#i think the white dress base is more in camp attire

[whoisnotmyname]

Kallian Surana and some outfits i’m trying out!

I’m doing an all elf origins world state so if she looks like she could be related to Theron and Threlam,, u are correct lol

[kumeko]

Title: Etheria Cribs WIP

A/N: A wip I wrote this for the @sheramagazine —I just wasn’t quite getting the feel of it, so it’s unfortunately half-finished. The good news: I’ve rewritten it and will post it next! Anyways, this is 3k, so I figured why not share for whoever’s still lurking in the tumblr tags

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i. Bow

Standing in front of the Horde’s gates, Bow tugged on his tie uncomfortably. He had willingly (and more often, unwillingly) come to his enemies headquarters many times before. This sight wasn’t all that new. The reason, however, was. After all, this was a mission of peace, not war. When Perfuma had suggested a culture exchange to help facilitate the transition to peace, to bring the Horde closer to everyone else, Bow had thought it was a crazy idea. They had been enemies for so long! There was no way just carrying over a tray of cookies would fix the death and destruction between them.

And then Perfuma said it could be like those fashion magazines and well, Bow couldn’t resist. He’d watched enough interviews to know how to MC and out of everyone, he was the only one with enough charm and fashion prowess to do it. Adora didn’t have style, Glimmer was far too aggressive, and Mermista couldn’t be bothered to try. No, if this plan had any chance of succeeding, it was up to him. At least he knew to look the part, dressed up as he was in a vest and dress pants. Well, mostly dressed up; he’d picked cropped shirt because there were just some things you couldn’t change.

“Alright, I have the camera ready!” Sea-Hawk said cheerfully, a heavy camera on his shoulder. “This thing weighs more than you’d think, but I can handle it.”

Well, him and Sea-Hawk. Bow glanced over his shoulder at his cameraman. They couldn’t really have an interview without footage after all. Part of him was excited to work with him, the other part was just worried. At least he could hopefully take Sea-Hawk’s proper ship captain attire as sign the older man was taking it seriously. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” Sea-Hawk shot him a suave smile, clearly excited. “I have always wanted to try my hand at directing.”

“That isn’t…” Bow trailed off as Sea-Hawk continued to glow brightly at him. Well, it wasn’t like it hurt him if he had the wrong idea. “Alright. Camera’s rolling?”

“Yep.” Pressing a button on the side of the huge device, Sea-Hawk gave him a thumbs up.

Bow smiled at the camera. “We’ve finally reached the Horde base camp. As I said before, there’s nothing to fear here. They’re just like us, people.” He leaned forward and knocked on the heavy, metal gates surrounding the complex. Immediately, a siren rang. Keeping his grin wide, Bow winked at the camera. “They just have more security than us.”

The doors swung open as soon as he finished. Before he could react, a red and white blur tackled him. Two muscular arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight, and his cheek was pressed against a rougher one. “Bow!”

Even if he hadn’t recognized the claws, that voice was a dead give away on who his assailant was. “S-Scorpia.” If she hugged any tighter, he was a goner.

“Gosh, look at you.” Releasing her grasp, Scorpia gently set him down on the ground. With a surprisingly delicate touch, she brushed his shoulders, removing any imaginary specks of dirt she might have seen. “You look so good!”

“You too.” Bow grinned automatically. It was hard not to when Scorpia smiled like that. Just like him, she’d dressed up a little and sported a clean black vest. If they all wanted to, they could go to Princess Prom like this.

“That bow is so cute and best of alllll.” As she dragged out that last word, she gestured at her neck, where a small, black bowtie hung loosely around her neck. “It matches mine! We have a vibe going, some psychic energy, huh?”

Bow had almost forgotten what a ball of positive energy Scorpia was. Glancing at his bow, and then at hers, he chuckled. This could work. This could really work. If the other guys were anything like Adora and Scorpia, it could work.

And if they were all like Catra, well, he tried. No one could fault him for that.

Slinging an arm around Scorpia, Bow smiled at the camera. “This is a coincidence, but I think it’s a good luck charm, you know?”

“A very good luck charm.” Sea-Hawk frowned as he studied them. He looked down at his own, neck-tie-less body. “I’m feeling a little left out.”

“That’s no good! I have extras,” Scorpia offered kindly, gesturing behind her. “Come, let’s go to my room; we can pick out something nice. I have a lot of colours.”

“Ohh, maybe we could compare collections.” Bow clapped his hands together. He owed Perfuma a silent apology, her plan was not sheer madness after all. After this special was done, people would be lining up to meet.

“That would be fun!” Scorpia slung a claw around his shoulders as she ushered them through the gates. “I like patterned ones. Like the ones with itty bitty scorpions on them.”

Distracted, Bow didn’t reply, his attention on the gates as they closed with a solid clack. It sounded vaguely like being in a cell. Vaguely. Trying to shake off his fears, Bow focused instead on the path they were taking. Around them loomed several misshapen, foreboding buildings, all of which were painted a shade of green that reminded him of vomit. It had been easy to dismiss them when he had been on the other side of the gates. Now, as he maneuvered the narrow paths between buildings, he realized just how much shadow covered the place. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked, and Bow realized with a start that there really were no plants here. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t even seen grass in a place.

“So…” The machinery swallowed his voice, giving it a more muted feel. “Uh…”

“Yeah?” Scopia prodded, cocking her head curiously. Her arm was still firmly around his shoulder and it felt oddly protection.

“Say it louder,” Sea-Hawk added, moving his camera away from the buildings and back to them. He looked excited and Bow had a feeling he’d forgotten the reason they were here. “Actually, wait, let me change angles.” Dashing ahead, he turned around started to walk backwards as he filmed them. “Okay, perfect!”

“Ohhh, that’s a good idea!” Scorpia’s tail swayed happily. For someone from the Horde, her emotions were always on her sleeve. Even Adora hid her feelings more often than Scorpia did and Bow was never sure if she just didn’t know how or didn’t want to. “Playing with angles and the like. Gosh, it really feels like we’re on a show or something.”

Bow cleared his throat. If they were on a show, they’d need an MC. He’d skipped his job for too long. “We’re here with Scorpia in the Horde headquarters! She’s kind enough to give us a tour today.”

“Oh, darn, it’s nothing really.” Flustered yet pleased, Scorpia rubbed the back of her neck. “Anyone could have done that.”

“Don’t be so modest! No one else stepped up to do it. Anyways, we’re here at your home.” Bow grinned as he gestured at the buildings around them. “It’s very…” His smile faltered as he struggled to come up with a flattering description. “…tall.”

“It is very tall, isn’t it?” Scorpia agreed, not missing a beat. Was she that good or did she not realize tall wasn’t a compliment? “I like—”

A horrible screech filled the air and Bow immediately crouched to the ground. Of all the times for him to not bring his weapons with him. Even if they were at peace with the Horde, there were still deadly creatures out there. Cursing himself, Bow searched his surroundings. “What was that?” he hissed, voice low.

“I don’t know!” Sea-Hawk whispered back, kneeling on the ground next to him. Despite his trembling voice and shaking hands, he held the camera up firmly. “But it’ll make the show interesting, don’t you think?”

The only person unconcerned was the still-standing Scorpia. Bouncing on her heels, she raised a claw to her eyes and scanned around them. “Oh, that’s nothing, really! Just the birds being friendly.”

“Birds?” Bow’s jaw dropped. That screeching had sounded like it’d come from one of Entrapta’s experiments, not from a bird. Those were supposed to sound musical and nice.

“Friendly?” Sea-Hawk echoed, his expression similiarly slack.

“Yeah, they get excited in the morning. Must be because we have you two here; they haven’t seen you before.” Cupping her claws around her mouth, she yelled, “Guys, it’s okay! These two are new friends!”

“Don’t call them over!” Bow shook his head violently, not at all inclined to see those creatures. He had enough nightmares as it was. “They sound hungry!”

“It’s fine!” Another loud screech interrupted Scorpia. It sounded more and more like claws sliding against metal, a grating irritating noise. “They’re really friendly, they like playing—” This time, a man yelled and Scorpia winced. “Oh, I guess they already found someone then.”

Found was such a nice, kind word for a possible kidnapping, maybe even murder. Bow shivered as he stood up. It was hard to make out if anything strange was above them; the buildings around them towered up into the clouds and each one had an unusual shape. A monster could be hiding in any crevice. That ‘bird’ could finish eating any moment and come after them. There were many ways he could die here and he shouldn’t have forgotten this place was still the enemy base, no matter what the peace talks declared.

Still, Bow had always been quick-witted and he grabbed Scorpia’s claw. “Where are we going?”

“Hmmm?” Scorpia looked around, biting her lip. “Well, I want to say that one.” She pointed at a building to their right. “But to be honest, guys, I get lost a lot. That might not be it.”

There was a loud snapping sound and Bow didn’t want to find out if that was the same creature or some other new one. Scorpia’s joyful expression told him that if they stuck around another second, he wouldn’t have a choice about that anymore. Insistently, he tugged Scorpia toward the building. “We’re here for a tour anyways! It’s fine if it’s the wrong one!”

-x-

It turned out that was the wrong one, but inside the dreary building Bow couldn’t hear any strange beasts anymore, so he chalked it up as a win. Well, a partial win—honestly, he wasn’t sure who’d come up with the green colour scheme, but it was like they picked the shades out of a nightmare he’d had once.

Just in front of him, Scorpia and Sea-Hawk were chatting animatedly. The camera was still up and running, though Bow couldn’t say if the footage was good or not. If anyone complained when they got back, he was going to force Perfuma to redo it. There was no way he was doing this a second time.

“You know, you look awfully familiar.” Scorpia tapped her cheek as she studied Sea-Hawk. “Where did I see you before? I don’t think my memory’s that bad.”

“We did have that moving talk about friendship and not being respected,” Sea-Hawk suggested. He twirled his mustache, puffing out his chest. “It was a good, beautiful talk. Many things changed that day.”

“Well, there was that, I feel like I saw you before that.” Scorpia scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “Hmm…”

“We fought each other a lot, maybe one of those?” Bow guessed, quickening his pace so he walked with them now. It was time they got back to work. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could get out. “Where are you taking us next?”

“Oh, the cafeteria! I figure you must be hungry.” Scorpia’s stomach gurgled and she flushed a bright red. She laughed sheepishly. “Well, gosh, I’m hungry at least.”

“Food?” Sea-Hawk perked up, his eyes bright.

“Yeah.” Turning right at the next hallway-crossroads, she came to a stop in front of a pair of double doors. Frowning, she stared at Sea-Hawk once more. “I feel like it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“Maybe food’ll tickle the old memory.” Sea-Hawk pushed open the doors dramatically, barging in. “Let’s see what glorious place awaits us.”

Maybe he should have just had Sea-Hawk narrate; he at least could come up with compliments. Stepping in front of the camera once more, Bow gestured at room behind him. “When the Horde wants to eat, they come here.”

Turning around, he took in the somewhat ordinary cafeteria. There were rows of tables, small clumps of Horde soldiers eating, and a buffet where you picked your meal. All in all, it was a relatively ordinary-looking place and Bow let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “What is on the menu?” he asked Scorpia.

“Actually, it’s those birds we heard earlier!” Scorpia clasped her claws together, happy. “Not only are they friendly, but they’re pretty tasty too.” Her brow knit. “Though, maybe that’s confusing for them. You’re not supposed to eat your friends, right?”

“Nope,” Bow agreed tonelessly. Maybe that was why the birds had attacked, they were getting revenge for this.

Sea-Hawk, on the other hand, had no such reservations and was already standing in line for food. He returned with a bowl of a thick, orange liquid and several brown cubes of what Bow hoped was bird meat. “This will be an adventure, won’t it?”

Bow picked up the now-abandoned camera, turning it to Sea-Hawk. Someone had to film. “Alright, now we’re going to see what tasty treats the Horde has for us today!” His cheerful voice felt as fake as it sounded. “These are apparently those birds we heard earlier.”

“It’s really tasty, when cooked right!” Scorpia added, dipping a spoon into the bowl. “You just have to be a little careful. They have these awfully poisonous glands that…well, it’s hard to cook.”

“Poison?” Sea-Hawk paled, staring at the food in his tray.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s cooked right. You can tell immediately.” Scorpia pointed at a scorched table in the far right, something Bow had assumed up until this point to be a scar of war. “The soups kinda corrosive if it’s not made right, but since it didn’t eat through the bowl, we’re safe.”

Sea-Hawk smiled brightly and set the tray down. “Sometimes, the greatest part of an adventure is coming back alive from one.”

“Oh sure, whatever you say.” Scorpia set down her spoon. A droplet fell off and ate away at the table. “Alright, next is the training room.”

Bow tried not to quiver in fear.

-x-

ii. Scorpia

“Hello!” Scorpia held the camera with a claw, her other one trying to press on the teeny tiny buttons. Unfortunately, they didn’t really make the buttons claw-sized. Actually, they didn’t make anything claw-sized. It was a travesty. Squinting at the tiny screen when she turned the camera around, she saw a blinking red light. “This thing is recording, I think.”

Scorpia glanced around her. The gates to Bright Moon castle had always been beautiful, a kind of silver that just gleamed in the sunlight. To be fully honest, she was glad she could finally visit the place without having to worry about fighting; she’d always wanted to explore its magical grounds. When she’d told Leonie and the others just how amazing Bright Moon was, they hadn’t believed her. If she just got the camera to work, she’d have proof. They had to believe it then.

Unfortunately, for a place that always had hundreds of guards when she came to break into the palace, there weren’t any there now. All she needed was one small, human finger to press the button. “Hello? Anyone here?”

For a long moment, there was silence and she grew afraid that no one would hear her. Then, barreling out of the castle, Bow waved as he raced toward her. “Scorpia!”

“Ohh, Bow!” She waved. Unfortunately, today he wasn’t wearing one of his bows, but she had a spare just in case he changed his mind. It was fun matching with someone and Entrapta and Catra never seemed to enjoy it like he did. “I’m on time, right? I didn’t come early or anything like that?”

“Just on time!” The doors swung open and Bow gave her a tight hug. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“Gosh, that’s so nice!” Scorpia hugged him tightly back. A snazzy dresser and a nice guy? She had no idea how they’d fought each other all this time; the people of Bright Moon were so nice, they should have been friends instead. “Then let’s get going!”

iii. Glimmer

Glimmer felt her jaw drop as she stared at the final clip of Scorpia’s and Bow’s footage. There were many, many ways she’d expected this exchange to go, but this wasn’t one of them. Bow’s footage looked like something out of a horror movie, while Scorpia’s felt like something out of a tourism ad.

There was no way she could use any of the footage. In fact, maybe it was better to act like this had never happened.

[dulcewrites]

Despite My Better Judgement

Summary: Your eccentric but kind hearted best friend tasks you with the duty of throwing “the best bachelorette party ever” in Wyoming of all places. An unexpected night with a brooding cowboy happens. (1.3k words)

Paring: Rhett Abbott x fem!reader (only thing mentioned is clothing)

Warnings: 18+ content, PIV (don’t interact if you’re a minor please and thank you), reader being insecure

A/N: This is my first work on my side writing blog. My first one, a top gun fic, is on my main blog. I think I’m gonna post all my ideas/writing on here. This is also my first time doing a reader insert. I also just want to say I see all of “my” characters as black (I plan on writing more stuff that outrightly depicts that) but anyone can read this. I think it is important for fellow black writers/writers of color to get support and have a space. Anyways I hope you guys like it. Please like, reblog, follow❤️

You are not boring nor stiff; you’re measured and pensive, two separate concepts. So when your best friend hints that her bachelorette party should be completely different from the one you had been planning, you can’t help but feel a spike anxious energy shiver up your spine.

Nature? Horses? Glam camping? Taking several born and raised city women (yourself included) to the backwoods of some Midwestern dude ranch was not for the faint hearted. But here you are are, adorned in a sparkly black cowboy hat and your best mini dress. Despite the lack of prep time and the initial shock of the idea, you’re actually having a good time.

“We need to get you laid,” Melody, the bride to be, giggles over the noise of the crowded bar. She fixes her white hat which stands out amongst the black ones of the rest of the bridal party.

“I thought this was a celebration of you becoming an honest woman. Not a plan to get someone to fuck me,” you down the rest your drink with a grimace.

Yeah it had been… some time. But it’s by choice!

“Why not both,” says Melody with a shrug as her eyes start dancing across the bar. “One night won’t kill you. God forbid you might actually meet someone you like.”

You roll your eyes. What’s the point of meeting someone kilometers away from your home base? Especially this late in the trip. Today was the second to last full day you and girls has in Wyoming. Plus the idea of going up to some guy and flirting was daunting.. even after the free drinks you’ve been giving (curtesy of nice patrons seeing the bridal party attire).

“I’m having a good time with just you guys. I mean how beautiful was the horse trail today,” You say, trying to change the subject quickly.

“That’s too bad you’re not up for it… sad eyes over there has been eyeing you for a minute,” Sasha chimes in, half nodding to the bar area to the left of table.

You find yourself sitting a little straighter, straining your neck to the left trying to discretely see what Sasha is talking about.

You make not do subtle eye contact with melancholy cerulean blue eyes slightly hidden by a big brown cowboy hat. You take in the boyish good looks and an obnoxious belt buckle. The staring is disrupted by him tipping his hat with a small smile.

Oh…

Melody let’s out a bit a of squeal and hits your arm.

“He’s cute. I recognize him from the rodeo we went to yesterday!"

She pats your arm encouragingly. You open your mouth, then close it. You know better than to try that. With a wave of your hand, you shut that down quickly.

After drinking some water after your drinks, you and Sasha excuse yourselves from the group to go to the bathroom.

“Maybe it’s tequila shots making me sappy but I wish you saw yourself the way others do,” Sasha sighs quietly as you both touch up your makeup.

You don’t really know how to respond to that. It’s not a new topic between you and friends. Your confidence is something you’re working on, but you still have moments where self-doubt can be all consuming. You squeeze Sasha’s hand hoping she realizes how much you appreciate her. How much appreciate all the girls, and this trip.

Her words continue to resonate in your head as you two leave the bathroom. Why wouldn't some that attractive be into you? You're a catch.

"I'm gonna go to the bar. Get a.... drink," you announce to the table. Melody raises an eyebrow with the knowing smile.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea as well," she says as fixes your hair after you take your hat off, and picks a piece of glitter from your dress.

"There! Go get em tiger!"

While you're walking over, you remember why you don't do this. Your stomach feels like it is gonna fall out of your ass when you sit down at the stool next to the handsome cowboy. How do you even start a conversation?

You are taken out of your thoughts quickly.

"Nice boots," his voice is smooth and soft despite the bustling energy of the bar.

Instinctively, you look down at the black heeled cowboy boots you have on. Maybe he finds the obnoxious but albeit cute bedazzled MOH on the side endearing.

"Thanks. Nice belt?" it comes out more like a question than you intended. He smile grows as he laughs.

"Appreciate it sweetheart. I'm Rhett"

He holds his drink out as a toast and you clank your drink with his as you tell him your name.

There's a period of silence as you contemplate what you're about to do next. You're in a state you've never been to, talking to a hot guy you've never met before tonight, about to do something you never do. First time for everything. You lean over trying to avoid his hat, lowering your voice to a whisper

"I'm gonna go to restroom. Maybe in a couple minutes you can come give me a hand with my dress?"

You get up before he can even reply. Your body feels hot as you walk to the crowed unisex bathroom, praying its empty.

As you wait in the cramped bathroom, it hits you that you just positioned a guy you don't know to come and fuck you. And despite how you're wired, instead of being embarrassed, you hope he gets the hint.

The pacing around the tiny bathroom is interrupted by Rhett coming in and locking the door behind him. His hat is gone, revealing longish dark hair.

He walks over slowly, pressing you against the wall.

"This is okay right?"

Hands working their way to your waist, and you answer his question by putting one hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down to a sloppy kiss.

He groans in your mouth as one of his hand leaves your waist and squeezes your ass. His large, rough hand works it way under your dress. Long fingers tug on your underwear to the ride before rubbing your wet folds. You mutter a curse against his lips.

As his lips work down you neck, you start fiddling with his huge belt; distracted as he push one finger inside of you. You finally get inside his jeans, stroking him through his boxers. Rhett's eyes flutter at your actions.

"Do you have a condom?" you ask as your hips buck against his hand rubbing it against for clit.

You whine when he pulls his finger out, putting it in his mouth a hum. He fishes about condom out of his wallet then pushes down his jeans and boxers.

"Turn around"

A shiver runs up your spine at his voice. Authoritative and warm. You turn around, sticking your ass out in anticipation. There's light shuffling before you feel his tip poking at your wet cunt.

Rhett bottoms out inside of you as you both let out satisfied sighs. He lets you adjust to the way he stretches you out before fucking into you.

He pins one hand behind your back as you hold onto the wall with the other. All that takes over your brain is the sound of him going in and out you, and the lewd moans you both are making. You desperately push back against his thrust.

"Fuck you take me so well"

The warm feeling in the pit of your stomach grows; you come with with a cry of his name. He continues to thrust into you as you ride out the warmth of your orgasm.

Rhett lets go of your wrist, bringing both hands to your waist. He comes with your ass flush to him.

You feel like your body is floating as your stand up straighter. You feel a kiss on your shoulder, and turn around to his lips back on yours. The kiss is sweet.

"We should probably stop hogging the bathroom," you say with a smile against his lips.

You both get cleaned up in a tranquil silence. It takes you by surprise when Rhett turns to you with a shy smile.

"Ummm, do you think I could see you tomorrow?"

Well, going against your better judgement went well once... what's one more time.

[elleclairez]

The Starless one and his star - Darkling x reader

Alina didn’t know what to do exactly. She sat silently in an armchair of her chambers in the Little Palace, her gaze focused on the figure of her worst enemy who decided that it would be a marvellous idea to torment her a little by playing tricks with her mind. 

The Starkov girl knew that the Darkling wasn’t really there, but it certainly did not ease her worries in any way at all. The man on the other hand, silently stood, watching young Grisha train with Botkin through the window. No one could guess what was going on inside his head. Saints even he didn’t know why he chose to pay a visit to his enemy. 

The silence in the room was heavy, almost unbearable for the young woman. She wanted to cry, shout and hit the man all at once and yet her body couldn’t move even a little. She was petrified and she couldn’t understand why. Was is fear? Hatred? Anger? Or was it something else stopping her from crying out for help or banishing the man from her mind herself?

