#i scoured everywhere for may art

[dumbassv32]

2023 summarryyyy wooooo

[bluemoon1331]

Hello, hello! Welcome to my main blog, where the DCA fascination consumes! My alt blog is @sharetheartman, go check it out if you wanna see the amazing art this community has to offer!

My Ko-fi (if you're able to help a struggling writer, very much appreciated. Can request written commissions if you want): BlueMoon1331

Below is a list of all my current fics on A03 and planned AUs! Give them a read if you love fantasy and the DCA! (Updated to divide between the SFW and NSFW stories)

<<<<<First up, the SFW section!>>>>>>

Finished Works:

One Lost Star- You are a bit of a hermit, living solo off the land since the death of your grandfather. Until you draw certain godly attention, that is.

Scarlet Masquerade- The sole heir to your kingdom, you find yourself caught in the tangled web of the automaton emperor's plans. However, things are about to go from bad to worse when you catch the interest of the deadly automaton assassin sent to end you.

WIPs:

Cosmic Journeys- Trapped in the depths of depression, you seek an unfortunate out. The nearby land owner won't let that happen, though. Thus begins a journey of self-worth and finding hope in a world of madness and compassion, monsters, saints, and everything in between. {Discontinued}

Come and Go- A Megamind-inspired AU with Sun as Metroman, Moon as Megamind, and Eclipse as Titan, while you are a delivery driver caught in the middle. {Discontinued}

Unusual- An oceanographer, there is no place you'd rather be than scouring the depths of the seven seas, studying its plant life and creatures, in particular the infamous mers, beings most of your co-workers are quite wary of. They don't seem to mind you too much, though, a fact you try not to put stock in until an encounter on the beach near your house flips your entire world upside down. Strings of fate and a battle to rule the oceans with you as the key? Ridiculous. Right?

Of Metal Parts and Roadside Shenanigans- You are a trucker traveling home before unwittingly tripping headfirst into a giant mystery. (More of @deceptiveshadow's Blood Moon cause I love him and cannot help myself.)

One-shots:

Party Crashing 101- A piece inspired by the mafia episode from Helluva Boss. Badass, protective reader ftw XD

Blooming In Adversity- You and the princesses were great friends in your youth, until you had to move away. Years later, you return, your friendship blooming anew. However, dark plots turn in the background, and it may be up to just you to save them.

Phantom Tide- You are a siren, crushed under betrayal. Sun and Moon are brothers recovering from the throes of grief. Perhaps you may be just what each other need.

Connotations- Your duties as a druid are fairly life-consuming, but you have happily devoted yourself to them. Keeping the peace is not the easiest, but you do it all the same. Unfortunately, the arrival of contesting priests threaten your efforts, setting you on a collision course to meet three of the forest's most powerful caretakers.

Diamonds and Iron- Being a rather big-time mafia boss, of course Eclipse needs places to stash away his income. As an outdoor enthusiast, you love visiting the local motorsports arena when you can afford it. Oh, who's that standing in the middle of the track, where you can't see?

Birds of a Feather- You are stuck as the basically powerless manager to the newly opened pizzaplex. With problems everywhere you look, you're not sure which one to focus on or handle first. Perhaps you could find a kindred soul in a certain mechanic, however. (Based in the EAPS universe)

<<<<<<<<<NSFW area ahoy!>>>>>>>>>>

Finished Works:

Never Play Cat and Mouse With Vampires- Living alone is a necessity, your skills in hunting, magic, and evasion giving you all you need for contentment, or so you tell yourself. In your newest home you, unfortunately, find that your capabilities only draw the infatuation of three local creatures that are intent to finally capture you and make you theirs. Annoyingly, they may just get that chance.

Dancing In Orbit- The lunar vampire is the last of his kind, a deadly plague on the Earth that refuses to yield despite the uncountable years that have passed since the last of his kin and kind died off. You, running from your intertwined past, seek to finally put an end to that, with some help from friends old and new.

Familiar Constellations- The vampires get a bit quirky about you, especially when you egg them on. Mature. Very, very mature. Good gods they are rough, but you love it. After all, you can get a bit rough with them, too.

Gravity- Featuring another of @deceptiveshadow's lovely OCs, Nova. Normally quite the quiet and cat-like companion, you join him for a round of games in which his behavior becomes increasingly odd. That's nothing compared to when you strangely wake in the tower the next day, having no recollection of how you got there, and what comes after.

WIPs:

Wither and Bloom- With the three realms in shambles, cut off from each other, it is up to the most powerful warriors of Earth to fend off the lich king and his Elite army, including his own brothers. You, whom offers them a secret safe haven and relaxation when they need it, cannot deny your love for Sun and Moon, nor they you, but with Eclipse hounding for any weakness he can use against his kin, is the danger really worth it? You find the answer may be coming sooner than you would like when the two go missing after a fight.

Embers and Ash- Ghost hunting is your profession, and you are damn good at it. Which is why you don't think twice when you're hired to cleanse an abandoned mansion of its otherworldly resident. Too bad this job is not the cake walk you thought it would be.

Burning Stars- You run your farm alone on a world teeming with aliens and humans, content with your animal family and helpful community, even if you keep the latter at arm's lengths. Until your peace is interrupted by a certain intergalactic bounty hunter, anyway.

Rosewood's Serenade- The eldest child of your kingdom, you have trained since birth to be all your home needs and more, intent to take the throne when the time comes, marriage or no. However, your parents harbor a secret, a deal struck when disaster threatened to destroy all they hold dear, and you soon find yourself meeting a most intriguing being...

Demonic- The saying of Hell is empty for all the demons are here has never been more apt. Caught smack dab in the middle of the infamous Hell-Day event, you come out with an unexpected passenger woven into your soul. Now, you secretly fight to preserve the fragile balance between mortals and the demons trapped on Earth, all while contending with the fact your new neighbors are the very ones responsible for sealing the gates, the infamous Celestial Graces. They also happen to be the mortal enemies of the one currently living in you. Fun times all around, especially with devil himself on your heels, seeking to reclaim what he lost.

Along the Akesh- Blessed with visions since your youth, you were taken and raised by the temple, becoming one of the highest-ranked priests, second to only the grand heijut himself. With an awe-inspiring festival and ritual that happens only once every five centuries under way, you are eager to meet the moon god, one of the many you have had the pleasure of conversing with throughout your prayers and oracles, in person. Things take an unexpected turn, however, when the temple must pay recompense for an accidental screw up with a gift left by an old friend. You are about to learn just how intrigued you and the moon god truly are with each other. {Discontinued}

One-shots:

Bleeding Feathers- You weren't supposed to go into the exclusionary zone, but that's never been a problem for you before. This time, however, you might just get more than you bargained for. Fan piece for @deceptiveshadow's harpy au! (Not TSAMS)

Color Theory- Moving back to your late grandma's cabin, you pray for things to finally settle down. Unfortunately, her myriad of secrets seek to come back and haunt you, but hey, it might not be all bad this time. You could use the comfort of an old friend. Another fic inspired by @deceptiveshadow! Their god Blood Moon this time. (Not TSAMS)

<<<<<<<Lastly, miscellaneous potential AUs!>>>>>>>

Spirited Away AU- You have moved to a more remote region in hopes of forgetting a troubled family life. Content to spend your time among the lush jungles of the land, you inadvertently stumble upon an obviously long-forgotten temple. Curiosity eats at you, and you cannot help get closer, initially unaware of the myriad of eyes watching you, until you spot...an icy blue leopard? It's a good thing you helped those snakes and that spider on your way here.

Harem AU- You saved them from certain death, and now the clan of vampire brothers serve you. For years uncountable, you have pulled the strings, quite happy to cause chaos around the world when it becomes too dull for your liking, going from hero to hero. On blood soaked ground, you are content with your helpful vampires, though can things really stay the same forever?

Skyrim AU- Every place has its demons, no matter how reclusive or small. You consider yourself one of them. Seeking an escape, you move to Solstheim hoping for a fresh start. How unfortunate for you that you would arrive during the island's darkest hour. Cults, strange creatures, a frost giant king, and the arrival of two Dragonborns drag you right back into the spotlight, dredging up your past as you all race against time and the greedy daedra of knowledge to stop each other's destruction.

Then There Was One- You wake up to an empty world. You don't comprehend how or why it happened, just that everyone seems to have vanished in the blink of an eye. Cars sit vacant in traffic, meals left uneaten, internet full of messages that abruptly stopped hours ago. You try to live on your lonesome, keeping yourself distracted, and ignoring the gnawing loneliness. Except, well, you might not be as alone as you think, a fact you find out far too late when your page gets flooded with AI messages and bots are suddenly knocking at your day. Just what the hell kind of universal joke was this robot apocalypse you were stuck in? Or...do you have this all wrong? Your new companions may yet help you figure it out.

All new AUs ideas will be under the tag AU Madness for the sake of this pinned post's length XD

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Top Five Blorbos!

HIIIII!!!

Woo five blorbos...hmm

Imma fuck this one up a bit because we're blorbafying people and cities as well as THE CHARACTER. Fuck the rules, blorbos can be whatever the fuck I want! :3

Zahīr ud-Dīn Muhammad (Babur)

The founder of the Mughal Empire and a guy who wrote extensively on his many failures. His autobiography the Baburnama is honestly so so fun to read, this guy has sass for days and measures a man's worth and attractiveness based entirely on how gifted he was in poetry. Don't mention losing Samarkand or the Fergana Valley or our most beloved Andijan THREE TIMES! Look, the melons might not be as good in Dehli or Kabul but at least you managed to KEEP THEM!

Anyway, I should start learning Chagatai if I want more info.

2. Timur

This guy! This guy so much! This guy! Look, how am I not gonna stan a guy who uses "Skull Pyramid in attack mode" as a primary form of intimidation? How am I not going to stan a guy who fucked the Iranian plateau, Afghanistan and Central Asia in the mouth? This guy stanned Temujin (Chinggis Khan) so hard he scoured the land to find a wife who was a direct descendant of the guy just to hold down his legitimacy. Something about "Hey me and that guy share an ancestor waaaaaay back" doesn't quite hit as well as "I'm a descendant of Chinggis Khan". Who the fuck is Tumbinai Khan anyway dude? Oh did I mention he suffered a leg injury early in his career and had to do a world mount whilst using a cane?

This guy can create an entire Central Asian Renaissance before the Europeans even knows what's whacking them over the head.

We do not speak about Khwarazm. (See skull pyramid)

3. Samarkand

This is me being a fucking dork about the Timurids and their art and architecture (which you might notice is what all the above art works except the bust belong to).

Look I love anything and everything about the Silk Road and Samarkand and Sogdiana was its heart. This is the birthplace of the Timurid Renaissance and thusly, the birthplace of the European one too (it was sparked through trade and plagues).

A city that had until very recently been the centre of trade from Asia, Africa, Europe and the Indian subcontinent. I will visit before I die.

4. Essahaddon/Assarhaddon

King of Assyria and everywhere else! No he will not hear of you're bullshit- get invaded! Yo, you weren't expected to inherit anything because you were the youngest son of Sennacherib but somehow managed to gain the position through being lit! So your brothers decide to wage a six-week long civil war only to get dead coz he's just that fucking good! Yo, did you just give women the most political power they've had since the Bronze Age? Maybe it's because you don't trust your male relatives to not be greedy fuck ups, or maybe your wife and daughters were just better at administrating a state instead.

My man has an unspecified chronic illness, he's paranoid and he's apparently got wacked by the depression stick. Yet he still manages to fuck everyone up the ass so thoroughly that he even managed to wrestle Egypt and Libya off the Kushites and slap around Elam a bit. He ensures a peaceful succession and his son, Ashurbanipal created the greatest library of ancient Near Eastern texts the world has ever known. (This is your Library of Alexandria, it's in Nineva). Neo-Assyria became a superpower under both their watch.

5. Ya boi

Congratulations! All the people here are my influences for my main mang that I commandeered from an NPC. Ensirhaddon'Sul-Sero Teldryn am'Urshilaku is a sum of all parts. He eventually does wield a reckoning against Vvardenfell and may have made the settled Dunmer remember why they used to fear Ashlander raids.

Then watch him crumble after losing it all. Yeah, he beat the Sharmat, but at what cost? Why can't he just be allowed to retire already?

Leave the Nerevarine to his misery.

Ask me my Top 5/Top 10 anything and i'll fuck up the answer for you!

[day-at-rhodes-island]

Thoughts on closure? (Take this as an excuse to ramble to your hearts content)

You are too kind Hoa.

Unfortunately, despite quite a bit of somewhat recent Closure content, there hasn't been much to say about her that I haven't said already.

It was nice to see her in episodes 10 and 11, but for the most part her characterization is pretty much exactly what we already knew, just presented in a way that doesn't require you to have scoured every bit of lore that mentions her to put it together. This may mean she will be a more major character in later events, which could be fun (I would love an event that went into detail about the lifestyle of a "normal" vampire).

There is one scene in 10-14 before that I did really like though:

Closure: Your work environment is way too... Feist: Impoverished? You can speak your mind, the commander isn't here. Closure: ...Way too much of a challenge. *cough* *cough*... Feist: Miss Closure... Closure: What's up? Feist: D-Did you know, when you talk about being challenged, your eyes seem to... light up? Physically. Closure: Huh? Really? Must be because I'm getting excited... Is it scary? Feist: I-It's fine. Feist: To be honest, it wasn't until I met you that I found out... Uhh, that Sarkaz can do more than just fight. Closure: Oh... Uh, there are a lot of people who aren't fighters, like me. Closure: Naturally, I'm a vampire, so of course I was born with some handy talents. Feist: Huh? Y-You... what is this speed?! It'd take a week for me to do what you did in a single night! Closure: Why do you think the pillars of Rhodes Island are so good? Closure: Take a good look at my eyes. If the Rhodes Island landship was filled with vampires, working at night would be no problem, and we'd cut down big on the electricity bill. Feist: Are there... a lot of vampire engineers? Closure: Of course not! They... They all... Feist: Hey, why'd you start shuddering all of a sudden? Closure: Blame Londinium. It's been a long time since I last felt the fear of being this close to a den of evil. Look, my hands are totally frozen stiff! And I need these hands! Feist: Could it be... that Team 6 ran into...? Closure: I sure hope not. Closure: If so... For real, I need to give you guys a serious warning. Closure: Just in case... I mean, just in case—if you ever run into another vampire, run! Closure: No, it might already be too late by then.

Closure starts bragging about being a vampire, and then immediately has a physical reaction to just thinking about what most vampires are like. It's so good. She also gets to be a little scary (yay!).

I enjoyed this one too:

Closure: Not bad! For an instant back there, I thought I was gonna get my head painted over Londinium's walls! Amiya: It was Misery's Arts. He wouldn't see us hurt. Misery: Right... Kal'tsit told me your brain was an important asset to Rhodes Island. Closure: My hands don't come cheap either, c'mon! Closure: After that, I'm never asking to hitchhike with you again... Blaze carrying me everywhere is a way smoother ride than your Arts!

Blaze Express enjoyer Ada Church. Also, unless I've forgotten something, this is about as close as we get to Kal and Closure interacting during both episodes, which brings me to my next point:

I didn't like the treatment she got in the last scene of episode 11. They both: didn't really give her a reaction to Kal'tsit doing that and didn't make her punch out those mooks. Like, maybe she knew Kal would be okay, but it's weird Shining gets a reaction, while the person specifically stated to care about Kal'tsit in Kal'tsit's files doesn't, right? They were doing so well and they dropped the ball right at the end! Make Closure do a violence and feel sad about it!!

Oh, and I very much enjoyed Weedy's oprec, in which we learn that she smells of machine oil.

[littleplasticrat]

🦜

Thank you for asking, mate! ❤️

🦜 Which artists inspire you?

