

How has drag impacted your life?:

Drag has made me more confident as Tyler, it has also made me more aware of the way women and the LGBT community get treated negatively. I believe because of drag I have learned more of the important political parts of the LGBT community and it has given me a whole new meaning as to why I do drag. It makes me want to get involved and stand out in the community. All to further not only LGBT rights but also women’s rights. Drag has also been a way for me to find other people who are like me and who are interested in the same things that I am. it has built friendships are strong and valuable to me that I never would have had them without some heels and a wig.

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

I decided to compete because the Wreckroom is where I started and I would like to show my appreciation for the Wreck. Once it closed myself and other underage queens and Kings really had nowhere to go. I would like to be able to do my part in making the WreckRoom be successful and to stay that safe haven for those underage baby Kings and queens who can’t get into the 21+ bars yet.

. Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

Do you remember the first time you tried to make an omelette and it turned into scrabbled eggs, but you ate it anyways? I am scrabbled eggs and this is going to be delusions.

Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

Season 3, Alotta Vahjeen. For obvious reasons. Without Alotta I wouldn’t be where I am today. Not only is she my drag mother, but she’s also my roommate and one of my best friends. Without her I don’t believe I would be able to show the confidence that I have now. My face would probably still be a big mess as well.

Quick catchphrase: GO!:

If at first you don't succeed, destroy the evidence...

Jupiter Marie Halliwell, 21

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

Since I was young I always enjoyed dressing up and being someone I wasn’t. I mean everyone loves playing pretend and playing dress up when they are kids and to me drag is the adult version of that. It’s about letting my creativity shine and spreading love through breaking societal rules. Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

My drag persona is a character in and of herself. She’s a character from a novel series I’m writing. She’s queen of a planet who lost her husband on an interstellar honeymoon and got stranded on Earth. Rock and Roll is the bigger influence as far as aesthetic goes. My biggest local influences would be queens like Jak’Kay Monroe and Alotta Vahjeen. Overall, my main inspirations stem from rock and roll artists, like Maria Brink, Lzzy Hale, Dorothy, and tons more.

How has drag impacted your life?:

Its been a negative and a positive, I’ve met a ton of amazing people through drag and I’ve grown some much as a person. On the negative side, I’ve definitely made bad choices spending money I shouldn’t have on drag. Over all it’s been most definitely a positive experience that I wouldn’t ever change.

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

it’s been a lot standing dream of mine since I first stepped on the WreckRoom stage in 2015 as Franchesca. I have heard so many amazing stories about the competition and I’ve know plenty of former competitors who have gone on to do amazing things with their drag career. Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

A glimpse of what people should expect me from? As I said, I love Rock and Roll, but I’m more than meets the eye. As they say, “Expect the unexpected.” Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

Overall, no, specifically because I loved each winner for their own unique reasons, and I can’t say one is better or more my favorite than any of the others.

Quick catchphrase, GO!!: I’m out of my world. I’m out of my mind. Running through space and running through time.

Mikayla Kanielle, 26

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

The escape from the "normal" world is why I enjoy it most. I love being different. My friend Phillip, aka Gizele Monáe inspired me to do it most. He painted me for my first show and let me teach myself from there. A main reason why I started and continued doing it is that I want to be leader for the community. To build myself into a respectable entertainer. Thats something I think Gizele has done and I'd like to make her proud and be the best I can be.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

I say this from time to time but I'm the "Kakashi" of drag. Simply put, anything I see someone do and I want to do it, I will! Most of the inspiration I get comes from my sisters, Lyza LaRue, Krystal Naomi, Shalula Minaj(Queen), and Iman Naomi. Just by watching them I've learned how to better my makeup skills, crafting, and my performances.

. How has drag impacted your life?:

Drag has given me this kind of purpose. I've tried a few other things in my young life but nothing makes me as happy. Crafting and creating things makes me feel almost best. But when it all comes together perfectly on stage, there's no better feeling!

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

Having seen Queens and Kings compete, whether they won or lost develop into a better performer. Also building a platform and proving to myself that I can do this. I can rise to the challenge.

Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

Effort, Vigilance, and Expression.

Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

Mine would definitely be Season 3 winner, Alotta Vahjeen. Even though she calls herself a trash monster she's still consistent, evolved and polished for her craft. She knows she is and her worth as an entertainer while still encouraging us that are still learning.

Quick catchphrase: GO!

"I'm Mikayla Kanielle baby, and I Can·yell"

Dahlia Black, 19

What attracts you to drag? How and why did you start doing drag?:

Pretty much the first time I ever got attracted to drag was the Halloween show two years ago. For me it's like for one night a week, I can be whoever I feel like.

Describe your drag persona. Who and what influences your art?:

My drag persona is pretty much a combination of the powerhouses in the pop music industry. You know who they are, Britney spears, Katy Perry, Beyonce, etc.

How has drag impacted your life?:

Drag has impacted my life by boosting my self esteem, also it's a place for me to blow off steam.

Why did you decide to compete in WreckRoom Idol?:

I decided to compete in WreckRoom Idol because I've always had a pep in my step. I figured I could let that rub off on other people.