The silence didn’t stop until the beautiful, silky voice of the Darkling resonated through the walls of the room.

“Have you ever heard of a young woman by the name of Seren Heijman?” Confusion flashed through Alina’s eyes. Seeing that the Shadow Summoner sighed and added “You might know her as the Star Saint. A bloody ridiculous name if you ask me.” The last sentence was muttered and Alina could barely hear it to properly decipher all the words. But as the words left the man’s mouth, the young Grisha suddenly had old memories of childhood stories crossing her mind. Alina could still remember the tales that Ana Kuya would tell them back at Keramzin. There was one story that Alina always adored, it was about a young, beautiful and selfless woman who chose death to save her comrades and the now long dead king. 

“All I remember is that she died sacrificing herself to save the king and her friends. Let me guess she was Grisha too?” Asked Alina with her brows furrowed. Why would the Darkling talk about Saints with her? 

“I always told you that those tales were propaganda for peasants. Seren was indeed Grisha, a powerful Inferni actually. And no, she did not sacrifice herself as everyone chose to believe. She was killed. Stabbed and left to die alone. Without anyone to save her or to at least be by her side when she would let go of her last breath.” Spat the Darkling with anger. Hatred could be deciphered from his eyes quite easily. It wasn’t hard to understand that this story was quite a sensitive topic for him, but Alina didn’t care. She was too curious as to why the man who was as heartless as a volcra would care so much about a mere woman and her unfortunate fate.

“You knew her didn’t you?” Carefully asked Alina too afraid of his reaction. The last thing she wanted was to anger her enemy. The Darkling chuckled.

“I did not know the martyr that people made of her against her will. I knew a young Kerch Inferni who was too good for this world.” And with those words, the Darkling pulled out a chain out of his pocket, and attached to it were two rings.

Two wedding bands. 

While at court Alina was able to see many jewels but all of them paled in comparison to the beauty of those. It was no doubt Materialki work.

The first was a man’s ring, quite simple, black with silver engravings on it, but it was the second one that caught her eye. A silver ring with black engravings that were too small to be read but big enough to be visible. On top of it, three diamonds were placed. Two were small, white ones looking like stars and the third one in the middle seemed to represent a full black moon.

At the realization, the Sun Summoner gasped.

“You...” Words couldn’t form themselves. Never in a million years could she have guessed that the most heartless man could actually be married. But most importantly it seemed that the marriages was based on love, a feeling that Alina thought the Darkling could not feel.

“Yes, Alina. We were married and loved each other dearly. She was the only one for who I was ready to give the world to on my knees but even more, she was the only one for whom I was ready to give it up. The moment she would have said it, I would have given up everything. The Second army, Ravka, everything.” The Darkling paused to take a breath, eyes full of sadness and grief. “What people say is true. She was everything any person would want to be. Intelligent, beautiful, sarcastic, a real firecracker if you ask me.” At that the Darkling laughed a little, memories seemed to flash in his eyes. “Loving, brave and selfless and yet selfish enough to dream of a peaceful life with me, away from all the fighting. She was the only one that I needed, and yet she was still taken from me.” At those words the man’s fists clenched, knuckles white from tension, his eyes full of hatred and yet still held the same sadness as before. Alina could even feel herself pitying the man.

“What happened?” Almost shakily whispered the raven haired woman. She knew asking that would be dangerous, but she wanted to know what happened.

“The ancestor of our so lovely King Alexander desired her with all his body and could not bear the idea that she chose to marry me and decline his advances. So he did what many Lantsov men did as it seems, he tried to take her by force. But my Seren was powerful, something that the bastard forgot, she burned him but was kind enough to simply leave burns on his hands. She hoped that he wouldn’t approach her from then on but that man, if you can call him a man, was vengeful, so he sent her to Fjerda on a mission, as he said. I was away the day she was sent away, and I only found out a few days later. The moment I received the news I rushed to Fjerda as fast as I could but when I arrived at her camp, it was too late. All I found was dead Ravkan soldiers both otkasatsya and Grisha and when I found her tent I already knew something was wrong, I felt somehow felt it. And there she was in her tent, laying on the ground, eyes blank, a single dried tear on her cheek, the spark that I used to adore in her beautiful orbs, gone. She laid there, on the floor, in a pool of her own blood and all I could do was to stand there, paralysed with this raging urge to destroy the monster who did that to her.” A deathly silence succumbed the room, Alina did not know what to say, and she became even more speechless when she saw a tear run down the Darkling’s cheek. He didn’t look so terrifying anymore but more like the young man that Baghra so desperately tried to save. “From that day I promised myself that I would avenge her. That I would take over Ravka and destroy every person who would think of hurting my and her people, of hurting Grisha people.”

“Make me your villain, Alina Starkov. But even you should see right now that I am not the villain but only the victim. The one who lost too much by the hands of others.” Alina didn’t know what to say, how could she respond after such story? Was she even supposed to respond? Was he even saying the truth? It wouldn’t be a surprising for her that the Darkling was simply playing tricks on her, again.

As if reading her mind, the Shadow Summoner said. “If you don’t believe me, there is proof in a secret drawer of my desk, well your desk now should I say, in the war room, go see for yourself.” At that the Darkling’s figure started to disappear, but Alina had one more question.

“Wait!” The Darkling looked at her expectantly. “I know not all tales are true, but some said that... she was...” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because if those stories were indeed true then the Darkling would be even less of a monster.

A dark chuckle left his mouth, he knew what she was trying to say. “We were going to name them Elizaveta if it were a girl or Piotr if a boy.” And with those words the man disappeared.

Alina didn’t even notice how tears escaped her eyes but a few minutes later she found herself in the war room, opening the same drawer that the Darkling talked about. 

It was a portrait. An old, small and dusty but still very well-kept one.

On it was painted a young couple, dressed in wedding attires, those same rings on their fingers. Smiles and eyes full of love, so bright that even the painting couldn’t dull the sparkle that they had while looking at each other.

At the bottom of the portrait Alina was able to decipher the writing.

            “Seren and Aleksander Morozova. The Starless One and the Star”

Hope you liked this angsty Aleksander x reader one-shot. Had this idea since I saw the trailer (which is INCREDIBLE by the way) and gotta be honest I literally wrote all of this during my philosophy class because it was better than falling asleep...

If you have a request don’t hesitate to send me a message. You can find all the fandoms I write for in my bio, but I warn you that it may take a little while for me to write it because I’ve been a lot of writer’s block lately....

Ps: Hello! This is me again from the future or present (depends on how you see it). Just wanted to say that I edited the story a little. Again English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes that I’ve missed, do not hesitate to comment if you see one. Again I hope you enjoyed this story and if you did go check my other ones 😉

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross. 

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.   

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches. 

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward).  1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces.  1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too.  1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship). 

Gendered clothing:  3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.”  Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one.  3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.”  3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message.  3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor.  3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does.  3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket. 

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though. 

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually.  After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy. 

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing.  In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform. 

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined?  A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos. 

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews.  Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.   

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat. 

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either).  11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands. 

[pollyrepents]

rational creatures | john shelby

Summary: You’re picked to be married off to a peaky boy to settle a fight you didn’t start. You won’t go without a fight of your own.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and abortion.

Word Count:  2.8k

A/N: This is my first full fic! Feedback is welcome. 

“Wake up.” A distant whisper and dull thud of a beaded bag began to pull you from your slumber. You pressed your face into your scratchy blanket, attempting to return to sleep’s warm embrace. The vardo shifted slightly as the friendly intruder moved, their breath against your face. You wrinkled your nose, grumbling as you turned over.

“Mum says get up.” Cold fingers against the back of your neck accompanied the words this time and you hissed, swatting at the hand. Another other hand came to press thin and icy fingers against the base of your throat and you groaned in frustration.

The childish yet cruel tactic forced open your eyes, looking directly into your sister’s concerned face. 

“What, Esme.” You batted at her freckled face, rubbing at your eyes with your other hand.

“It’s nearly four and mum-”

“I don’t care,” You cut through her words quickly, rolling your eyes at the mention of your mother “she can get me if she needs me.”

“Mum says get up.” Esme stood from beside you, instant this time as she tugged the blanket off of your frame despite your protest. “We have to get ready.”

With new found curiosity you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking at Esme with wide eyes. “Mum’s letting us out today?”

Esme hesitated before she nodded, reaching out to push your messy curls back from your eyes. “We have to look nicer today.”

“It’s about time-she’s let Danny and Erasmus keep us holed up in here like horses for too long.” You scoffed. “Nothing to dress nicer for. She’ll pitch a fit and we’ll only get mud on our clothes-“

“Not today.” Your sister dug around in the trunk before your bed, pulling out a brush and the few make up items she rarely used herself.

Moving slowly, you sat up on your knees in the bed and watched Esme closer. You pushed the curtain aside and peeked out the window above your bed, seeing nothing out of the ordinary as your family roamed the lands where you had settled for the summer.

“Esme.” You turned back to the dark haired woman as she raked her fingers through her hair. “Esme, you’re acting strange. Are we meeting a boy? Another one of those boys with the blade in their caps?”

“Y/N,” She scowled at the brush in her hands as she began to pull the shed hair from between the bristles. “you said you wouldn’t talk about him.”

“He was nice.” You pushed your sister, grinning as her cheeks started to color the pink way they did on the rare occasion Esme’s buttons were pushed. “He thought you were nice. He thought the lipstick was nice.”

“He was looking for an easy shag.”She retorted, invested in her cleaning.

“He was trying to fuck you over a of a car’s hood soon as he could find one.” You laughed loudly as Esme tossed the brush in your direction.

She scowled up at you, moving to her feet to stand. “Not so loud!”

“Don’t be a prude.” You scoffed. “He had nice hair. The curls were sweet but that fucking peaky hair cut was something ugly.” You crossed your legs at your ankles, biting your lip to hold back a giggle. “I think you should have seen what he was carrying-”

The door swung open and your mouth snapped shut, fearing one of your brothers had overheard the less than ladylike conversation. You looked up, your mother’s kohl lined eyes looking over you before moving to Esme.

Zilpha’s deep voice spoke slowly, her Romani words sharper than normal. “She is supposed to be dressed by now.” 

“She took forever to get up, again.” Esme shot you a look before looking up at your mother. “I’ll braid her hair first. Then the clothes.”

“I don’t need it braided for the fair.” You scoffed, standing and throwing your arms up over your head, stretching dramatically. You let your upper half fall forward, touching the tips of your toes and shaking out your hair. “Just the fair.” You stood up straight, eyes meeting your mother’s. “Mum won’t want us to have any attention from the bloody Birmingham boys.” You dropped your voice to a nearly perfected imitation of your mother. “No fun for the girls, no.“

“Shoes, Y/N.” Zilpha ordered, her thin hand pushing your back onto the bed. You huffed and sat up, pulling your feet under you. “You need to look fresh today.”

“I always look fresh.” You snapped, a hand coming up to gently push her hand off of you. Esme held her breath as Zilpha’s hand rose and you braced yourself for a quick smack the best you could, but she passed her hand over your messy curls and took a deep breath instead. She looked to Esme and nodded, who sat behind you and started to brush your hair out. Esme’s hands were gentle, the years of caution used to avoid one of your loud tantrums from tugging too hard on a knot reemerged with muscle memory. She began to weave your hair, a tight braid perfected by campfire light many moons ago. 

Your mother’s hand came under your chin as Esme wrapped ribbon around the ends of your hair, gently tilting your head back to look at your face. “I thought Esme would be wed first.” She stepped out of the vardo and her confession hung in the air.

“Wed?” You spoke softly, a chill shooting down your spine. 

“You’ll need to get dressed.”Esme stated. She reached behind her, yanking the small curtain over the window.

You pushed past your sister and looked out the window again, seeing a large group of men in crisp suits with peaky caps. “Esme,what does she mean wed. Esme? Why did she say wed!” You demanded, turning to stare down your sister.

“Mum says you’ve gone too wild to keep up with in camps.” Esme spoke plainly, looking straight at you. “She’s found the bottles of whiskey under your mat and she’s found you someone good. A peaky-“

“Good?” You laughed in disbelief, reaching back to tug the braid out of your hair. You fumbled with the ribbon, giving a shout of frustration when it pulled your hair roughly. “A peaky boy? Good!?”

“They started a fight,” She explained as if it were dinner plans. “Mum is ending it with you.”

In a second you were on your feet, toes sinking into the mud as you ran toward your mother’s vardo, shouting at the top of your lungs. “I won’t do it! I won’t let you do it,not to me!”

She turned toward you from where she was in conversation with the suited men, most of whom looked older and war torn the same way the one who sought out Esme looked. “Y/N, go get dressed-”

“I won’t take orders from you and I won’t marry him!” You pointed a trembling hand at the man who stood closest to you two, his flat cap obscuring his face. “I won’t do it. Not to that bastard.”

Zilpha’s hands came to grip your biceps, shaking you roughly. “You’ll marry him to save your sister, won’t you? Your brother? Their mouths started a war and they have a man who needs a wife. You need a husband.” 

“I don’t need shit! I won’t be a housewife for a fucking Shelby.” You spat, trying to see around your mother to pick out the possible groom. A few of the men chuckled at the gruff words of the tallest in the group and you began to speak loudly, hoping they heard. “I won’t be wed to one of those-those fucking animals!”

“What choice do you have.” She grabbed your chin with one hand, speaking lowly in Romani to you. “He already has kids, you won’t need to have many.”

“I won’t have any with him!”

“But you’ll stop him from having Esme, won’t you?” She looked into your eyes and your glare faltered at the mention of harm coming to your sister. “His kids will be good for you, he’ll be good for you.”

“And if he cuts me a smile when I won’t go to bed with him?” Your hands shook as you pushed your mother’s hand away from your face, a grimace of disgust coming across your own at the idea of a man like him putting his bloody hands on you under your dress.

“You will.” She tucked a loose curl behind your ear, her smile empty as she looked at you with eyes that mirrored Esme’s. “You’re here in Birmingham with a husband, or you’re left here without anything. The last thing I want is to raise your bastard on the road after you’ve been reckless.”

“Y/N, please.” Esme stood on the steps of your vardo, a lacy white veil in her hands. “Just put on the fucking dress!”

You stole one last glance at the men as they spoke with Johnny Dogs and you stomped back up into your room, tugging at your nightdress. “I won’t have him. I won’t let him have me, I’ll kill him before he does.”

“You won’t need to.” Esme promised, pulling out a white dress from the bag she discarded on the floor upon entrance.

“I’ll cut his balls off before we have kids.” You swore, snatching the veil from her hands and trying your best to fix it to your hair, “If he’s old and ugly, I’ll slit my throat with his cap before we’re man and wife. If he’s mean, I’ll poison his tea and give his ankle-biters to his stupid brother. I’ll find you on the road.”

“Don’t speak like that.” Esme hushed you, fastening the buttons on the back of your dress. “I don’t think mum would pick someone who would beat you. Old and ugly, maybe.”

“She’ll pick someone ugly and mean to make my life a living hell one more time before she abandons me in a shit city with a litter of filthy bastard kids I don’t fucking want-”

“Your groom is ready for you.” Your mother spoke from outside of the vardo, making no notion she heard your complaints, and if she did, she did not make it evident she cared. 

“Let me get a look first.” Esme came around your front, her eyes brimming with tears. 

“Stop, Esme.”You gently pushed at her shoulder, heat creeping up your cheeks despite the circumstance. “I’m being sold.”

“You look lovely.”She whispered, pulling the veil over your face. “He’ll love you.”

“I hope he doesn’t.” Your hands ran over the lace details of the dress, familiar curves of your own body feeling foreign in in wedding attire. “I hope he walks away from me in front of them all and makes mum regret everything.”

On your short walk to the altar, you stared firmly at your kitten heels handed down from your sister. You thought about muddy bare feet in the grass, how you would chase Esme along the rivers and always end up filthy but happy. How a husband was going to take that from you.

Too high and mighty to feel like a Lee, too dirty to feel like a Shelby.

You knelt before Johnny Dogs, looking up at the small knife in his hand briefly before someone came to kneel beside you. Your breath caught in your chest, listening to any indication of a wheeze of an ailing man or a grunt of one well beyond your age. Instead, you heard a soft hum  as he settled himself. Johnny began to speak, and you grit your teeth. At the mention of togetherness, your hands came up to lift your white veil. You braced yourself, turning slightly to look at your new husband.

Your eyes met his blue ones, and you felt the wind leave your chest. You were expecting an old, war riddled Shelby with a heavy hand and permanent frown, the rumors following him to the altar.. Instead, his face was full and round with pink and plump lips, a smattering of freckles over his pale skin. 

You forced a tight lipped smile, deciding against speaking over the man above the two of you. He turned around to smirk at someone behind the two of you.

He still smiled.

You felt yourself blushing at the idea of him being excited at the thought of bringing you home.

“Do you, John Michael Shelby, take Y/N Y/M/N Lee, to be your beautiful wife?”

John. 

You almost mouthed the word, wanting to feel the letters brush past your lips. You could get used to John.

Johnny Dogs’ penetrating voice pulled you away from your thoughts and John’s smile had spread to your face. 

“Well?” Johnny raised an eyebrow and you let yourself grin, nodding.

“I do.” Your voice was soft and John huffed a laugh beside you.

“There remains one more part of the ceremony,” Johnny spoke to the crowd and you tried not to stare at John, eyes remaining on Johnny’s knees out of fear of possibly blushing to death in front of your family and his. “That’s the mingling of the two bloods. Where the two families become the one family.”

He unsheathed the knife in his hand, taking John’s rough hand in his own and dragging the blade across. John took the pain without flinching, looking down at his palm. 

You pulled away as Johnny extended a hand for your own, you straightened at the feeling of John’s hand coming up to rest on your lower back.

“Don’t worry, doll.” His voice was low and gravelly, “it’s only a second.”

You put your hand out, wincing at the pain as Johnny made the cut.

Your hand in John’s, you were pronounced man and wife. 

He hesitated, but you leaned in and pulled your joined hands closer, pressing your lips to his as your families cheered around you. 

As the evening of celebration wore on, booze began to flow and tongues began to loosen. 

You shrieked with giggles as your new husband spun you around in a dance, Johnny’s fiddle playing feeding your energies of excitement as you danced. He grabbed your waist, his hands heavy from alcohol and excitement as he pulled you close, turning his head to kiss the inside of your elbow when you threw your arms over his shoulders.

“My brothers heard you pitch a fit earlier,” He was grinning as he said it. “Tommy was impressed.”

“What do I care how impressed a Shelby was? I’m not marrying the lot of you. Especially, especially not Tommy.” You slid your fingers into his soft hair, giving it a short tug. Within the few hours you had been married, you had become fond of messing up his identifying haircut, strands sticking up every which way from your fingers running through it when you got the chance. “I need another drink.”

You  stumbled over to the small table that held bottles of whiskey, pulling the top off of one and tilting your head back to sip. You still wrinkled your nose at the burning sensation, the taste too bitter for your own enjoyment.

“Easy on that, ay?” Danny spoke up from where he was smoking a cigar, watching your hands too closely. “Before that Shelby boy gets a clue.”

“A clue?” You hiccupped, pausing before tilting your head back to drink. “What clue would he get from his wife drinking on her wedding night?”

“The kind of clue that comes nine months later, or the one he sends you to a back room for.” He laughed as he said it. 

“His aunt’s a women of God.” You spoke up, face burning from the alcohol and the heat and the beginnings of fury stirring in your chest. “He’s got kids of his own. Wouldn’t send me off to get rid of ours.”

“He wouldn’t get rid of the brand new wife’s baby?”He sneered.

“We’ll learn to love each other.” 

“You’re a doll to him.” He scoffed, tipping back his own glass. “How you changed in a matter of hours.”

“You’re drunk, you ass.” You spat. “I’m married to him. We’ll learn to live with it and each other. John’s not you. John’s not mum or dad or Johnny Dogs-”

“I gotta go.” John’s hand wrapped around your bicep and you turned your head to look at him.  His brow was pinched with worry. “Ada’s- her water’s- she’s having the baby. Come on, I’ll take you home-”

“I can go with you!” You blurted, desperate to get away from your family. “I helped Esme deliver our sister’s babies.” You insisted, grabbing onto your husband’s arm. “Let me help your sister, John.”

He hesitated, be it the alcohol or the idea of you integrating so suddenly and intimately into his family, but nodded. “Come on, then.”

[rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip]

what have I created?

idk if yall like this, but they just exist not i guess :/

ok the the first one is Royalty AU

first things first, when I say Royalty AU, I don't mean the classic shit we've all become accustomed to. Im talking about the good old Chinese royalty! And I want to emphasize that these guys will/should be dressed in century appropriate attire. As someone thats read a handful of 'marinette, princess of china' fics from the ML Fandom, I've noticed a common trend. Marinette wouldn't be in the culturally appropriate clothes, always ballgowns. Not that there's something wrong with it, its just most of if not all these fic are set in China, so I'd expect Chinese royalty to dress as THERE dress code calls for. And since this AU takes place far in the past like, it won't make sense for any of the characters to be in royal clothing that wasn't from there region. I'm not trying to white knight/gatekeeping. Im Guyanese not Chinese. But since JTTW and Monkie Kid take place in China, it's only right. In my opinion that it. You don't have to outright agree with me.

With out of the way, it's time for that good old AU crack

- Wukong is the king of the Flower Fruit kingdom(or a different one if you'd like, again I'm only familiar with what western culture has taught me, but I'll try my hardest) 

- he’s single but rumor has it he used to/still is dating the Vigilante/thief The Six Eared Macaque

- *chants ShadowPeach violently* 

- no one know whether it true or not

- On of his wanders around the kingdom he finds an abandoned baby in a basket. 

- and no shit sherlock it's fucking baby Xiaotian 

- I think we all know where this is going because i'm a simp for Monkey Dad & Monkie Son shenanigans

- Xiaotian becomes prince

Shit, ill be referring to Xiaotian as Mk from now on, I mentioned this before in a fic I wrote for lmk that Mk's a nickname for Xiaotian for some reason- wait i don't have to explain my self to you people!

- Sun loves his son

- MK is treated differently by staff and others because he's not blood related to the king

- no one mistreats MK per say, because there King loved his adopted son, but words are said behind his back

- Sometimes MK hears what’s said, and he feels as if he won't live up to his dad’s legacy.