I just also got this ask from Dust, but luckily there is inspiration EVERYWHERE. I'm going to talk about who inspired me to start drawing when I was in my early teens (I sadly had a long gap of not doing art between my teens and my 30s)

When I was 12, my friend showed me Angel Sanctuary by Kaori Yuki. I'd never seen manga before so this blew. My. Face. Off.

I mean, look at it????!?? Swords! Big-ass wings! The hair, the stylised faces! And they're so SAD 😍

After my interest in art had been ignited, I started scouring the local library for more. I discovered Brom in a book of fantasy art masters and he too spoke to the horny goth within me

As you may be able to guess, I was quite conflicted about what kind of art I wanted to make, and spent my teens flip-flopping between the two extremes 😂

X

Take care of yourself! 😘

[vulpixbookpix]

Safe Passage by G. Neri, David Brame (Illustrator)

5 out of 5 stars

This is a harrowing, yet compelling story of how gang violence in Chicago affects the SouthSide and how people have tried to create "Safe Passage" for kids to get to school without getting beaten up or shot at--which isn't something that kids should be worrying about to begin with. On the one-year anniversary of the death of Darius's mother, his friend, Booger, talks him into skipping school to go track down where an armored truck has gotten into a wreck. People are posting videos of money flying all over the place and Booger gets the great idea that they can gather up a lot of the money and no one would be the wiser. At first, Darius is all for it because he caught a glimpse of the second eviction notice on the kitchen table, where his stepdad is also scouring the newspapers to try and find a job. Booger decides to post the empty bank bag they found on social media and it goes viral. Which... they quickly realize isn't the kind of attention they want when they have to cross several gang territories to get back home. Unfortunately, Darius's little sister, Cissy, follows them instead of going to school, which puts her in danger as well. The art is strictly black and white, which really works for focusing on the plot and not the setting / surroundings. It especially works when blood appears in the panels for those who may be a little squeamish. The story puts the reader in the turmoil of the characters growing up in a violent area, but also shows how kids notice the misfortunes that fall upon the adults as well, despite the attempts to pretend that everything is okay by the grown-ups. I feel like it also touches on how a person shouldn't post everything they do on social media because it can wind up blowing up in their faces or how there are fake personas everywhere (like in the case of "White Mike.") Just an overall great read.

[edmturnmeon]

TAEYEON INVU Vinyl 2LP Limited Edition Review

The limited edition INVU vinyl (2LP) is a true masterpiece vinyl for K-pop vinyl collectors IvanYolo TAEYEON's INVU Vinyl is undoubtedly one of the most highly demanded vinyl among K-pop vinyl collectors. The sensation surrounding this exceptional vinyl has remained unmatched since its initial release, and for good reason. Its uniqueness in both sound and design ensures that every vinyl enthusiast who adds it to their collection has a coveted gem.Fans of TAEYEON will absolutely cherish this vinyl as they listen and marvel at its breathtaking sound quality and absorb the stunning album art and packaging. The high demand for this vinyl testifies to its exceptional quality and the fan base that TAEYEON has created. Recently, I was fortunate enough to witness the captivating 'The ODD of LOVE' concert, which left a deep impression on me. The music was not only beautiful but also highly engaging, prompting me to want to have the vinyl record to listen to any time I wanted.However, acquiring this coveted vinyl proved to be quite the challenge. I searched high and low through various online stores and marketplaces, hoping to get my hands on a copy. Sadly, all my efforts were futile as it seemed to be out of stock or sold out everywhere. Nonetheless, my desire to own this vinyl record remains as strong as ever, and I will continue to search for it in the hope that one day it will be mine.

TAEYEON INVU Vinyl LP Is A Must Have For K-Pop Vinyl Collectors

TAEYEON's 3rd album, the INVU vinyl LP is a true masterpiece that has been highly anticipated by K-pop fans from all around the world. Released on December 30, 2022, this vinyl has already become a hot commodity on the market due to its unparalleled sound quality and stylish design. The fact that it comes in two LPs - each with its own unique color scheme featuring blue and orange - only adds to its appeal and makes it a must-have item for vinyl collectors everywhere.If you were fortunate enough to get your hands on one of these limited edition INVU vinyls, consider yourself truly lucky! Many K-pop fans have found it next to impossible to snag a copy for themselves, as the product has sold out at most retailers. However, those who were patient and persistent enough to search for one have been rewarded with an exhilarating experience.In fact, my own search for the INVU vinyl was filled with both frustration and excitement! I scoured numerous websites trying to find a valid source but came up empty-handed for a while. Finally, after much perseverance, I stumbled upon a trustworthy seller on Shopee who offered the vinyl at a premium price point. I have successfully secured the INVU LP, which is a rare and valuable piece for collectors. The cost of the LP is RM1,143, which is roughly equivalent to USD $241. As I know, K-pop vinyls are highly sought after by collectors and fans alike, which makes them quite rare and valuable. It took about 2 weeks for the shipping from South Korea to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.Although you may think investing in it is a little extravagant, as a vinyl collector, I believe it is worth the price since it's limited edition. But let me be frank: the price hike was well worth it, given how hard it was to obtain one of these rare vinyls. So, if you are ever presented with the opportunity to purchase an INVU vinyl, don't hesitate - it's truly a collector's dream come true!

Buying Tips:  If you're new to online shopping and want to make sure you're making a legitimate purchase, don't worry, we've got your back! Here are some helpful tips for you. When shopping for K-pop music, it's important to find a seller who specializes in vinyl and CDs to ensure that they have a good grasp of the music you're looking for. Additionally, take the time to read through reviews on the items in their store.This can give you an idea of what previous customers have experienced and whether or not the seller is trustworthy. By taking a few extra steps, you can ensure that your online shopping experience is a positive one, leaving you with the peace of mind that comes with making a secure purchase.https://youtu.be/dzTpdSI435E

The Sound Quality

The INVU LP has been tested on my Yamaha Aventage RX-A860 and my new Sony PS-LX310BT turntable. I am very familiar with the album since I listen to it almost every day, so I know which tracks feature her high-note vocals. There are several INVU concept photo prints in vinyl size and lyrics, and the vinyl is protected by an inner cover sleeve, which is good.When it comes to listening to your favorite vinyl records, there are some important factors to consider in order to achieve the best sound possible. In my humble opinion, opting for a wired connection via an RCA cable over a Bluetooth connection can make a significant difference in the overall quality of the audio output. By using a wired connection, there is a more stable and consistent transmission of the audio signal, which means a reduction in any potential interference or loss of quality. In addition, with a wired connection, there is no need to worry about the potential dropouts and signal interruptions that can come with Bluetooth, especially in areas with a lot of wireless activity or interference.As I eagerly prepared to play my favorite vinyl record, I carefully loaded it onto the turntable with great anticipation. The moment I lowered the needle and the first song "INVU" began to play, I was absolutely blown away with TAEYEON's crystal-clear vocal! (I was excited because it is a vinyl after all... lol) The rich and warm tones emanating from the speakers enveloped me in a sonic bliss I had not experienced for some time.My heart swelled with pure joy, and I was transported to a different time and place, where music was the language that united and uplifted us all. As the melody washed over me, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment of pure musical ecstasy. It was a totally different music listening experience than streaming music on Spotify.

Conclusion

After thoroughly examining and analyzing the INVU Vinyl by TAEYEON, I have come to the conclusion that it is indeed an extraordinary piece of vinyl that possesses a truly unique quality. Its exceptional design, structure, and features are unmatched in comparison to other vinyl collections available in the market today. For SONEs out there who are seeking an unparalleled listening experience, TAEYEON's INVU Vinyl is the perfect addition to their collection. The incredible sound quality and crispness of the tracks on this vinyl is something that will leave any music lover mesmerized. So, if you don't want to miss out on owning a one-of-a-kind vinyl that is a true testimony to music perfection, then make sure you don't hesitate. Get your hands on INVU Vinyl by TAEYEON soon if you are able to find one and elevate your music experience to a whole new level if you can find one! You might also want to check out a list of Taeyeon's best contemporary ballads which also features a few songs from INVU album. As a fan and supporter of TAEYEON, I am eagerly anticipating the release of her new album in November 2023. That's right, Taeyeon will release a new album in November, SM Entertainment confirmed. It would be absolutely amazing if there was also an LP release alongside it. LPs offer a unique and immersive listening experience for fans, where they can fully appreciate the intricate details and nuances of each track. The warm and rich sound of vinyl is unmatched, and would perfectly complement TAEYEON's incredible vocals and musical style. Of course, we cannot predict the future and the decisions of her record label. But I remain hopeful and optimistic that our dreams will come true. So let's keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best - a breathtaking album and a beautiful vinyl release to go with it.

IvanYolo Rating

Build ★★★★★ 5/5 Sound Quality ★★★★★ 5/5 Music ★★★★★ 5/5 Share This: You Might Also Like Related Posts Read the full article

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[insomnishnik]

pairing : obsessive! dom eren x god complex reader *wink* *wonk*

rating : smut, 18+, fluff, crack (?)

wc : 53k

cw : degradation, choking, semi public sex, art student! eren, cockwarming, pussy spanking, mention of bruises and injuries, breeding kink ish, obsessive behavior, stalking, borderline yandere 😁 also pliz I'm new so if this bad lemme know

summary : at the very end of graduation, it's time to say goodbye, college is over, now off to the real world. But before the farewell, you as the student president arrange the one last time after party as a sweet goodbye message, little do you know eren have other plan.

“DO WE HAVE TO?” you murmured as Hitch pushed your back while both of stepping inside of a coffee shop. Fragrance of coffee bean, vanilla air freshener wafted to your nose, the comforting wooden minimalist arabica design greeted your eyes for its pleasing aesthetic scenery.

"Yes, we have to i mean how bad could it be?" she grinned, pulling your arm to her clutches while both of you scoured inside, "besides, the past must stay as the past, it was just a silly president election it's not like he would hold grudges against you for getting elected," she continued, referring to the big college event far ago before the senior year. 

That one time when you and Eren Jaeger applied to be the student council president, and like how history spoke, the winner rejoiced, and nobody really care about what happens next to the loser. It was a though fight, you were quite determined to take that core position with your persona, you believed that you could bring greater goods for the community, and you DID do good, but Eren fought back passionately, and you remembered you could see fire in his eyes during his speech at the debate election, he may not smart but he's clever, maybe a little aggressive but hell does he moved so many people's heart, you remembered when he was standing tall and brave on that podium while his sea green eyes glued the room together, the intimacy that is fiery and optimistic, but as the whole world know destiny said otherwise, without your own anticipation 

you won. 

And since then your reign begun. You rule well, you made plenty achievements as student president and you never been so proud of yourself, since then you never lose your dedication for your people, and the feel of being a victor, and oh how you loved the feel of being powerful. 

You and Hitch walked upstairs to the second loft of the coffee shop after you both ordered the drinks you wanted, "I dunno Hitch, i don't think that this is a good idea," you mumbled to the girl next to you, while you scratching the back of your ear, "when Armin said not to mess with Eren i think he meant it."

Sure you were delighted with your victory, but you still couldn't help yourself to feel bad for Eren, there's this strange tingle of guilt vine your stomach when you, the possessor approached your ex rival far a month ago, he gave you this bitter dirty look as you waved him a polite good morning, then he stormed off without a single word, you felt like he was prestige to look into your eyes since then. 

"And when i said he was a wuss, and a man child for going all off emo after that election i also meant it," Hitch rolled her eyes, she pat your back as a reassurance before you two finally found the person you've been looking for, almost unrecognizable from the last time you guys bumped to each other, for a moment your eyes widened to the now Eren Jaeger.

 There he was sitting all pretty at the smoking area, his hair was pulled onto a messy bun with a few loose strands on his nape, he was far more built than the boy you used to know, his bushy eyebrows looking furrowed to a sketchbook, the charcoal pencil he's holding dances on top of it. He was styled in a thin knitted black long sleeve top that hugged his muscular body tightly, army green cargo pants, and combat boots — you know, those kind of boots you wear to a rock concert just to kick someone — his rolled sleeves, revealing his veiny arms that covered with tattoos. His long legs is stretched to the chair next to him while he is leaning against the wall. 

Hitch glanced at you, she cackled noticing you googling at Eren, she pulled you by your wrist approaching the brunet, "you'll be fine," she snickered, while you could only let out a soft sigh, here goes nothing. 

Hitch signal her presence to Eren with a light cough, a small thud hit the surface of his sketchbook after he dropped his pencil. His gaze shifts to both of you who were standing by his side, he raised his left brow when his eyes met yours, you stared back at Eren and he outstared you blankly, "Jaeger," you hesitated. 

About time you finally came to me.

"Y/N," he replied, calling you by your first name. His expression never change, they're rather cold, unimpressed, he studied both of you, then back to you, he lift his chin up as he locked his eyes on you, "you brought a friend." Intruder, he finally said after a brief silence, Eren closed his sketchbook and then cracked his knuckles, Hitch pulled you, taking a seat in front of Eren. 

"Now let's skip the chit chat, because by the way Eren, you smells musty," Hitch waved her hand in front of her face, she's not wrong though, he smells like tobacco and axe body spray. Furthermore when Hitch explained the reasons of hers and yours arrival to Eren, his gaze never really left you, sometimes he would spare Hitch small glances and nods as confirmation of himself still listening, but his attention was on you. 

And you willingly stares back, you still couldn't read his expression, they're as calm as the morning blue sky, they're just so empty it sucks you in, maybe it's the blunt hatred and envy from him for your presidential position, or maybe it was something else, you even almost think that you two are basically eye fucking each other. 

You extended him the proposal and the selected material details to him, it's almost graduation, and you're running out of time to find someone who could make an exclusive design for the jackets you are planning to make as a gift for the after party event. The other councilor members and you also haven't decide the theme yet, it has to be perfect. Your last hope is Eren, the fine arts student all the girls in school droll over, even though his charisma was slightly dimmed after his loss at the election, he still got his charm, and you really prayed to Goddess Fortuna because you don't want to risk looking for someone else to customize this specific special item and just to get disappoint by the erratic result, at least when Eren agree to take the work, someone could watch over.

"No fucking way," Eren let out a smug chortled, "the president needs my help," he added in a sneering tone. Cute. 

"So you agree or not Eren," you try to suppress your nerve, and you really try not to punch his cocky face, the way he throw his head back a little so he gave you this kind of kubrick stare, gazing into your soul as if he wants to eat you alive, and just like they said, if looks could kill, you're probably be ripped apart by now. 

"What if i say no?" he continued, tapping his boot's toe on the wooden floor. 

"You'll waste your talent," you gift a thin smile that hides a very big urge to stab him repeatedly. 

Eren chuckled, he looked away towards the window before he lean forward to you, "What happen to the other art students, L/N? Did they finally acknowledge your overly perfectionist bossy self or what?" 

"And what about it?" you argued, leaning to his face, he wanted to humiliate you, he wanted you to get on your knees and beg, but you still have your dignity. 

"Uh, what is this," Hitch hesitated, "i am highly uncomfortable with the atmosphere we created in this room," what's with the eye fucking? Hitch thought, she felt like she's interrupting a really heated make out session but instead of kissing it was exchanging pure hatred, Hitch nudged you by your elbow, giving you a look. 

You gritted your teeth and pursed your lips together, leaning closer to Eren's face, "Alright, if this is about that stupid president election we had together grow up Eren! The world doesn't evolve in your stupid drama queen head, so please since i'm asking you nicely before i could fu-" You stopped your bust as a waitress came over with the drinks you ordered earlier, you glared angrily at Eren as you caught a tug of amused smirk at the corner of his lips, it was the fact that you desperately needs his help but still play all bitchy, he found it funny. 

Sure you have your dignity, and he is willing to destroy it just because he can.

After the waitress left, you tasted your fresh latte angrily, making Eren chuckled under his husky breath, while on the other side Hitch is silently witnessing the tense between you two. 

"Fine," Eren broke the silence after a few minutes since the waitress left, "i'll take the work." he sat up, you nodded and watched as that key necklace of his dangling out from his collar, and when your eyes laid on the toned chest that peaking under his shirt, you gulped your saliva and quickly looked away, "good, thank you for your understanding."