Can you give me a glimpse at what people can expect from you in this competition?:

Hmmmm.. A glimpse of the competition... color. Lots of color. Oh. And many many many impersonations.

Do you have a favorite WreckRoom Idol? If so, who and why?:

Honestly I don't have a favorite idol, they're all huge influences and it wouldn't be fair to just pick one.

Quick catchphrase, GO!:

Too much glitter in this room I presume.

#wreckroom idol #oklahoma city #drag #drag queen #drag king

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pressednpeeled · 5 years

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5 ways rap has influenced your life.

“She's dead! She's gone forever, and YOU killed her!” cried out an angry old hip-hop head at a young man cruising by bumping new music labeled “mumble rap.” In This colorful age of constant change, there is no room for ignorance and discrimination of art, it is all after all, art. Leaning on being a sport today, rap and hip hop communities have divided themselves by confusing themselves with an old school new school divide. Old school considering “good hip hop and rap” to only be music done by the pioneers, new school being more attached to a feel or vibe of the musical context. While many rap veterans did drop the first wave of influence, nothing will ever go unchanged, especially social expression outlets.That being said we have to understand that the older fans relate so loyally to older music, because it paints memories of a very alive, important time in their lives.

In this listicle I will cover the significance of raps influence on American culture. I will go over some history of hip-hop, and its political influence that has influenced the nation culture deeply. We will touch on rap not only being a genre, but a verb as well. We will cover it's subcultures and the competitive side of the art that has kept this genres heart beating.

The corporate world catalyzed the culture into economical prevalence, in turn officially commercialized rap. With rap on the rise due somewhat to corporate influence, the topics began to degrade and became financially arrogant. The newest artists were getting views based on flashy appearances and being antagonistically controversial, not for honed skills. Like a blessing in disguise, this allowed bad examples to be displayed and criticized, suddenly,we were able to truly appreciate skilled Artists again. One could understand how the older generations opinions became judgmental, then stagnant as they fell into the generational cycle and fulfilled their destiny. We must also consider that older listeners are generally less familiar with technological advances and therefore decline to discover newer rhyme that isn't negatively publicized.

When Nas label the genre “dead” in 2006 many older fans were confused: they simply couldn't accept the fact that culture (and along with culture, music) does not stay the same forever; it outgrows us; it outruns us. Furthermore sub genres that confuse older crowds are what make up a lot of prevalent music today. That being said, rap has had some awful productions in recent years, experimenting with new technology, motivations, styles and of course corporate influence. The record labels saw financial opportunities and began taking over artistic moves and filtering genuine content as if they designed the artists. As time goes on new artists emerge that remind us what great hip hop or rap are.

Here are 5 reasons Hip-Hop is alive, well, and actually doing better than ever before.

Rap is a verb. performance, a sport, an activity a past time, rap has been considered all of these things at some point or another. It was a way to express or deliver a message to others that conveys energy intelligence, and creativity. Writer Doran Rosenberg talks about how hip hops basics evolved culturally and organically. People rapped for the love of expression, to explore uncharted artistic depths, and to paint a beautiful portrait with words. Then unfortunately Rap was exploited by corporations seeking financial success over artistic quality. This is the main reason the genre has struggled lyrically over the last few years with the addition of some psycho social implications that began to shift the reason artists began making music in the first place. While people began wanting to do it for the glory, riches and fame, the love for the craft and unique self expression became unpopular sadly.

.https://www.elitedaily.com/music/music-news/critics-are-crying-the- decline-of-rap-is-hip-hop-really-dead.

2. Rap is a part of america's political history and a beacon for social issues

Rap is not only is an artistic venue, but also serves as a political beacon for inner city communities to express things going on that the rest of the world, doesn't see. On theodysseyonline.com Bailey Marshal speaks on the old rap coming back threw new, rappers like Kendrick Lamar, who proved rap is merely a reflection of society and a true form of art.

https://www.theodysseyonline.com/why-hip-hop-isnt-dead

Lamar is one of the few rappers in a very very long time to use the power of politics threw his works. Comparable to N.W.A. in the way they reflected on police brutality and social problems when racial injustice in Ghetto communities began to catch attention during the 1980′s. Most of the country had no idea these issues were happening until N.W.A made The problems public in 1988 with the song “Fuck The Police,” loud, offensive and boisterous but these Hero were actually doing a great job of exposing police racial profiling African and Hispanics Americans in the inner cities. It wasn't until the 1991 police beating of Rodney King that was broadcaster that these issues had gained more attention, later. Hip Hop gave us a voice that we could raise when the racial discrimination was a bigger problem, setting the beginning mark of a revolutionary time in history for many Americans. Americans cultural involvement in rap is deep rooted within freedom of speech and the reform of racial and social injustice. So why how could it die when it has nurtured the american society in so many social ways.