- He meets Mei during a festival

- Mei is from a noble family, that wouldn't mind if they got a connection into the royal family.

- but it becomes hella clear to Mei’s family very fast that the two are just friends, and will always will be. but hey there daughter is bffs with the prince so that's a plus.       

_

- the Demon Bull Family is rules a kingdom as well, I dont/am not creative enough to think of a name I leave that to you.

- It's a common misconception that DBK is a tyrant, when he’s not. 

- most of the time...

- they have been at war with the Monkey King for some time now and settled for a peace agreement.

- that agreement being there sons to marry

- oooo original i know

- MK and Red Son are roughly the same age, Mk being 20 and RS 22

- RS is revolted/disgusted at the idea of being wed to the Monkey Kings child, even more so when he realizes MK is adopted,

- but, that all changes the second he meets MK while he meets him by accident when he gets kinda lost in the palace when he and his parents go to discuss the arrangements.

- the second he looks at MK, he's instantly in love. MK less so, he's nervous and honestly kinda bummed he's not marrying someone he loves but it's for the good of his ppl, and he'll do anything for them.

- RS isn't even aware that MK is Suns adopted son until MK walks him back to the meeting room.

"Oh There you are MK! I was about to have a servant go fetch you!" Sun Wukong says, gesturing for his boy to come sit with him.

"S-sorry for keeping you waiting I got caught up in my lessons with Mr. Tang" MK responds, sitting next to his father. Red Son looked gobsmacked. The beautiful young man he had bumped into, was the prince of this land? Damn, life truly blessed him. Or cursed him depending on how you looked at it.

- the two are left alone in a separate room for a while.

- And MK straight up tells RS why he's agreeing to this union.

"Look Red Son. I've dreamed about meeting my one true love for a while. And I would give almost anything for that dram to be real. But I wouldn't ever dare give up my people, for as there price they mean more to me. I'm doing this for them, no other reason" MK says, his back straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. The look in his eyes was a mix of sadness, but that was drowned out by loyalty and determination. It just made Red Son fall for him even harder. Clearing his throat Red spoke.

"I understand, for im doing this for the betterment of my people to. But I propose a wager"

"A wager?"

"Yes, if i can make you fall in love with me by years end, before our marriage, we can live together like in the fairy tales from far away. But if I fail, in a years time afterwards you will be permitted to find your own path in life" Red Son stated. MK took a moment to process what was happening.

"So, if you succeed in making me fall in love with you, before our marriage we can live happily ever after?" Red Son nodded in response, letting the younger continue.

"And if I shouldn't fall for you, in a years time after our union, im free to leave?" Red Son nodded once more.

"So, what do you say?"

...

"Deal"

In the end, your free to choose their fate, should Red Son win the hart of Mk? Will he fail? Or will he let him go, and let him travel the country, after all Mk's a free spirit and keeping him trapped in a big house is like keeping a cannery trapped in a cage only for its song, only for it to dul. Or will the unthinkable happen and will both boys find their freedom? together or appart? I don't know, because that's all up to you 😉

personally, I’m partial to where MK and Red Son both find freedom together. Like they straight up run away together to somewhere far away and just live out there lives together. 

this could also be genderbent thing as well. MK or Red as their respective counterparts. Again it doesn't have to be, but it’s whatever bro. im just spitting out the idea. 

Also, there is a main side plot that they fight the WBS throughout the year as well, along with other shenanigans you wanna throw in.

____

The second is a My Hero Academia/BNH/MHA AU

truth be told i'm not a big fan of MHA i think it to over hyped(this is also coming from the same person that’s a Fairy Tail fan lol), and the fandom i don't even know how to describe that mess, but I will admit not the whole of its toxic since every fandom has some toxic members, some even more so. 

I just sometimes find myself enjoying MHA AUs like the Fullmetal Alchemist, Danny Phantom, Evil!Deuk AU and several others. 

to make it clear I don't see this AU taking place the same time as the main plot of the actual Anime/Manga. This could be either like 6-10 years before or after the plot idk bro. But i’ll do this after the main story plot of MHA, so keep that in mind ya? another thing, the gang is still in China, the top hero school in the world just so happens to be in Japan, and it’s only ever mentioned by Sun wukong and other pro heros. So MK never attended AU. in short it’s only ever mention/ reference.  

_

- Mk was considered Quirkless as a kid. 

- he was just a late blumer, i swear  

- Mai’s Quirk is called Dragon. 

- it pretty much works the same way as it does in the show(duh)

- Tang’s got a knowledge Quirk, 

- my man can retain information and he’s basically an archive of information drawback being his personality lol 

- Piggsy is a Animal that gained a Quirk

- in cannon to my current knowledge, there are two other characters that can confirm animals can become sentient. the characters being Fumikage Tokoyami, & Nezu the principal at the school UA.  

- Sandy is just Conner Kent, aka he like superman but can't fly, or shoot lasers from his eyes. And blue.  

I have two scenarios for Macaque and Wukong  

*- The first one is that, Sun Wukong & Macaque are brothers. twins to be exact. 

- they where legit people, but have mutation quirks that made them too like monkeys. 

- the added powers were just a boues. 

- Sun and Mac are close growing up, like there brothers but also best friends.

- the draw back to there quirks could honestly be whatever you want bro idk, same with the others tbh. Personally I like to think Sun just has lack of motivation, and Macaque needs to draw on other people's energy.

- Sun is a hero, Monkey KIng and Mac is a villain Six Eared.

- Sun was always treated has the golden child in the family, Mac always resented that, but there shitty up bring didn’t stop the two from being good brothers to one another.

- soon tho the resentment became hatred when Sun was able to attend UA in Japan, while Mac didn't.

- Mac be angy 

- so he became a villain, and joined the Chinese branch of the LOV(league of villains)

- Sun doesn't know this till he finds out during the all out war during the main story. and by that time he’s a full on hero with is own agency(The Flower Fruit agency)    

- when the hero's ultimately win and Mac is arrested 

- This ultimately hurts Sun a lot, his brother was in jail now, arrested for his involvement and wrong doings, he knew nothing about this! this brother, his blood. A bad guy? why? he hadn't seen his brother since he left for UA, he hadn’t seen him when he came home, and started his agency. 

- this just puts Sun into a funk so he’s not as active as he used to be, and he starts thinking he might need a successor 

*- The second one is that they were two separate people that had similar quirks and both attended UA but Sun ended up in the hero corse. so 1A.

- Both Macaque and Sun have similar quirks, Sun’s is obviously more light based while Macaque’s is more shadow based(this applies to the first one as well)    

- Macaque was placed in class 1B, U.A.’s High's Heroics Department, I believe, you can correct me. 

- In cannon Class 1A and 1B both went to the training camp. I can see the teachers pinning Sun and Macaque against each other to hone their skills. 

- And because of that they become great friends    

- In fact when they graduate they both co-found there hero agency together in China and are a duo.

- But due to Monkey King’s popularity and Six Eared's association with shadows(people sometimes saying he has more of a villains quirk than a heros) the public see’s Macaque as Sun’s sidekick when thats far from the truth. 

- now it’s up to you whether you think that Wukong and Macaque would be in a relationship together, but knowing how cooked we all are, ShadowPeach is a thing here more than likely. 

- If you do or don’t support/ like the ShadowPeach aspect, the two would be living together regardless since its more cost efficient. 

- They my be heroes but living costs are expensive!   

- I would imagine there would have been a huge fight/argument between the two in privet of course, at there home.(or in there shared office if you want the extra angst of the other people they work with hearing them fight)   

- If the two are dating, then this would either lead to an out right breakup, or Macaque just up and leaving with Wukong thinking he’ll come back once he’s cooled off. But after a week, with no sign of his partner, or him answering texts or calls, not even coming into work. Wukong gets worried that something might have happened to him. so there wouldn't be a confirmation if they were still a thing or not. 

- But Wukong remains hopeful, despite the nagging at the back of his head, and gut telling him to go find Macaque, or atleast make a public statement, or even just tell another pro hero about it.   

- on the not so shippy side, Macaque and Wukong still have there argument, and much like the ShadowPeach esc side, Macaque up and leaves, and isn't seen for weeks. the only difference here is that when Wukong comes home one night to there flat, most if not all of Macaques stuff is gone. 

- where as if this was the ShadowPeach side, Macaque leaves all of his possession in the flat he and wukong share. for the simple reason being, he still loves him and wants to go back, but Macaque being Macaque can’t bring himself to do it, especially after seeing just how hurt Wukong looked when he yelled at him just before he left.  

- in other words, ANGST DIALED UP TO A 10 BABY  

- in either case, its a news report that confirms Wukong's suspicions that he desperately didn’t want to believe, and that is Macaque turning into a villain.

- much like if the two were brothers, Wukong just can’t take it and is no longer as active as he once was, and is thinking about, either A) Retirement  B) Saying, “Fuck Society, Be Gay Do Crime” and join Macaque as a villain himself, or C) find a successor, and a way to bring Macaque back to there side, but most importantly, back to him.    

- also extra points if you're after people's hearts and want to make them suffer;  - If there dating, Wukong curle’s up in the bed he and Macaque shared, holding/wearing something of great value to Macaque and just crying himself to sleep, where as Macaque is getting wasted on alcohol, as he stumbles out of the bar he’s in, he either see’s something that reminds him of Wukong or while he’s trying to put his wallet back into his pocket, a photo of them on their first date fall’s out. and Macaque just cries in a nearby alley way. And it’s there where he gets indoctrinated into the League.

       - If there just friends, macaque heads to the nearest forest and just levels it, where as Wukong just gets engrossed into his work, trying not to think about it. you could add you own spin on this, again i'm just spitballing.             

- NOW BACK TO MK! :D     

- Obviously MK is a huge Monkey King fan     

- at Twenty MK has come to terms he's quirkless (HE’S NOT)

-for ANGST reasons MKs fokes kicked him out at this realization at 13.

- he works at Piggsy's Noodle shop, and has been since he was 14.

- don't need a quirk to drive or cook!

- the boy lives a content life with his new family, till DBK happens :D

- DBK runs a Mafia(in conjunction with TLOV) and has been in jail for like 5 years thanks to Monkey King, PIF and RS brake him out one night when MK's out making a late night delivery since Piggsy had the bright idea to go 24/7 service!

- one thing leads to another and Mk somehow manifest what looks like the Monkey King's staff, but its not, it’s MKs powers, it just so happens to be the same power the Monkey King has. And it practically goes down the same way in the pilot. 

- but unlike the pilot Mk and Mei go straight to the FF Agency, after making a panicked call to Pigsy and Tang.

- one way or another Mk are lead into Wukongs office. Mei being forced to stay in the lobby.

- they have there convo, butterfly monkey squishing included.

- "And so, I want you do be my success-" BOOM 💥

- from there they rush downstairs and see that the lobby has been infiltrated by the DB fam, and you know fight.

- once the DB family seems like there down, PIF wisks them away. Much to Monkey King’s displeasure.

From there stuff kind plays out like cannon, the calabash ep is just a conjoint quirk the Demon bros have. As for EP9, ill have to script that one out myself lol. I'll get onto it as soon as my will to commit stabs me in the face. Till then have a dancing Kermit the frog.

Now if you'll excuse me, am about to Kermit a felony :D

(For legal reasons thats a joke)

Psst @writingamongther0ses its done

[damn-stark]

All That’s Left Ch.9

Star Wars au

A/N- ;) the calm before the storm...or is it??? Let me know your thoughts?!

Warning- Angst, some fluff, talks of PTSD, Poe being Poe ;) long chapter.

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader

————

Hours felt like days. Days felt like years. The blond woman that you now knew as Amber, and her group of survivors were taking all of you from state line to state line. Once in the state of Colorado, now in a place called Salt? Lake city in Utah. Earth had the craziest names. Just like the weirdest people. Apparently asking for reassurance if they had found Finn and Chewbacca was an off topic question since all they answered with was weird looks and even more questionable silence.

Something felt off. Not only that, but Han Solo's warning about strangers made more sense as you sat in a car full of them.

Not only that, but, and maybe this problem was a little more irrelevant compared to the weird group, but Poe felt off. Distant. He wasn’t talking. Like at all. And this man can talk. He didn’t even talk to you. His eyes were always forward, his warm brown eyes reflecting the white cold winter snow outside the windshield. His head was resting on your shoulder; and maybe that’s why he hadn’t been talking, because he was sleeping. But you soon figured out during your long trip that he wasn’t. He was just simply quiet.

Something was off with Poe.

The only good thing that was happening was that your visions of...Ren, were not happening. And it was because Poe was next to you, unknowingly to him being the comfort you needed, but even he couldn’t make your nightmares disappear completely. He only provided comfort when you were awake—but that’s why avoiding sleep has been the right move. Even if this very long and soothing car ride was making that impossible.

The good thing is that you’re here. Or that’s what Amber announced. Wherever here is.

All you saw was an ugly big wall. Nothing but a wooden wall and snow. Usually when one hits the wall, they’re also welcomed by whatever camp is built. But not here. The driver kept going and going until it hit another wooden wall—Who the hell is building these walls?

“We’re here! Haven.” Amber announced cheekily, shifting her whole body around in her car to face the group of you. “A sanctuary for all kinds.”

Poe lifted his head to question her, her overly excited mood, unfaltered by his rather grumpy question. “Do you guys have the whole damn city or something? We drove for what seemed to be hours inside these walls.”

Ambers grin widened, seeming to brighten the car with just her cheery mood. “No, not yet. But we’re close. That’s why we pick up people we find on the road, so they join and keep building our community. That’s why we picked you up too.”

Poe scoffs, “well as honored as we are. We can’t. We need to go somewhere else.”

Amber stayed silent for a moment, her eyes drifting to the driver as her fingers dug into the leather seat, her face expression faltering before she looked at Poe again, answering his comment with the same enthusiasm as before. “That’s what everyone says, but they end up staying.”

Poe shows her a feigned smile and nods. “Okay. Sure.”

Suddenly the car door opened from the side you were sitting at, making your whole body jump at the unexpected action. The guy that opened the car door coming to an even more surprise with his clean attire. Without you realizing the car had come to a last stop in front of a brick building and Amber had gotten off in a hasty move. Only to stand by the building and wait for your small group and you to get off and slowly join her. Finally being able to stretch your legs that you swore had turned into stone from how stiff they were from being in the same position for hours. And you would have found more relief in finally being able to fully move, finally feeling like you could breathe in fresh air, but the sight of the street you were on shocked you to your core.

As far as you could see, the street was filled with nice houses, all clean and intact, trees and clean streets welcomed you. People. Families! Walked alongside the sidewalks like if the world they were living in was normal. Like if infected monsters weren’t outside ready to eat anyone who they could get. They smiled without a care in the world. They all looked clean and fancy. Not the type of military attire fancy like in the first order or resistance attire fancy, but like fancy in the way you see in movies with all those rich people. Only difference is these people here were dressed in warm clothing to block out the cold that was currently going. Overall it was just odd to see...maybe due to the fact that over the past ten years there hasn’t been much stability in your life like theirs. It’s always on the move. Never somewhere for too long.

“I am sorry to do this,” Amber spoke up with a twisted face, “but you guys are going to have to all stay in one place. It’s temporary! But for now while we make sure none of you are a threat to our people, we have to place you together and in a place where it’s going to be guarded. I am terribly sorry, but please understand it’s just precaution.”

Yeah, cause we all just didn’t spend hours in the same damn car! If any of us were going to try anything it would’ve happened already. Whatever.

“It’s okay,” Rey responded for the group with a sweet grin, “we understand. We’re okay being placed together.”

Amber grabbed Rey’s hands and cupped them, smiling again as she continued talking. “Thank you. We’ll get you all when it’s time for dinner. We’re having a small feast here. We’ll get you all when it’s time.”

Rey nodded as a response, watching as Amber let go of her hands before walking off. Letting the “guards” take you to the room. Which by the way wasn’t just one single room. It was a whole apartment. Kitchen and everything. It was from what you could see clean, just like everything else in this place. It had multiple rooms, all with clean sheets and full closets. None of that broken beds like in the cabin. Or sheets like from your tents. It was if you were being honest, incredible.

You smile and throw yourself on the bed, feeling a small bounce once your body makes impact with the mattress, feeling the warm, soft blankets under your fingertips as you run over the top, expressing a soft satisfied sigh at the simple feeling. “If this is supposed to be a cell, then it’s the best cell. I think I could die happy now. This feels amazing.” You express with a grin, obviously just a joke, but it wasn’t something Poe took lightly.

“Don’t joke like that.” Poe scoffed.

Immediately you lift your head and quirk your eyebrow. “Poe. It was a joke.”

Poe pushed himself off the doorway and just commented something under his breath. “Yeah sure is.”

First he doesn’t talk to you for hours and then he says this? What happened in that patrol with Ben before you all got picked up?

“I’m going to take a shower.” Poe announced, sounding almost like he was dreading to even talk, his face just really expressionless. His eyes completely avoided you as he walked past, throwing a quiet comment at Rey’s concern.

“Don’t fall in there.”

“Won’t.”

He was just tired. Right?

——

Sophisticated...this is exactly the word you would use to describe this whole stinking town and this fancy given outfit. At least all your grime and sweat was washed off your body and hair. Now you were a completely different but clean person. Someone who could barely recognize themselves in the mirror in front of them.

The signs of years worth of exhaustion were marked under your eyes, but that was something you wouldn’t ever be able to wash off. It would be neat if everyone could, right? Just say “I'm tired of these under eye bags!” And just wash it off with a splash of water. Alas you couldn't. A girl could dream. You were stuck with them, just like you were stuck wearing these ridiculous clothes. Clothes that left you wanting to be stuck inside instead. Not only because you were shy to walk out and show everyone. But because the damned sleeves didn’t cover your obvious bite mark on your hand. It would totally raise suspicion from those that weren’t part of your squad if they saw your mark. It would most likely cause an unnessaccary scandal. Then you would most likely go nowhere. Basing solely off on how weird these people were acting.

How you wish now that you were normal. Or at least able to hold Poe’s hand in public...that way you could hide your stupid scar. But no, you had to hide your relationship and well even if you didn’t, he was acting weird. He would most likely push you away if you touched him—hopefully you could talk soon. This not talking behavior is stupid and a little painful, so hopefully talk soon. After this weird feast.

Now what you had to do was walk out of the bathroom. That was easier….not really—you slowly open the bathroom door and turn off the lights and peek over the side of the door to see that Poe was sitting on the barstool by the counter Island, his attention on some book. Good; Ben and Rey were not in sight, but most likely waiting on you close by.

Quietly you step out and swallow thickly, already biting the inside of your cheek at how nerve-wracking this was feeling. “Please.” You say out loud, gaining everyone's attention. “save all your teasing for later...or actually just don’t say anything at all.” Finally stepping into the open space, Poe turned his head and that’s when you noticed that his jaw was not covered by the beard that had been growing too thick and too dark by the day. His jaw was clean and looked sharp, he looked cleaner and almost...no, HE did look younger without the beard. He looked great. Not like he didn’t look good with his beard on, because he did. He looked fucking great.

But there was something about him with no beard that made you get all flustered and feel your cheeks burn. Made your stomach do flips, and have an urge to kiss him grow dangerously tempting. Hopefully he didn’t notice…he smiled when he saw you, but let’s hope he didn’t catch on to you admiring him. Hopefully it was something else that made him smile and quickly look away before anyone noticed.

“Finally.” Ben huffed as he stood up from the couch, “you took forever.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry that the water felt like a liquid blessing, Ben. You know it’s just been awhile since either of us have been somewhere as clean as here.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t cost you anything to hurry up.”

You mouth what he said in a mocking manner, making Rey laugh and stand up from the couch as well, her attention going to you. “Well I think you look great y/n.”

“Thank you Rey.” You smile softly, “you look amazing too.”

“Amber is waiting for us outside. We were just waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Ben opens the door and as expected, Amber was outside waiting. Wearing different clothes than the one she was wearing before but with the same smile on her face.

“It’s time. I hope everything has gone well.” She says, leading you all down the stairs as you all finally walk out, quietly but very intent. Not only to her, but her people, those walking the street towards where she was guiding you and those who had been outside the building you were just in. Was it wrong to still suspect them? They did provide a home with things that didn't have to be put inside since it’s a cell. But they did. That and well they had yet to do anything bad. But that has yet to be proved—“I know that the dress code is something weird, but this way it helps people get more comfortable here and feel like some part of their life, as small as it is, is normal.”

Rey being the only one to not keep her hanging, responds, “it’s understandable. The galaxy is crazy.”

Amber nods, “yeah. But hopefully one day, everything gets restored and put back to normal. At least a small part of it.”

You sigh at her words, falling back and tuning out the rest of her rambling, feeling Poe’s gaze linger on you, but share none of his concern or anything at all verbally. Just quietly watch you as you walk towards the music and the crowd of happy people. And happy kids.

You blink and feel like your jaw drops. It’s been a while since you’ve seen kids. It almost felt like they were just a legend now. With everything that went down with this virus, kids were rare to see—apparently not here though. Here they were running and laughing with no worry—As they should. They’re kids that shouldn’t worry about none of the dark stuff happening outside their walls. Hopefully soon those walls were going to be torn down and no one was going to have to worry about the monsters. Just about how everything was going to be rebuilt.

“You okay?”

You tear your eyes away from the view of the small kids and turn to Poe’s voice. Regardless of his silent behavior, expressing his worry—“Yeah. Just admiring the place.”

Poe hums, “yeah, it’s...different.”

“Is this like your base?” You question, stopping and watching as Amber left your group to wonder alone now, getting left by the multiple wooden tables that had chatting and laughing people around them. Everyone doing their own thing. Some eating, others talking, dancing to the music as night began to fall, watching and smiling. Overall a dreamlike sequence. It was so weird. A good weird.

If you didn’t have to leave, you wouldn’t mind staying.

“Not really,” Poe answers you. “It’s a lot smaller. Not as many kids or people actually. More serious and full of war shit. Nothing like this.” His eyes wandered the crowd, continuing to walk after Ben and Rey as they went towards the food area, both just like you keeping an eye out for anything strange, or your missing crew members. “I don't think you’ll like it.”

You shrug, “you don’t know that. If anyone is as good as you, then I think I’ll fit in.”

Poe’s eyes land on you, the corner of his lips lifting somewhat before it fell back to a frown. “Can we talk later?”