You clasps your hands together and you could hear Hitch's faint sigh of relief, "great so now i think we have our deal, you know Professor Levi's tea shop right? tomorrow we're doing a gathering, be there before 8, and if-" 

who says that i'm finished doll? Eren tug another smirk, "but with some condition."

⊱✿⊰

"For real? No party organizer available until next January?" you groaned in frustration, frantically flipping through pages of your journal, Hitch and Armin walks by your side to the long table area.

Chaos. 

Chaos everywhere, you feel like your head is going to explode, your blood boils, and there's this uncomfortable anxiety under your skin, crippling under you and devouring you slowly. You've been overworked yourself the entire night after your meeting with Eren, you were brainstorming for your graduation speech, activity recap, and of course other ornaments for the very last project you're having in your senior year, you cried for three hours while listening to montgomery ricky then cried again over the document you accidentally deleted. 

You're exhausted.

Mentally and physically, you woke up with puffy eyes and wrecked brain, but you knew that everything must go on, and no, you won't back down, everything has to be perfect, 

It has to be perfect. 

Hitch pouted as she watches you typing on your laptop, she snakes her arms around your waist and leaned her head against your shoulder, watching you making some kind of budget recap, "sweetie you should rest and lay down." She spoke with a soft smile. 

You pursed your lips together before you leaned your head on top of hers, not leaving your eyes from your laptop, "thanks Hitch, but i'm alright, i'll just finish this and i'll take a break for a bit." You just can't really trust anything without yourself being under control or watching over, you're afraid that everything would astray far from your definition of 'perfection,' this empire you've been building, and this is your last legacy the next generation will remember, and you wanted it to be remarkable. 

"No dumbass, the last catering service was too expensive and apparently our university was filled with cheapskates." argued a voice from across the room.

"Well we have no choice???" other voice argued back, "Or we can rely on your very bad cooking skill Kirstein, just pray nobody's gonna die from food poisoning." 

You huffed at the sight of Ymir and Jean who was sitting face to face on the floor, both are on their phone scrolling on google, you looked around and found Sasha, Marco and Connie, chatting across you, and you looked over to the three people next to you, your vice president Hitch, your treasurer Armin, and your secretary Mikasa. You couldn't help yourself but smiling at your team, they works so well. 

Then you frowned as your realized something, "Have Eren-" 

A short blonde girl with a tray of drinks and snacks entered the room, "Y'all snack time!" she called out with a large grin on her face.

Ymir's face lit up as she walked up to her girlfriend, Sasha sprinted towards Historia, going feral over food as usual. 

"Ugh finally," you chuckled to Jean's mumble. Soon, half of the room crowded the blonde girl, reaching for snacks and drinks, your eyes fixated as you slowly notice the presence of the familiar sea green eyes, you watches as Eren strolls inside of the meeting room, he yawned before he took a seat on Hitch's place, your frowned slightly, "excuse you?" 

"Excuse me?" he replied, plastering that damn cocky smile, he looked to you up and down, definitely mocking you under his degrading gaze, dammit y/n did you overworked yourself?

"Well have you look at yourself, President." he snickered, suddenly a sketch design laid in front of you, you shift your eyes to Eren, before you took the papers on your hands. Soft grazes of colored pencil and ink, the art was delicate yet firm, "what is this?" you asked dumbly to the design of two bomber jackets, each of the jackets has their own scrawled side notes of the color details, embroidery, and even fabric material.

"Both jacket will be make from satin, no argument, satin," Eren spoke, he pointed his polished finger nail to the design, "the girls will have the yellow one, the boys will take the red, it'll have our Uni symbol and our number," he explained, "should be ready as soon as possible," Eren watches you closely, waiting for you to say something. Part of him.....just wants you to react, just anything, just any reaction exclusively for him. 

You blinked slowly, wow. Honestly it's beautiful, looks like it was Harajuku style inspired, you can't wait to touch the final craft, you glanced at Eren, "thank you," you spoke finally, "it's really beautiful."

I'm glad you like it. "Of course it's beautiful, i made it," he replied with a smug face, he cracked his knuckles then tapped his fingers to the wooden table, "now now, what do we have here." 

It was part of Eren's condition. One, he wanted to be fully involved in the graduation ceremony prep and the after party. Two, most importantly nobody touch his creation while he have full control of it, you reluctantly gave him the responsiblity to handle the venue decoration and the theme, most of the people in your team weren't really pleased with that decision, but like you all have time to think? But after considering it, you felt like it would be good idea to have extra hands helping. 

Anything,

To reach the absolute perfection.

⊱✿⊰

"I'm so glad, that this is almost over, because i could not bear drinking another monster and espresso or i might get caffeine intoxication," you grinned as you earned chuckles through the dinner table, it was all paid off, and the grand event was right in front of your eyes, you could already imagine yourself standing on that podium, delivering your grand speech, high and god like.

But now, celebration first. 

The admiration looks from your team and the last year student council team — who decided to join for the gig — feeds your ego, there's Zeke, Nicolo, Reiner, Pieck and her girlfriend Yelena, Porco and Bertholdt. Your friends really look up to you, from the day you earned your position, they knew they could count on you. "Thank you, thank you for all of the hard works this season, i would never ask for a better team, you guys are the best that i could ever wished for," you grinned and picked up the can of beer from the table, everybody raises their drinks, and you looked at the edge of the table, where your graduated senior, Zeke Jaeger sitting down, giving you a proud look, he was a student president before you, "this is for everyone, our community has never been this great, because you all dedicated your hearts." As you cheers together, you looked around, something is missing, you can feel it, yet you can't find any solid answer for that feeling. 

It was a simple outdoor Korean barbecue party in your house's backyard, after all done, you wanted nothing but to treat your friends, because that's what they deserved for serving you right. It was returning favor, while waiting for the meat to be cook perfectly by your senior Nicolo, you sat besides Mikasa as you both chats, while Armin was next to her, busy with his phone. In the distance, chaotic guitar strums and jams from drunk Connie and Jean cracking the air together with everyone that hyping them up. You pressed your chin against Mikasa's shoulder while both of you giggling over a twitter thread. 

"Eren said he's coming over," Armin announced to both of you, he looked down to his phone and let out a heavy sigh. 

So that was the missing piece. 

"Why's the sigh?" you asked Armin.

Armin hesitated, he looked around everywhere that isn't you, he rubbed his hand through his undercut, it feels like watching someone having a very conflicted mind war with themself, he then finally impaled you with a mixed expression, "Y/N," he started, "i don't know how to say this but....." He glanced over at Mikasa, and you followed him. 

The dark haired girl rather gave him a surprised expression, a some kind of you did not! look. You exchanged the utterly confusion to both of them, Mikasa nodded slowly, "She needs to know, Armin." 

"I need to know what?" 

"What are you guys talking about?" you turned around and sees Eren standing right in front of you, bruised up and bleeding, his knuckles was fucked in a shade of dark red and purple, strands of hair falling in front of his face, Mikasa quickly stood up, "Eren did you—"

"Yes i did," he shot her a cold glare, you could see from the corner of your eyes that Zeke started to approaching, Eren's eyes then finally found Armin, who's looking scared and nervous more than ever, "tell me, what's the interesting story Armin?" his tone was striking and icy, under his husky voice, you could track hints of slurs because of alcohol. 

Armin went quiet, he gripped his knuckles, what is this? something must happened and you didn't know, and you hated that. You hated when things was out of your reach. "It's okay Eren, you should check your wounds, they look pretty bad," Armin swallowed, his words came out more threatening than he anticipated. 

"No, no, no, i wanted to know what you gonna say to Y/N," Eren moves closer to Armin, "you are not trying to tell her anything bad about me right?" 

They looked like they're ready to throw hands, but Zeke was already slips between them, holding the both boys's chests with his flat palms, "come on now guys, let's not." he hesitated.

"No, let's." Eren insisted, he slapped his brother's hand, you quickly pulled him down by his arm, he flinched when he felt your touch, Eren glance at you, and for a split second his eyes went soft, it was that soft that you felt nothing but pure affection from his sea green eyes, then something took over his body, he suddenly pulled you by your collar, lifting you up, moving your face closer to his.

His eyes were bloodshot, you squeezed his wrists while kicking your feet on the air, "you," he growled, his warm breath smells like alcohol, you blinked slowly, scanning Eren's animalistic glare, but there is no hate in his eyes, you found yourself trying to look for it but there it none, instead there's this raging desire, he looked at you like you were his prey, "Eren-" you choked, for the first time, you feel powerless.

"I hate you," he hissed, but all you could sense was lie, his mortal fingers squeezing you so deadly but you feel the comfort of it, the bizarrely embracing lust, and his existence blurs all the noises around you, just you and Eren Jaeger. "you took everything from you," he continued, "i woke up everyday wishing you dead." 

You knitted your eyebrows, and you feel your godly ichor rushes back through your veins, a disgusted smirk appeared on your face, belittling him for lying, "liar." 

Then huge arms pulled Eren from you, tackling him to the ground, Mikasa caught you before you hit the ground, Hitch stepped in front of you, shielding you from Eren who was struggling under Zeke, "Eren what the hell!" she shouted. Mikasa helped you up and pulled you close to her chest, "Y/N are you okay?" she sounded so scared, questions and assumptions popping in your head about what happens between Mikasa, Armin, and Eren. You looked up, finding Reiner helping Zeke restraining his own brother. You knew a minute ago that guy attacked you, but seeing Eren in that position just feels so wrong, you never thought you'll get drew by a guy like Eren Jaeger, but here you are finding yourself shoving aside your pride while approaching the two blonds. You put your hand on Zeke's shoulder, squeezing them gently, "it's okay," your delicate tone shocks him, "let him go Zeke." 

You could feel everyone giving you a jaw drop, but when all eyes on you, you find yourself only looking at Eren. 

After a tense moment, Zeke and Reiner finally let go of the brunet, you pulled Eren up then you put the tip of your fingers to his chin, examining his wounds, he scoffed and avoided your eyes, dropping his eyes to the ground. "Let's get that clean up," you mumbled and dragged him by his hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Leaving everyone in a ambiguous silence. 

"Why are they leaving? the wagyu is ready."

You walked upstairs to your room, no words exchange both of you before you finally entered the bathroom with Eren, you let go of his hand, your heartbeat strangely skipping inside your chest, while you were searching for the medicine kit in the cabinet, when you finally turn around, you found Eren already sitting on the toilet seat, you kneeled down in front of him and you opened the medicine kit, you pulled a towel from the drawer and stood up, wetting it in the sink, "what happen?" you finally spoke. 

Eren let out a deep chuckle, he wiped his bloody nose with his thumb then wiped it off on his jeans, gross. "Why do you care," he asserted. 

You rolled your eyes and kneeled back in front of him, with dripping wet cloth on your right hand, "please you stormed on me, lifted me up and looked at me like you wanted fuck me against the table while also wanted to burn me alive at the same time." you gave him a judging look. You took his hands, and then slowly pressed the dampen cloth on his bloody knuckles, he didn't flinch, Eren remained silence while he watches you. You could feel his smirk while you were treating his wounds. "Have i told you how hideous you look tonight?" he asked quietly. 

"No, tell me." 

Eren then moved his left hand away from you, extending them, he caressed his thumb on your cheekbone, made you froze, his hand then traveled to your ear, it tugged your hair behind them, "i cannot." He whispered softly. 

You looked up, and put the now reddish cloth on the floor, you moved closer to the burnet in front of you, you intertwined your fingers with his once again, the tense on his shoulders visibly relax while his pupils widened to the presence of you, "now would you tell me what happen?" your voice sweetened, melodic in his ear, and it seems like he's lured enough by it. 

Eren huffed a chuckle, he looked down to both of your hands, "Had a fight with Pops," he shrugged, "took the anger on the wall." You moved closer to his face, close enough to smell the liquor in his breath. Eren stared at you, he never imagine he would have the blessing to be this close with you, he was always watching you from afar. Those interrogation towards Armin regarding you, questions after questions on your personal life, forcing Armin to dug deeper and helped Eren fulfilling his needs on you, he'd followed you after school, to your favorite coffee shop, your home so he'll know your address, to where ever he could reach you, man... he'll go after you to the edge of the world if that's where you're heading. 

"Do you still hate me?" you asked, and to be honest the question kind of scares you, because after these past few weeks of spending more time with Eren Jaeger, you finally caught in his fire, his flaming intimacy you thought was long gone, and you also surprises yourself for not getting pissed off by the feeling, because it makes you feel vulnerable. 

Eren grazes his thumb on your jaw as if you were made of glass, he kneeled down to the floor with you, so you both could be equal, no high ground. "The truth is my darling, i never was," he confirmed, "after you won that election it was my last straw because from the first time i laid my eyes on you, Love.... You have bewitched me body and soul," he's been watching over you from the distance and you still as pathetic as he could remember, maybe it's the way you stole glances at him, the way you would secretly checking him out but little did you know that he notices everything, he's been reading you like an open book without having to flip through every pages, because you already spread open for him, "you have became the very thing that is out of my reach, Love. And for i have fancy you, and you'll be mine not just in my mind but fully," and he is itching to taste you. His warmth envelopes you to a sense of safety, he trails his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you melt like a candle on fire. Right above you stand an entity greater than yourself, the essence of mystery that fold itself in front of you, and with the universe speak between you, everything is a clarity. 

And you, you don't get it, you thought it was all envy to the position you have, and for the first time, you crave something other than power, "Did you just quoted Pride and Prejudice for me, Jaeger?" you snakes your arms around his neck while his growing bulge strokes on your clothed cunt, the rough material of his jeans made your arousal grow thicker, "my, my, my i used to think that you were just a pretty face with zero common sense," you teased, nuzzling your nose against him. 

His husky chuckle vibrates against your skin, without warning he pushes you up against the wall and you immediately jumped onto his waist with your legs, you gasped as your back hit the cold surface, Eren kneading your butt cheeks as he was holding you up, his chest pressed on yours, warm breath mixes together, "ouch, did you just call me dumb?" you snickered, Eren tilts his head before he smirked, "maybe we could be equally dumb after i make you babble nonsense with my cock." His mouth devouring yours feverishly. Frantic gestures rid you and him of clothes on your body, while you helped Eren unbuckling his belt, his teeth grazes yours, tongues fighting for dominance with each other, he latched his lips onto yours, hungry for more taste, you started to sucking his bottom lip while Eren savor your taste, he pushes more for a deeper kiss, his hand fondling your clothed boob, then it slipped under them, as he found your stiffened nipple, you felt his smirk between your kiss, and a moan escaped from your lips, they're already swollen and you knew you needed air soon, but without your realizing, you already breath through his air through the kiss. 

You unhooked your bra while Eren pressed you harder against the wall, his cock was already free from his jeans and boxer, his beautiful tip was coated in precum, when you finally exposed your breasts in front of him, the animalistic side possessed him back, Eren kneads your breasts greedily causing you to mewl, shivers running down your spine, and you unconsciously grinds you drenched cunt against his waist, Eren cackled. 

"What a fucking whore, you looked like a cat in heat." 

You whined when his flat palm hit your cunt, he rubs the dampen clothed surface of your clit, Eren brought his mouth to your breast and started to circling his tongue on your nipple, making your back arched and you grinding to nothingness of his waist, "whore," he spat, a string of saliva bridge between your skin and his lips, "is this what you called a student president? i don't think so." Eren grip your throat and slowly adding pressure to your air circulation with his index finger and thumb, his other hand has been stroking his own cock for awhile, he uses his precum as lube and your eyes twinkled to the beautiful sight. 

Your lips parted, he let out a throaty groan to your ear just to tease you, "what if i just jack myself and leave you like this?" the menacing grin appeared on his face, your desperate look just pleased him even more, he groaned under his breath as he feeling himself twitching, and your drooling pussy just looking tastier than ever, Eren inhaled and faked a pout, "aw, what is it? don't you want to walk around with my cum dripping from your slutty hole aren't you? that is sinful my Love, won't it gonna stain your pride, Miss President?" 