3. Rap will live on because of the social side of it.

Rappers have not always been the best role models, and beginning in 2000 the confusion of rap started with the transition of the era that affected the sport almost totally. Overly Explicit shock material or irrelevant topics began arising to only receive attention as quickly as possible. While some music did seem outrageous we still must understand that some artist were only attempting to convey intense strong feelings into words, not worried about making the listeners uncomfortable or offended, like Eminem. Many rappers around this time also fueled career off rivalry like Soldier boy, and 50 cent, taking shots at any already successful artist simply to stir up fan bases of the known artist to create controversy about them, generating free advertisement for them. These rappers seemed desperate for financial success and fame even though some did already have tasteful artistry to them. Angered by the perpetuated success of some of these braggadocios bonafide clowns, slowly, but surely the minds that Tupac Shakur spoke of, began to spark up, into the world. These heroes began checking new foo foo artist, reminding us of the important values of this poetic craft.

Kendrick Lamar single handedly reignite the passion for hip hop with a message to rappers of today to get up and realize the loss of control within the industry as an artists. Kendrick re raised the bar in the song “Control”. He compares himself to the greats and calls out all the top players in today's hip hop industry and even a few friends on the song with him!. Stating that we must not forget that hip hop is a sport and everyone should know, right now, hes the king of it.

“I heard the barbershops be in great debates all the time, 'Bout who's the best MC: Kendrick, Jigga, and Nas, Eminem, André 3000; the rest of y'all new n*ggas just new n*ggas, don't get involved! And I ain't rockin' no more designer shit! White T’s and Nike Cortez, this red Corvettes anonymous,I'm usually homeboys with the same n*ggas I’m rhymin' with, But this is hip-hop, and them n*ggas should know what time it is, And that goes for Jermaine Cole, Big K.R.I.T., Wale, Pusha T, Meek Millz, A$AP Rocky, Drake,Big Sean, Jay Electron', Tyler, Mac Miller, I got love for you all, but I'm tryna murder you n*ggas! Tryna make sure your core fans never heard of you n*ggas They don't wanna hear not one more noun or verb from you n*ggas.

What is competition? I'm tryna raise the bar high!”

This is important to understand because the craft is still so sought after now by more people than ever. we could never dismiss it because we have grown to love it as a nation just like we love our controversy and sports.

4. Rap is poetry

Teachers refer to Shakespeare in school to understand language. As time passes we find more monumental lyricist like 2pac. Pacs impact on the world went as far as schools quoting and studying his works to teach, like we have before with Shakespeare. Colleges around the world offers entire courses on Tupac Shakur's work today. In this article by Micah Mattix, he talks about how rap is not generally considered poetry because it's grammatically incorrect and it “has to have music behind it”. He goes on to say that rap is less serious than poetry and is more profane. All these things said are entirely false and are refuted in the comments by multiple people defending the poetic craft. Comparing other artist like Beck and Bob Dylan to poetry, writing it out in sonnet form to show that it reflections of poetry. Consider the following words from Beck:

Walking to the other side

With the Devil trying to take my mind

And my soul’s just a silhouette

On the ashes of a cigarette

Illusions never fake their lives

Trick cards fool the eyes

Carry zeros over till they add up

Bury tears in the chapters you shut

Sometimes the jail can’t chain the cell

And the rain’s too plain to tell

All alone by a barren well

Scarecrow’s only scaring himself

Consider the following words from Bob Dylan:

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes

I bargained for salvation an’ they gave me a lethal dose

I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn

“Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you shelter from the storm”

https://www.theamericanconservative.com/prufrock/is-rap-poetry/

5. Rap could never expire because its saved on file

Hip-hop has been influencing pop culture for years. As lingo becomes more socially accepted, the crossover appeal is inevitable for rap to get the recognition it deserves.

In 2000 Lil’ Wayne coined the word “bling bling” to the oxford dictionary, forever validating his permanent mark on the rap game. Then the next year Beyonce added the word “bootylicious” to the dictionary. Although Snoop Dogg was the originator of the word in 1992, destiny's child took the term to the top with the release of their song that still is one of their highest selling hits to date. Unless someone can destroy every single copy of the dictionary physical and digital then maybe they can put an end to this rap thing but unless that happens hip hop will be right here just like revolutions in history textbooks are. https://www.xxlmag.com/news/2016/05/hip-hop-words-in-oxford-english-dictionary/

Rap is an art form and when is put on display its subject to judgment and an interpretation from the side that is appreciative and the side that isn't. Our parents aren't totally wrong about new bad music, but they need to understand hip hop and rap will never die, for it has only began forming major sub genres like rock formed punk, and jazz formed acid. More and more people are becoming involved in the rap culture every day. The culture involves itself within our society more and more everyday . Weather it be politics or social issues, rap ingrains itself into us organically and electronically. The concept is comparable to saying that singing is dying, or comedy is dying, it just doesn't make any sense at all. Hip hop and rap will remain strong in our societies all over the world, continuing to cycle through history as it has since it began. Because rap culture is socially tied to us it creates our history, our texts and our lives. it is a self sufficient competitive art and therefore will forever evolve with new topics, problems, and people. Music is simply a reflection of the high energy human existence. regardless of its spelling, and bold topics, hip hop and rap will remain abrasive to political foul play, acting as a beacon for untapped issues that the genres people will never let it slide by unnoticed.So to all those embittered old hip hop heads that idolized artist they grew up, please understand that you don't understand, change in inevitable and if it wasn't, everything would be the same. Variety is the spice of life my friend, until you understand that, please go find a cave to cry in, But remember, “I ain’t mad atcha”-Tupac Shakure.