Oh. Well. That’s not terrifying. Nothing good happened when someone said those four words, especially not when they looked as serious as he did now. Maker. What did he want to talk about?

You offer him a tight lipped smile and nod. “Yeah….no problem.”

——

Maker.

Thank you a lot Poe. All because of those words, their was no time to enjoy what these people had to offer. You couldn’t even enjoy the food that tasted like actual heaven—that could be exaggerated due to the fact that food was scarce before, but there's no other word to describe the food. And maybe there would have been other adjectives to use. But Poe’s words were anxiously eating at you.

The only thing you did and could really notice was that maybe these people weren’t as dangerous as you suspected. Just a little awkward. Cautious. A nerve settling fact unlike Poe quietly walking behind you, his boots crunching on the snow proving the only noise that he made. Not until you finally spoke up after ten minutes of waiting for him to do so.

“We’re getting closer…” you sigh, “to your base.”

Poe hums, his pace a couple feet behind you, making it hard to read his face. Not like you needed to read it that much, he’s had that serious, long face all day—well except that one single moment at the apartment after he saw you all dressed up for the first time.

“But I don’t want to go without Finn or chewbacca. I—”

“What if we took you to the first order instead?” Poe interrupted, making you instantly stop under the lamppost, lifting your head to then slowly turn to meet his gaze. Noticing his eyes were on the ground. “Ben said—”

You scoff, “Ben said? Poe, don’t tell me you’re listening to him, whatever he did say, don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know anything.”

“But if he’s right about this?” Poe quickly interjected, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “When we went out to patrol, what if he’s right? What if your brother is telling the truth. We have to risk it if it means you getting to live.”

You shake your head and shoot him pointed look. “First of all, no. I’m not giving myself to the first order, or my brother. Even what he said was true, I can’t. The first order is not a good place, it’s dark, and manipulative. They don’t want what’s good for the galaxy. We can’t trust the First Order, or Armitage intentions. We can’t switch sides.”

Poe huffs, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips, his eyebrows furrowed and his glare directed to you. “It’s not about switching sides, y/n. It’s about keeping you alive.”

“No.” You repeat in a stern tone. One that even surprised you. “I told you already, if it means that I have to give my life up, I’ll do it. My immunity has to mean something Poe. Giving that to the First Order would mean nothing, everything that happened, the people that I cared about that died because of this would be all for nothing.”

This was it, wasn’t it? His weird behavior. Because Ben put this in his head. They both knew your choice. They both should understand your choice. Especially Poe, if no one else understood, it was supposed to be him.

“Please tell me you understand that, Poe, that you respect my choices.”

Poe sighs, running his hands through his hair and briefly looking to the night sky before looking at you again. His anger somewhat simmered down, but not completely. “I do. I do. It’s just, do you really want to die all to provide a cure? You don’t even want to try and live?”

“Not if it means giving it to the first order. They’re monsters, they won’t do the right thing. Trust me.” You carefully walk towards him and cup his cheek, offering him a assuring smile as you continued. “I have to do this. For people like Zorii, Ben’s dad, my sister. So you and everyone else can live without fear that any day some ugly monster could end their life in an instant. I have to do this. And I know it’s going to hurt, but please respect my choice. If not anyone else, please let it be you. Because I did tell you before, and you accepted the risks.”

Poe’s face falls, his eyes soft and saddened, his tears held in and well hidden as he rested his forehead on yours. The words he expressed soft with the same hint of sadness. “I think I’m starting to regret my choice of risking it all,” he sighs, his hand cradling yours on his cheek, whilst he brings it down to kiss your bite scar, proceeding to slowly move your hand back to his cheek and easing into the touch; “maybe life isn’t all about taking risks. Not when it comes to this anyway.”

There's something about the way he expresses his words that makes your heartbeat pick up, to feel a knot in your stomach. Were these words said before a breakup? Was he doing that now? It was going to happen. But it didn’t mean you wanted it to happen. At least not yet. Not when he unknowingly was what was keeping you sane and grounded. Should you say something? Stop him?

No….if he was going to do it. Then...so be it.

He continues with his eyes locked on yours. “Because the more time passes by. The more,” He pauses and his adams’s apple raises before he slowly lets it fall back. “The more that last goodbye is starting to hurt.”

You nod, “I know.”

Poe shows a small soft smile, leaning his face closer to your own. Not caring if Ben or Rey could be around to catch how close you were. Unlikely that they were since they were still at that...feast. Regardless Poe didn’t care at all, leaning so close that your lips brushed against his, feeling and seeing the warm breaths come out of his nose. Swearing that you could hear his heartbeat under his layers of clothing, just like swearing that his words were just whispers of the wind as his mumbling almost blended with it.

“Y/N, I—”

He promised.

Before he could finish his sentence you pressed your lips on his, feeling his jaw cold and smooth after his new clean shaved look under your fingertips. He tried to hold back his smile, but it was impossible the moment you began to deepen the kiss. His hands slowly slid down to your hips to pull you closer, while his head moved back and his teeth lightly bit down on your bottom lip, all before he fully pulled away and showed you that smug smile of his.

You mirrored his smile and stroked his jaw with your thumb; “You know i'm liking this clean shave you have going on.”

Poe smirks, “yeah? Now my beard won’t scratch you.”

You scoff, “Poe.”

He chuckles and takes you in for another long kiss, beginning to feel warm on the cold winter night. “Can we please go do it on a bed? While Ben and Rey are gone.” You comment as you pull away, his smirk deepening before he took your hand in his.

“Fine, but if they catch us. It’s your fault.”

You huff. “Sure, whatever.”

“Also,” Poe adds cheekily. “I haven’t told you yet, but you look fucking amazing.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses the side of your head. “You look beautiful.”

You giggle and lean your head on his shoulder. “So do you.”

——

Quietly, very quietly you pick up your shoes off the ground and tiptoe to the door. It’s not that you kept quiet for Poe’s sake, not because you wanted to leave him sleeping on the bed while you snuck off, like some late night booty call, because one, you weren’t, two the sucker was inside the bathroom inside his master bedroom. Why the necessity to claim such a big room? Who knew? All you did know was that you hoped that neither Ben, or Rey were outside in the living room to see your attempts at sneaking out of your secret boyfriends room. It would be awkward and terrible if Ben found out right when you were all so close to finish this mission.

What would he do if he did find out? Skin Poe and you alive or glare at you to death? Hopefully neither.

However, you press your ear on the door and wait for a moment with a held in breath, moving your hand away from your chest to let it hover over the doorknob, very slowly and lightly pressing your hand over the metal, and beginning to twist it when Poe’s hand slammed on the wood, scaring your every nerve.

“Where are you sneaking off to?”

“Oh my stars,” you breathe as you rest your head on the door and again hold onto your chest, breathing in a shaky breath before turning to face him. “You’re an ass, first of all I was almost dying of anxiety because I was scared if Rey or Ben would be out there, and then you come and scare me even more.” Poe chuckles and let’s his hand rest above your head and on the wooden door, his eyes clearly revealing a happy gleam to them.

“Stay a bit longer.” he suggested softly, his free hand cradling your cheek. “Just a little bit. I can’t keep you til morning, but I can keep you with me a bit longer. Please.”

You sigh and ease into his touch, already offering him an apologetic look. “Poe, you know we can’t. Plus we still need to find Finn and chewie.” You offer him an assuring smile and cup his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Poe looks down to the ground for a moment and nods slowly, pressing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, the happy gleam losing light. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Don’t.”

He looks up and furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Don’t do that face. I feel bad already and you looking all sad just makes me feel worse. You know if I could stay longer I would. I don’t think you’d be able to keep me away.”

Poe let’s out an amused huff of air and let a faint smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“But,” You continue once he stays quiet. “I am going to say this. I’m happy you’re doing better, you know after Zorii and what not.”

Poe inhales deeply and slowly lets out his breath. “Yeah, little by little. You’re definitely helping though.”

“Pfft.” You breathe out, feeling your whole face burn up at his purely innocent comment. “I haven’t-I haven’t done anything.”

“Sure you have.” He shares as he lifts your chin with his knuckle, his lips pulled into a soft smile. “You don’t know how much having you by me helps. You may not be able to say a lot, but it’s the quiet and small gestures that count. Thank you for that and for being there when I got angry, you didn’t have to accept my apology or treat me the way you did, but you did. Thank you sweetheart.”

You smile wide and lean in to press a small kiss on his lips, his face lighting up at the gesture and only faltering for a second. His lips parting again but instead choosing that silence was the better option.

“You’ll tell me if something’s wrong right? I mean you haven’t talked a lot about what happened after you helped Ben. I just want you to know you can trust me with anything.”

You swallow thickly and frown. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—” it would’ve been the perfect time to tell him of the visions you had seen, but you didn’t want to worry him. Not when he had to worry about the whereabouts of Finn and his droid. You know he was worried about that, even if he didn’t reveal such worry. “It's just I haven't really thought of it.” You lied. “I’m doing okay.”

He hesitates to respond but he does so with a short nod, his eyes searching yours intently. “Okay...well.” He pushes himself off the door and drops his hand to his side. “Leave me alone then.” He said mocking being hurt by your choice to leave. “see if I care.”

You snort and lift yourself on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips. “Don’t miss me, Dameron. I’ll be down the hall.”

Poe smirks and steps to the side as you begin to open the door, your smile glued on your face as you think of your night and the person who had everything to do with making even the smallest moments great. Your heart skipping a beat at the simplest thought of him. And just when you were going to look over your shoulder to comment on one last thing, the view of Rey in front of you made your heart drop and feel as if all the blood on your face had just flushed away.

“R-Rey.” Nice try for subtlety. Shit. “Hi.” You quickly close Poe’s door and press your back on the wood. “You’re back.”

Rey smiles nervously, her eyes shifting from the door and to you before she clears her throat and speaks up. “I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer. I poked my head inside because I thought you weren’t there. But you’re here. Are you okay?”

Your eyes widen and look over her shoulder to check for the tall man that had to be around. Luckily not behind her. “Y-yep. Just needed help with something.” Help? Really? Yeah with your shirt and shoes in your hand and a simple tank top on your body. Poe is probably laughing behind the door. “Something wrong?” You queried.

Rey nods and plays with her fingers, her whole demeanor displaced in an awkward manner. “I was looking for Poe and you actually.” She pauses and looks at the door. “Is he in there?”

You scratch the back of your head and nod. “Yep. Yep.” You slide the side to let her get to the door, feeling your heart hammer in your chest when the silence covers the both of you. Just when you were about to go to “your” room, Rey turns around to face you again, her smile more mischievous.

“Are you and..Poe, together?”

Was it possible for someone’s heart to actually stop? Like really stop?

Because if it were. That would be your heart now. No rhythm to signify you were actually alive whatsoever. Just dead. Like the corpses that roamed the earth.

“N-no.” You stammer, laughing nervously and shaking your head. “No. No. I just needed help!”

Rey chuckles and quirks her eyebrow. “You’re funny, you know that. You can tell me, I’m not going to judge you or prevent you from dating him. I’m no one to do anything like that.”

This was happening. This was actually happening. So much for keeping this a secret.

You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair. “Is Ben here?”

“No.”

You gulp and open Poe’s door, knowing he was eavesdropping on your conversation, seeing him run a hand through his curls and feigning that he was just going to open the door, his eyes widening at the sight of Rey and you in front of him. A feigned smile growing on his lips. “Hey, Rey.”

Said girl smiles wider, her eyes bouncing from Poe and you. “So are you guys together?”

“Y-yeah.” You nod, inhaling shakily, “but.” You breathe out. “You can’t under any circumstance tell Ben. We’re being serious, he’s got this weird rule for me. And if he found out, I don’t know what he would do.”

Rey nodded in apprehension, not questioning either of you.

“I’m being serious, Rey. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“I promise, y/n.” She assures you. “Well, now that I have the both of you here, I have some news to share.” She grins, “we found Finn, Chewie and BB8.”

“Really?” Poe asked excitedly. “Where are they?”

“It seems that Finn wasn’t out with the rest of the community, because some girl named Jannah had invited him to dinner. Chewie and BB8 were with him too.”

You sigh in relief and finally smile, only having to roll your eyes at Poe’s comment as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “That’s my man. Couple days here and he already has a girl. He learns well.”

Rey shakes her head and mirrors your reaction. Only she didn’t scoff like you. “So what? You’re going to get a girl now too?”

“No, why would I?” He smiles cheekily, pulling you closer to him. Taking full advantage that Rey knew to show his affection that would have been avoided if she didn’t. “I have my girl right here. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Cute.” You remark.

“I’ll say.” He then looks over to Rey, “what are we waiting for? Let’s go see my droid.”

——

“Chewie!” At the sight of the furry sentient, you run up to him and jump into his waiting arms, his hold securing you against his warm fur and body, temperature contrasting the winter wonderland outside. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” Said Wookiee, roars softly in response, his comment that you barely got to understand just as welcoming and nice as yours had been. “Of course I missed you!” You show him a happy smile as you pull away from the embrace, managing to catch as BB8 rolled to Poe in a speed faster than Lightspeed, beeping happily at the sight of his owner.

Finn steps back and away from Poe and BB8 letting the pair have their precious time reuniting, the small droid chirping away and telling Poe every single detail of his adventure after they got separated.

You giggle at the sight, watching..or more like admiring Poe listen to everything his droid had to say and the grin he had on his features. It’s not until Finn catches your attention do you pull your eyes away and quickly wrap the man in a tight embrace. “I'm so happy you’re okay, I thought you were lost or these people had done something to you.” You explain, feeling as he tightened his embrace around you, chuckling as a response to your comment. “They were so...weird when it came to answering about you.”

“No, were all okay. I just think they weren’t really sure of our names. Amber hesitates when she has to say my name. I have to remind her of who I am.” He pulls away and puts his hands on your shoulders, “I’m happy that you missed me though.”

You scoff, “yeah, I got tired of seeing Poe’s face all the time.”

Poe stood to his given height and glared at you, teasing you nonetheless. “Sure you did.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Finn.” You reassure the man in front of you. “We thought we had lost you, glad that’s not the case.”

“Missed you too, y/n.” He smiles, completely breaking away to once again share his excitement of reuniting with his best friend. Both acting as if neither of them had seen each other in years—It was understandable their excitement, but it was just funny to see. They were like two excited little kids. It was reliving as well. To see Poe happy. He deserved to be this way after what happened. They all did.

“Y/N?”

You break away from your thoughts and see Ben standing by you now, his eyes downcasted and his whole body seeming to be frozen to the snow. Only it wasn’t because he was cold, but because he was nervous. That much you could tell.

“Yeah?”

Ben scratches the back of his hand and exhales deeply, beginning to walk and follow by your side as your group moves forward and back to the security and warmth of “your” shared house. “I just want to say,” he stammers nervously, “that I’m sorry.”

His words catch you by surprise, your feet still moving forward but your mind totally blanking, or exploding. Either or, you were still surprised by his words. Once he noticed your shocked silence, he continued. “You didn’t deserve me saying anything that I said to you. You’re not a burden. I was just mad and said shit I didn’t mean. I’m sorry.”

You begin to bite the inside of your cheek as you slowly nod, really letting his words sink in before you talked. “It’s….okay. I’m used to words like that.”

“But it doesn’t mean you have to continue hearing them. I had no right to say anything.” He interjected quickly. Again he ran a hand through his raven black hair, his brown eyes lifting to watch you, a softer look expressed within. “Also, I want to say. Thank you. You saved me, without you Ren would have killed me. I appreciate what you did deeply. Thank you.”

You breath hitches and you stop in your steps, the horrible memory of the spoken man and what you did flashing in your mind like a torturous reminder. Ben notices and stops a bit away from you, his eyebrows knotting in concern. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes flicker to Poe who is talking away with Finn, his arm around said man, thankfully not noticing you and Ben falling behind.

“It’s just.” You begin shakily, not knowing why out of everyone he was the one you confided your (Other) secret to. “After I…after it happened. I’ve been seeing him. Having nightmares. It’s always the same. Lately they’ve calmed down.” Because of Poe, but that fact had to be hidden. “But they—they hurt. Not in a physical way. But mentally and emotionally. They don’t let me sleep and sometimes I can’t tell what’s real or not. It’s-it’s messing with me.”

Ben swallowed thickly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he decided what to say to you to bring you comfort. Even if he suffered through the same PTSD, only with the death of his father—“I understand.” He revealed softly, “after my father died, I haven’t been able to be the same. It can be draining. I didn’t think it was going to affect me that way, but you’ve seen that it has.”

Your lips part at his revelation. Not at all expecting his confession. Not knowing that because of your talk, a dark motive sparked in his head.

“But.” He continued. “I know it will get better. I promise you. I can help you through it if you want?”

You smile softly and shake your head. “I’ll be fine. I just need time. But if you need my help...I know what it feels like losing someone.” You sigh and feel your eyes water at the incoming thought. “Having to watch them turn...I lost my sister that way too. I know it can be painful and I’m sorry that you had to go through that.”

Ben breathes out deeply again, his eyes falling to the snow before he looks at you, “thank you y/n. Really. I hope we can be friends.”

“I thought you said no attachments?” You tease.

Ben smiles. A genuine smile. “You can have friends, I guess. Regardless I said you couldn’t and you broke that rule the first day.”

You chuckle and nod. “Yeah I did.” You both continue to walk after your friends, enjoying each other’s company after your much needed confessions. “But yeah,” Carefully you lock your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder. Or at least try. This man was tall. “We can be friends.”

Ben smiled shyly, the dark thought almost becoming a decided and firm choice after this sweet and short shared moment. Like if someone was influencing him. Like someone was feeding him what he wanted to hear, convincing that regardless of your choice he had to save you.

He couldn’t lose you like he lost his father. You couldn’t suffer the same fate as your sister.

Ben just couldn’t lose you.

.

.

.

.

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[gunkyengines]

4, 7, and 9, for the s/i questions if you're still taking them!

Ohhhh my gods @jetsetspy I’m so sorry for answering this question so late ;-; My answers are under the cut!

4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

Bellamy doesn’t have much of a backstory just yet, but I do know this:

·         Their family isn’t a huge part of their life, aside from a younger sibling, who, to this day, I have not yet named.

·         They want a sense of belonging somewhere, and have a number of self-image complications (it’s not really a set of “issues” to them, because they’ve found comfort in their body and self over time, but they still have wishes about what they could be seen as—androgyny is a tough line to straddle).

·         They hate the nickname “Bella”.

·         Bells, as far as I’m concerned right now, finds their sense of belonging amongst the ‘Bros ever since they just sorta started… tagging along, I guess? It was just an act of good will from the prince and his guards and a bit of hitchhiking on Bells’ end that got them where they are now.

·         They were originally a bit of a vagabond prior to meeting up with the guys. Hitchhiking, walking absurdly long distances, camping out often, all that jazz.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

Junko is a character who I largely based off of my late-high school self for both self insertion and coping reasons, but a few things do set her apart from me. As in, she’s a pretty close approximation, but by no means is she a direct, direct copy of me.

She’s a student at Kosei Academy, simply due to the fact that I read on the wiki that it’s speculated to be a catholic school (I was brought up in the catholic education system, so, I could find some accuracy and likeness in that), and attended meetings at both the drama and art club there. She has bitter memories of the two clubs, as she was betrayed by the one major figure in both: her childhood friend Hideo Sunjaya. Since then, she’s taken to expressing her creative outlets in circles outside of her student life, and finds her passion in writing. At the time of Persona 5 canon, she’s set on becoming an editor. In the future canon, she does in fact achieve this goal. In this way Junko’s less of a model of who I was, and instead she’s what I hope to be.

She comes from a somewhat broken home, but has a strong relationship with her mother. Despite her current disconnect, Junko feels that she owes it to her parents that she has such a good understanding of her own identity, as they were supportive when she first came out as sapphic, and continued their support when she decided to be GNC and soon after came into her identity as a demigirl.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

Lizzie is a pretty lighthearted simulacrum of a more feminine version of me, translated loosely into the scope of the year 1899. I’m by no means a historian, but here’s Lizzie’s life.

Elizabeth Beaufort is a born and raised resident of the town of Valentine. Her mother is whatever the RDR2 universe’s equivalent of Quebecois French is, having moved to Saint Denis due to a family matter down there, and subsequently met her father. A Valentine resident himself, he beguiled her mother and convinced her to move to Valentine and live as the wife of a livestock owner (he comes from some blue blood ‘round those parts—as mentioned by the VDL in Chapter 2, the town is a goldmine of trade).

As a lady of relative privilege, life was… well, it was what a privileged life is. Sheltered, simple, and for the most part pretty damned easy. However, her naivete wasn’t something that her mother would stand to see Elizabeth keep, as she wanted a strong daughter who wouldn’t simply bend to the hand of tradition. Would I say that Lizzie would’ve most certainly rallied with those girls in Rhodes? YES. I’d rather die than portray any iteration of myself as complacent rather than progressive lmao. Elizabeth Beaufort flows in the vein of RDR2’s… I guess, progressive* writing? More** on that below, I guess???

*I don’t actually know how well it was received by everyone else, and honestly, I’m not even gonna try to speak on anyone else’s behalf but my own—I found that RDR2, despite some shortcomings, made itself a relatively hospitable environment for me as a white queer.

** Lizzie does struggle a lot with her internalized homophobia? Like… she had a lot of difficulty when she was younger coming to terms with the fact that she’s bisexual. This is less prevalent in her backstory considering it only ever surfaces post-canon. Yes, my SI and her FO came out to each other at random after being married to him for approximately 3 months. And it went fuckin’ great cos guess what!! Theyre both bi!! WLW/MLM solidarity!!! Don’t @ me.

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley was brought up amongst a gang of outlaws, and her being born a woman changed nothing about the things she was taught by said gunslingers. She left the group she once called family because of the leadership turning sour. From that point forward she went it alone, shifting in and out of her identity as Gilley Wright and her masculine persona (a pseudonym-turned-identity) Giles Kingsley, to keep herself straddling notoriety and anonymity.

·         Gilley only started wearing her hair short because of an encounter in which her longer hair was used as a means to pull her back into harm’s way. She lopped it off shortly after out of the feeling that it was a necessity, but soon found that she preferred it that way.

·         Thaddeus, her large draft horse, once pulled carts. She took him during a robbery so that she’d have an adequate mount for her getaway. The connection was instant between them.