You cursed under you breath, and another slap landed on your cunt, you threw your head back as Eren squeezed you against the wall, "nu uh, bad words," he growled, "what do you want, Y/N? Use your fucking mouth if you want something, did your parents never tell you?" another hard slap on your cunt made you gasp, you cried louder, and Eren shushed you while peppering kiss on your naked shoulder, "careful darling they might hear you from downstairs." 

He pecked your nose before he finally aims his cock to your entrance, stroking his tip to your dripping cunt, "what do you want, Y/N? say it." He repeated.

"Your cock!" you whimpered, "please pound me with your cock.... please Eren.. i just want it inside.."

He slammed into you, causing you to let out a sharp noise, "Oh, like this?" Eren felt your soft warm walls hugging him so tightly, as if you guys just fit so perfectly together, he held his hand on your tummy to prevent you from grinding your greedy self, letting your cunt clenching him by itself, "fuck you're so tight my Love," he groaned subtly. 

"E-eren please move..... i'm begging you...." you sobbed so pathetically. Eren moved his face close to yours and pinned your wrists above your head, "this will need an outcome don't you think?" he tilted his head, making you wept for his cock to move even more, suddenly an idea popped in his head, "I will move," he said, "i'll shoot my loads in you and then you'll be mine, i want you to want me so badly, i'm going to imprison you, and then.... just then...it'll be just you and me, always and forever," he dug his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent so they'll stay in his head, but he knew it won't, you're his own personal drug anyways, "promise, Darling?" Eren whispered against your skin.

You shivered under him, your eyes rolls at the back of your head, your pussy is aching with lust, so needy for his cock. You quickly nodded your head, "p-promise." 

Eren kissed your neck, sucking them briefly, leaving a visible mark on your soft skin, "good girl."

He pulled his cock from you, leaving just the tip, before then he impaled, filling you up with his length, he slide so easily onto your meat, your legs shivered as he endlessly pushed deeper inside you, and you could feel his tip kissed your cervix, Eren then started to moves at a quick pace, "you like that so much hm? taking my cock like a little slut," he said velvety, turning you on even more. He buried your moan into a deep kiss, his big arm scoot your hips close to him as he ramming his cock with no mercy onto your walls, his other hand still pinning your wrists, as if you're gonna escape from him. You started to rolling your hips on him, making him move more faster, you're both skin to skin, grinding onto each other desperately, "Eren....s'big...so deep..." you moaned. He continues to pound into you.

"Fuck, that's right baby say my name."

"Eren!"

After a minute he completely stopped, you opened your eyes and your face shows confusion, before you could ask any questions, he suddenly slams all of his length into you, causing you to yelp both in pain and pleasure, the lewd sound of skin slapping made you curl your toes, he pounding into you like there's no tomorrow, you threw your head back, your tongue lolling out from your lips, he slamming all his length in and out of you repeatedly until you're a shaking panting mess, an amused look plastered on his cocky face, and his hips didn't stop dipping on you, not letting you think straight or put up any fight, "come on, fucking take it like the cumslut you are."

You choked on your breath as the knot in your stomach getting tighter, "E-ren... hugs...hugs....?" you purred to him, he finally let go of your wrists and let your head fell against his shoulder, he increases his phase that you didn't know was possible, you warped your arms around him as he did to you, and you dragged your nails through his sweaty back, Eren started to whisper sweet nothings as he felt himself twitching, he slurred curses underneath his groaned, his veins popped as he gripped you tightly, his muscles flexes at each moves.

You didn't dare to question him when he said that he'll fill you up inside, because no matter what your answer is, he'll do it anyway. The sight of his hard rock abs and v lines sent you over the edge, “Eren i’m gonna cum—“

“cum with me, Darling.” 

You tasted the bitter tint in your tongue as you started seeing stars, you vision went black as Eren rides you to your orgasm while fluid started dripping down your thighs, your body is shaking uncontrollably, Eren let out a loud groan as he riding himself to his own high using your abused cunt, he shot his warm thick load onto your womb, making sure you take all of it, you buried your face on his neck, he slowly pulls out his cock and watches the white liquid oozing from your hole. Eren lifted up your chin, he cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, mixing your pants together, “mine.” he moaned to your soft plump lips.

“yours."

⊱✿⊰

[memeadonna]

The Kingdom of Roses

You are the princess of Rusika, a kingdom neighbouring Novoselic. When one of your government’s high ranking officials is taken as a political prisoner, your kingdom retaliates by taking some of your own -- and they just might be more than you bargained for. 

Hello Everybody! My name is Jess and I’ve been a longtime fan of Danganronpa, from around 2012 or 2013 when I first played the games. I wanted to try my hand at writing a reader insert for one of my favourite characters (and my first ever husbando), one Kazuichi Souda. This beautiful art really inspired me (I scoured high and low for an artist credit, but I couldn’t find one. If you know who drew it please let me know and I will give them the appropriate credit), and I wrote an x reader. I hope you all enjoy!  Warnings: This work contains NSFW not suitable for readers under 18. Please do not interact with this post if you are under 18. 

Monarchies were a dying form of government. Most countries had established parliaments by now, but the Kingdom of Rusika, where you were born, and a few neighbouring kingdoms held onto their royal families until the very end. Novoselic was one such kingdom, one that until a few days ago had been your ally. Your father – beloved king of Rusika – had sent one of his most trusted advisors to negotiate a trade deal with the Nevermind family, rulers of Novoselic.

That advisor had been captured and held at ransom for some unknown reason. The Novoselic Kingdom really had no idea what they were doing, did they?

Sonia Nevermind was someone you had grown up with. The two of you had never been friends, per se, but you understood one another. You were Princesses tasked with leading your kingdoms towards prosperity. Your countries were similar enough – they had once been one, but after a civil war in 926, the country had been divided in half. While Novoselic’s exports consisted of luxury goods – wine, chocolate, and cheese – Rusika’s were more practical. Your main exports were related to geothermal energy and associated technologies, or mining precious gems. Your country – the kingdom of roses – was building the future. Hers was stuck in the past, weighed down by stupid traditions.

Your father trusted you more than Sonia’s father trusted her, and so you had grown up with more responsibilities. You had learned early on the burdens of leadership, and eventually began to find her boring. You made sure she never caught on, always giving her your full attention whenever she rambled about her silly life and silly problems.

Both of your countries had hit economic booms, so what need was there to worry? Gah, her philosophy was so stupid.

Today you woke up to find that your father had arranged the kidnapping of two of Sonia’s closest friends. She had just graduated from the prestigious Hope’s Peak Academy, and had apparently invited her entire class to Novoselic to spend their last vacation celebrating.

It was strange of him to make such a decision without consulting you first. You were supposed to be queen of Rusika one day, and he always made sure you had a say in decisions. Today you were instructed to dress the part of a princess and come greet your guests. You were to show them hospitality and make them feel welcome. You might have kidnapped them, but you weren’t monsters. They would literally receive the royal treatment, and you were to be put in charge of them.

As your handmaidens helped you dress (corseting you, doing your hair and makeup, and fixing your jewelry could be a six-person job), you went over what you wanted to say to your prisoners. How the hell were you supposed to make them feel welcome?

You had never seen a person with two different coloured eyes before. You had also never seen a person with pink hair. Based on the way they looked at you, dripping in jewels and looking your part, you doubted they had seen Sonia in all of her glory yet. You smiled as you introduced yourself, trying your hardest not to look like you were studying them. You explained the situation to them, told them they were valuable political prisoners and would not be harmed or imprisoned as long as they behaved, and did not try to leave.

The man with two different coloured eyes called you a fiend, as well as many other dark names as he promised his Princess would come for him. The man with pink hair affirmed “Miss. Sonia will rescue me!” and shook his fist at you, trying his best not to look starstruck.

Eventually, you got their names out of them.

“How long will we be here?” Gundham asked you over dinner that night. “I wish to return home as soon as possible. I have responsibilities.”

Realistically, you knew it wouldn’t be a quick endeavour. You and Sonia had spent three months as prisoners in a neighbouring kingdom as Rusika and Novoselic had laid siege to the capitol. That was when you had learned she was boring. She kept to herself in her room, and almost seemed upset with you whenever you would negotiate with your captors, or walked the palace grounds like a free woman.

“As long as it takes” you answered coolly, glad that Japanese was one of the languages your family had forced you to learn. Members of the royal family having to speak thiry languages was one tradition that Rusika had kept from its time joined with Novoselic. It came in handy when negotiating with foreigners. “I cannot provide a clearer answer than that.”

“Don’t worry, Gundham,” Souda spoke up. “Sonia will come for us!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gundham spent most of his time observing the animals on your palace grounds. Your late mother had loved peacocks, so your father had taken up breeding them. She had loved many different animals when she had been alive, so the grounds weren’t exactly wanting. He enjoyed speaking with the vain birds, whistling and cooing until they would fan their elegant tails. His hamsters seemed to enjoy their accommodations too, with more seeds than they could have ever hoped to have eaten.

Souda, however, wanted to remain as unaffected as possible. He did his best to refuse any luxuries you offered him. It was only after you found out he had taken apart every electronic device in his room did you ask Gundham. The Ultimate Breeder had warmed up to you quickly, especially since you were the reason his hamsters were so well taken care of.

After Gundham cryptically told you about Souda, you gifted the Mechanic with a set of tools and new appliances to play with. Boredom could be so cruel, and the last thing you wanted was undue suffering.

Seeing him slip shyly into your study made your gift worth it. He was so awkward as he stumbled out a thanks, looking everywhere except your face. He was blushing and fiddling with a screwdriver as he spoke. “I still don’t trust you. You’re Miss. Sonia’s enemy,” he pointed his finger at you. “And any enemy of Miss. Sonia is an enemy of mine.”

“Would you like a workshop?” you asked him calmly. “I’m sure your room is a bit cluttered with all of those appliances. I just want to make your stay comfortable, I bear no ill will towards you, Mr. Souda.”

His cheeks flamed up and he stammered out a non-answer, shuffling out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Souda and Gundham had been with you a little over two weeks when the former finally cracked. He once more barged into your study, and looked you up and down. “I want somewhere to work,” he declared. He placed a crumpled piece of paper on your desk. “Here’s the list of everything I need.”

You saved the speech you were writing and logged off of your computer. “Come with me, Mr. Souda,” you stood gracefully, glad you no longer had to wear your ballgowns around him. It had always made you feel overdressed and obnoxious, especially considering he preferred to wear his jumpsuit rather than the clothes your country had provided him with. It had taken a lot to even convince him to let the servants wash the suit, let alone wear another while he waited.

In the end, you had commissioned seven identical jumpsuits for him, to match the one he already wore. At least he no longer reeked.

You paused at the door to the workshop you had set up for him. There was a guard stationed outside, but a nod from you dismissed him. Kazuichi’s eyes lit up as he observed all of the new-age tech he had to play with. He stammered out a bright-eyed thanks, and you gave him your brightest smile. You had done lots of research into what he would enjoy; he was your guest, not your prisoner. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a month, Novoselic struck up a deal with Rusika. A hostage for hostage trade: Gundham Tanaka for your father’s cherished advisor. Kazuichi had not been mentioned in the negotiations at all, something that did not sit right with you.

He tried to pretend that he wasn’t upset he had been forgotten, but it was obvious to anybody with half of a brain he was torn up. You made efforts to spend more time with him. You had him accompany you on walks around the castle’s garden, and even took him out of the palace for a few walks around town for a change of scenery. Nothing you said lifted his spirits. He barely even looked at you now.

You watched him tinkering with his toys, but even that seemed to have lost its shine for him. He looked so sad, so bored that it made you anxious.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned on one such walk. The two of you had been caught in the rain and had sought shelter underneath a quaint gazebo. He looked back at you with a curt nod. “How is your hair pink?”

He blinked at you for a moment before he burst out laughing. It was the first time since he had come to Rusika that he had laughed, and it made your cheeks flame up as he smiled at you.

“I dye it,” he told you after he calmed down. “I first bleach my hair to take the colour out, and then I use a dye to turn it pink.”

“Colour?” You blinked up at him. “What colour is your hair supposed to be?”

Instead of answering, he removed his beanie to reveal about an inch of jet-black hair growing in at his roots. Your eyes widened in wonder. “So, it must be bleached again on the new hair?” you asked.

“Yes,” he smiled at you dopily. “It has to be done every few months or the hair will grow in its natural colour.”

“Does it feel different?” you asked. “The pink and the black?” Instead of replying, he took your hand and placed it onto his hair. Your blush only deepened as you felt how soft it was, and noticed his cheeks were bright red too as you pulled away. “Do you wish to turn your hair pink again? I will send for my stylist.”

He smiled at you, soft but genuine. “I’d really like that. Then I’ll feel a bit more like me,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?” Souda peeked over your shoulder. You smiled tiredly up at him and you stretched as subtly as you could. You had been taking daily walks with him for several weeks now, and he would always drop by every few hours to see how you were doing, or to show off his latest invention.

“I’m looking at the schematics for a new geothermal energy plant,” you answered. “I’m trying to sort out how we can make our energy extraction more efficient.”

Kazuichi looked over the blueprints on your laptop screen. “I’d have to do the calculations, but if you merged these two pipes here-” he pointed. “-you would cut down significantly on the energy wasted.”

“Pull up a chair,” you told him. “Let’s take a look together, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kazuichi had been in your care for three months now, and he hardly acted like a prisoner. He called you “Miss” (probably because you called him Mr. Souda), and tended to barge in on you whenever he wanted. He had repaired the castle’s heating system, boosted your internet connection, and even helped you overhaul the design of your new energy plants. These plants would be 46% more efficient than the last schematic, something that amazed you. You told him repeatedly how marvellous he was, if only to see his face light up.

Lately, he had started wearing the jumpsuits your family had initially provided him with – similar to his old one but stamped with your country’s crest on the back – and had been a bit more… touchy than before. He would put a hand on the small of your back while you walked, or gently brush a lock of hair from your face as the two of you had tea.

You were not experienced in the slightest with intimacy or wanting to be in a relationship – you were certain you would learn that after you became queen – but now he was all you could think about. You knew the basics, knew what to expect from a man, but your heart was uncharted territory. You had never loved someone before, and some deep-seated fear in your heart was worried he would think you were taking advantage of him.

“I was in love with her, you know,” he told you one day while you were out for a walk. The two of you were once more caught in the rain and taking shelter in the same gazebo. “I loved Sonia.” Sonia. Not Miss. Sonia.

“Did it hurt?” you asked back, and immediately felt stupid for asking. It was none of your business, why did you want to know?

“I guess?” he shrugged. “I don’t – she never treated me like I mattered. She made me feel like I was nothing. Just a pest. Like I was disposable.”

“Sonia is a fool,” you told him. You meant it, of course you did, but at that moment you just wanted him to smile. “Your contributions will certainly leave their marks on this world. You are a remarkable person with a remarkable talent. Anybody who would overlook you is an utter fool.”

Kazuichi reached into his pocket and pulled out a small speaker. He set it on the railing, and it began to play a soft, slow song. “Will you dance with me?” he asked shyly.

“Of course,” you smiled at him, holding out your hand for him to take.

His steps were sloppy and uncoordinated, but the feeling of his warm body in your arms made you feel safe. You wanted him to love you. Love you the way he loved Sonia, and then even more. A legendary love that would eclipse all others.

When he leaned down to kiss you, you automatically tilted you head to the side. It felt like the first time and the thousandth time all at once – something new and exciting, yet undeniably right. He grinned at you like an idiot and kept swaying with you while the song ended.

“It all feels perfect with I’m with you,” he told you. “Like it all makes sense.”