#hiphopisnotdead

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mercurygray · 7 years

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Due to a scheduling error, I seem to have crammed all of my ‘Treat Yo Self’ moments into a single weekend: I’m going to a formal dinner tonight with some friends, a play downtown tomorrow afternoon, and last night I took myself to the movies to see Wonder Woman.

Spoilers below!

Going to the movies is a treat for me on any occasion, and going to see a movie opening weekend even moreso - usually I wait until it hits the bargain theatre in town . But there are a lot of people men who wanted this movie to fail, so I felt like I had an obligation to prove them wrong - that there were people women who like movies like this one, who will pay to see it in a theatre and who will talk about it to their friends afterwards. So I pre-bought a ticket, and last night I went and enjoyed a great movie in a nearly totally full theatre. (And not totally full of women, either.)

I’ll be honest - I’ve been looking forward to this film since they announced it was going to be set in World War One. Unstoppable superhero in unwinnable war? Sign me the heck up. I think, therefore, it should be noted that I went into this movie with slightly different expectations than everyone else. I wasn’t attending as a Wonder Woman fan - I was going with a different agenda. And at the end of the film, I couldn’t help feeling a little…adrift.

Usually by the time I make it to the movies I’ve sat through three weeks of Tumblr posts going on about how this was the best film ever, and my reactions are tempered accordingly. This, of course, was going to be a different experience.

Verdict: Wonder Woman is a solid film and stands on its merits as a thoughtful action movie (more on that later), but it wasn’t a movie that made me walk out of the theatre on fire for the story.

I loved the world-building at the beginning of the film, especially meeting baby Diana and watching her learn. She didn’t just magically sprout into a superhero overnight - she put in her time practicing, and practicing, and practicing, and it took a long time for her to get as good as she is. (Also, while we’re on the subject, a great round of applause for Gal Gadot, who totally embodies Wonder Woman the same way Chris Evans seems to totally embody Captain America.) I liked the slight friction between her and her mother, Hippolyta, but I would have liked to see more of the other lessons the Queen of the Amazons wanted for her daughter - statecraft, justice, maybe even the healing arts. Most of the Amazons we saw in depth were the warriors - but there were others in the background, too. Diana’s great strength, when she goes into the modern world, is that she has a great empathy for others and recognizes their own talents and contributions outside of the theatre of war, but we don’t necessarily see the roots of that in her time on Themyscira.

I also really loved the build of her relationship with Steve Trevor. Maybe some of that has to do with the way Steve is written, but he allows her to exist as she is (somewhat naive, in a simultaneously very informed, matter-of-fact way) without trying to teach her - or make fun of her. They banter, and it’s funny. From the minute he’s fished out of the water, you know that Steve wants her - but he never pushes in, and from that distance grows to sincerely appreciate her depth of spirit and all of her talents. So that was great, full marks to Chris Pine for making that happen. (I do have to say, I did spend a significant chunk of the film imagining Diana saving Jim Kirk from whatever crazy planet he just landed on.)

I just finished reading Paul Fussell’s The Great War and Modern Memory, a critique of the way the literary record has shaped our understanding of World War One. In it, Fussell discusses many of the overriding literary themes of the writing in this period and how they occur in poetry, memoir and novel form. The idea that this war re-shaped how we think of war as 'sweet and right’, to paraphrase Wilfred Owen’s famous line, is very present in this film. But more than that, Wonder Woman discusses the idea that at the end of the day, no one really knows exactly what 'sweet and right’ will be, who will define it, or who that definition will belong to. Steve and his friends aren’t just saying that The War is Bad, but that it has complicated their lives and moved them to a place they don’t understand. World War One was an idealistic war - people went into it thinking they were beyond war, and when they weren’t, that this would magically be The War to End All Wars and solve humanity’s problems. So, too, does Diana enter - except that she comes in at the end when all the idealism has drained out of the primary participants.

One of the things that really blew my mind was the twist at the end about the true identity of the god Ares. We the audience have an idea that she won’t find Ares on the front lines as we watch Diana try to power her way through Northern France, but that she actually does find him - and in the person of Sir Patrick - well. That was a huge take-away for me.

Sometimes War is a man in a uniform - and sometimes he is a man in a suit selling you reasonable sounding lies. That’s a thoughtful action movie right there.

So while we’re on the subject of The War, here’s what I realized I was missing, why I wasn’t on fire at the end of the film: more women.

I love World War One because it’s one of the first conflicts in which women participate, openly and freely, in many, many branches of the armed services beyond the nursing corps. They come from college campuses, from suffragette rallies, from offices with professional credentials, with skills they’ve spent lifetimes building and skills they just learned yesterday. They drive cars, bandage wounds, organize relief efforts for orphans, slave over hot stoves making donuts, knit socks, teach men to walk again, sculpt new faces, type reports, answer telephones.

And to this, to all of these great, courageous pioneers who are re-shaping the idea of what women can do, we’re going to add a superhero who walks through battlefields and breaks other glass ceilings?! Heck yes!