Taeko Atou – Tokyo Ghoul OC

Taeko went by another name before her time in the 20th ward. She had another face, another life. But that was a self she had to leave far, far behind. Before “Taeko”, she was a reckless twentysomething ghoul living off of her father’s money, basking in the upper echelons of society, indulging in Scrapper shows and seeing humanity as nothing but an unprepared buffet. The danger ranking on her CCG profile demonstrated as much.

One night, however, her cushy life changed drastically. She went out drinking after a Scrapper show with one of her friends and decided to go hunting with her. Things were as usual, they stayed in their territory, but ended up getting apprehended by a group of Doves. During the getaway, her and her friend were separated, and she had no way of knowing whether her friend was alive. Drunk, desperate, and rather terrified, she decided to abandon all else and ripped her mask off to taunt the officers. They deserved to see her face, covered in gore and as ghoulish as they came! Nothing mattered to her at that point and she wanted to give them a scare…!

That is, until the next morning, when she recovered from her hangover and realized what she’d done. One of those Doves got a picture of her. In a panic, she called her father to ask for some sort of mercy money to clear the issue up. He’s frustrated with her constantly getting into increasingly worse trouble and tells her this: he’s going to pay for her to completely change her identity and her face so that she can move elsewhere, completely out of the way of harm. After that, he’d be cutting her off, leaving her with only the savings that she had prior to the cut-off. No more handouts.

This is when she became Taeko Atou, a pseudonym based off of her Scrapper show guest alias, “Miss AT”, and moved to the 20th ward. She has to adjust to average life a la Schitt’s Creek or Arrested Development.

7. What kind of clothing style do they like? What would they never be caught dead wearing? What’s likely in their closet right now?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Bells LOVES anything that’ll make them look cute and androgynous. They’re super partial to a femme prince aesthetic. Blouses and linens and vests and suspenders and a bunch of that cute shit. (Yes, this is my preferred fashion style and I wish I could look like that all the time.) They’re also into stuff like your average sundresses and such when it’s too hot for “princey” attire because hell yeah.

·         They’d hate to wear… hm… short party dresses? Cocktail dresses n shit. (No shade to those tho theyre cute. Just not Bellamy’s style.)

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Junko’s super masc and butch in her presentation, binds her chest, does the simple graphic tee + jeans thing a lot. Think “Kanji Tatsumi but a lesbian”.

·         She lowkey doesn’t like wearing overly feminine clothes, like, she does not vibe with dresses.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Lizzie is pretty standard when it comes to clothes: blouses and skirts, dresses, all just… really basic stuff. She likes simple and solid colours, maybe simple patterns. She’s also like… very cottagecore. Probably likes overalls if she ever wears ‘em?? I’m not a frickin’ historian and I’m not gonna google early 1900s clothes styles at this hour don’t @ me.

·         This is literally just because I’m basic as all fuck and I like a skirt/blouse or sundress style outfit. I don’t wear it often but that’s my jazz y’know?

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley’s another one of my more boyish characters. She doesn’t deliberately go out of her way to look like a man unless she’s under the guise of her male persona Giles Kingsley. But let me tell you—she goes all out for those occasions, even electing to simulate stubble on her face with cosmetics. Think “cowboy drag king” and you’ll hit the mark.

·         Other than that, she just wears whatever’s convenient and comfortable.

 9. Their favorite foods? Colors? Activities? What do they enjoy in life? How do they express their joy for things they like?

As dumb as this sounds I completely burnt out after writing only 2 self insert likes/interests profiles, forgive me lol.

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Favourite Food: Bells is indecisive, but they will gladly eat anything Ignis puts in front of them. They’re thoroughly convinced he uses magic in his cooking. (They’re only half joking about that—it’s so good!) If they were made to decide a top three, it’d likely be Garden Curry, Broiled King on a Stick, and Moogle Mousse with Kupoberry Sauce. Honorable mention being Gyashi Chips (yes, they like what’s effectively Eosian kale chips).

·         Favourite Colours: ANYTHING PASTEL will win Bellamy over, along with any colour considered light and airy. White, silver, pale green, soft gold, baby blue, lavender, and also whatever the sky has going on at any given time of the day—they’re an aesthetic little shit.

·         Favourite Activities: Travelling, leisure shopping when funds allow it (if given the means, Bellamy will 100% engage in excessive retail therapy, no joke), swimming, loving their friends, talking about books and music, gardening, and (I know this sounds vain but bear with me) preening. Yes, they’d be a vlogger in another life. Don’t @ me

·         Bells loves to talk in excess about what they like, and on occasion, when words fail, they tend to express it through squealing, jumping, etc. If someone points out how passionate Bells is about these things, they’ll end up flustered and ask the person if they could continue. I guess you could say Bellamy stims? I’m not diagnosed with anything, so take this with a grain of salt, but I do have stimming habits.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Favourite Food: Junko’s pretty partial to miso soup. It’s one of her weaknesses. Total comfort food. (Bro I fuckin’ love miso soup.) As well as baked goods like cupcakes.

·         Favourite Colours: Red, black, silver, pink, blue, purple.

·         Favourite Activities: drawing (sketches, scribbles, doodles, colouring, etc., singing, baking/cooking, writing, and she learned to love gardening after getting close to Haru.

·         Junko tends to show her happiness through verbal and artistic expression, she’s also the type that tends to crack jokes (mostly shitty puns followed up by finger guns).

Again, thank you so much for asking, thank you so much for asking! QwQ Asks are still open, everyone.

[timeagainreviews]

The Fabric of Time and Space

Hello friends! It's been quite a busy time for me. Not only did we have a houseguest for about a week, we got a dog! She's an adopted Irish greyhound named Aoife, and she's a good old girl. Needless to say, lots of things happening. I wanted to write sooner so that I could talk about the death of Terrance Dicks, but finding the time was difficult. While Dicks was a bit of an old school writer when it came to women, I absolutely love "The Horror of Fang Rock." However, one of the things for which Dicks was most beloved was his Doctor Who prose. Whether it be the Target novels, or even the BBC range, chances are that if you've read much Doctor Who prose, you've read some Terrance Dicks. Which is why I plan to do something I've never done on here, and that's to review a Doctor Who novel, specifically- The Eight Doctors. Mind you, I'm going to re-read it, just after I finish these Dark Crystal books.

Speaking of Dark Crystal, how many of you have been watching the new prequel? I've been a bit obsessed, myself. It's captured my imagination in a way I haven't felt in years. For those of you not in the know, I was born in the far off year of 1983, just one year after "The Dark Crystal," entered theatres. However, it wasn't until around 1994 that I even became aware it existed. I remember this because the night I bought two Flintstones movie books, there was a display for "The Dark Crystal," in enticingly green Disney style VHS cases. All of these things released around 1994. I was perplexed by this Jim Henson movie that somehow went completely under my radar. I took my books home that night. The Dark Crystal would have to wait a bit longer.

One of the things I loved most about my copy of "The Flintstones: The Official Movie Book," was the pictures of the Jim Henson Creature Workshop fabricating the dinosaur puppets. Something about their ability to create something realistic while still looking like a cartoon resonated with me. I wanted so much to do that job. Since then I've always had a passion for filmmaking and movie magic. Watching "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance," has rekindled that childhood love I have for the Creature Workshop and character design. As per usual, this got me thinking about Doctor Who. Specifically, its costume design. So I thought I might keep it simple and talk about the costumes of each Doctor. Where better to start than at William Hartnell?

First Doctor

Style: "Edwardian Grandad"

To me, the First Doctor will always look the most like the Doctor the first time we see him in "An Unearthly Child." Topped with an Astrakhan hat and shrouded in a black cape, he cuts a mysterious figure framed by the door of the TARDIS. His costume was a team effort between Maureen Heneghan and William Hartnell who was adamant as to what he would and would not wear. The decision was to make him slightly Edwardian, as the time period would look somewhat out of place, yet not too far removed from the 1960's.

There's something delightfully camp and yet simple to the way he dresses. Nothing about his wardrobe seems out of place. Even his slightly manky fingerless gloves make sense for an old traveller twisting knobs and flicking switches on his fantastical machine. Sometimes leaning on a cane, and other times standing tall holding onto his lapels with his dark ring glinting against the light. He's an enigma and just a touch out of time.

Second Doctor

Style: "Cosmic Hobo"

When the 60's counterculture movement had started to shake up the status quo, we saw learned men like Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert abandon their stuffy collegiate positions for newfound roles as acid gurus. Much like these wild professors, we see the same thing in the Second Doctor's attire. It's as if the First Doctor partied so hard that he regenerated, and his disheveled clothes were whatever he was wearing when he woke up the next morning.

At the time, we had men like Maharishi Mahesh Yogi popularising words like "cosmic," and I believe it caught on in the Doctor Who production offices. Costumers Daphne Dare and Alexandra Tynman really brought a sort of anarchic spirit to the Doctor's attire that I believe has really carried on throughout the series. While I'm glad the stove pipe hat was annexed early on, I loved the additions of things like his giant fur coat held closed with twine. There's something so very Doctory about a man who looks like he sleeps in boxcars that can also attune his mind to build a perfect white cube. He really is far out, man.

Third Doctor

Style: "Space Dandy"

I've heard it said that there are two men that can pull off ruffles- Jimi Hendrix, and Jon Pertwee. And my god, does he ever? Primarily designed by Christine Rawlins, he was influenced by Adam Adamant's wardrobe. However, the biggest inspiration behind his crushed velvet and scarlet lined capes was colour television! Colour! Colour! Colour!

There's a lot of timeliness tied up in his garb. The increasing abundance of colour TV mixed with a post-60's desire to cut loose. This new night-time apparel was a way for gents to relax after a long day in their office suits. Leave it to the alien time traveller to completely ignore this fact and wear said nightwear in the middle of the day. Not only does the Third Doctor introduce a trend of the Doctor stealing his clothes from hospitals, he also marks the first major shift in apparel. The First and Second Doctors may have worn different ties, or trousers, but their overall look remained consistent. The Third Doctor's look adhered more to a wardrobe, or a style of dress. And boy does he have style!

Fourth Doctor

Style: "The Bohemian"

Once again, we see a continuation here of the style of the previous two Doctors. There's a bookishness, mixed with counterculture. Costume designer James Acheson, based a lot of the Fourth Doctor's look on Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s painting of his friend Aristide Bruant. Bruant was a man known for his wide brimmed hat and long scarf. As legend has it, Acheson commissioned a woman named Begonia Pope to knit the famous scarf. Only instead of stopping at a sensible length, this witty little knitter used every last spool of yarn she was provided.

As much as I love Tom Baker's costume in it's versatility and appropriate alienness, I am less a fan of the series 18 redesign by June Hudson, which was notoriously meddled with by John Nathan-Turner. While I rather like the new scarf, the all burgundy ensemble with question mark lapels seems to me like the first time the costume felt like a costume. That being said, there is something timeless about Tom Baker's look that even carries on into its various redesigns such as in "The Talons of Weng-Chiang," or "The Horror of Fang Rock." So much so, that even today if I go out in my Thirteenth Doctor cosplay, you always get some joker saying "Hey, where's your scarf?"

Fifth Doctor

Style: "Beige Cricketer Dad"

Before I had ever watched the Fifth Doctor's episodes, I used to look at his costume and contemplate what kind of guy would dress like that. The cricketer uniform with that red piped coat, and those garish pinstripe pyjamas over white trainers is a definite statement, but what is up with that celery? You can imagine my further confusion when I discovered Davison's portrayal was slightly more subdued and less eccentric. It made him almost the weirdest Doctor in that such a normal seeming guy would dress like his five year old picked out his clothes.

Hell, even the celery is there for a pretty mundane reason. It changes purple in the presence of certain poisonous gases. Very practical. They didn't even illustrate this purpose, we were told about it in his last episode! And you know how I feel about "show, don't tell." Regardless, I can't help but kind of love this outfit, question marks and all. I don't know if it's because I'm a fan and we grow to love this show, warts and all, but there's a reason it's on my list of costumes to cosplay. It's unmistakably the Fifth Doctor, even if it doesn't really make much sense.

Sixth Doctor

Style: "Hot Alien Mess"

Out of all of the Doctor Who costumes, I don't think a single one has been more notorious than this one. Unlike the Fifth Doctor's costume which piqued my curiosity, my initial thoughts upon seeing the Sixth Doctor's costume was "Well that was a mistake." And I wasn't wrong, it definitely was too much. Though in many ways, it also marries so well with the rest of his tenure. John Nathan-Turner's goal was to have a completely tasteless costume to match his tasteless vision for the show. He gave poor Pat Godfrey the thankless task of bringing this monstrosity to the screen.

Though, like I said, you do get used to it, as it does fit Colin Baker's irascible narcissist. I totally believe that an alien might find something like that fashionable. Even his little cat badges on his lapels inspire something I think is essential to his character. He's a big loud tomcat yowling until people stop what they're doing and recognise his brilliance. This is another one of those "I can't help but want to cosplay it," outfits. I especially like his tropical look in "The Two Doctors." It would have been nice to see more this variation in his run, such as the original black design or even the blue one we got in other media. Sigh.

Seventh Doctor

Style: "Tweedy Eccentric"

Remember how I mentioned in previous articles that the Seventh Doctor era was a series of course corrections? This is a definite one of those. We're back to something a lot more subtle, like the First or Fourth Doctor's eccentric professor vibes. But my god, those question marks just won't die! You ever have one of those friends who just can't help themselves? You can give them good advice, but at the end of the day, they're still going to do things their way? That's JNT with these goddamn question marks.

I really love the Seventh Doctor's era as I feel like the show was on the up and up. The writing was getting back on track, and Ace and Seven's chemistry was brilliant. So when you look at the Doctor's jumper, it's a kind of visible evidence of JNT being dragged kicking and screaming into this new era. Yet, funnily, when we see the Eighth Doctor movie, the Seventh Doctor's new waistcoat seems somehow less exciting. There's a certain playfulness sacrificed for realism. Perhaps JNT was onto something with his campy vision.

Eighth Doctor

Style: "Anne Rice Vampire Boyfriend"

It's going to be hard for me to view this costume without rose-tinted glasses. The Eighth Doctor is my first Doctor, so his costume will always have a place in my heart as one of the greats. But which costume? Well, of course I mean the first one from the TV movie, but my god has the man had some costume changes! Be it book, comic, or audio, the man has changed his clothes. My favourite being the unjustly maligned "Dark Eyes," variant, as I had always wondered why the Doctor never wore jeans.

Marking the second time the Doctor stole his wardrobe from a hospital, his original costume, designed by Jori Woodman, seems geared toward evoking a more classic look. A little Hartnell, a little Pertwee. For the most part it works, but I could see the argument some have made that it is a bit "costumey." In its defence, it is a costume. By the time we see McGann again in "The Night of the Doctor," we get a more subdued version of the movie look, befitting the modern series. Gotta love a man who can pull off a neckerchief.

War Doctor

Style: "Metrosexual Post-Apocalyptic"

Sadly, there's not a lot of information on the War Doctor's ensemble. But I believe you can learn a lot simply by looking at it. It's design by Howard Burden (who also did the Eighth Doctor redesign), is meant to be a sort of dark in-between of the Eighth and Ninth Doctors. Which makes a lot of sense, really. His costume looks like the clothing of a man at war. Utilitarian in it's form an function, it looks designed for durability and versatility.

I've often felt the War Doctor would not look out of place in the Fallout universe. He still wears the bandolier of a woman he couldn't save in a previous life. So much of his costume is meant to tell a visual story of a Mad Max-style road warrior. Funny then that the man still has the time to form the perfect faux-hawk coiffure and manscaped goatee with just the right amount of neckbeard. It's more of that visual storytelling I love so much- the Doctor may be a man lost at war, but he's still a bit of a narcissist. Brilliant.

Ninth Doctor

Style: "Navvy Bloke"

Christopher Eccleston has been in the news a lot these last few days due to the release of his new book "I Love the Bones of You." We've learned so much about his time as the Doctor that talking about the look of his character has become a bit of a tough subject. A lot of the man's look is now intrinsically tied in his body dysmorphia, which was at its worst when in the role as the Doctor.

I say it's "tough," in that I do want to talk about how he looked like no other Doctor Who came before him. His northern bloke look and sound almost dared the audience to reevaluate the Doctor they thought they knew. His costume is almost a non-costume. Black leather on black trousers with an assortment of dark coloured v-neck jumpers were a far cry from the question marks and long scarves of the Doctors before. Yet despite all of these differences, he quickly dispelled any doubts many longtime viewers had. He was the perfect Doctor to breathe new life into the show. These last few days have shown us just how lucky we are to still have such a man with us.

Tenth Doctor

Style: "Hipster Geek"

People often times call Matt Smith's Doctor a hipster. But who's the one wearing horn rimmed glasses and Chuck Taylors with a form fitting suit? You want to talk about first impressions from a photograph, my first thought was "hipster geek." And I love him for it. David Tennant's Doctor is such a charismatic goofball, that it's hard not to love him. And I honestly can't think of a better costume for him. I will say however that I think this one falls under that "costumey," look I've mentioned before. There's something very Scooby-Doo about a guy who owns two of the same suit in reverse colour.

I also love the simple fact that he's wearing actual Chuck Taylors. I'm surprised more Doctors haven't. Even with the logos on the sides whited out, you can spot the real McCoy (or Tennant) a mile away. Top all of this off with that marvellous coat of his, and you've got a real super hero look. Just picture it- his coat blowing in the breeze as it clings to his matchstick frame, his hair and eyes trembling with Time Lord fury. He's iconic as hell and it's no wonder he's caught the hearts and minds of so many fans.

Eleventh Doctor

Style: "Young Old Man"

I absolutely love Matt Smith's Doctor, especially his early look with the tweed and floppy hair. Ray Holm really came out swinging with this costume as it bred countless one-liners about his bow-ties and love for a good fez. If you've ever seen pictures of other Eleventh Doctor costume concepts, you'd realise what a stroke of genius that bowtie really was. He just doesn't look like the Doctor without it. I believe it was Smith himself who suggested the bowtie.

I would not say I am as onboard with the later purple suit the Doctor wore with Clara. It just lacked the subtlety of the tweed. And that top hat looked especially out of place, which is funny when you consider how good the black top hat looked on him in "Let's Kill Hitler." While I would not say the purple ensemble was a total failure, it's got nothing on his original look. Which, if you'll recall, was also stolen from a hospital.

Twelfth Doctor

Style: "Punk Magician"

Peter Capaldi is the first Doctor I ever had to wait to see the costume reveal. I had gotten into Doctor Who around the tail end of Matt Smith's first series. I remember my first reaction to Howard Burden's costume being something like "Huh." I didn't really love it. Perhaps it was the mixture of it being new, and not having already been established as the Doctor's clothes, but I was slow to come around to it. Capaldi's inspiration behind the costume was David Bowie's "Thin White Duke," persona, which is a telling bit of inspiration considering what a dark point it was in Bowie's life.

For me, the Twelfth Doctor's look truly comes together over time. I think it's somehow tied to his hair. The wilder it got, the more I liked his look. I absolutely love the hoodies and the First Doctor inspired trousers. There's something so perfect about a black jumper bespeckled with holes allowing the white shirt beneath to shine through like stars. The cosmic hobo is back in a punk rock fashion. There's something very lived in about the Twelfth Doctor's style that really resonates with me. He may be the eldest Doctor of the modern series (unless you count John Hurt), but there is something undeniably youthful about him

Thirteenth Doctor

Style: "Godspell Casual"

Jodie's costume was another one of those "Huh," moments for me. It was such a departure from anything before it, bar maybe the Ninth Doctor's jumpers. However, it only took me a few days to get used to, as compared to multiple episodes with Capaldi. A female Doctor was something I had pondered over for such a long time, that I had some expectations as to what she should and shouldn't be wearing. I definitely wanted her in sensible footwear and no floofy skirts. I wanted her like an adventurer. Think Rachel Weisz in "The Mummy." So when she showed up with a pair of high water trousers and comfortable boots, I was pretty happy. It was her t-shirt I was most taken aback by. It seemed a little more casual than I expected, but when you consider she's been a bloke her entire life, having no nonsense clothes is very much the Doctor.

It's not hard to imagine why this was the second Doctor I've cosplayed (the other being Four). There's lots of symbolism tied into the coat that Ray Holm and Whittaker devised together, and I love that they put that much thought into it. At this point it's still early days in her character. Aside from a blink and you miss it scarf or a red shirt, we've not seen a whole lot of wardrobe variation. Rumour has it she'll be donning a pair of black trousers is series 12, which I'm all for. I'd also love to see her wear some grey checked trousers like Hartnell and Troughton. Or even a black and white version of her current look. There's so much versatility possible in her costume. I hope they explore a bit of it.

And that's it for now, friends. I hope you enjoyed this article. I tried to put a little bit of research into it. While I was writing it, this blog turned one year old! I can't believe I've been doing this for a whole year! It's such a wonderful sight to see when you all like the posts and share them. Knowing I've resonated with someone like yourselves feels a little less lonely. Expect to see a Sixth Doctor review corresponding with his blu-ray (I missed the Third Doctor Blu-ray/Pertwee 100th birthday). I'm also planning on covering "The Edge of Time," VR game if they ever decide to release it! Oh and I might start covering the Dark Crystal as well, because I really love that show. I hope you are having a great weekend!

[fairyshuuu]

Eden

Genre: fluff, smut (M) Pairing: Dystopian!Exo, Kyungsoo x reader Length: 5.3k Warnings: Swearing, daddy kink, thigh riding

You kick some metal trash out of the way, and walk through the open field in silence, holding your perfect black nails in front of you for a quick inspection. Perfect mirrors shatter as you walk through the puddles, groaning at the mud it leaves behind on your black knee-high boots. The outsides are plain disgusting, if someone is to ask you. Full of garbage, trashed buildings and rogues. Thinking that, you look up to your left. The white abandoned complex is still leaning up against it’s neighbor, the infrastructure just barely holding up against gravity. You huff, blowing some of your hair out of the way. 

They should have bombed it to the ground completely. Your feet carry you further out into the open, while you tug your bubblegum pink coat closer, wincing as the freezing wind nips at your exposed legs, but don’t stop walking. You would never in a million years be caught looking even a little weak. Too many vultures everywhere. You look around the space for a second, not missing the brunette ducking down behind one of the car wrecks, as you grin to yourself. Cute vultures, but vultures nevertheless. The stone walls now come in clear sight, so you slow your steps, allowing the- what do you call a group of low bred, carcass eating birds- the wake to catch up to you. Stupid rogues thinking they are so smooth. You had spotted them from the moment you chose to come out of the shadows, but still they hid to keep watch on you from afar. 