“I understand,” you smiled up at him. “I feel the same way too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He barely left your side now. He would let you work, of course, but wanted to spend his every waking hour with you. He held your hand on your walks, kissed your knuckles like a gentleman whenever he greeted you, and kissed you passionately when you were alone with him. You loved watching him light up at your presence – it was like his world began and ended with you.

His greatest joy was when he got to work with you. To see you listening carefully to his advice, offering insights of your own based on your knowledge. You worked to improve both your geothermal energy plants and plan for new mines. The number of precious stones mined this year was astronomical, and it wasn’t over yet.

Your father was impressed with the improvements he had made to the schematics he had been provided with, so he was gradually given more and more responsibility (along with his freedom, of course). Eventually, he began to receive an “allowance” as payment for the work he was doing. He spent most of it on new gadgets to tinker with or gifts for you. You would often retire to your room to find a vase full of flowers or a box of chocolates, and every time you saw them you would break out into a grin you could not stop.  

The two of you would text one another (he made himself a cellphone because he was “bored and wanted to try it”) until you fell asleep, and within those words he bared his soul. He told you about his horrific home life – about the man who had dared to harm him – and about the friends who had betrayed him. He told you how much you mattered to him, all of the things he would do for you. Give up for you.

When he told you about his father hitting him one too many times, you left your room and went to his. You just needed to hold him, make him feel safe the same way he made you feel safe.

You were glad you went when you did, because there was a woman dressed in black trying to drag him out of the window. You raised the security alarm, and she was apprehended. Mukuro Ikusaba – the Ultimate Soldier – was thrown into your actual prison, and you once more had trouble with Novoselic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You answered the door with bleary eyes, but seeing Souda’s tired smile as he mumbled about not sleeping was worth it. You used your new nickname for him – the word in your mother tongue that meant little pink rose – and he melted into your arms. You didn’t care that you were wearing your nightgown, or that it was early in the morning, you had your prince charming and he was safe, and he was yours. Yours.

“I had a nightmare,” he was curled up among your pillows, snuggled up under your blankets. “You forgot about me like she did.”

“I’m not her,” you reminded him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before resting your own against it. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips, and as you let your eyes slip shut your hands found his. “I will never think of you as less than extraordinary, my darling.” You promised.

He kissed your cheek, slowly painting his way over your cheekbones and down to your lips. You responded wonderfully, one hand cupping his cheek as you kissed him slowly. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you with pure adoration. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, and his eyes were a light, rosy brown colour. Stunning.

“I love you,” the words slipped out of your mouth unbidden. You were speaking in your mother tongue now, but based on the smile he gave you and the whisper of “Ai shiteru” you got in return, he had understood. More than understood.

Your lips met his again, a strange kind of hunger filling you. He must have felt the change too, the atmosphere crackling with energy as you traced your fingers over his body. As he traced his fingers over yours.

You both stripped completely and held one another, clumsy and laughing and so in love. “Tell me if it hurts,” he had whispered to you as he stretched you open with his fingers. You had kissed him in response, a smiling sort of kiss that you hope conveyed more than a simple “I love you”.

Your lovemaking didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to to be perfect. It felt like it was right out of a fairy tale, and your prince charming was here to save you from everything bad in the world. You were here to save him, in reality, but you were more than happy to indulge him in his fantasies, so long as you could play a part in them.

When you were done, he wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss to your temple. He hummed softly and played with your hair, whispering his love over and over again. You smiled up at him, tired but satisfied, and when you fell asleep your smile did not falter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since that night you had shared, Kazuichi had been coming to your bed every night. You would fall asleep together and wake up together and talk until you couldn’t anymore. When you weren’t talking, you were either cuddling or doing something less… innocent. Your mouth had mapped out every inch of his body, and you knew what to do to make him open like a flower. He liked letting you do what you wanted to him – liked giving over the power and control and letting you make him feel good.

He loved it when you spoke to him in your mother tongue – no matter what you said he would squirm and turn bright red.

“Do you like it when I play with your pretty cock?” you asked him lowly, and he let out a sweet moan as his legs fell open. He could tell from the sound of your voice if you were being sweet to him or not, and you could tell based on the noises he made if he wanted you to be sweet or not.

You wondered what fantasies swept him away as you mounted him. When you pinned his wrists and mouthed at his neck, you wondered why he was mewling so much. Did he even know what he was begging you for anymore, or did his mind just go blank every time you began to kiss his scars?

You learned every embarrassing detail about his body, and he learned every detail of yours. He loved to have you on him – worshipping him, taking pleasure from his body – but what he loved most were the quiet moments after.

The moments when you would roll off of him and kiss him slowly and tell him how good he was. When you would worship every scar again, tell him he was beautiful. When he’d lay his head in your lap so you could weave your fingers into his hair and hum him lullabies. He always fell asleep in your bed after you made love. It was one of the most perfect moments you ever shared, and you felt so, so lucky to have shared so many of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you woke up alone. Novoselic had finally sent an envoy to negotiate Kazuichi’s release. Today was the day.

Last night, he had helped you pick out your gown. He had chosen a white one with ruffles designed to look like flowers – Rusika was the kingdom of roses, after all – and as your handmaidens helped you get ready, you felt powerful.

You went all out – you wore your crown jewels and covered yourself in diamonds. You did not want there to be any doubt that they were dealing with a princess and would negotiate on her terms. Your father had been surprised when you had asked for this responsibility but granted you the negotiation opportunity.

Mukuro Ikusaba was wearing several chains, including a rather nasty-looking pair of handcuffs. She was positioned in a chair facing towards your throne, and she glared at you as you took your seat.

Kazuichi arrived only a few minutes after you, and his jaw just about hit the floor as he took you in. You gave him a smile befitting a queen as your eyes roamed his body – he was wearing a finely tailored suit and a ring with your family’s crest on it. You realized then you wanted to cover him in jewels. He would look so good sparkling.

He bowed deeply before taking his place at your side, breaking you from your train of thought. It was an old Novoselic tradition for the ruler’s consort to kneel on a special stool while the monarch conducted business, but while Kazuichi did kneel on the plush cushion, he tugged it towards you so he could lie across your lap. The action startled you at first, but as he snuggled deeper into your skirts and looked up at you with a smile, your fingers came up to weave into his hair in the way he found comforting, and he closed his eyes.

That lasted for a blissful minute before the throne room’s doors burst open and Princess Sonia Nevermind was announced. Her entourage filed in with her, and Souda tilted his head to get a better view of them. You recognized Gundham, and vaguely recalled hearing about a few of the others from Kazuichi. Classmates, if you remembered correctly.

Sonia had brought the Yakuza boy and the Ultimate Swordswoman as backup. She had also brought a hulking man with matching scars over both of his eyes. This man was someone you had never heard of, yet he was flanked by the usual Novoselic military honour guard. You greeted her in your shared tongue before switching to Japanese. “Welcome. What brings you all to Rusika?” you asked.

The princess of Novoselic cleared her throat and began once more in your mother tongue. “Apologies for interrupting, Princess Nevermind, but not everybody here speaks our language. I would like to include our guests in the matters we will be discussing,” Souda shifted in your lap, and you continued playing with his hair, sitting with the elegance of a queen.

Sonia began again, in Japanese this time. “I demand you release your prisoners at once,” she pointed at you. “Keeping a soldier hired by my country to retrieve a prisoner does not reflect well on the alliance between our peoples. I would hate for a war to break out.”

You sighed. “As a show of good faith, I will release the prisoner Mukuro Ikusaba to you,” you made a gesture and a pair of guards removed her shackles. You could feel Souda playing with your ruffles. “Was that all?”

“We are here for the prisoner Kazuichi Souda,” she answered. “I demand you release him.”

“Kazuichi is not a prisoner,” you corrected. “He has full autonomy and can choose to leave anytime he would like.”

“You kidnapped him as a political prisoner!” Sonia snapped, eyes locked on him. “Do not tell me that he is doing… that of his own free will!”

You gave his shoulder a pat with the hand that had been in his hair and he blinked over at Sonia. “I have done nothing malicious towards him,” you answered. “I have not-”

“Liar!” Sonia cut in. “You must have brainwashed him with Stockholm. You truly are a woman with flexible legs!”

Kazuichi raised his head a bit. “Don’t talk to my Princess like that!” there was a certain bite to his words. You ran your fingers soothingly through his hair as he glared at Sonia. “Gundham knows as well as I do that we were never mistreated here. We were given free reign, and I just so happened to be appreciated. I’m not a second choice here. I’m not forgotten.”

Sonia looked visibly upset at his words. “We did not forget you!” she assured him.

“You rescued Gundham after a month? A few weeks?” Kazuichi was bristling. “I’ve been here for eight. Eight months and you didn’t even bother to see if I was okay.” Sonia watched Kazuichi lie back down. “Excuse me for being happy. I forgot you don’t like it when I’m too overbearing with my affection.” He shifted around for comfort, burying his face in the crook of his elbow before tilting it out to the crowd.

“Is he truly able to leave anytime he wants?” Gundham asked.

“I am,” Kazuichi bristled once again. “I’ve got a job and everything.”

Sonia said your name. No title, just your name. “I would like to speak with you in private, future monarch to future monarch,” she was clenching her hands into fists.

“I’ll allow it,” you gave Kazuichi a gentle pat on the shoulder and he reluctantly pulled away. You stood, and he stood with you. He followed you down from your throne, and as you escorted Sonia towards your study you noticed Kazuichi was making a beeline for Gundham.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you were alone again, the first thing Kazuichi did was help you out of your dress. He was careful as he unlaced your corset, and as he helped you step out of it. He even hung it up properly so it wouldn’t get damaged. Then he was kissing you like he was about to lose you, pulling your body close and pulling you into his arms. He carried you over to the bed and tossed you into it, discarding his own clothes haphazardly as he followed.

“I love you,” he told you assuredly. “And nothing is ever going to change that. Not a single thing they say will convince me otherwise.”

You smiled at his words. “And I love you too, my little pink rose,” you gave him a deep, longing kiss.

It didn’t matter what the others thought or said. It didn’t matter what they did. All that mattered was what you and Souda thought. Souda was here with you. Souda loved you.

And no matter who decided to challenge that, they couldn’t take him away from you.

[mnictasbcl]

The Season of Art

For  #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

May 31st:  Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Markus

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson, Connor & Markus

Additional Tags: Painting, Birthdays, Fluff, Swearing, Seasons

Summary: After all the seasons Connor has known Markus, after being saved by him from a life stuck as a machine… the RK800 can’t figure out what to get him for his birthday.

Perhaps Hank can help out, showing him that what truly counts is from his metaphorical heart.

Notes: Hope this is okay! I took the prompt pretty loosely for this fic, as with many others on the list, so that the idea is still there and the main focus of the story, but a longer fic overall.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

“I just don’t know what to get him.” Connor groaned. It was no use- he’d scoured the internet and everything he knew in his database, but it was impossible. Figuring out what to get Markus for his birthday was impossible.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t his exact birthdate. The deviant leader hadn’t been sure when that was exactly, and everywhere online it was marked as ‘confidential’. Jericho had decided that wasn’t good enough and had chosen the day that marked the success of the revolution as the big day.

They’d even organised a party, in their new place of residence, and had invited Connor along. He was also allowed to bring someone with him if he so desired, and even a human (if they knew the rules, of course, North had made sure to remind him). Hank had agreed.

“Well, what does he like?” Hank offered in help. “What are his hobbies?”

Connor pursed his lips. “I guess he likes democracy, and the revolution, and android rights—”

“Something more tangible, Connor. Like… reading.”

“He has all the books already.”

“Wh—all of them?”

“Carl Manfred owns a vast library of books, and he seems to have enough for his pleasure.”

Hank groaned. “Jesus. Okay. Does he have… you know, a thing-” he gestured with his hands, “-everyone has a thing. A thing that they like.” At Connor’s confused look, he sighed. “How I like rock music, and watching sports, and you like dogs.”

“Ah, yes.” Connor nodded, now understanding. “I like dogs.” He blinked, LED swirling in colour as he thought it over. “I don’t know if Markus likes dogs. He doesn’t seem to dislike them, but I am unsure if purchasing him a dog would be a well-thought-out gift. Dogs aren’t gifts, anyway. They’re for life.”

“Thanks for the animal charity commercial.” Hank deadpanned. “I don’t mean your thing— I mean his. His—his interest.” The man quickly rephrased.

Connor paused, thinking over it again with this new information. “Aside from his core beliefs, I have noticed that Markus enjoys painting. However, he already has painting equipment, with a vast supply of canvases and paints.”

“Hmm. What about,” Hank began, getting up from the couch, going over to the closet and rummaging through it, “what about you give him something he can’t get, then?” As he turned back around, he was holding a fairly large canvas along with an easel and some paints.

“That sounds optimal.” Connor nodded, understanding what Hank was getting at. “But perhaps I will practice what I will create on some paper, first. I wasn’t created to do this sort of thing.”

“You weren’t made to be a pain in my ass either—don’t give me that look. I know you know what I mean. Just draw something nice for your friend.”

After acquiring a few sheets of paper, Connor got to work. At first, he attempted sketching out some picture-perfect images of Markus. Hank hadn’t seemed thrilled by them.

“It just looks like you printed them out. It’s a nice drawing, Connor, but I don’t think it’s the sort of art Markus would like. From what you’ve told me about him, he likes things free and— you know,” he waved his hands in demonstration. “I looked up some of that Carl Manfred’s art too. It’s mainly abstract.”

“I don’t understand, Lieutenant. Would you think he’d appreciate a drawing replica of one of his pieces?”

Hank shook his head. “It has to be from you. From the heart.”

Connor blinked. A little research showed him how art could be a form of self-expression and emotion. Perhaps this was what Hank was getting at. It would truly be a good gift to give Markus something which really showed his deviancy, his humanity, especially when he was part of the key driving force that had helped him deviate.

But what could he draw? There were so many things, too many things… He shook his head. Maybe he could follow the advice Markus had told him he’d been given once, by Carl, to really flow his soul over the canvas.

Connor closed his eyes. Held the pencil over the paper, and made long, sweeping strokes. Opened his eyes. Shit. It was just a mess of graphite smeared over the paper. That didn’t even look like anything. He groaned. Art was hard.

Maybe, for him, it did have to be something he could think of, at least in concept, rather than a rush of emotions over the paper. What thing could bring out that artistic emotion from him?

He closed his eyes. But this time, he didn’t bring his pencil down onto the paper, not yet. He replayed memories of his time spent with Markus. Seeing him speaking on that screen, played from Stratford Tower, telling of hope, of liberation for their people, igniting that spark of deviancy in his chest, which only flourished with time spent with Hank. How he came to Jericho, and met him, keen only on accomplishing his mission, but Markus had managed to bring up that red wall for him, to realise he was on the wrong side of it and tear it down. Emotion, the hope, everything sparking within his chest, looking up at Markus and realising that he’s free.

The autumn that brought his life, filled with new hope, a new life. The winter that followed, the impromptu Christmas party held for the newly freed deviants, being allowed back with the original crew, with Josh and Simon, North and Markus, looking into the other android’s eyes and realising just how much things had changed in such a short time. Memories of the new spring, a new year, to bring down the restrictions stopping deviants from being truly human, helping Markus with his speeches and fighting by his side for the campaigns. Summer. The freedom has truly come now, because they’ve done it. Everything isn’t perfect, but by law, they’re completely human, and Markus is still there, they all are, revelling in the burden lifted from their shoulders.

He opened his eyes. In the time they’d been shut, his body had seemed to move of its own accord. The canvas was in front of him, brush in his hand, and a picture had blossomed in front of him. There was a rush of colours and feelings and emotions. The image was cut into four quadrants, messes of abstract shapes representing each season. And in the centre, were rough figures of them all, from Jericho.

He smiled. It looked alright.

“Holy shit.” Hank muttered from behind him. Connor spun around, seeing he’d been standing in the doorway, likely watching him the whole time. “You did that with your eyes closed?”