And then I didn’t see a darn one of them in this movie apart from a few nurses in the middle distance and some sobbing refugees on roadsides.

Apart from Etta, Steve’s great but seriously under-utilized secretary, there are no women in the modern part of the film, and I think that does it a great disservice. We the female-identifying, media-consuming public love Wonder Woman because we see her as an invitation to be something greater than ourselves. We know that we can’t be daughters of Zeus with the power to throw a tank across an airfield, but that we each have our own strengths that we should use for the betterment of the world. How much stronger would that message be if Diana, coming off of the field of battle, runs into a nurse or a YMCA worker at an aid station who looks up at her in wonder and tells her she’s done a great job saving all these men, only to have Diana, (realizing what her mother was trying to tell her in all those lessons I didn’t see earlier) smile at her and tell her that her work passing out cups of coffee and managing intake forms is amazing, too? I would have liked to see that glimmer of hope and shared sisterhood in there, too. Here are the new Amazons, the chauffeuse and the doctor and the YMCA girl, going boldly where women don’t go because they thought it was the right thing to do, and because Diana reaffirmed that they could.

And perhaps that little YMCA girl builds Diana up a little, too, as she sits and wonders what place there is for a warrior when there is no war to fight. There’s where we, the audience, should see ourselves in this film- not stuck at home or sobbing on the roadside, but doing our bit.

So, when you go see Wonder Woman, take some friends with so you can talk about it afterwards. And maybe afterwards swing by the library on the way home to pick up a book by Lettie Gavin or Dorothy and Carl Schneider to learn more about women in World War One. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

#wonder woman #merc reviews movies

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drreporting · 8 years

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Convalescence Pt.10

“Ah ha, I was right,” Amelia said as she looked through the chart, “The bladder numbness, the pins and needles, it all points to inflammation. Did you do the MRI?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it now,” Derek told her, leaving her alone at the front desk with the chart. As Amelia pondered over the rest of the information in the chart, someone slowly neared her, looking over her shoulder.

“Whatcha looking at?” the guy, donned in navy blue scrubs, asked.

Amelia looked up at him, noticing his icy blues first, then his five o’clock shadow, before lastly admiring his hair. He was remarkably attractive, to say the least. Not to mention his accent was charming. “A patient chart.”

The guy looked down at her with a far too cocky smile. “Patient charts are for doctors, not patients with a walking stick and pretty blue eyes.”

“Very funny,” she humoured, rolling her eyes, “But I am a doctor with a walking stick and pretty blue eyes, not a patient.”

The guy laughed. “I don’t know who you are at all,” he stuck his hand out, “we should fix that over drinks, err...”

“Amelia,” she answered, taking his hand in hers and shaking it, “And I don’t drink.”

“I don’t drink either, Dr. Amelia,” he said, not wanting to let her hand go, “Not anymore.”

“You’re just full of tricks, aren’t you?” she retorted, letting him hold her hand still.

“Dr. Nathan Riggs,” he introduced himself, finally letting her hand go once he did, “Maybe we can go for dinner instead…”

“I don’t think…”

“What are you doing?” Owen growled as he stood between the two, “Get your hands off of her.”

“Owen, relax,” Nathan tried to tell the trauma surgeon.

“I’ll relax when you’re fifty feet away from her,” he bargained, folding his arms across his chest.

“Owen,” Amelia tried to call, “Calm down, we were just-”

“So you don’t want me talking to anyone here?” he inquired angrily, “They’re not all your property, mate.”

“No, they’re not,” Owen agreed, “But I don’t want you even breathing in the same room as her.”

“Why?”

“She’s married,” he growled, “To me.”

Nathan furrowed his eyebrows before looking over Owen’s shoulder at her. “I don’t see a ring on her finger, or yours, mate.”

“Say that again and I’ll punch you in your face,” Owen warned. Nathan kept his gaze, the two of them in a stare off.

“Whatever,” Nathan muttered, eventually leaving the tense situation.

Owen turned around to face Amelia now. “So you have your ring off for a couple days and you already start flirting with other guys?”

“Owen, what?” she exclaimed, “I wasn’t flirting with him; we were just talking.”

“Something you seem to be doing with everyone except me,” he snidely retorted, leaving after the comment. Amelia stood there in shock, trying to process everything that had happened in that short space of time. One minute, Owen hated her, the next minute he was willing to punch guys just for simply speaking to her. It was frustrating and tiring.

---

Friday 8th July 2017.

Tim walked into his office with pep in his step. After his plan to get Amelia to walk had worked out, and then his plan to get Owen jealous by getting Derek to get Riggs to speak to her, they were right on track for his next manipulative plan. He wanted to see how they’d operate around one another, post-sex, and now was the perfect time to test that theory as Amelia was walking on her own again.

“Are you guys happy?” Tim asked, “Because I’m happy.” Both Amelia and Owen looked at him with confused expressions.

“Why would we be happy?” she inquired.

“Good point,” he agreed, pulling out his notepad, “Let’s jump right into it then. Is there anything anyone wants to say before we begin?”

“I’m sorry for overreacting on Sunday,” Owen mumbled.