When you’re in front of the wall, you look up, holding up your hand to shield your eyes from the sun that comes brightly peeking over the horizon. It’s probably half through the day, but the sun is already lowering, painting the sky a soft purple. Guess that’s what happens when a giant meteorite knocks the earth from it’s course. That, and seasons where you can’t even go outside because everything that the sun touches becomes so hot you would probably boil before getting two feet. You groan, looking over your shoulder with both boredom and irritation. What were these losers even doing? Isn’t it polite to welcome guests and possible clients?

You stare out over the heaps of trash for a bit longer, before crossing your arms over your chest. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

There’s noise, and then movement to your left, two men crawling from behind two crashed cars. You recognize the one wearing red as the cute brunette you spotted earlier, while his partner sports a lighter colored cut. Why outsiders felt such a need to look like the most obnoxiously colorful versions of themselves was still beyond you, even now. Something even you, the girl with the bright pink furry coat, are saying. As they approach, you get a better look at them. Both men are significantly smaller than you, probably even without heels, and that makes you grin in amusement. 

They are both holding some heavy duty tasers, that somehow, in their hands don’t look nearly as impressive as they should. The slightly taller one of the two, the one in red, walks ahead a bit, big eyes gleaming with interest and something else, that you decide to ignore. When he comes to a stop a few feet away from you, you have to hold in a change of your expression. Urg, vultures. Both men tilt their head slightly curious when you don’t speak right away.

Trying your best to hold in a smug grin, you lift an eyebrow. “Boo.”

They visibly flinch for a split second, before finding themselves again, and taking on some more relaxed postures. The, what you assume to be the older, man in red reaches in his back pocket, almost rolling his eyes at you, as he pulls a black box to his face. “All clear, Xiu. Pack it up, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, you suddenly spot movement to your right. Up in one of the top floors of the neighboring building is a man sat casually in the window, back pressed against the white stone. He’s dressed in a yellow and black striped sweater, and slumped back like he’s not bothered by anything, a random red balloon tied to his one ankle, that lays crossed over the other. You could have sworn he was not there when you were looking over the buildings earlier, but his behaviour seems to prove otherwise. He is blowing out vibrant blue smoke, as he tilts his head back, while the one with the talkie groans in frustration. You can almost understand his anger, since the man in the building doesn’t respond at all.

The brunette huffs, taking his eyes of the bee-looking one over to you, before rolling his eyes. “Xiumin! Pack your shit up, we’re all going in in five. Don’t be late.”

The other one just crosses his arms over his chest defensively, before turning his face away to mumble something back. “-Again.”

The other lowers his head for a bit, rubbing his eyebrow in clear annoyance, while you shift your weight to your other hip. “Shut up, Chen.” He turns fully to you then. “I assume you’re here to talk to the big man?”

You look him up and down a couple of times. He must be rather new. “Polite. I’m fine, thank you. No, the travel wasn’t long at all. Just a good three days. Nice to see people care.” The lighter haired one needs to hold in a smile, but the older man doesn’t seem impressed, so you roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m here to see the big man himself. How exciting.” You elegantly pull open your coat to reach the inside pocket, pulling out a golden plaque, and toss it over to the man, who catches it with one hand.

Chen moves at that, walking up behind the other man to look with over his shoulder. “Wait- Precious?” His serious face turns into a wide smile then, pulling his black crew neck a bit lower. “I didn’t recognise you with that ugly coat.” He turns to the other man then, slapping his arm while he points at you. “Now this is good, Baekhyun. She’s quite the regular.”

The man in red, Baekhyun apparently, looks you up and down more closely now. You doubt he’s able to make out much apart from your somewhat unusual attire though. Chen, who you have actually gotten to know as Jongdae before, is right, this coat is truly horrendous. Sadly, it’s part of your work attire. Baekhyun looks around the open space once more, eyes flicking up to the building shielding it off, before back at the wall. “Fuck. He’s gonna be late again.” He pulls out the ancient-looking device again, bringing it to his mouth with a frown. “Headquarters?”

There’s some white noise from the other side, before a bored sounding voice cuts through. “Copy.”

“Send someone over, Xiumin’s gonna miss nightfall again.”

The device cracks, as the person on the other side answers. “That wi- b- kind of difficult.”

Clearly getting more and more frustrated, Baekhyun closes his eyes. “What do you mean, difficult? Just send Kai or Chanyeol to come out here.”

“Kai’s busy, company has arrived. And Chanyeol is-” There’s some muffled sounds from the other end, before the voice speaks up again. “Nevermind, Chanyeol’s free. Chanyeol, Minseok’s blazed again. Go get him, pretty please.”

A deeper voice comes through, clearly annoyed. “You’re a fucking dickhead, Oh Sehun. I was busy-”

“And I’ll keep her cute ass company, bud, don’t worry. Now, go get our elderly, and stop complaining.”

The line cuts out at that, and Baekhyun puts away the thing again, turning to the wall as he mumbles angrily to himself. “Why do I need to deal with all these assholes- Stupid-”

The stone walls grunt before Jongdae can add his most likely very helpful commentary, making you turn in surprise, before sliding open slowly. They open up to reveal the base, something that even after having been here more than twice, is still impressive. There’s guard towers on either side, the big wooden built structures looking out over both the inside and the wall, and then long stretch of tarp-covered tents. On one of the guard towers, a man with an even bigger looking weapon, one you’re not sure of what it is, peers down at the three of you curiously. 

He’s dressed the most normal out of all of the men you have encountered so far, just a white button up and black pants. His face and neck are covered in colorful flowers though, mixes of red and blue and gold everywhere. Very strange fashion sense, this one. Pretty though. You just follow behind the two men as they walk through the gates, heading straight for what’s supposed to be headquarters. It’s more a cluster of old houses though, surrounded by a wall of wooden stakes. Walking in your direction coming from headquarters is another man, that you vaguely recognize from some of your earlier visits.

He has very prominent light silver hair, sticking in every direction possible, and is wearing an all-black combination. He looks more than a bit mildly annoyed, while passing you three, mumbling to himself as his eyebrows pull together. “-tell them i’m busy since I have my fucking girl in my lap, but oh no-”

You just follow him for a bit with your eyes when he passes, surprised at his tall statue, and watch him leave out of the gate. You have to hold in a snort at his angry stomps. Throughout the camp sounds a loud voice over speakers then, announcing the end of the day. “Six minutes till sundown. Wall will close in the same amount of time. All residents, make sure to not leave borders for safety measures.” Temperatures can drop dangerously low when the sun goes, which is why you guess they have this rule here. When you get to the houses, some people are lighting up lanterns that are set up between the houses, while you spin in a little circle to take everything in. If you weren’t used to a little more class, you would probably find it pretty here.

“Right,” Baekhyun suddenly claps, “I have business to attend to. Jongdae-” Jongdae groans at the call of his name, glaring at the other. Baekhyun just sighs. “Just get her to Sehun, will you?” Though Jongdae doesn’t really answer, Baekhyun starts walking away and mumbles a quiet retort, tossing him the talkie. “Whiny bitch.”

“I heard that!”

“Well, good! That was my intention.” He smiles, mouth pulling into a square, as he waves the two of you off.

Jongdae looks back at you, before stomping his feet in protest. He quickly gets over himself though, walking on. You’re now lead to the house the farthest away from the entrance, and walk up the stairs quickly to keep up with Jongdae’s sudden change in pace. He looks like he’s dying to drop you off now too, and while you definitely enjoy seeing the dysfunctional mess of a group that’s collected here, you just want what you came here to get as soon as possible too. When the doors swing open, you’re a bit overwhelmed by both the heat and the collection of smells that hits your face. There is a thick layer of smoke shrouding everything from the ceiling to about people’s thighs, just lingering there, when you walk in. Lots of other bodies are collected in this house, while you walk into some kind of rave.

Jongdae just motions for you to follow him, pushing some people out of the way while he passes, so you follow. The smoke smells like rose water, but since you have no clue of what it actually is, you’re glad when you two arrive at the far end of the room, and walk into a much more quiet and empty hallway. There are some girls walking around in similar attire as yours here too, one of which Jongdae takes a gently hold of, holding her back by her shoulder. The girl is wearing some giant goggles with thick rubber bands on her face, exact same furry jacket as yours. Jongdae smiles at her, letting his hand drop. “Hey, Gorgeous! Baekhyun is looking for you at home.” He hesitates, but the girl seems to know what he’s gonna say already, answering him before he can even ask.

“Dreamy is upstairs, Jongdae. She’s waiting.” Gorgeous smiles at him, teasingly patting his cheek, before smiling at you and walking out of the hallway.

Without explaining, Jongdae continues through the hallway. You suppose he knows there’s not much that needs to be explained. The green and the cyan lighting makes the entire hallway wave left and right. Or it might be the smoke from earlier, you’re not sure. Luckily, you soon bump into Jongdae’s back, as he stops in front of an all glass room, where a young man sits leaned back in his chair, with a headset around his neck. He’s laughing while talking to a petite dark brown haired woman, dressed in all black. 

The girl moves out of the way from Jongdae for a second, flashing you a quick smile. Jongdae looks her up and down, before breaking out laughing, and slaps the other man on the back. “Chanyeol is gonna be so pissed, you really had to interrupt, huh?” When you look again, you understand what Jongdae means, noticing the purple and red peeking through on her neck through her hair. The other doesn’t answer, though he can’t wipe a smug smile from his face. Jongdae just shakes his head, before looking around. “Where’s Jongin?”

The other man just points to the half open there farther along the hall, shaking his head with a smile. “Don’t know what you’re gonna run into though, I wouldn’t risk it.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Well, we need the key, our Precious has a meeting with the big boss.” The other man just shrugs, before continuing his conversation with the girl, as Jongdae nods and turns on his heel. He doesn’t even hesitate pushing open the door, which makes you wonder how many times he’s hand to do this. When Jongdae doesn’t immediately dramatically scream or jump back, you determine it must be fine, and walk in behind him. It’s not really okay.

The man which you guess to be Jongin is seated in a sofa, with a blonde woman seated on top of him. They are really in the middle of a makeout session, and you need to look away not to feel too awkward.

Jongdae doesn’t seem very surprised though, just clearing his throat. “I see the company really has arrived. Ayla, darling, how are you doing?”

The two people break away from each other, to clear distaste of the male, who is full-on glaring at Jongdae. “What do you want, Kim?”

Jongdae grins at his friend’s reaction, before motionning his head back over to you. “We need the key, big boy.”

Jongin just chuckles, leaning up to kiss the woman once again, before moving her leg from over his thighs. “I’m not giving you the fucking key, you little shit. I still remember last time. That’s not happening again.”

You look from between the two males, to Ayla, who is now crossing her arms over her chest like you are, while the boys go back and forth like children.

“We need it.”

“Too bad.”

“She needs to see the boss, Jongin.”

“I’m not giving you the key, Dae.”

“Last time was last time, I won’t play around now!”

“I’m not giving you the damn ke- Hey!”

The other female in the room has decided to take the decision into her own hands, literally, fishing out the keys from her boyfriend’s pocket, before crossing the room, over to you, snickering at the reaction of both males. “You are both idiots.” She turns to you then, bright blue eyes catching yours. “Come on, ignore them.” She shows you out of the room, ocean blue heels tapping on the tiles of the hallway. 

You two walk all the way to the end of the hall, before turning right. There’s a big staircase there, falling in silence when the door falls in lock behind you. Ayla looks over at you though, a shy smile on her lips. “This is not your first time coming here, right? The boss can be quite intimidating if you’re meeting him for the first time, definitely all alone.”

You smile back at her, watching her blonde curls bounce around as you walk up the stairs. Oh no, you know just what Kyungsoo is like, from your earlier visits. Always looking out for his own ass first, but a good business man too. “No, luckily not.” When you arrive at the top of the stairs, the woman next to you walks over to the door and unlocks it for you smoothly, to which you gratefully nod your head, before walking in. Some soft R&B is playing in the background, while you wade yourself through shimmery strands of silver confetti, that is covering the entire floor with a thick layer. 

Yeah, because that’s totally normal. You look up to find a desk though, where the chair is pushed out, said boss sitting relaxed in his plush filling with his eyes closed. There are two other girls with cotton candy pink coats here, both almost hanging off the man, both looking up when you close the door a bit harder than intended. The boss, whose name you know quite well now, Do Kyungsoo, opens his eyes slowly.

Though he doesn’t look too happy to be getting a visit from you, his eyes widen enough for him to betray his interest in your arrival. You gleam. “Kyungsoo, sweetie. It’s been so long.” You calmly slide your shoulders out of your coat, as you walk over to the chair opposite of him, tossing the pink piece of clothing on the floor next to you.

Kyungsoo licks his lips slowly, before waving the two women towards the door. “Leave us. I’ve got business to attend to.” The girls frown, but do as told, and move through the sea of silver towards the door. Kyungsoo pulls himself up straight, before briskly turning to the girls. “Oh, Joy?” One of the girls, the one with the longer black hair, turns to look over her shoulder, eyes wide. “Tell Sehun that no one is to come into this room, or they’ll regret it. Business is secret, and we want to keep it that way, right, ladies?”

The girls nod and leave the room in silence, as you kick back in the chair, tilting your head to the familiar face with a smile. Kyungsoo’s eyes flick from the door to you from the moment the former shuts tightly, pursing his lips. “What are you here for this time, Precious? Any special demands?”

You scoot closer, leaning your elbows on the desk with a grin. “Not really. I’m here to get the newest of the newest, that’s all. You do have something for me, right, Soo?”

Kyungsoo pauses, looking over your entire face with a slightly sceptical look, before bending to take something out of one of his drawers, tossing it on the desk. It’s a plastic bag full of colorful candies, about the size of a thumbtack.

You lean forward a bit, slightly interested. You don’t do the stuff, just the transporting, but still it’s interesting to see. The little circles look very particular, almost like molten grains of sugar clumped together, transparent but still colored in different colors. You slump back in your seat then, eyeing Kyungsoo again. His short black hair is immaculate, as always, a black turtleneck peeking out from under his white jacket. “So? How much is this little bag?”

Kyungsoo genuinely laughs at that, taking the back back in his hands. “I’m afraid not even your fluttering eyelashes will help you this time, Precious. This bag is worth more than your life. One of these is worth two million.” Though you don’t speak, Kyungsoo notices the widening in your eyes, as he stands up from his chair. “They’re not meant to be just swallowed by one person. It’s made to just taste and pass it through. Just doing that will make you trip for three days straight. I don’t want to know what it does to a person if you have the entire thing on your own.” He twirls one of the candies between his fingers, before grinning to himself. “Well, death probably.”

You get up from your chair too, walking over to him with a smile. You’re taller than him too, the heels of your tight boots tapping on the floor for you to come to a halt in front of him. Leaning in a bit, you nod with a smile, running a nail over his shoulder. “Of course you’d make something like that, I should have expected nothing less.” You let out a soft breath, walking around him slowly without taking your finger off him. “Tell me, Soo… Did you really just miss me as a client?” You let your lips hover over his ear as your hands come to slide over his chest. “Or-” He freezes, as you nip at the skin behind his ear softly, a giggle ripping from your throat. “Did you miss me as me?”

From the moment the words leave your lips, Kyungsoo has you turned around and pressed with your back against the desk, trapped between his thighs. The bag is dropped to the ground next to you, as Kyungsoo’s big hands find your wrists, rubbing them gently. “You can never just play nice, can you?” He groans, before pressing his face into your neck. “Fuck, I missed you.”

You pull him away by his shoulders, before smiling brightly, pushing your lips eagerly to his. Kyungsoo grunts in response, deepening the kiss immediately, one hand tangling in your hair and pulling back a bit. The pull makes your heartbeat speed up, as you wrap your one leg around his legs to press him closer into you, hands pulling at his collar. His tongue glides into your mouth, while your face heats up, before having to break away to breathe for a second. When he does, Kyungsoo pulls your head back even more, exposing your neck to him, as he mumbles against your skin. “You were gone for so long, I actually-” He pauses his words to suck harshly on the soft skin just below your jaw, as your nails dig into his shoulders in pleasure. “-got worried.”

You chuckle softly, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of his neck as you lead him lower. “Don’t be, baby. You know me, I get out every situation alive.”

Kyungsoo just hums in agreement, marking your flawless skin on the way down, as his free hand glides from your thigh to your ass. “Precious-”

You throw your head back as he bites the skin just above your breast, while his fingers dig into your ass, huffing out an answer desperately. “Yes, daddy?”

Kyungsoo lets a growl from the back of his throat at that, his plump lips opening to suck in a breath. You just keep your eyes on his, as they darken completely. He drops his hands from you then, clenching his jaw. “On your knees, now.” His voice sounds even deeper than before, making your legs feel like jelly.

You oblige though, holding your breath in anticipation, getting on your knees with big eyes, tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

Kyungsoo takes a step closer, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “You want to play, baby girl?”

You nod eagerly, choking out a quick “Yes.” He raises his eyebrows at that though, tilting his head. You pause, before quietly correcting yourself. If there’s anything Kyungsoo loves more than making you feel loved, it’s making you feel like you’ve done something wrong. “Yes, daddy.”

He nods at that. “How about this? We see how fast you can make me want to come in your pretty little mouth, and than I’ll decide how many times I’ll let you come today.”

Biting your lip, you nod, fluttering your eyelashes from your spot between his legs, eager as ever. You don’t wait for his signal anymore, hands reaching up to his thighs, higher and higher. As your hands glide over his crotch, you can already feel his dick hard and pressing against the fabric. You curl your fingers around the waistband, before pulling both layers down his strong thighs, licking your lips. His dick is already standing up straight against his stomach, as you swallow deeply, before looking up at him once more. His eyes are closed, mouth open at your fleeting touches, and you already know it won’t be too long. He missed you too much to try to last very long. You turn up the stakes a notch though, clearing your voice. “Daddy? Can you pull my hair please?”

Kyungsoo lets out a breathy groan at that, opening his eyes just a little to look down at your pouty lips. He grunts while tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling back, as you do your best to hold back a whimper. Then, you lean forward, tongue just teasing his tip. His hold on you immediately gets tighter, but you just continue running just the tip of your tongue over the sensitive head, only letting your lips touch as well when he grunts your name. You run your entire tongue from bottom to top along his length then, enjoying pulling small noises from him, and taking him into your mouth fully. 

Kyungsoo openly moans then, tugging your head back a bit, but you don’t stop, ready to play the game fully. You flatten your tongue and run it over the bottom of his hot cock while you bop your head back and forward, trying to ignore the effect his noises have on your body. Eventually, Kyungsoo can’t hold back anymore and let’s his hips twitch into your mouth, as you hold back tears that well up when he hits the back of your throat. You let him fuck your face to the best of your ability, before he pulls out of your lips breathlessly, looking down at you. He needs to pause for a second, grip loosening in your hair, though you can still feel the pull linger. “Fuck, I forgot how good you do that.” He pulls you up from the floor, hands pulling you up around him with his hands under your ass, setting you down on the desk again. 

Your panties are already soaked by now, so you’re glad when he starts pulling your one-piece down your shoulders to get you naked in front of him. When he gets the tight fabric down to your hips, he bends down for you, kissing his marks all over your neck and chest, before going down to your breasts. “Shit, I’ll make you come until you can’t take any more, baby girl.” He bites the skin of your breast harshly then, making your body shiver as you dig your nails into his lower back, desperately clinging to him. He cups your other breast, drawing small circles over your nipple, while sucking around the other.

“Ah, d-daddy, please, I’m already so wet for you. Please just f- ah.”

Kyungsoo interrupts your resolve by pushing his muscular thigh between your legs. “I haven’t seen you for so long, Precious. Just be a good girl and let me take my time with you.”

You whine at that, the pushing feeling making your senses go haywire. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around his one, grinding your hips into his leg desperately. Kyungsoo’s lips still travel all over your breasts still, wanting to prolong everything still, but does flex his leg against you. You push your face into his neck while moving your hips against him, biting the skin of his shoulder harshly. It’s a double feeling, but you can’t stop yourself. You can still feel his hard cock press against your stomach, and you ache for the filling stretch, but it also feels so good to have his strong thigh rubbing up against your sensitive clit.

After a bit, Kyungsoo groans, pulling back a bit, hands pulling your legs apart. “Okay, off, now.”

You practically rip the rest of your clothing off, kicking it from your feet to land somewhere on the floor. Kyungsoo comes back to you then, and now you’re desperate to get him naked in front of you, pushing the jacket from his shoulders, already tugging the black shirt over his head, before pulling him back to you, his warm skin now covering yours in tingles. “You want to ride my thigh again, baby girl?”

You moan at his words, before choking out an answer. “Yes, daddy. Oh please, yes.” He pushes against you again, strong thigh pressed between yours. You bite your lip so hard you think you taste iron on your tongue, but don’t care in the slightest, moving your hips against him over and over again.

Kyungsoo leans down to kiss you roughly, before pulling back to rest his forehead to yours. “Fuck, you’re so damn wet. I’m- fuck it.” He suddenly pushes into you, making you gasp while digging half moons into his perfect shoulders. His one hand is around your waist to hold you close against him, while the other lifts your leg, allowing him to hit deep into you. The building not in your stomach suddenly unravels with enormous speed, your orgasm coursing through you harshly. Kyungsoo doesn’t stop though, just kissing your neck as he continues his pace. “You can take another one, right?”

You don’t even have enough power to shake your head at his question, still coming down from your orgasm as he pushes into your sensitive walls over and over again. You instead choose to bury your face in his neck, as you feel another tingling sensation coming. Kyungsoo can feel your walls tighten again too, so he lifts his hips slightly, hitting your spot in the process, as you moan loudly. “Oh, right there. Fuck- again.”

Kyungsoo’s thrusts become more shallow as you clench around him, holding his own orgasm for you, as it courses though you even harder than before, making your eyes roll back, as you shudder against him. Just another thrust later, Kyungsoo comes too, painting your walls. He lets out a string of swears as he does, before slumping into you. The two of you stay like that for a bit, before he pulls out from overstimulation, making all the juices flow down your thighs. he chuckles softly at the sight. “I’m not done with you yet, just wait.”