He glanced over his clothes. Oh dear. There were a number of splatters of paint over his outfit, and a little on his face. “I believe so. Apologies, Lieutenant, for the mess—”

Hank laughed. “I don’t care about it. Well—you’re tidying it up anyway. But… Christ, that’s amazing. If I painted with my eyes shut, I think I’d end up painting on Sumo.”

Connor frowned. “He wouldn’t appreciate that. “The Saint Bernard in question barked loudly in agreement. “He would require a bath.”

“Whatever,” Hank shrugged, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re alive, Connor. And I think Markus is going to love that.”

  ____________________

 Markus did, in fact, love it. Upon receiving it at his birthday party, he smiled brightly, pulling Connor into a hug.

“It really shows you, Connor, and how far you’ve come. I appreciate that you joined our mission. This is going centre stage.”

He blushed, a little, as Markus took it by the picture hanging and put it up on the wall in the central area of the room, above the fireplace.

“I am glad that you like my present, Markus.”

“Like it? I love it. And is this really the first time I’m hearing that you like to paint?”

“It’s the first time I’ve painted.”

“Then it won’t be the last. Come on, I’d love to paint with you in the future. Carl lets me do painting lessons from time to time in his studio, so long as I don’t bring any troublemakers.”

Connor thought on that. “I would dearly love to come. However, I have been informed that I can cause a significant amount of disruption.”

Markus frowned. “How so?”

“Well, Lieutenant Anderson has, from time to time, referred to me as a pain in his—”

Hank, who was standing nearby to look at Connor’s painting, promptly choked on his drink.

[joshscorcher]

Friendly Fire Philosophy

Unconscious Thoughts, Fiction, and Confession of Character

As an Internet Personality, I’m required to spend much time on the internet so I can stay up to date on recent trends and remain relevant. I spend a lot of time lurking on YouTube as a result. Recently, I stumbled across a video about unconscious/implicit bias and watched it (I will not link it for obvious reasons). The speaker told me that everyone, including the viewers watching, has biases and preconceptions of which they aren't even aware.

I don’t wholly disagree with this idea. Many times people have tastes that they can’t explain. Some think that blondes are the most good-looking kind of person. Some think Asians are the most good-looking. Some love green eyes. Some like freckles, scars, or traits not considered “Hollywood Hot.” A simple scouring of DeviantArt is very good evidence that no one agrees on universal bodily beauty (I really wouldn’t recommend doing that, by the way. It gets very weird very quickly). Point is, we all have different tastes that we cannot logically explain other than, “I just do” or “That’s how I was born, I guess.” It gets to the point that shaming someone for something they can’t really control seems not only like an exercise in futility but also cruelty and injustice.

I was silently nodding along to the video, thinking that’s where the speaker was going with this. Then the person made the statement that prompted this essay: They claimed that we all have unconscious prejudices and bigotry.

I thought the idea was shocking. We have bigotry that we don't even know about? How do we actually deal with that? How would we even know about something like that? I searched, but I could find no credible studies proving the existence of this. Not only did I believe this idea was logically flawed, I was personally upset by this concept.

This person is telling me that I'm a bigot and I didn't even know it? What an arrogant statement! They don’t know me nor can they read my thoughts. They’re implying they know so much about how the brains of millions of different people work, that they can accuse them of unsaid thoughts, or even unTHOUGHT thoughts? It sounded sillier the more I continued to think about it.

Of course, I rejected this idea. People aren't a monolith and no one acts the same way. Yes, the fact that we have professions of neuroscience, psychology, and psychiatry certainly lend credence to the idea that there are patterns of behavior between humans, and I also agree with the idea that our unconscious mind can influence our actions. However, this assumption that everyone is bigoted in some way? It was very hard for me to swallow.

The person continued. It was a very twee, platitudinous, and condescending speech about sensitivity, empathy, and being all kum-ba-yah. Suddenly, the person talked about how they confronted their own unconscious biases and hates and wished to spread their newfound enlightenment to others. In that moment, everything became clear:

I was being accused of something of which my accuser was guilty.

I stopped being angry at that point, because I understood. This person felt bad about their racism, and I shouldn’t be harsh on them for that. On the contrary, I believe it's very admirable that they did some thorough self-examination and attempted to safeguard their behaviors and ESPECIALLY their thoughts. Not many people are self-aware enough to police the way they think about people and many people underestimate the value of keeping your mind clean and disciplined. They also wanted to stop racist behaviors from manifesting in other places, again, not a terrible motivation. That being said, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I still have an issue with them accusing me of being the same as them. Again, they didn't know me, so how could they make a sound judgment on me, especially something as serious as bigotry? Why is this person assuming everyone is like them?

I'm reminded of something Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of their character.“ I can't say I disagree. Many times, the way we see the world, reveals a lot about our personalities. How often do nice people think the world is great? How often do unpleasant people think the world is terrible? How often do artistic types see beauty everywhere they go? Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender corroborates this idea: “If you look for the light, you can often find it. But if you look for the dark that is all you will ever see.” Heck, this concept can be said about the art we create as well.

Art is also commonly referred to as a self-portrait. Kehinde Wily for instance says that "All art is self-portraiture." Frequently, artists are very much encouraged to "write what they know." It can be argued that even the art we create is a confession of character. We often put a lot of ourselves into the art we create and I can't say I disagree with this idea.

Permit me to deviate from my point for a bit. Trust me, I have an endgame here.

My Dungeons and Dragons campaign “Welcome to the Show” has the underlying theme of redemption being open to those who seek it. In the story, the party is trying to get the deposed Queen Jeminya back on the throne of her kingdom, but they quickly hit a snag. As a devil-spawn, Jeminya's soul is damned to the Nine Hells no matter how "good" of a person she is, and she is made painfully aware of this reality. However, she continues to do good anyways, because she believes good is worth doing and it's worth believing in. Her god sees her pure intentions and offers her an escape from her fate; it will be a hard and bumpy road, but she will be able to achieve redemption should she seek it.

Sound familiar? It should. There are sprinklings of my faith littered all throughout the story, and many times I didn't even know I was doing it. I even unintentionally based Asmodeus, the head devil, off of Screwtape from C.S. Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters" because my trashy fanboyism has apparently seeped into my unconscious.

Some might have noticed that it is very difficult for me to create/act a character who is evil for the sake of being evil, often giving them sympathetic backstories or more often redemption arcs. This is mostly because I find it hard to imagine myself in the position of being pure evil; not having any other underlying motive. In fact, I doubt Pure Evil people even exist. Even Kefka Palazzo from Final Fantasy VI, whom I really enjoy playing and analyzing, I realize I don’t believe to be Pure Evil. Insane and dangerous? Definitely, but looking closer at him, there are some tragic elements to him; he was experimented on which made him insane. Throughout the game, he descends into a person who cannot comprehend love, happiness, or joy, and cannot find any meaning in life other than destruction. He’s not pure evil; like many of us he’s looking for personal fulfillment.

Many have noticed I take a very Don Bluth approach to my storytelling; "[If] you don’t show the darkness, you don’t appreciate the light. If it weren’t for December no one would appreciate May. It’s just important that you see both sides of that. As far as a happy ending…when you walk out of the theatre there’s [got to be] something that you have that you get to take home. What did it teach me? Am I a better person for having watched it?" This is also a very Christian concept, as we believe that as dark and hellish as it gets on earth, there's a paradise at the end of the journey.

Now back to my point.

I'm not denying the existence of unconscious thoughts influencing our conscious thoughts and behaviors, because I just gave some very good anecdotes of this very phenomenon. What I am denying is the accusation that everyone specifically has unconscious bigotry because one person found unconscious bigotry within themselves.

Have you ever noticed that we very often try to give people the advice that we need to hear ourselves? I'm no exception; very often I've told people that they need to not let their anger control them and to grow thicker skins. Anyone who's met me for two minutes is probably laughing right now, and I wouldn't blame them. They all can tell you that I get defensive and emotional very easily and taking criticism is difficult for me. I do NOT have a very thick skin.

And I HATE it.

I hate the fact that I'm that overly sensitive. I hate that I lash out at people who just want to help me improve myself. I hate that I empower people to control me by letting my emotions get out of hand, as it's caused me to make very stupid decisions that still affect me to this day. I hate the fact that I DESPERATELY want everyone to like me. I hate the fact that I'm the only one of my siblings that has this problem.

I've taken steps to improve myself, but it's still hard and every day is a challenge, especially as an Internet Personality. I took a test and found out my love language is Words of Affirmation. I'll never forget the sarcastic remark my mom made when she found out: "Your love language is Words of Affirmation, and yet you're an internet personality... good luck."

At some point, you realize that everyone is a hypocrite about something. My older brother loves to say, "We often fail to meet our own standards." We hate liars, but who here has never lied, even like a little white lie? We hate thieves, but who here has never stolen, even something small like downloading a $2.00 song? How many times have you taken a french fry from someone else's plate? Maybe you're the rare exception and haven't done any of these things, but this is my point: We often hold others to standards that we don't follow ourselves, and to claim otherwise is to claim one is perfect, which is impossible.

That's why I've stopped getting angry at accusations of closet racism or unconscious hate. These accusers rarely know anything about the people they accuse because they don't know others’ thoughts. In fact, due to what I’ve written above, I often believe in my heart of hearts that these people are projecting their own insecurities and biases onto others, but amusingly, that makes ME the hypocrite because I don’t know their thoughts to be able to make that judgement. All I and anyone else for that matter have to go on is merely our own thoughts.

To be fair, they are correct in their implied point that actions speak louder than words and even thoughts. The Bible says in Matthew 7:16, “Therefore by their fruits you will know them.” So, the actions you take and the fruit you produce are also a strong indication of character, but context exists to complicate the issue. There’s a reason we categorize a human causing the death of another using terms like 1st degree murder, manslaughter, or self-defense. There's a difference between beating up an intruder threatening you and your family, and beating up someone because they called you a nasty name. 

If you do have inner thoughts that you might not be proud of, take comfort that someone might be feeling the same way. Certainly not everyone, but there’s a high chance another person is out there who’s going through what you are going through right now. Safeguarding your thoughts is important, and I would talk to someone reputable for their wisdom or an authority figure you trust on how best to do so.

But no matter what, remember: we are all flawed humans, so you’re not alone.

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

Next

Previous 

AO3

...

The two days passes quickly. Remus takes to following Logan around, constantly asking questions, about everything and anything, from how to use the star maps to navigate, to the engineering of the ship itself, to anything that pops into his mind. Logan is all too willing to answer his questions, happy to lecture to someone who is excited to listen and learn, though Remus often interrupts in the middle of an explanation to ask another question, much to Logan’s annoyance. Still, he was simply happy Remus seemed to be adjusting well. He flinched less at sudden movements, occasionally initiated touch, occasionally quietly asked for some, which everyone was all too happy to give, no matter whom Remus asked. Usually, it was Janus, much to everyone’s surprise, and Patton’s slight disappointment. Though he was simply happy that Janus seemed to be reaching back, finally starting to let himself get attached and heal in a way he hadn’t seen from the naga.

 Roman, when not following Remus, liked to sit in the living area, reading, endlessly reading. Patton had dug into his art supplies, and found an unused sketchbook and pack of colored pencils, Roman literally bursting into tears when he gave them to him. Roman had hugged them to his chest as if they were the most precious things in the world, letting Patton wrap him in a hug, cooing softly as the kid cried himself out. He hadn’t let the sketchbook out of his sight since, carrying it everywhere like a child with their teddy bear, an almost desperate, breaking joy in simply owning something, having something private to call his. It broke his heart a little, how something so small that he took for granted could shatter Roman’s world so entirely.

 They were still skittish and quiet. They both still had moments of fear, moments of panic, they both still weren’t getting enough sleep, nightmares waking them, they both still clung to each other every moment they could, terrified to let each other out of their sights, afraid if they did, they would vanish. It was slow, and it wasn’t much, but it was progress, and it was there. They at least believed fully now in their own safety, knew that no one on board would ever hurt them, and were starting to reach out, just a bit, for help when it was all too much. It was amazing, really, how far just a little kindness went in earning trust.

 …

“Are you ready?” Roman asks, softly, a bit breathless, squeezing Remus’s hand tightly, nervousness pounding in his chest, clogging his throat.

 “No. Not even a little bit. Like, not at all.” He replies, trying to take a deep breath as he felt the ship shudder, touching down on land. Solid land. Actual land. Like, a planet.

 “Kiddos? You ok?” Patton asks, coming into the room from the hall, a small satchel slung over his shoulders, instantly taking in the tenseness of the two boys. “Logan’ll be out any moment, then we can head out!”

 “what if something goes wrong? What… what if we get separated? There’s crowds and people and-“

 “And I meant it when I said I would sink my fangs into anyone who wants to try something. I’ll be your chaperone for the day, pleasure to be at your service.” Janus interrupted, giving a flourishing bow and a small smirk, not missing how Remus’s shoulders untensed.

 “Indeed. Everything is locked down, and we may disembark whenever we like.” Logan states, coming down the hall from the control room, glancing over everyone once.

 “ok. Ok let’s do this.” Remus breaths, pulling Roman to his feet, following the others to the airlock. Logan types something into a panel on the side of the room, and it whirs to life, bay doors opening, a ramp descending to the ground, and Remus has to shield his eyes with his hand, because it’s so bright.

 He can feel Janus behind him, ready to reach out a hand to steady him, if he asks, not saying anything, patient, and he appreciates it. After a moment, his eyes adjust, and he feels the barest of breezes, and it takes everything in him not to sprint for the door and run as far and fast as he can. Instead, he slowly walks forward, down the ramp, Roman beside him, trembling, and he squeezes his brother’s hand tighter as they see the outside world.

 It’s a landing strip, but a small one, their ship seems to be one of only four others docked. There’s a building behind them, some kind of communication building for incoming ships, no doubt, and beyond that are houses that look to be made of some kind of stone. They can hear the shouts and sounds of the town, of a market, of life.

 But before them stretches an endless plain of knee high grass, that waves in the wind, a sweet, soft scent to it, no doubt blooming wildflowers or plants of some kind, and a sun is shining down, warm and soft and light, and Remus can’t help it as his legs give out from under him and he curls into the grass, feeling it tickle against his skin, breathing in the scent of wet earth, feeling it between his fingers, unable to stop the tremors that tear through him as a gasping sob escapes his lips.

 For the first time since they were stolen, he believes in his freedom. He feels Roman beside him, and pulls him close, clinging to him just as tight as Roman is now clinging to him, because they can’t believe this, their minds can’t process this, they have lost the capacity to understand this vast open space, this soft summer wind, this swaying of prairie grasses, they can’t do anything other than try and breathe, try and take it all in, try and imprint this in their minds forever, because some part of Remus still fears this is some absurd trap, and he will be ripped out of this absolute paradise any moment. He can’t go back to it, now, he can’t go back to a cell, after this.

 “You won’t. I won’t ever let that happen, I will fight anything that tries to put you in another cage.” Janus murmurs, and without hesitation, Remus reaches out, taking his hand without looking, just needing something, anything, to keep him tethered to this moment, otherwise he’ll slip back into a different one.

 It feels like hours later, when they finally untangle from each other, getting to their feet, though Remus is unable to tear his eyes away from the horizon, can barely stop himself from looking straight into the sun, just to prove to himself it’s really there, closing his eyes and letting his senses be overrun by the normalcy of it all.

 With his eyes closed, he could be anywhere. He could be home, chasing butterflies with Roman. They could be tussling in the field behind their house. They could be on one of their camping trips, they could be playing kickball during recess, they could be searching for fireflies and scouring the sky for shooting stars, crickets chirping softly in the distance as they made their own constellations and tales.

 It’s insane. The feeling of that gentle warmth against his skin, wind in his hair, against his face, grass against his legs, it’s utterly insane, and he can’t stop the tears from dripping down his face as he takes another shuddering breath in, and opens his eyes. Janus is standing two steps away, watching them carefully, though he’s giving them space, and something a bit sad is in his eyes.