Amelia looked over at him. “I’m sorry for not talking to you. I know I should, I just…”

“Well, you’re talking now, I guess,” he shrugged.

“We’re talking now, yes,” Tim confirmed eagerly, excited to start the session.

When Amelia and Owen exited the therapist’s room, they felt oddly light. They’d talked about DC, eventually coming to the conclusion that both parties were right in that situation, and they talked about the accident, which was a little harder to speak about. It was very difficult for Amelia to open up about how she felt but, once she did, once she bared the darkest parts of her feelings for that entire incident, she found that Owen, too, felt the same way. He felt all the angst and pain and even more, considering he was on the viewing side of the entire thing. They both walked out of that room having a better understanding for each other. Which was good, because Tim was expecting them to go on a date tomorrow and not hating each other’s guts might’ve helped with that.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Amelia groaned as Owen dialled the number on the call card that Tim had given him.

“That’s what you said on our wedding day,” Owen chuckled.

“That was unprofessional, slow dancing,” she further complained, “This is a dance studio with a professional instructor. Plus I didn’t have an injured foot back then.”

“Your foot doesn’t look injured to me,” he snidely replied, looking down at her shoes and seeing how well she was walking in them. “Hey, good afternoon, is this Charlie?”

---

Saturday 9th July 2017.

“This is clearly some sort of sick, couples’ therapy dancing thing,” Amelia muttered under her breath as she and Owen stood in a line which consisted of five other unhappy looking couples.

“I think you might be right,” Owen whispered back, eyeing one couple in particular that had been arguing since they came into the studio ten minutes earlier.

“Okay,” a guy said as he and another woman entered the room, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, “My name is Charlie and I’ll be your instructor for tonight, so let’s get right into it. I’m gonna teach you guys the basics and then leave you to dance on your own. Easy stuff.” As Charlie glazed over the crowd, he noticed Amelia and Owen in particular, the couple that his friend had told him about. Smiling mischievously to himself, he took his partner’s hand and demonstrated the simple, slow moves he wanted from everyone, before encouraging them to follow the next song he was about to play.

Turning towards Amelia, Owen offered a shy smile. “Doesn’t look too hard.” They took their places and waited for the soft flow of music to begin.

My funny Valentine…

Owen placed his hand on her back, her hand on his shoulder, and their free hands meeting on the other side. Together, they danced to the music, their footwork a little wobbly at first. As the song progressed, they felt themselves relax, and small smiles began forming as little mistakes were made here and there.

“Don’t look at your feet,” he advised her.

“I don’t want to step on yours,” she shyly admitted.

Sweet comic Valentine…

In his army green t-shirt and brown leather jacket, Owen looked everything but perfect. Especially with the running shoes that matched nothing he was wearing, shoes he opted to wear because he didn’t want Amelia to feel awkward about having to wear running shoes. They turned elegantly, their bodies in tune with the slow music as the warmth between them grew more powerful by the second.

You make me smile with my heart…

Owen almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Charlie push him closer to Amelia.

“Your form is a little off,” Charlie lied, “You need to be closer.” He took Owen’s hand and moved it to her lower back and took Amelia’s hand and moved it closer to his neck. With the new positions and closeness, the couple found their heartbeats growing steadily along with the warmth between them.

“Look at me,” Owen gently insisted, “If you keep looking at your feet, you might actually step on mine.”

Taking a deep breath, Amelia looked up at him, not regretting it at all.

Your looks are laughable…

From there on, their dancing became near perfect, from their breathing to how their feet moved; everything stayed in sync. Owen often talked about her eyes, how they glistened and popped in certain lights, but she had never taken the time to notice how his eyes shone as he looked at her with that sombre, admiring look. His eyes were a mesmerising icy blue that she’d never truly appreciated till then.

“Everyone is looking at us,” Owen whispered, snapping her out of her trance.

Amelia squeezed his hand slightly and smiled. “Really,” she chuckled softly, “I didn’t notice.”

Yet you’re my favourite work of art...

His eyes darted to her lips as the song came to an end, the temptation to kiss them unbearable. He wondered if she felt the same way.

Although the song stopped and the room became silent, the couple kept their positions. From this close, they could both hear the laboured breathing of one another as they stayed rooted in their position. Amelia couldn’t stop looking at him, even after the song had finished. The only time she looked away was to look at his lips. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was.

---

“My feet officially hurt,” Amelia groaned as she and Owen made the slightly long trek from the van to the front door. He chuckled as he quickly glanced at her and saw that she’d ditched the running shoes and was walking barefoot, although Callie had specifically told her not to do that yet.

“Charlie was very creepy,” Owen said, grabbing Amelia’s hand and swinging it in between them like a child. He held her hand partly because he wanted to catch her quickly if she fell, but mostly because he was on a high right now and he had the urge to hold it and feel her warmth again.

“Very, very creepy,” Amelia agreed, trying not to think much of him holding her hand and failing miserably so. She couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him since the beginning of the night and it was beginning to drive her crazy.

“Tonight was fun,” Owen said once they reached the front door, “We should do something like this more often.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I don’t want tonight to end.”