You grin at that. “I’m aware.”

Kyungsoo’s expression softens a bit then, as he picks you up and lifts you away from the desk, over to the bed in the far corner of the room. “I’m not letting you leave here for at least a couple of days, work can wait.”

You just hum softly, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls you to him, flicking the light off.

Kyungsoo looks peaceful like this, sleeping soundly against you, and you purse your lips in disappointment. Somewhere, you had hoped it to be harder, than maybe you- You sigh, before moving out of Kyungsoo’s embrace in the cover of night, sleep not catching up to you yet. Silently, you gather your clothes and dress yourself, overlooking the room once. Sadly, the opposition has changed their ways. You pick up the bag from the floor, tying it nice and tight, before picking up your coat from the floor and pushing the bag into your pocket, with a sad smile. Just too bad, you really like him. Survival is a bitch though. You sigh, before pulling your hair into a ponytail, and walking to the door. You would feel bad but- Business is business.

--

I’m a mean writer. I know.

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

Color Study

More winging my way through this fandom and wanting to write it’s characters.

Anonymous asked: "If you're still taking requests, maybe some Lancelot with pining Lotor, only Lotor doesn't know what pining is?"

Words: 3k+ Pairing: One sided Lancelot, implied bg Klance

Note: Sorry Anon if you wanted straight up Lancelot, I just couldn’t get away from the whole “We know Lance is going to hate Lotor” bit just yet. But, I like to think this could be spun as a supportive friends!Klance “You almost killed yourself you moron come here.” and the beginning of a vaguely tense slow burn for Lancelot lol...Idk. Anywho I’ll shut up now.

PS- Also, I’m not sure if I really do pining right. I just think of it as that “I can’t have this person but I’m going to think about things constantly” kinda?? Bleh.

....

Set after the season finale of season four, Lotor makes it onto the castle ship and wants to meet the paladin that caught his attention some time ago. The one in blue.

The first time he sees the blue paladin its over surveillance on the mission to steal the teludav. He is simply a white and blue blur with a gun at the time. He deflects a shot meant for one of his companions. He isn’t useless.

Based on his suits colorings, he assumes the blue paladin was, of course, the pilot of the blue lion.

Lotor had initially assumed the pilot of the blue lion was the weaker one. The novice, if their initial meeting on Thayserix was to stand for anything. Though, they had improved fairly quickly, Lotor didn’t forget. At least he clearly understood how to use his bayard, switching it between forms. He wonders how they managed.

He decides he’s going to pay closer attention to the blue lion’s paladin from then on.

So, naturally, when he comes aboard the Altean’s vessel and watches a woman come out of the blue lion Lotor is immediately thrown off.

The Altean princess has a harsh expression when she looks at him, not that Lotor questions it.

“You must be Prince Lotor.” She says, her voice and posture stiff. She isn’t the only one in the room and she is one of many with weapons poised and ready to move at a moments notice should Lotor give them reason.

He opts not to, he even offers out his hands, “I am. You can go ahead and cuff me if you’d like but I assure you that would be a waste of your efforts.”

The princess’s eyes seem to narrow further and the other paladins seem just as judgmental.

And yet no blue.

Or red for that matter.

Isn’t there supposed to be a red paladin for the red lion?

What does Blue fly if not the blue one?

Lotor does not allow his confusion to show on his face and allows himself to be dragged away for the discussion as planned. Allura, as he soon gather is the princess’s name, fights him at every turn. Again, its to be expected.

The black paladin is surprisingly receptive for a survivor of Galran atrocities based on his arm. Lotor does not recall ever seeing the black paladin on the surveillance. Had he not been there? Who had piloted Black onto the Galran base…?

Eventually, agreements are reached, and Lotor is allowed a tentative space in the castle. Unarmed and not unsupervised. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but Lotor was a patient man.

He was, however, an inquisitive man.

His first watch was the black paladin. Lotor didn’t enjoy conversation with him, so he mostly idled around.

Second came the large yellow paladin. Hunk, as he was called though Lotor had trouble believing it as his real name, demanded that his watch be done in the kitchen as he had far too many people to cook for to waste time. He made Lotor do food preparation which was extremely odd to him but it allowed him the opportunity to touch a knife and not use it as a weapon which he hoped won him some semblance of good faith.

Also, it gave him the opportunity to speak to someone who didn’t unnerve him as much as the princess or Black did.

“Hunk, If I may,” Lotor began.

Hunk raised a knife and pointed it at him, “You may not.”

Lotor blinked, then continued anyway, “It’s just a quick question. There are two paladins I haven’t seen yet. Where are they?”

Hunk rolled his eyes and continued cooking.

Lotor tried again, “I mean no harm with this line of questioning of course, I’m simply a bit out of sorts over their being a pink paladin. Throws the whole thing off a bit doesn’t it?”

At this Hunk scoffs, “Yeah it does. All the colors are off. It drives Pidge freaking crazy, but what can you do, you know? The lion picks the pilot.” At the end of his last statement, Hunk makes a strange noise and groans at himself before going back to his cooking.

“…The lion picks the pilot?” Lotor repeats, but Hunk is done talking.

The green paladin is far more receptive.

“Have you seen my father?”

“Have you seen the other paladins?”

They get approximately…nowhere.

Finally, the blue paladin presents himself, dressed in his civilian attire no less. And this is the moment Lotor becomes extremely confused.

He’s just as he appeared in the video, tall, dark, bright eyed, an “eager to please” kind of demeanor.

But there’s something… very different about him now.

For one, he looks exhausted, more so than the other paladins had been. He’s wearing a simple shirt and denim pants and Lotor wonders if this is a sign of trust or if he simply couldn’t be bothered to wear his armor any longer. He shivers and Lotor wonders if he is in need of a coat. Everyone else on the ship seems to have one readily available… Perhaps a blanket instead?

“Are you cold, Paladin?” Lotor asks him.

The blue paladin looks surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting Lotor to speak to him. Lotor hopes his face is neutral as the other man scrutinizes him. Lotor realizes his eyes are a quite beautiful shade of blue, unlike his murky ones, and he would quite prefer they not narrow at him like the princess.

They do anyway.

Darn.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” His tone is short and sets up camp by a large circular window where he can watch Lotor and not really have to interact with him.

Well, if Lotor wanted to let him. He did not.

Instead, when the boy shudders even more at his proximity to the window, going so far as to hiss and rub his arms, Lotor throws his blanket at him. It was given to him so he could sleep on one of the couches if he so chose but he wasn’t inclined to sleep right about now. Besides, the human was clearly freezing.

The paladin actually takes the blanket and wraps it around his shoulders before seeming to realize who threw said blanket at him and glaring at him.

“Uhm?”

Lotor raises a single quizzical brow, as if waiting for the paladin to start an argument before he sits down as close to him as he’d dare.

“Again, you looked cold. I’m not. You may use it for the time being.”

The boy scoffs, “Oh? ‘for the time being’ as if this wasn’t ours to begin with.”

Lotor allows himself a chuckle, though he’s fully aware Blue meant this maliciously he decides to try and remain good natured, “Well you certainly have a point. Though I do wonder, don’t you have a coat? I can’t believe you wander around a castle ship in the middle of wide open space shivering like that constantly.”

The boy groans and leans his head back against the wall, his neck long and exposed. Lotor watches his Adam’s apple move curiously. The human has very pretty skin. Blemish free, clearly taken care of.

Lotor briefly considers what it might feel like beneath his finger tips as they trail along his throat, up to his chin…

Huh.

“Keith needs it a little more than I do right now. It’s whatever.”

Lotor leans in curiously, “Keith?” was this the other missing paladin? The red?

…The one who Blue had protected on the surveillance video?

“…Is it customary to share articles of clothing for humans?”

The boy lowers his head and looks straight at Lotor for a solid moment before going, “Dude, who are you?”

Lotor has to blink at this, “I am Prince Lotor, son of Zarkon. Were you not aware? I thought you were here because you were told to guard me.”

The boys lips go slack and he bats his lashes like he’s more confused than he’d just made Lotor. Then he raises a palm to his face and drags it up through his hair, brown locks looking far too much like silk through his fingers. Lotor might allow this to distract him further.

“Por Dios, you’re worse than Keith.”

“I’m sorry?” Lotor offers after a moment of regaining his level head. Not sure why he needed the moment. Not sure where he’d wandered off to.

“It depends on the relationship, I guess. In response to your question about clothes anyway. I mean my coat is actually a hand me down so…” The boy sighs deeply, shoulders sagging beneath the blanket, “And Keith is the red paladin.”

“Ah.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

“My knowledge was limited strictly to large colored lions and colored suits. You’re still Blue, by the way. As confusing as that is as you apparently don’t fly the blue lion?” Lotor explains, again trying to keep his neutral composure though he’s feeling surprisingly good about the fact this paladin, the one he’d wanted to meet, was the one who would actually care enough to speak to him.

The boy quirks his lips to the side, smooth, soft looking, a shade off from his skin that Lotor also finds pleasing. He puffs air out through his nose and looks to the side, “I guess that makes sense. The names Lance. I used to fly Blue. I fly Red now.”

Lance.

It…suits him.

Lance.

“You fly Red…?” Lotor mumbles absently, trying to keep the conversation going if for no other reason than to keep Lance’s attention, “Then what does this…Keith fly?”

Lance is facing him again, he opens his mouth to speak but shuts it just as quickly. His eyes dart to the floor then back. Clearly he doesn’t like what his answer is going to be.

“…He doesn’t fly anything anymore. He… he quit I guess.”

Ah.

Lotor doesn’t realize his eyes narrow, “So he abandoned you.”

Lance’s face shifts from complacent to furious in less than a tick, “He didn’t abandon anyone! He left to do other very important things for the cause against your father, against you.”

Lance’s face is just as lovely even when angry. It gives Lotor no reason to reconsider his words as his mind temporarily lingers on Axca. Axca and how she turned her back on him. How he ended up alone running from his own empire.

“Forgive me, see, I was somehow under the impression that when you form a team with trusted individuals tasked with glorious purpose you are supposed to have unwavering faith and stand by each other’s sides are you not?”

Perhaps he was bitter.

Then his mind wanders to Narti and something hollow opens up in his chest. Narti was compromised. He had to cut her down. She was a threat to all of them…!

Lance’s voice does something strange.

It growls.

It pulls Lotor straight out of his thoughts and right back to the floor in front of this man who’s voice was surprisingly…

“You don’t know anything about Keith!” Lance shouted, throwing his hand out of the blanket in a broad gesture, “And I doubt you know anything about comradery, I mean you’re here alone aren’t you!?”

There’s such passion in his voice.

Lotor wants to silence him.

Not because he wants him to be silent, quite the contrary, but because of the way he would do it.

This is… odd.

“Well aren’t you?” Lance repeats.

Lotor is silent. Not because there’s anything to hide, but because for some reason he loathes admitting it.

Lance takes his silence and rolls with it, “Did you have someone stowed away in your ship? Where you a decoy? Are you really a refuge or are you here learning our secrets so you can run home to daddy and give him the keys to the universe! ‘Look Dad I know how to defeat Voltron! Aren’t I such a good evil villain?’ right?”

Lotor doesn’t have the chance to give Lance a look clarifying how ridiculous that sounds before the boy launches forward, pinning the prince to ground, long tan fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Answer me! What have you planned?!”

Lotor can’t think. Lance is strong, his chest is broad and his hands are surprisingly warm and he is hovering only inches above him, straddling his waist in a way that should be menacing but only manages to be…enticing.

Lotor’s eyes dart to Lance’s lips, to his bared teeth, along his clenched jaw, to the throbbing pulse in his neck.

Lance raises one of his hands and Lotor can see his fingers curl and uncurl, seeming to struggle between forming a fist and reaching for Lotor’s neck, “If you cause anyone else on this ship any more pain I swear I will end you.”

He decides on the neck.

Lotor swallows. He’s not sure if this appears eager or frightened and has absolutely no idea which he’d prefer it to be. Lance’s hand is insanely soft, but his grip is tight and the skin on skin contact is making his brain fuzzy. Lance’s eyes are like lightning and his voice strikes with just as much devastation.

“I assure you, Lance…” Lotor breathes, though his throat is dry, “I mean you and your family no harm. Not anymore.”

He’s almost surprised how much he means that.

Lance’s fingers loosen slightly but he doesn’t rise. Despite how cold he’d been earlier his body is warm on top of Lotor and he doesn’t think he wants him to move.  

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Lance grits out.

Lotor is surprised by his ability to continue speaking, “With time and by trusting your instincts… I hear red paladins are good with instinct, aren’t they?”

“Keith is the red paladin.” Lance’s eyes darken.

Lotor sees it then. Realizes.

“He was the red paladin. You fly the red lion. The color on your suit shouldn’t dictate your title when the ‘lion chooses the paladin’ correct?”

Lance sighs, deflating, resigned. His breath is hot and fans against Lotor’s cheeks.

He continues and puts emphasis on the word, testing his theory, “Your Keith passed you his mantle, didn’t he?”

Lance’s hands go limp before he straightens his back. He’s simply sitting on Lotor’s lap now and he doesn’t seem to notice. His face colors for a different reason.

Lotor hasn’t met the red paladin yet. He doesn’t think he wants to. He thinks he already wants him gone; far, far away.

“I suppose I was wrong then.” He isn’t sure why he’s still talking. Probably just to hear Lance respond again. Probably to keep him from noticing how close they are. Probably…

“Your Keith didn’t abandon you, he saw your strength and knew you would carry on in his place better than he could. My apologies for speaking out of turn.”

“Yeah well…” Lance starts awkwardly, “I mean on your list of grievances, talking smack probably isn’t high priority.”

This time Lotor sighs, enjoying how Lance’s personality shifts, how see-through he is, how honest.

“Of course.”

They remain there silently for another moment before Lance shivers again and gets up to pick up his/Lotor’s/the castle ship’s discarded blanket to drape over his shoulders.

Lotor immediately misses the warmth. Immediately misses the proximity. Immediately misses him even though he’s only walked a couple feet further away.

What in the world…

He sits up and pushes the thoughts away.

“And for the record, Lance,” Lotor starts. Still tasting the name on his tongue as if he was unsure he wanted to use it. Maybe he should just go back to calling him Blue. Red perhaps? No, Blue was definitely more his color. Blue was accurate. Blue didn’t link him to another man. Not that it mattered, of course. “There is no secret nefarious plot hatched away with a stowaway from my ship.”

Lance looks at him. Lotor doesn’t realize his voice is lowering, losing that cold demeanor he’s so good at.

“…That is to say, yes, I am alone.”

Lance is studying him, eyeing him like a puzzle to be undone. Lotor gets a front row seat to the micro expressions that cross Lance’s face as he mentally pulls him apart from those words. Possibly tracking back trough their conversation, through his behavior, through their history, through his upbringing. The cogs are working and Lotor is momentarily at a loss.

And then something utterly disgusting happens.

If Lotor thinks about it too much his stomach does awful twists and flops and his chest constricts miserably.

Lance smiles.

“Well,” He sighs, eyes soft and fond as he leans back against the wall again bundled in the blanket, “If you mean what you say, and you actually are an asset to us. Maybe you won’t be for much longer. We have a tendency to take in people who are alone in the world.”

Lotor can’t feel his fingertips. This is witchcraft. Haggar’s doing. Something truly and insanely heinous.

It’s a few moments later when a dark-haired boy wanders into the room. He looks like death, but he is wrapped in a long green coat and when his eyes land on Lance he almost begins to resemble those of the waking world again.

Keith.

He’s followed by another boy, tall like Lance, but otherwise resembling the green paladin.

Keith… smells like Galra. Rather, he smells like shame and tears and sweat. But he certainly feels like a Galra. At least, that’s what Lotor’s instincts tell him as he watches the previous red paladin lead the current away. Matt, the green doppelgänger, Green 2.0, is to keep an eye on him now.

Before he’s gone Lance tosses the blanket back to Lotor. Keith appears vaguely confused but Lance shrugs him off and instead addresses Lotor from the doorway.

“You behave alright? Maybe I’ll make you a milkshake if you’re good.”

Lotor has no idea what a milkshake is.

He decides, as the light chuckle escapes Lance and it almost hallows out his insides, that he hates them.

He also hates the red paladins. Current and Previous. If only because Previous can make Current so at ease he can chuckle like…!

No.

He hates them. It’s decided.

…

And he is going to protect them with everything he has.

[peculiarmindset]

The Surprise Voyeurism

Here's another fic for KNB :) I wondered if I should put warnings in my stories, but if you have come to this tumblr, I think you should have the common sense to expect any and/or all farting, burping, pooping or any other kinks that will definitely be in my stories (It says it all in my header, you know ;) And I also have tags in hot pink above each story so you can expect what will happen :)

Ah, but fair warning, I'm pretty sure this story should be considered as MATURE (but now that I think of it, everything in this blog is probably considered as mature, if not explicit xp)? This is definitely one of my kinkier fics...so discretion is advised :)

'Oh Kamisama, help me now!' Furihata thought, praying to every deity out there to help him out of his current situation.

Seirin's coach, Aida Riko, had been running around camp, chasing her basketball members to taste test her newest curry creation. So of course, Furihata and the others did their best to go into hiding, not wanting to die at an early age.

Coach Aida had caught Furihata but the brunette managed to slip away from her grasp and blindly ran through the dorms. He ran inside one of the rooms- thinking that it was his own- and closed the door, hiding inside his closet.

Leaving the closet slightly opened, Furihata hid among the many coats inside for some camouflage.

Wait...coats?

Furihata looked confused at the coats he was surrounded in. Since when did he bring coats with him to the camp?

Furihata studied the coats and based by the soft feel and designer labels on them, these coats belonged to someone really rich. He took a peek outside and his eyes widened as he realized that he wasn't in his room at all. The room setup was similar to his but the bedsheets and suitcases definitely didn't belong to him.

As Furihata began to panic, he suddenly froze at the sound of the front door opening.

Scooting back into the coats, making sure that he was completely hidden, Furihata peeked out and his jaw dropped at the sight of Akashi Seijuurou walking into the room and placing a large backpack onto his bed.

Oh god, he was inside Akashi's room!

Mentally screaming at himself for his stupid mistake, there was no way now that Furihata could leave without getting killed by the emperor for trespassing. The brunette had no choice but to wait for the redhead to leave first before he could make his escape.

The only saving grace was that the coats (oh my god, they were undoubtedly expensive) were very comfortable so Furihata could rest against them comfortably- which was a good thing since who knew how long he would be stuck there.

Furihata watched as Akashi sighed, stretching out his arms and working the kinks out of his neck.

Akashi grabbed the laptop that was on his bed and flipped it open, turning it on. As he waited for the computer to load, he started to undress out of his practice clothes. Furihata's stomach dropped as he realized that the captain was dressing into something more comfortable- meaning that it would be a while until he would once again leave the room.

When the captain had changed into a thin white shirt and some tight-looking blue jean shorts (despite the simple attire, Furihata knew that the outfit must have cost more than his one month's allowance) the redhead leaned towards his laptop and after a few minutes, a quiet movie began to play (Furihata mentally groaned that he would most likely be stuck in the closet for two hours at least).

Akashi then moved onto his bed, leaning against the bed frame as he reached for his large bag and started to pull something out if it.

Furihata's eyes widened in astonishment as he recognized the many bags from Maji burger that the redhead was pulling out and putting on his bed. As he opened everything, Furihata saw that there were literally a mountain each of burgers, fries and onion rings. There was also five extra large milkshakes (they were pink so they were most likely strawberry-flavored) and a huge box of something that Akashi placed onto the side table.

Akashi wasn't planning on eating all of that food, was he?

Furihata watched in wonder as Akashi leaned his back against the bed frame, taking one of the burgers from its mountain and unwrapped it. Furihata was stunned speechless when instead of a small polite bite like he was expecting (or pulling out a plate with a fork and knife to eat with), Akashi took a huge messy bite, leaving ketchup and mayo smear on his face as he did so. The redhead moaned loudly as he chewed the burger, eyes closed in utter bliss.

Furihata's face heated up at the sound and the sight of Akashi messily eating the rest of the burger and following it up with a handful of fries.

Even though he should have turned away, Furihata was in a trance as he watched the heir of the Akashi company, the captain of the Generation of Miracles, Akashi freaking Seijuurou himself, all stripped down and stuffing his face like a pig.

Without stopping, Akashi proceeded to eat another two more burgers. As he swallowed some of the onion rings, Furihata watched as the redhead paused for a second as he reached up to stifle a burp against his fist.

Sighing, Akashi grabbed another burger and bit into it, not even caring that some of the sauce had dripped out and landed on his shirt. When he finished the burger, he reached for one of the milkshakes and took a loud slurp from it.

Putting the drink down, Akashi's eyes suddenly widened, making Furihata panic that maybe the redhead had finally noticed him. But then the captain opened his mouth and let out one of the largest belches he ever heard- and he had seen his teammates having a soda chugging contest before and despite all their burps that night, Akashi's burp easily outdid them all. UUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!

Seeing them emperor's cheeks reddened a bit, Furihata was surprised to find himself not disgusted by the other's actions but actually somewhat...aroused by it? God, was there something wrong with him?!

Taking a  deep breath, Akashi put down the drink and reached for more of the fries. Shoving them into his mouth, Akashi made a moaning sound (all the sounds that the redhead was making as he ate was really getting to Furihata and going straight to his groin) and started to unwrap yet another burger.

When Akashi's fingers started to become stained with sauce, oil and even dripping cheese, the other merely licked his fingers clean or wiped it on his clothes. Furihata had to bite his lip to prevent his moan from escaping.

Swallowing yet another burger, Akashi shifted his body so he sat with his legs stretched out before him, wide open. This gave Furihata a good view of the small pudge that started to develop in the other's belly and was straining against the other's tight shorts. Akashi rubbed his stomach, letting out another long wet belch before groaning again. Uuuurrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppppppppp!...Ahhhhhh~

Taking a few breaths, Akashi took another swig from his milkshake, giving out a lot of burps when he released the straw and emptied out the first cup. Ulllp!.....urrrrp!...urrrrp!.....UuurrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP! ....urrrrp!....ulp!....

Furihata watched as the other continued to eat more burgers, shoving fries and rings in between bites. The redhead was belching out more and more as he continued to eat. Furihata could feel the tension raise inside him as he watched the other pig out.