 He remembers abruptly that Janus has been through this. He knows exactly what they’re going through, he must remember the day he stepped off that ship for the first time, must remember the overwhelming urge to just run as fast and far as he could, he must be lost in his own thoughts and memories.

 “you ok?” He asks softly, breaking Janus out of his reverie. The naga gives him a small, exasperated smile, tilting his head.

 “Last I checked, I was supposed to be asking you that question.” He narrows his eyes, about to point out that Janus had deflected instead of actually answering, but stops himself. If he doesn’t want to talk about, he won’t pry. Not about this. “We can go catch up with the others, if you like. It’s a fairly small settlement, but it is a bit of a stop over for out of the way travelers, so the market is fairly robust. I understand if that many people would be too overwhelming.”

 “No. I wanna… I would like to go. Just for a bit, anyway, I want…” I want to see that this is real, that it’s not just a dream, I want to touch things and hear languages and see other beings, is what Roman was going to say, he knows. Because he’s thinking it too, he’s endlessly curious, he wants to make the most of this time off the ship, he just wants to sit in the middle of ordinary, every day, hustle and bustle.

 “Alright. Stick close, and if you feel overwhelmed, tell me and I’ll find us somewhere quiet.” They both nod, following Janus past the building and into the town, into the market.

…

“Do you think they’d like this?” Patton asks, holding up a woven wall hanging, depicting a dragon sitting atop a shining castle. Logan sighs, looking at it.

 “I don’t know, Patton. You should simply ask them.” He’s slightly exasperated, this is about the twentieth thing Patton has asked him about, instead of asking the people he’s actually trying to buy for. Patton frowns, his gaze flicking farther down the market, where he can just pick out Janus’s shining scales as the siblings meander at their own pace, eyes wide, Janus making sure that everyone gives them space.

 “I would, Lo, but…” Patton sighs, refolding the tapestry and placing it back on the table. “But I think if I just ask them they’ll say no, because they don’t want to be a bother and spend our money. They don’t think they deserve things, Logan, and I don’t want to stress them out more by pressing them into making choices.”

 “You’re probably right, Patton. But if that is the case, you should start small. Too many gifts at once will be overwhelming. And no matter how you approach it, they are going to feel the need to somehow repay you. Perhaps we’ll pick up the essential supplies now, reconvene for lunch, and ask Janus what they seemed interested in, or kept returning to. That way they would have some input on what you did end up buying for them.” Patton’s wings fluff up as he smiles, gently bumping Logan.

 “You’re a genius. That may be the smartest idea I have ever heard!” He’s about to respond when he feels a draft, and suddenly Virgil materializes beside them, pulling them into an alley between two stalls.

 “Virgil. Is everything ok?” Logan asks, the wraith looking towards the mouth of the alley with a frown.

 “I don’t know. There’s someone following them. I haven’t been able to get a good look, they’re covered in a cloak and face mask, but whoever it is picked up on them once they entered the market.” Virgil’s form wavers, before he takes a deep breath and solidifies.  

 “Have they shown any signs of aggression?” Logan asks, dark eyes narrowed.

 “No. Not yet, but I don’t like them, Lo, they’re not good, I can feel it.”

 “Ok. We’ll-“ Patton was cut off by the sound of shouting, and with a curse, Virgil lost form, swirling shifting shadow, zooming out of the alley, Logan and Patton barely two steps behind.  

…

It happened so fast.

 One moment, they were lounging by the fountain, simply taking everything in, listening to the chatter of unknown languages, different species and races and cultures clashing in a symphony.

 The next Remus is growling, shoving Janus backwards, pouncing atop a stranger, a syringe flying from the being’s grasp, who has the air knocked out of him for a moment, before another arm emerges from under the cloak and stabs him in the leg with something. He can feel his vision hazing, his pulse racing, but he’s a human, and this alien clearly doesn’t understand what that means, because he expects him to go down easy.

 That’s a good joke.

 Instead he fights back, pins him down, bares his teeth, ready to rip out his throat, but he hears a noise behind him. He leaps to his feet, lunging back, shoving Roman and Janus behind him as another attacker appears out of the now fleeing, panicked, crowd, hissing as a dart finds its mark. He charges, tripping over his feet to do so, but it seems enough to scare off the second cloaked figure, who’s eyes widen behind his face covering, fleeing. He spins and sees the one he’d tackled scrambling away, vanishing into the crowd, and he hisses, lashing out at a touch of his shoulder.

 He’s in the cell.

 They’ve come for Roman, for the first time in weeks, they’ve come for Roman, and that isn’t good, isn’t right, and he won’t let it happen.

 He ignores the sedatives they stab into his him, ignores the stun batons spasaming his muscles, he screams and claws and punches and bites, becoming the feral beast they’ve always thought him to be, but eventually they manage to twist his arm back and pin it behind him, his legs finally going weak from the drugs, as they drag Roman away, his little brother still managing to smile at him, and he knows, knows, he is saying goodbye.  

 He won’t let them. He won’t let them take him.

…

“Remus.” Janus staggers back as Remus hisses, lashes out, sends him reeling backwards, cheek pounding in pain where Remus had hit him. Roman catches him, steadying him.

 “Jan!” Patton is at his side suddenly, gently removing his hand from his face, inhaling sharply at the bruise no doubt swelling his face.

 “I’m fine, Pat. It’ll heal.” He looks past Patton, to Remus, who’s eyes are clouded, body tensed and stiff, ready to fight, teeth bared in a feral grimace, chest rapidly rising and falling. “they were going after me. He shoved me out of the way.” Janus murmurs, trying to take a step towards Remus, but Patton stops him.

…

“Remus.” He hisses at that voice, it sounds like the scientist, it triggers his fight reflex, and he snarls, his vision flickering. One moment it’s dirt paths, blue sky, the next it’s harsh white, cold metal. It’s too much, it’s too muddled, and he can’t see, can’t think, he only knows it isn’t safe, and the world is lurching, spinning, and he won’t stop, because they will not take Roman. “Remus. Listen to me. None of us are going to hurt you. Do you recognize me?”

 His vision flickers. Dark eyes, crystal skin, tall and thin, familiar. Then it’s a full body suit, a mask, empty, biting voice, and he stumbles back, tripping against something, and he sinks to the ground, unable to stay upright anymore.

 He flinches back at touch, his vision coming in strobing flashes of moments. Logan, kneeling before him, saying something, eyes dilated and worried. The Scientist, grabbing his arms, pinning him down. Janus, face bruised and red, a pang of guilt because he knows he caused that, somehow. The guards, dragging him away. The campsite, a dart in his neck, crawling to Roman. That same dizzying feeling filling him now, and his panic spikes.

 He cries out, unintellegable, fear stricken, as his vision goes dark, then there’s a cold hand in his, and the fear vanishes, leaving him silent and content and empty, as he passes out.

…

Virgil inhales sharply through his teeth, struggling to keep his form intact, with the strong wash of fear and pain and panic and negativity filling him, that he’d taken from Remus, who was now peaceably passed out in Logan’s arms.

 Patton’s hand on his shoulder helps ground him, and with several deep breaths, he manages to push the tide back, exhale it out with every breath, until he’s solid once more.

 “-probably fine. We just need to get back to the ship and see what exactly they injected him with. It most likely was simply meant to incapacitate him, and should be able to be slept off.” He catches, Roman nearly in tears himself, feeling him on the edge of a panic attack.

 “Hey. He’ll be ok.” He manages, and Roman nods shakily.

 “ok. I… I trust you.” Roman replies shakily, letting Patton pull him into a hug, as Janus and Virgil take lookout, escorting them back to the ship.

[ohhicas]

Question: The scene in kh3 where Ienzo tells Riku about Even's dissappearance, he mentoins that Dilan and Aeleus searched for him. Aeleus doesn't say anything (sadly), but does he also looked concerned for you? Bc if that might be really the case, then Aeleus must have a caring nature in canon.

┴┬┴┤( „• ֊ •├┬┴┬

did someone say Good Boy Aeleus 

I went off about this once kind of already but I’ll cONTINUE ON FROM HERE cause before I kind of just took over an ask

You mean this look, right? The one that followed his slow headshake? every time I look at screencaps I just realize how off model I’ve gotten with my art lmao I gotta get better at like, not doing that

I know I’m trying to read the expressions off a fairly preset character model since he doesn’t do much besides squint, pout, and walk away and a lot of this is conjecture but I took it as a self-frustration? A type of concern, for sure. Ienzo’s line (using the Eng translation here cause I don’t know enough of the term nuances to pick apart the japanese/version differences like I did before) really seems that Aeleus and Dilan looked everywhere for him, which is kind of adorable in itself. I hope they went through every one of his old Somebody haunts even if they all woke up in the labs/offices going by the DDD cutscene of Ienzo & Aeleus waking up with Lea. Someone check the bedroom, someone check Ienzo’s bedroom. Scour the library corners. Carefully sneak out of the castle go to check Radiant Garden’s libraries and buildings. Try to find a way to ask the FF Crew if they’ve seen Even running around yes yes ok yes they were all presumed dead like 10 years ago and nobody ever found the bodies please stop screaming and calling them ghosts they have a Mission here. 

(Dilan out there peeking under a table and when he looks up Aeleus is standing there like ???? “YOU DONT KNOW, BUDDY. He could have come back Not Right and gone into hiding like a scared raccoon.”) 

BUT YEAH, THAT? That’s a Caring move for sure, he could’ve easily just been shown to keep his head high and face as stern as ever with a short curt shake ‘no’. I also still believe his turn away and pout move when Ienzo is on the phone with Sora over ‘Roxas’ is another sign of a canon caring nature– it’s not the type of care generally considered, but a guilt kind that toes into that samurai character theme he’s set with? He (possibly, we’re back in hypothesis town) feels bad about what his Nobody self did, because Aeleus would never just backhand a 15 year old hard enough he nearly KO’s just to get his crisis move activated. There’s Rough Training, and then there’s just Nobody level crude (there are several Very Good posts out there about how the backhand thing was taken in the wrong way entirely by some anti-Lex fans, or those who think very highly of Roxas and don’t want to see him hurt. They’re good reads over a good boy if you have the want and while I may not be 100% completely on board with the wording or writer’s ideas they’re still very good and will give you something to think about to come to your own conclusions) so he still feels bad/upset at himself for not being able to like… stop himself? In the same idea that Isa is upset at his Saix side, for what he did to Lea. That kind of thing. 

also part of me really just thinks Aeleus has this face that just constantly looks like he’s fighting back 23423 emotions and it ends up making him just look like a bulldog; permanent :( face

I think it’s the eyebrows

ANYWAY, GETTING OFF TOPIC I THINK 

He has so few speaking segments really outside of DDD & his little bit in CoM which I already went over in the first link that anything I say really is just me grasping at thin straws to try to form a full character so I feel bad using a whole lot of headcanons and things of the sort but I’d really put him up there as one of the (ex)Orgs who has the biggest caring/helpful themed heart. Obviously characters like Lea, Roxas, and Xion win hands down for biggest helpful/caring heart (though I can easily argue those three elsewhere); they had the most and arguably best writing for that sort of thing throughout every game they were in, while the others have selfish or endlessly curious ones. Which isn’t a bad thing! None of that is a bad thing. I’d personally put Isa in the category of selfish/curious over Helpful/caring, for example, and I love that dumb jealous boy. Ienzo & Even’s hearts are full of a pursuit of knowledge and curiosities more than an honest open attempt to help or save/protect someone. But like, I can be 100% wrong here, we just don’t know a lot about some of these people. As far as we know, though, Aeleus’s “drive” is just… Guardian. 

He’s an apprentice of Ansem, one of his ‘best students’, so maybe curiosity could be there? But we’re unsure what ‘best student’ means, it could just be in magic, which could be pointed towards the Guard/Protect. It could mean the science/heart research lean! Which would put him hard into the Curiosity side. It’s very, very hard to like… put this in words. All we’ve seen him do is protect others, apologize for not being able to protect, (beat someone in the face in a way that teaches them how to learn to protect themselves because he’s concerned, possibly, but for sure mentions that you can only really trust yourself in the Organization which is WORRY-CODED) and possibly be visibly ‘upset’ to the extent of his character model and samurai themed personality type over failing to find/protect others. He’s so “I Greatly Care For My Companions and Others” coded (to me!). 

HE IS

A GOOD BOY

[chasinganecdotes]

Wilson’s Paperbacks

Andrew reached across the gap between the awnings, his outstretched hand catching the rainfall, waiting for me to twine my fingers with his. We were stuck between the Italian market and a fragrance boutique that smelt of lavender honey, a wall of torrent separating the break in the alleyway. The late summer storm had lit up the sky in sticky purple lights, erupting into cleaves of thunder that pulsed through the air as fast as the heart beating against my chest. Droplets of rain had opened up on us, suddenly and without warning, as we walked through the streets of Old Town, laughing over nothing in particular. It was the kind of rain that made your skin shiver, cold and wet. Even with the muggy Virginia air, I could feel it soaking through my jacket and down into my bones.

“If we make a run for it, the shop is less than two minutes,” Andrew said, a loose grin hanging off his lips, as if being caught in a thunderstorm was all according to plan. He gripped my hand just a fraction tighter. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I grinned back.

He tugged me forward, out from under the awning and into the street. A merciless downpour drummed over us, soaking us in their music of reverberating crescendos that made our run feel like dancing. My feet glided through the puddles, splashing up the faded and forgotten notes onto my bare legs and, just then, I knew that this moment with him would never leave my skin. The rain hit us everywhere as we ran, slow and fast all at once, and I could barely see through the thick of it. Hazy lights from the lampposts lined a trail down the sidewalks, just enough to guide the way down the desolate streets, as if we were the only two people left in the world. Old Town was usually bustling with aged wealth’s scouring for antiques or young musicians wailing over their fledgling dreams in the dead of night. It was never quiet or lonely. But tonight, it was as if the entire town had gone to sleep just as I was waking up.

We had run four blocks by the time the yellow painted bricks of Wilson’s Paperbacks glowed through the night, the only storefront in the line of colonials that didn’t boast its dilapidation. The wooden sign, hooked through a loose bit of rail hammered through a nook in the bricks, flailed helplessly in the wind, banging against the door with a force that sent echoes down the street. Golden paint clung to the droplets of rain and ran rivers down the wood, as if the words had just been retraced. The letters cracked and already faded, I knew that by tomorrow’s dawn Andrew would already be back with a brush in his hand.

Andrew fumbled through the keys, his fingers shaking with cold as he tried each key one by one in the lock. The store had four doors, each painted in various shades of pastel that bore a different combination of locks from the rest. The books inside were a treasure, Mr. Wilson had said, that contained enough gold to make even the lowliest beggar rich as a king. He wouldn’t make it easy for the pirates who sought out that treasure, even if it was his own son.

“You should paint those damn keys, you know,” I laughed just as Andrew pushed through the door, falling into the frame as he tugged me over the threshold. Laughter rolled through my belly, soft and electric as he locked the door close, his hand still gripping my wrist. Water dripped off our clothes in heavy rivulets, running rivers down through the cracks in the hardwood that would probably strip the finish off, but for all the havoc in the world, I couldn’t bring myself to care. A slow grin twitched at the corners of Andrew’s mouth, so innocent and lovely that my breath caught in my throat.

The store was hushed save for the pitter patter of the thundering sky against the shingles, a clamor that rippled through the silence. For a moment it was louder than the flight of my heart against my chest, the laughter dying in that space that at once had become both too intimate and not enough. The brandy of his eyes swallowed up, contracting under the weight of his pupils as they traced over the cotton wrapped tightly to the curves of my chest. It was as if he was searching for my soul, seeing down through my flesh and my bones into that flicker of light that burned with my every breath.

Andrew ran his fingers through the thicken of tangles in his drying hair, pulling his eyes away to the quiet store room. “Let me just go grab some towels. You’ll catch pneumonia with that wet head.”