“Neither do I,” he agreed, his thumb rubbing along her index finger. “But Maggie probably has stuff to do tomorrow. I don’t think we should keep her…” It was then that he noticed the intense gaze she had on his lips. “Amelia…”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, her eyes unmoving, “No kissing, no touching, no…”

“No sex,” he finished for her, his eyes darting to her lips now too.

“I mean, we don’t have to…tell him,” she suggested. “He’s not our father or anything.” Owen knew the drill with her. She’d move closer to him, let their noses touch and then he’d end up instigating the kiss. It always happened. But it was different tonight. He found himself moving closer to her, contradicting his earlier statements completely.

“I want to fix us,” he said, “And his methods have been working so far, so I think we should stick with it. And we have a track record of fixing our problems with sex.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” she agreed. For a moment, she looked like she had given up on the idea, but then he noticed the lustful gaze had returned. “Although…we’re not necessarily having any problems right now, are we?”

Owen chuckled at her smart ass remark, finding himself losing his willpower the longer they lingered out here. “We aren’t.”

“So if we…” she tiptoed and nuzzled her nose against his “…it’s not necessarily because we’re…”

“Having problems…” he finished again for her, watching with hooded eyes as she closed the gap and kissed him once, testing the waters. Slowly, her hand slipped up his neck and to the back of his head as she kissed him again, this time longer.

She could feel him resisting, so she paused. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” After a long pause spent contemplating the pros and cons of going against their therapist’s advice, Owen shut his brain off as he grabbed her by her waist and turned, pressing her in between him and the door. His hand went to her cheek and his thumb brushed against the skin there as he kissed her this time. He scooped her up and wrapped her legs around his waist before stripping off his leather jacket and hers. He managed to lose his shirt somewhere between the trek from the front door back to his truck, but he didn’t care. Forbidden sex makes the soul forget a lot of things.

#things change #owelia #convalescence #omelia #amen #oweliafics #omeliafics #amenfics #owen hunt #amelia shepherd #tim #charlie #au #oc #nathan riggs #callie torres #derek shepherd #ryan shepherd #rosie shepherd hunt

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componentplanet · 5 years

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How an Article on Game Difficulty Explained My Own Modding, 18 Years Later

A game’s difficulty level can make or break the title. Games that are perceived as too difficult become boring, depressing grinds, while games that are too easy become boring and tedious, with little challenge. One of the most profound differences between World of Warcraft Classic and Retail is the difference in difficulty. Of course, every player has their own ideas about how hard a game should be, but there’s no arguing that the difficulty of a title is important.

But according to game developer Jennifer Scheurle, game developers think about game difficulty very differently than players do, which may be part of why conversations on this topic sometimes seem to break down. Her piece resonated with me, partly because it reminded me of the reasons why I became a game modder, once upon a time. According to Scheurle, difficulty is all about trust.

“At the core of the difference between how game designers and players speak about difficulty,” she writes, “is the fact that we discuss it in terms of skill progression. All difficulty design is essentially that: crafting how players will learn, apply skills, and progress through challenges.”

Graphic by Jennifer Scheurle for Polygon

She then walks through examples of how this plays out in games, using the Dark Souls series as an example. DS games ask you to accept that you will die (frequently) as part of learning how encounters function. You aren’t simply being killed by mechanics you can’t master, beat, or counter, you’re learning how the game functions and how to counter incoming attacks. The game, in turn, obeys its own internal rules. Players often become angry at a game if they feel it isn’t holding up its end of the bargain in some particular, whether that refers to drop rates, spawn rates, boss difficulty, or the damage you take versus the damage you deal. She also discusses the importance of how a game teaches players to play it, and the various in-game ways that developers communicate game difficulty and associated rules. It’s a very different view of the topic than simply boiling it down into whether a game is “hard” or “easy,” and it leads to a much more nuanced view of how and why different titles may put difficulty in different places.

The article resonated with me in part because it describes part of why I became a Diablo II modder and taught me something about my own motivation. I don’t want to seem as if I’m hijacking Scheurle’s excellent discussion of game difficulty because it’s worth a read in its own right, but I’m going to switch gears a bit and talk about my own experience. To put it simply: I was pissed.

Diablo II’s Trust Fail

This was the early days of Diablo II, before the Lord of Destruction expansion had even come out. Patch 1.03 dropped not long before I started modding, to put a date on things. On Normal difficulty, Diablo II worked pretty well, but as you progressed into Nightmare and Hell difficulty modes, deficiencies became apparent.

Back then, Diablo II used a linear leveling curve in which the amount of XP you needed to gain for each additional level increased by a flat amount — the amount you needed for your previous level, plus a flat modifier. This was exacerbated by a leveling penalty, introduced in Nightmare, in which you lost XP gained towards your next level if your character died. You couldn’t drop a level due to this XP loss, but you could theoretically be 99 percent of the way to Lvl 50 and fall back to 0 percent at Lvl 49. The net result of this was that the amount of time required for each additional level increased sharply, and this became increasingly noticeable as you moved into the later game.