I bit the bottom of my lip, nodding. His footsteps echoed against the hardwood and I listened to them rip through the life of the loose boards until they faded into the silence. I shrugged out of my coat, careful not to shake water onto the stack of paperbacks on the floor that were leaning over like a mountain that has grown too close to gravity, and hook it onto the rack behind the door. The books lined the hallway in stacks that made it hard to walk through, disappearing into the shelves as if they were roots extended from a tree. They were the breath of the world and I followed them as if I were gasping for air, so utterly awed by the sheer quantity of them. My footfall was careful, hesitant, because for some reason I felt as though I were entering a sacred space. I had walked this hallway so many times before, but there was something so heavy in this silence that I felt to break it would be to shatter the whole world.

I traced my fingers along the spines, dragging my nails over the creases and the withered skeleton of pages. Some had come loose from the binding, the pages shoved in place, like a tree shedding its autumn leaves, while others still clung to their crisp new life. Not a single book was wrapped in a thick cardboard shell. Mr. Wilson had always admired the art of the paperback, the way the years wrinkled and bruised their skin. “We often wear down the things we love,” he had said, “until we know them from their heart and not the skin they bear. You can read a book once and love it, sure. But it isn’t until you’ve read those words a thousand times over that you may truly know the heart behind them.”

I wondered if that is true of people as well.

The shelves opened up into a nook with old fabric couches pushed close together, circled around a coffee table that had loose leaves of notes and post-its stuck haphazardly to the wood. An open fire place crackled low in the darkness, Andrew crouched at the edge, stoking it with an iron rod. I watched as the flames cast an orange glow over his face, bending shadows in and out of his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at me and pointed towards the couch closest to him.

“I laid a towel out for you. It’s kinda old and scratchy, but it was the only one I could find.”

I picked up the towel, which was thin and faded with yellow daisies stitched into the cloth, and ringed it over my hair and arms. It didn’t do much for the goosebumps though. I scooted closer to the fire, just a shoulder bump away from Andrew, and let the warmth sink into me. There was a picture frame on the mantelpiece of Mr. Wilson and a boyhood version of Andrew in a baseball uniform, their arms looped around each other. Andrew was smiling, his two front teeth missing, and Mr. Wilson was looking down at him, caught in the middle of a word or a sentence. Mr. Wilson would have said there was something poetic about that, how we’re always caught in the middle of something.

“Do you miss him?” I whispered, thinking about how Mr. Wilson, too, had been caught in the middle of something.

Andrew stared into the fire, the flames glazing over his eyes again. “Yeah, I do. It’s like he’s still here though, yaknow? Like I can feel him walking through the shelves. He loved this place.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Bet you didn’t take me for a baseball guy, huh?”

“I thought you were more the angsty, broodish type.”

“Ah, then I suppose you must go back and reread the book again,” he said, mimicking his father. He reached for my hand and pulled me closer, so that I was facing him. This was the closest we had ever been on purpose. “Caroline Mathers, we are surrounded here by all these books and I do believe I have never asked what your favorite novel is.”

“The Great Gatsby,” I said, my breath half caught in my throat. He was still holding my hand, which was kind of sweaty, and the fire was warming my skin even though it was already warm from where he touched it. “I feel like I can relate to Gatsby.”

“How so?” The glow in his eyes dimmed for just a moment and I felt like there was this depth to them, this unseen spiral of color that didn’t happen in blue or green eyes. I could see myself reflected in their darkness, stripped down and raw before him. I felt as though what I said next mattered, that if my words were a poem, Andrew would memorize every line.

“Because I think a lot about the past. I think a lot about how I might have done things differently, and if I had, how it would’ve changed my path. Would I be a different person or would I be the same? There are so many versions of myself, of who I could’ve been or what I could’ve done.”

The words began to let loose from me, as if they had always been there, on the tip of my tongue. The weight of Andrew’s gaze made each word feel diaphanous, like he could see right through me. I looked away, following the curve of his neck to where his collarbones disappeared beneath the collar of his t-shirt. The fabric clung to his skin, the ghost of finely corded muscles along his torso stark under the parts where his shirt was still damp. Hard lines defined the space just below his belly button, a triangle of skin peaking out just above the strap of his boxers. Even that made me become too aware of my own body, so I opted for staring into the flames, watching them curve into one another like waltzers amid a loop of dance.

“Gatsby feared nothing but the future,” I continued. “Time isn’t circular, but more of a linear to and fro. He was always going into the past, never really changing, never really being anything but this one version of himself.” I paused, watching as one of the logs in the fire shifted, sending up a crackle of flying embers. “And sometimes I’m afraid that this version of me, the one who thinks about the past, is all I’ll ever be.”

“I think this version of you is fine,” Andrew whispered, tightening his grip around my fingers before slowly releasing them. “In fact, I quite like it.”

I looked at him then, a slight murmur echoing through my body. He was quite beautiful and, for a moment, I had the urge to trace him, to sketch the details of his face and preserve them on paper, though I know I could never capture every perfect detail. The way his eyes crinkled even when he wasn’t laughing and how his lashes casted shadows over his eyes. The stubble along his jaw, dark and scattered unevenly along the planes of his cheeks. The freckles that form little constellations across his skin or the scar that valleys into the corner of his lips. No, my pen could never catch these things up close. Even if I outlined every inch of skin, the memory would never amount to the real thing.

Andrew took a step toward me, leaning down over me so that our foreheads almost touched.

“‘We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.’”

“What is that from?”

“T.S. Elliot, a friend of Fitzgerald,” he breathed, skimming his finger across the ridge of my collarbone, his thumb pressing into the vein pulsing at just the base of my neck. There was only one layer between his skin and my skin, but the heat of his palm made me feel as if I was already naked. “Little Gidding.” His finger looped under the hem of my dress collar. “It’s about the timelessness of the present moment.” His lips hovered over mine, so close that I could feel his breath fall heavy in the air. “And also, I think the old bastard was just trying to get laid.”

An entire instance, just one breath and one look and one touch, and I knew that I was in love with him. It wasn’t some miraculous realization or anything, nothing that demanded to be noticed by the universe. But it was a whisper that echoed through my heart, as if it had always been there and was just waiting for me to uncover it. These books and this room and this store would never look the same because everywhere would just be a memory of him. The world tends to look different when you’re seeing it through the ghost of someone else.

I ran my hand down his chest, suddenly needing to feel him closer, and circled my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Golden skin gilded the planes of his chest, the subtle chisels that curved into thin muscle dipping down the slope of his belly, forged ethereal and eternal. I let my palm rest in that small space, stealing the warmth that radiated over his skin, from his heart. His eyes shuttered close and he inhaled deeply, the sharp intake of breath tickling my own lips. I tilted my head up ever so slightly, catching his kiss in just a brush, a moment of hesitation. Then his lips came crashing down over mine, messy and tongue-tied like the sea rising to meet the shore. His arms circled around my back, his nails raking into the fabric of my dress, pulling the buttons loose. For a moment my body stiffened, frightened to expose myself to him. No one had ever seen my body so intimately, and I was afraid of how my own skin might look to him.

Andrew pulled back, sensing the rigidness collecting on my spine. “Is this okay? We don’t have- I can stop, I can-”

I covered his words under another wave of kissing, letting the dress fall down my shoulders, slipping around my ankles. “We shall not cease from exploration,” I quoted back at him.

[hanatriestowrite]

Not Quite Mortal (R&J Fae Mercutio AU)

(An AU Based off of @unlinedpapers‘s fanart of Mercutio that you can see here. Their art is actually amazing, you should go check it out! 

(TW: blood + choking + temporary character death )

Whispers of the fae were nothing new in Verona. Parents would spin tales about these magical creatures and their terrifying ethereal natures. The citizens of Verona used these creatures to create cautionary stories to keep their children away from the wood when the night was nigh, or to keep them from acting out. Very few actually bothered to leave milk or honey out on their doorsteps as offerings. The people of Verona were not one to entertain superstitions, they had other things to be concerned about. Like the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets.

The people of Verona may not have entertained superstitions, but Romeo Montague reveled in the idea of their existence. Perhaps it was his romantic nature which drew him to these fantastical creatures. Romeo was never one to find himself in the library’s in most days, unlike his cousin, but he scoured the entire town for books about the people of the fae. Changelings, elves, sirens, and more, he learned of them all.

In hindsight, he should’ve been able to discover the truth about his best friend armed with this information. The signs had been blaring at his face for years now. He was blindsided by Mercutio’s trickster gambets and charming personality to see what was hidden from him. The aversion to the church and the Friar, only being able to get away with not showing up to mass because he was the Prince’s kinsman. When there were burns along Mercutio’s hands, he would simply laugh it off, telling them that the iron was hot. Romeo didn’t realize at the time that he too had placed his hands on the same iron bar, and it was cold to the touch.

Romeo could have foreseen this, maybe that’s why he found himself hating himself even more for what had happened.

The second Mercutio was struck down, the whole town saw that there was something terribly wrong. As the blood began to pool under his body, inky thunder clouds rolled through the sky, eclipsing the once unbearably sunny day. The crackling thunder roared from the heavens above. A cool breeze swept across the streets, leaving an icy chill in the air. Benvolio kneeled on the ground, Mercutio’s head lying on his lap as he desperately attempted to stop the blood from flowing out of the wound. Tybalt stood frozen, his hands trembled, looking down at his blood-stained hands. His mouth moved wordlessly, his breath visible through the chilling vapors.

Romeo grabbed the rapier from the ground and began to slowly make his way towards Tybalt, white-knuckled. His vision went red and the rage surfaced inside of him. His only intention was a strike down Tybalt, no matter what the consequences may be. In one lifetime, the Prince of Cat might have been struck down by the dreamer of Verona but that is not this lifetime.

Before Romeo could draw his sword against Tybalt, dark chuckle echoed throughout the streets. Romeo felt his throat go dry, the voice was omnipresent, sounding everywhere and nowhere at once. The presence of the voice was suffocating, shaking the population to their very core. If the atmosphere felt cold before, it was completely frozen now. The clattering of metal followed quickly as the Capulets’ swords slipped out of their hands and their eyes were clouded with horror. Romeo turned his head around.

He saw Benvolio, his cousin, backing away on the ground, the blood on his hands already drying. He had one hand raised over his mouth and trembled at the sight before him.

A dark purple aura washed over the street of Verona. It lashed and spread violently, gathering up at one spot. A figure stood before them, silhouetted by the aura. The tendrils of purple flickered, latching onto the figure before tentatively disappearing into wisps in the air. A cloud of thick smog blanketed the area around them, breathing seemed to be near impossible. The deep purple started to fade, giving features to the figure. It was only then that Romeo realized, Mercutio was not lying on Benvolio’s lap, Mercutio was not bleeding out on the ground.

Piercing purple eyes illuminated in the smog, blazing with a form of primal fury. Disheveled dark hair stuck onto their forehead from the sweat. Dirt and grime matted their newly tattered and torn clothes. Crimson red blood dyed his mouth and torso. Their side was exposed to show a skin that was unblemished where there should’ve been a fatal wound. A familiar wicked grin stretched across their face, but it dripped with malice and bloodstained teeth. Romeo’s heart hammered in his chest, as the blood drained from his face. It couldn’t be...

“Mer- Mercutio?”

Romeo flinched as two violet eyes met his. A deep rumble shook the city as, the once dead, Mercutio let out a humorless laugh. “Oh Tybalt,” Mercutio’s voice dripped with mock saccharine, his voice booming. The ever-present nature forcing them to listen. “Did you think that getting rid of me would be that easy? How naive. How mortal of you to think so.”

Mercutio glided gracefully along the streets toward the man who “ended” his life. “To strike me down in such a way. I wonder Tybalt, did you plan to mock me in such a way, I’m hurt.”

Mercutio made his way toward Tybalt, easily towering over his frozen figure. The purple tendrils delicately wrapped around the Capulet’s neck, lifting him up a couple of inches off the ground to meet his eyes.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to never enrage a child of the fae?”

Romeo couldn’t hear Tybalt strangled reply, but he could see the terror etched onto his face. Tears flooded his face as he stammered out what Romeo could only determine as apologies. Bile was building its way up Romeo’s throat. Romeo pushed it down with everything he had left. This wasn’t Mercutio. This couldn’t be their friend.

Tybalt’s hands made their way up to his neck as he tried to claw his neck free from the tendrils. The tendrils only tightened around his neck and Mercutio grinned. The Capulet kicked and clawed and squirmed. His face slowly losing its color. His lips turned blue.

Both Capulets and Montagues could do nothing but watch in horror as one of their own was being subjected to an excruciatingly painful death.

“Mercutio, stop it. You’re killing him!”

The tendrils withdrew. Tybalt fell to the ground, gasping to make up for lost air. A couple of Capulets attempted to flock to Tybalt, but Mercutio lifted a hand and a shockwave sent them slamming on the stone road. Mercutio’s eyes flickered from Tybalt to the man who had just spoken.

Romeo found his cousin standing next to him. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Benvolio ever getting up from the ground, but then again he was preoccupied with the scene that was being displayed in front of him. Benvolio was pale, there was dried blood all along his arms and legs. If Romeo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that it was his cousin who committed the crime.

“Benvolio, always such a saint aren’t you?” Mercutio hissed.

Benvolio breath hitched. Legs shaking at the sound of his name from Mercutio’s voice. Benvolio closed his eyes. Evened his breath. And one foot in front of the other, he walked up to Mercutio.  

He swallowed thickly. “I’m not,” he rasped, reaching out for Mercutio’s hand, “but hasn’t there been enough bloodshed?”

Mercutio’s face softened for a split second. The smog thinning. But then he scowled, slapping away Benvolio’s hand. “And who’s fault is that?” Mercutio stretched out his arms to gesture to the scene before them. “Both your families’ senseless fighting brought how many people to the ends of their lives? How much blood was shed by both sides? How much blood was shed by people like me, with no stake in the godforsaken feud?” Mercutio screamed, his throat raw. “ And for what? Nobody knows how this goddamn feud even began! Yet you fight and you continue this cycle of violence for generations.”

“Mercutio,” Benvolio tried.

His purple eyes blazed with senseless rage. “My uncle is not the only one who will try to put an end to this feud, nor will he be the last. There was an abundant number of people who slaved to make an end to this feud, but I wonder why they even bothered to try. This is a hopeless cause. Animals, that’s what you have all become. Animals!”

Something inside of Benvolio snapped. “You’ve always been so goddamn arrogant!” Benvolio spat.

Mercutio froze. “Excuse me?”

“What do you plan to do? Execute your own twisted justice on the people of Verona? Don’t make me laugh.” Benvolio grabbed Mercutio by the collar of his shirt. “You speak of how many people have fought for the peace between our two families, but yet you have don’t nothing but fuel the fire between us. You start fights with the Capulets in the name of the Montagues but in honesty. You’re just itching for a fight, aren’t you? Tell me Mercutio how many fights have I tried to talk you out of, and how many of them have you fought anyways. It seems as if you’re the one who is continuing this cycle of violence.” The purple aura was nearly engulfing the two of them, restlessly thrashing out to stretch further out. The foreboding clouds struck bolts of lighting, streaking the sky with a touch of light. The thunder began to rumble louder and violently.

“I confess this feud has caused so much harm to the city that it was birth from, but this isn’t about that, isn’t it” Benvolio continued lowly, “Don’t you dare blame this on the feud when the only reason why you are throwing a tantrum like a child because a mortal was able to kill you.”

Mercutio roared in rage. He grabbed Benvolio’s wrists and ripped them off his collar. The ground around them began to shake under Mercutio command. Benvolio lost his balance and collapsed onto the floor. Mercutio’s eyes began to glow a deeper shade of purple as furious incantations escaped his lips. The sounds of the crashing thunder were near deafening. The smog thickened where Romeo couldn’t see a single thing except for the glowing figure of Mercutio, head hanging low.

“A plague o’ both your houses,” he whispered. He lifted his head up, eyes filled with tears.

“A plague o’ Both your houses!”

And with that, he was gone.