Now for the coup de grace: The game was poorly balanced outside of Normal difficulty. I became a game modder specifically because my Barbarian character with maximum Fire Resist was being one-shotted by mini-bosses with Fire Aura even when he used abilities that temporarily increased his HP. These mini-bosses and bosses could one-shot a character virtually as soon as you saw them. Death meant losing a portion of gold and dropping equipped items. Attempting to retrieve those items (using whatever alternate gear you had access to) was virtually guaranteed to get you killed at least once more because you’d have to drag monsters away from your corpse in order to try and retrieve what you originally had. Mini-bosses could also spawn with these modifiers in critical areas, where it was exceptionally difficult to move them away from a critical spawn point. There was no way to see the exact location of the fire aura on the ground; you knew you’d touched it when you died.

It was cheap. That’s what I called it. I didn’t consider it any kind of legitimate difficulty spike. It just felt like a way for Blizzard to make the game harder by killing players in a manner they couldn’t even fight. I became a modder because I was angry about the way that these imbalances had changed the game. I felt betrayed.

Looking back (and using Scheurle’s article for reference), I’ve realized that I was angry because Diablo II had broken trust with me. Some of these flaws existed in Normal as well, but they weren’t as apparent due to the influence of how other scaling factors impacted the title. Some of the changes between Normal and later difficulties that impacted how poorly the game scaled included the much-slower pace of leveling and the fact that there were no unique items in-game for the Nightmare and Hell difficulty modes. This made it pointless to spend gold on gambling (since gambling, at the time, only produced normal weapons). The slow speed of leveling meant that one of a player’s primary means of gaining power was substantially curtailed. There were also notable power imbalances created by the use of percentages for some metrics (like life steal). In original vanilla D2, life steal was absurdly overpowered — and absolutely essential to surviving the late game. Certain classes were locked into endgame strategies as a result of bad math and poorly balanced game mechanics. It grated on me.

The changes to Diablo II from Normal to later difficulties weren’t just the result of Blizzard trying to be jerks. It’s common for RPGs to have poorly balanced endgames because most people do not play them for long enough to actually experience the endgame. This was a topic of discussion around Skyrim when that game was new, and it explains much of what happened with Diablo II way back then.

I developed the Fusion 2 mod for Diablo II, followed by a much larger overhaul, Cold Fusion. I and a team of three other people — Justin Gash, John Stanford, and Matt Wesson — cumulatively poured in several thousand man-hours of development time into Cold Fusion. I led the effort, which was a core part of my best friend’s senior project in computer science and consumed no small chunk of my own senior year in college. I’m not sure the game files exist on the internet any longer, but you can see the original website archived by the Wayback Machine. Fair warning: I was not a web designer. Still, it gives some idea of the scope of the project, if you’re familiar with Diablo II.

While I don’t expect anyone reading this to have ever played the mod — I never released an LoD-compatible version of the project — it was a pretty major part of my life for the time I worked on it. We overhauled the entire title, tweaking drop rates, fixing bugs, and implementing a new leveling curve, a new difficulty curve, new monsters, and new unique items intended for both Nightmare and Hell difficulty levels. We developed new audio effects, visuals, and skills using pieces of code that developers had left in place in the engine and audio effects another friend created. We pulled certain unique items over from Diablo I (with Diablo I art) and reworked the skill trees to better balance the game. Our goal, in every scenario, was to build a more consistent Diablo II that didn’t just funnel characters into a single endgame build but allowed other skills to compete as well. I was quite proud of the fact that when Lord of Destruction came out, it adjusted Diablo II in some of the same ways we had, and even introduced new spells that were similar to some of the ones we built. I’m absolutely not claiming that Blizzard took inspiration from our work — it was just neat to see that we’d been thinking along the same lines as people at the company.

For example: We implemented a logarithmic curve for CF’s level scaling — one that was designed to allow a player to run the game once at each difficulty level and finish “Hell” near maximum level. Blizzard wanted a game that would require many, many, many runs through maximum difficulty to reward Lvl 99 and used a differently-shaped curve to do it — but they still moved away from the linear curve they used in the early phases of the title when they launched the expansion, Lord of Destruction.

Until now, I never really understood why I was so unhappy with the base game in the first place. Now I do. I felt as though the collective changes to Diablo II that happened after Normal weren’t just the result of making the game harder — they made the game different, in ways that felt like they’d broken the trust Blizzard had established in building the game.

It’s not often that you discover the explanation for why you spent a few thousand hours rebuilding someone else’s project in an article written 18 years after the fact. I suppose Cold Fusion has always felt a bit like a road-not-taken path for me. It had its fans, but it was one reasonably popular mod among many, not a DOTA or a Counter-Strike. Either way, I appreciate Scheurle’s discussion of difficulty and how developers think about the topic. It shed some light on an episode of my own life.

Now Read:

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PC Gamers Who Didn’t Play Classic Console Games Missed Out on Great Experiences

from ExtremeTechExtremeTech https://www.extremetech.com/gaming/299138-how-an-article-on-game-difficulty-explained-my-own-modding-18-years-later from Blogger http://componentplanet.blogspot.com/2019/09/how-article-on-game-difficulty.html

#How an Article on Game Difficulty Explained My Own Modding #18 Years Later

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