At one point, when Akashi was chewing on another big bite of his burger, the redhead's body suddenly froze and became really stiff.

Furihata was worried that maybe Akashi was finally feeling sick from all the food and was about to puke, but what happened next completely blew Furihata's mind.

The redhead was frozen for a few good seconds, the hand holding the burger lowered down from his mouth as the other hand was now cupping his rounded belly. Then suddenly, Furihata heard a strange squealing noise, quiet at first before it slowly built up more and more until it pretty much sounded like a trumpet blaring loudly.

bbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!...

When it ended, it was like all the tension in Akashi's body was cut like a string, leaving him to collapse against the bed frame completely relaxed, the redhead moaning loudly in relief. There was even a small smile of bliss on his face as he rubbed his belly once more.

Furihata blinked.

Did Akashi Seijuurou just fart?

His mind was still reeling from shock and disbelief before he heard Akashi grunt and actively push out another loud fart.

BRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!....

Akashi gasped when it ended, hiccuping as he reached for his second milkshake to drink.

Furihata suddenly smelled a rancid stench in the air, his face grimacing as he reached up to cup his nose. Despite the sickening smell and the gross display that the Rakuzan captain was giving, why was Furihata sporting a boner from it? Furihata's mind was in utter chaos.

The redhead began stuffing his face once more, this time letting out big farts together with his big burps.

Bbbrrrrrrrttttttt....prrrrrtttt!...UUUUURRRRP!....pffffffttttt!..... Uurrrrpp!.....ulp!....urrrp!....brrrrtttt!...

As Akashi ate, Furihata watched the redhead's belly get bigger and bigger. The brunette realized that the captain's shirt (now stained with sauces, leftover food and grease smears) was smaller than he thought and was now stretched tightly across the now bulging belly.

When Akashi was on his last handful of fries, he shoved the entire thing in his mouth, chewing loudly. When he swallowed it all, the redhead leaned back against the bed frame and moaned. His moaned was interrupted by a few hiccups.

Suddenly, the button of Akashi's shorts popped off, the button shooting across the room and making a loud smack on the wall. Akashi gasped as his shirt had also ridden up, revealing his rounded tummy with red angry stretch marks. Letting out another burp *uuurrrRRRRPPPP!*, Akashi sighed as his butt let out of another thundering fart.

Bbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!...

Furihata couldn't help the moan that left him as he watched the sight of Akashi on his bed with a fat bulging belly hanging out in the open for the world to see, burping and farting loudly without a care.

Akashi suddenly froze at the sound of a moan that wasn't his own.

Furihata gasped as he quickly covered his mouth, eyes wide as the redhead suddenly swerved his head directly to the slightly-opened closet.

The blissful, glazed look that had once been on the redhead's face had now hardened into a terrifying glare that was aimed in Furihata's direction. "*Uuurpp!* Whoever's there, come-ulp! out right this instant-uuurrRRRPPP!" The redhead demanded/belched out, eyes glittering dangerously.

Unable to disobey the obvious order in the redhead's voice, Furihata slowly came out of the closet, eyes locked onto the other's as he was unable to look away.

Akashi as now sitting up straight on his bed, pulling down his messy shirt to attempt to cover his bloated belly but it still popped out as if he was pregnant. His shorts was still opened as the button had flew off earlier. When Akashi recognized him, his eyes widened in shock and mortification- actually, Akashi had a secret crush on the chihuahua from Seirin's team ever since the Winter Cup and Kuroko's birthday. And now his crush completely saw such a disgusting, undignified side to the heir.

"You're Furihata Kou-uuurrrrRRRPPPPP!"  Akashi immediately slammed his hand over his mouth, his face the same color as his hair. They both stared at one another, both blushing madly. "Excuse me." Akashi finally said in a quiet voice. Furihata could see the shame and humiliation practically radiating in the other's aura.

Furihata shook his head. "I-I'm the one who s-should a-a-apologize for trespassing in your room. I was t-trying to escape my c-coach's cooking and I thought this was my r-room. I hid in your closet so you wouldn't s-see me. I'm sorry, A-A-Akashi-san." He stuttered, his hands twitching in front of him. He was mortified as he realized that he was sporting an erection and his boner was obviously tenting through his shorts- becoming bigger from Akashi's last burp.

Akashi's gaze shifted to Furihata's twitching hands and his eyes widened as he noticed the obvious bulge in the other's pants, the brunette obviously trying to hide it. The shame and embarrassment immediately left him as he now wore a contemplating look on his face.

The room was quiet, the only sounds coming from the movie that Furihata had forgotten was even playing. Suddenly, Akashi opened his mouth and let out a very wet belch. UuurrrrrRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!.....

Furihata's face flushed as his body started to act up once more. The brunette tried to hide his hardening erection with his hands as sneakily as he could.

Of course, it was futile since Akashi had seen everything.

The redhead smirked.

Leaning back against the bed frame, Akashi grabbed another burger before gesturing for Furihata to sit next to him on the bed.

Furihata's eyes widened but quickly went to sit next to the redhead when the other started to look impatient.

Keeping the other's eyes on him, Akashi unwrapped his burger (there were only about three left) and took a huge bite, never once straying from Furihata's face.

Furihata's face was a hot red, but he couldn't look away as he watched Akashi devouring the burger, licking off the sauce from his fingers. He didn't even bother with the mayo smeared on his cheeks as he grabbed another burger and started to eat that one too.

When Akashi finished off that burger, he let out a short, sharp burp. *URRRP!* His eyes shifted to Furihata's lap and was happy to see the brunette's straining erection still poking out even though the boy tried to close his thighs to hide it.

Grabbing his milkshake, Akashj gulped it down- not even caring that some of the pink drink was dripping down his cheek and chin and onto his clothes. When his second milkshake was gone, he lowered the cup and immediately another large wet belch burst out of his lips. UUUUULLLLRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!....

Moaning, Akashi leaned against the bed frame once more and started to lift up his shirt so his swollen stomach was on clear display and began to rub his swollen belly in exaggerated movements. Hearing a small moan to his side, Akashi turned to see the brunette staring at his belly with eyes sparked with lust.

Smiling, Akashi grabbed one of his onion rings and held it up to the other. Furihata looked up at him with wide eyes but Akashi merely smiled slyly and asked, "Feed me?"

Furihata's face was completely burning but there was definite lust in the other's face. The brunette immediately nodded and grabbed the onion ring.

With his hand slowly shaking a bit, he held the onion ring to the redhead's lips and watched as the captain opened his mouth and took the ring in, chewing it slowly as they kept their eyes on each other.

When the other swallowed, Furihata also found himself swallowing too. He reached for another onion ring and fed it to the other too.

When Akashi swallowed the onion ring, he pointed to the very last burger. "Feed me-urrp! the last burger-ullp!" He ordered, though his eyes were shining brightly.

Furihata nodded as he reached for the last burger, unwrapping the entire thing. He held it up to the other's lips and watched with wide eyes as the other pretty much shoved half of it into his mouth, smothering sauce all over his face.

It didn't take long for Akashi to finish off the last burger. As the redhead chewed noisily, Furihata reached for one of the unused napkins that came in the Maji Burger bags and leaned in to wipe off the mess on Akashi's face. Akashi merely stared at the brunette, letting the other clean him off as he swallowed the burger, giving off a nice burp at the end. Uuurrrrrrrrpppppppppp!...

There was only few onion rings left and Furihata didn't wait for an order this time, already reaching for the final onion rings and feeding them to Akashi one by one.

When the last onion ring was swallowed, Akashi closed his eyes and groaned, rubbing his full belly. Furihata watched, his fingers twitching as he wondered how it would feel like if he were the one rubbing Akashi's bloated tummy.

Akashi was panting as he rubbed his full belly before he paused, his body tensing up. Suddenly a loud wet fart sounded into the air.

BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!...

Akashi gasped as he took in air, groaning in both relief of the release and disgust of the stench of his flatulence as it hit him.

Furihata lost it.

He grabbed the other by the shoulders and pushed the other down on his back ontop the bed. Akashi gasped, staring at the other with surprised eyes. Suddenly, he found his lips being occupied by the brunette's, being pulled into a fierce deep kiss.

With the brunette on top of him, Akashi could feel the other's straining erection against his hip. Opening his mouth to groan, he suddenly found himself letting out a burp directly into the other's mouth. Uuurrrrrrppppppppp!...

As Furihata made out with the other, suddenly he heard a loud belch and was assimilated with the smell and taste of beef and onions. Furihata accepted the taste and swallowed the burp as he continued to frantically make out with the other.

Akashi moaned, letting himself meld together with the brunette, enjoying the kiss that they were sharing. After a while, Akashi used his leg to flip them over so now the brunette was under him.

Furihata opened his eyes in shock and stared at the redhead above him. Akashi grinned down at him with a mischievous look on his face before he grinded down his bottom onto Furihata's erection and grunted loudly.

PpppprrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTTTTTTTTTTT!...

Furihata moaned as he felt the rumbling fart exit Akashi's butt on top his erection. He didn't even care about the rancid stench that the fart had left behind. He followed his urge and finally reach up to finally touch the other's bloated belly. It was very smooth but firm in his hands- just like a pregnant belly. He could literally feel the gas dancing around inside the other.

Akashi smirked as he bent down and without hesitation let out a huge belch in front of the other's face. *UUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPP!* Furihata moaned in complete lust and Akashi immediately stole his lips once more and began kissing the other senseless.

They continued to make out, Furihata moaning nonstop as he rubbed the other's belly, pushing it at certain points which made the other groan and let out little burps into their kisses or let out wet spluttering farts on the other's body.

Finally, Akashi lost his patience as he leaned away. Furihata began to protest before choking as the redhead rubbed his crotch right against Furihata's own. The friction was absolutely delicious and Akashi leaned down to continue their make out session while rubbing against each other.

It only took another minute or two before Furihata finally came, splurting cum inside his boxers. Feeling the other's warm crotch, Akashi moaned and he too came, burping loudly into the brunette's mouth and farting wetly at the same time as he climaxed. UUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!......BBBBRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!...

As they rode out the rest of their orgasms, Akashi finally rolled off of Furihata, both of them panting as they laid side by side on their backs.

When they recovered from their amazing climaxes, both were feeling very lethargic as they began to cuddle into one another. Furihata snuggled into the other's chest, hands reaching out to lightly rub circles into the other's slightly less bloated belly. Akashi wrapped his arms around the brunette, hugging him tightly as he let out little burps into the other's ears and tooted out a fart every once in a while.

As they cuddled like this, Akashi finally spoke up. "My father is strict-uuurrrppp! and since I've been young, I've been placed on a strict diet of only-ulp! healthy food. Fast food was prohibited in my house. *Urrrrrrpppppp!*" He explained, letting out some burps.

Furihata listened quietly, pressing a gentle kiss onto the other's chest.

Akashi smiled at the kiss and continued. "So whenever I stay overnight-urrrppp! at some place away from home, urrrp! Ha....as long as I have the privacy of my own room, I like to buy a lot of the junk foods that I was never-uuurrrrp! allowed to have and I enjoyed stuffing myself messily with it all, not caring about appearances and having good table manners. While doing these 'eating sessions', I realized that I have quite the large appetite."

Furihata snorted at that. "Yeah you do." Furihata then sighed before pulling away slightly, smiling at the disapproving look on the other's face as he did so, and said. "I'm sorry Akashi-san for sneaking into your room. I truly didn't mean to."

Akashi smiled as he leaned forward and kissed the other's blushing nose. "Apology accepted. It's been more fun than when I do-uuurrrppp! this alone." He admitted. "But I must ask, Furihata-kun is this your fetish?" Akashi asked, looking absolutely interested.

Furihata blushed as he hid his face in the other's chest. "I'm not sure. I didn't think I was interested in this type of stuff. But I think since it's you....well..." Furihata trailed off, embarrassed.

Akashi grinned, satisfied with the brunette's answer. As he sighed, another burp left his lips. Uuurrrlllpppppp!....

The pair both sighed before Furihata quietly asked, "The next time you do...this, can I be there also?" Furihata was blushing like crazy.

Akashi chuckled as he pulled himself away from his lover and sat them both up, leaning against the other on the bed frame. "I would love for you to feed me again, Furihata-kun."

Furihata beamed as he looked at the other. "I can't wait for the next time!"

Akashi had a sly glint in his eyes as he said, "You know, Furihata-kun. We don't have to wait for the next time."

"What do you mean?" Furihata looked at him confused.

Akashi smirked as he pulled away and reached for the big box that he had placed on the side table at the start. Opening it up, Furihata's eyes widened as he saw a dozen doughnuts displayed nicely inside the box.

Grinning at the other's lustful look, Akashi added, "And there IS three more milkshakes left." Setting the box on top the other's lap, Akashi leaned in closer until his lips were almost brushing against the other's. "So will you do me the pleasure of joining me for dessert?" He asked in a seductive voice.

Furihata looked up at him and grinned brightly.

Akashi and Furihata didn't make an appearance in the camp for the rest of the day.

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Shirts and Science Teachers

Based on an imagine from @imaginexhobbit submitted by @hiccuplovver: Imagine the Dwarves giving you a spare shirt to sleep in and them being different sizes.

Word Count: 1632

Well, you got past the screaming in terror – it took a while, but you were proud that you hadn’t passed out like the poor unfortunate Dwarf you’d landed on. Yes, Dwarf. You had rather given up on making sense of where you were, but these small people were definitely not humans. You’d landed on one who looked a bit like the very unfortunate pictures you’d once seen of your dad – complete with bowl-cut hair and decked out in knitwear.

He had braids and a beard, which your 8-year-old father had not sported, but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny. At least he had provided a soft landing, your thoughts informed you, in that sort of detached way you can talk to yourself when you’re in shock. For instance, if you had landed on the bald Dwarf, your thoughts continued as you stared dumbly at the collection of – you wished you could believe they were cosplayers­ – Dwarves, you’d probably have gotten badly hurt. On the other hand, he looked capable enough that he might have caught you, another thought piped up. You winced, rubbing your bum. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you’d landed on a Dwarf, when you missed a step on your run, they were all staring at you in a way that made you feel naked. Scowling at the blonde one who was closest – with a braided moustache he definitely didn’t have grounds to judge anyone’s attire… though he was a bit cute – you really wished it had been autumn instead of high summer this morning. A sports bra and shorts did not seem like adequate protection against the elements when the people around you – oh, god, look at the feet on that one! – were wearing several layers of clothes plus fur collars and massive boots – except the one with the feet, your brain wailed. Shivering, you rubbed your arms.

“Where you attacked, lass?” One of them looked like a non-Coca-Cola version of Santa Claus and smiled kindly at you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, as you wondered whether you’d fallen and hit your head or perhaps someone had maced you with a hallucinogenic?

“You speak?” you asked, because your filter had taken a hiatus at the moment. The Dwarves frowned. You weren’t quite sure which one to watch, given that they all seemed armed – except the one with hairy feet, your brain piped up helpfully. Unfortunately, the Dwarves seemed to take offense, the bald one’s axes springing into his hands so quickly you wondered if it was magic. Taking two steps back, you bumped against someone a good bit taller than you were. A whimper escaped you. There were Dwarves here… who’s to say this dream wouldn’t also have giants? Craning you head back, you caught sight of grey cloth, following the fabric up up up to a long grey beard and a wrinkly face that seemed oddly familiar.

“There you are!” the very tall man – made no smaller by the pointy hat and, oh god, this was a bleedin' wizard! – smiled at you. Oddly enough, you relaxed slightly. Frowning quizzically, the wizard – you felt more than a little hysterical by now – moved you around to face him. “What are you wearing, child?” he asked. Suddenly, something in your mind went ding!

“Mr. Grey?” you boggled up at him. The wizard – Mr. Grey, your erstwhile science teacher– smiled.

“They call me Gandalf, here,” he said conspiratorially. An involuntary giggle escaped you.

“Where is here?” You idly wondered why you weren’t freaking out yet, but maybe this calm was simply the one that came before an epic storm. “Who are they,” you gestured at the collected Dwarves, who were still staring at you. You felt quite sure that cheeky blonde from before had been checking out your arse.

“This is a small project I’d like your help with,” Mr. Grey intoned solemnly as if that would avert the major eruption of temper you could feel building. “I remember you being quite good at track and field, and they need a guide as I am needed elsewhere.” Wait, what?! “Here’s the map, and I see you’re wearing your compass already,” he continued blithely. You were now regretting the unbreakable habit of strapping the small compass to your person every time you left the house. “Good luck!”

You could only stand there, frozen – figuratively and soon-to-be-literally you realised as night was coming fast – while Mr. Grey – Gandalf?? – mounted a large horse and rode off before you could manage any protest. Whirling, you stared at the group, who were staring back even as they had begun to make camp.

You fainted.

  “Think she’s dead?” Someone said, while a thick finger prodded your side.

“Nah, just overwhelmed. The wizard did say the magic stuff was taxing, Fee,” someone else replied. Your hand snapped out, catching the fingers that had been poking you. Someone drew in a surprised breath. Feeling like your captive only remained so to humour you – he felt like he could have snapped your wrist with ease – you opened your eyes in a harsh glare. The blonde smiled at you, revealing dimples. You groaned. Of course, he had dimples too, as if the hair and the eyes weren’t enough. Then you caught sight of the braided beard again and you finally lost it.

“Oy, lads, let me through,” you heard, though the Dwarf hardly managed to drown out the sound of your own laughter. More thick hands probed, but this one was obviously just checking that you didn’t have a cracked skull, so you let him do as he pleased. The laughing fit eventually subsided. “How do you feel?” the Medic Dwarf asked, his voice gruff but kind. He felt trustworthy.

“Cold,” you admitted, slightly sheepish when you realised you were still holding the blonde’s hand, making him bend awkwardly over Medic-Dwarf’s shoulder, “sleepy.” You let go of blondie, who seemed far too relieved for your self-confidence. You hadn’t been running long enough to smell, and, again, these people had definitely gone a few days or more without soap, so he couldn’t judge. You scowled in his direction again, on principle, even though he didn’t see it, having turned away to speak with the dark-haired Curly-Dwarf.

“Right,” Medic-Dwarf got to his feet, the ear trumpet falling away from an ear that seemed larger than ears rightfully should be. His grey and white beard was even more fantastically braided than blondie’s, but medic-Dwarf could carry it off, you decided, feeling lethargic. “We need to find her something to wear before she gets hypothermia,” Medic-Dwarf continued. You nodded sleepily. That sounded like a plan.

“Anyone got a spare shirt?” a new voice barked, obviously used to having its questions treated as commands. The bustling told you he was being obeyed with alacrity, as you watched bemusedly as the Dwarves rooted through packs. “A clean shirt,” General-Dwarf barked, exasperated. You almost wanted to laugh again. Trying to sit up was a bad plan, you discovered, swaying dizzily. Santa-Dwarf caught your shoulder, effortlessly picking you up, which was a little impressive. He put you down on a collection of fur, which looked a lot like the cloak General-Dwarf had been wearing when you landed on Knitting-Dwarf.

A throat was cleared above your head. Looking up, you noticed Bald-Dwarf’s scowl as he held out a green shirt, a match to his own if you remembered right. Daylight was rapidly fading, making it hard to see. Smiling thankfully – it didn’t hurt to be polite, even if the Dwarf hadn’t been scary – you pulled the shirt over your head. The Dwarf laughed. Looking down at yourself, you joined him with a chuckle. Not only was the shirt big enough to be considered a dress on you, but the neck opening was so wide you wondered if you could get both shoulders through it.

“Not really my size,” you admitted. The temptation was too strong, and with a small wiggle, both your arms popped out of the shirt-cum-skirt.

“Aye, yer a wee lassie,” he rumbled. You blushed, feeling underdressed beneath his stare. Straightening your spine, you returned his measuring gaze with one of your own. Bald-Dwarf laughed again. “Keep it, lassie, can’t have you walking around in your underwear.” With a shrug, Bald-Dwarf went to sit beside Santa-Dwarf, who elbowed him none-too-gently and hissed something you didn’t catch. Obviously, Santa-Dwarf was his older brother, you thought, recognizing that combination of fondness and exasperation on his face common to all older siblings.

“Maybe one of mine?” Blondie was back. You resisted the urge to blush again when he smiled at you like you were pretty. Pretty naked, perhaps, your brain hissed, grabbing the blue shirt he was holding towards you. “I’m Fíli, by the way,” he said, with a slight bow. It looked so practiced you didn’t think he was mocking you.

“Y/N” you replied. He smiled, holding the bundle of fabric towards you once more. With a shrug, you pulled the shirt over your head, getting yourself tangled in the laces. Feeling overwhelmed by the events of the day, you wanted to cry, yanking at the fabric. “Hey, hey, relax,” Blondie – no, Fíli – said, and suddenly your head popped through the right opening. The shoulders were still too wide for your frame, but at least this shirt couldn’t double as a sleeved skirt. “There, all better.” He murmured. You nodded tiredly. Swaying on your feet, you yawned.

“Put her in one of the bedrolls, Fíli,” Medic-Dwarf said, passing by on his way to the fire. “I don’t like the blue tinge to her lips.”

“Yes, Óin,” Fíli acquiesced and suddenly you found yourself being carried again, until he had put you down on some sinfully warm furs, covering you with the equally warm cloak.

Your eyes closed.

Follow-up: Names

[mkinaia]

Week 9

Activity 1

The original photo is of a hippopotamus and an animal caretaker on a circus site. The ground is flat, covered by mud/dirt and grass. The background is made up by the fabric of the circus tent. The photo is about the difficulties and fear instilled in the caretaker by the hippopotamus that she has to tame. The image amplifies the danger of this job and the poor conditions which circus individuals have to work under. 

The cropped photo is of a woman, perhaps a gypsy or sort of entertainer. She is standing on flat land and a curtain has been set up as a wall behind her. She is holding a stick in her hand. The photo is about the unhappiness and uncomfortable nature of the woman. Her posture and facial expressions are tense, she seems closed off to the world. There might be a message about the mistreatment of women in the entertainment/show business hidden in this image. 

Activity 2

Caption 1: Looking for Mum and Dad - makes viewers think that the children have run ahead from their parents and now don’t know where they are or that the children have been left behind on their own after an automobile incident.

Caption 2: Timeout - the messiness of the ice cream combined with the expressions of disagreement and upset on the children’s faces creates a mood of familial chaos.

Caption 3: A Sunny Summer Day - gives viewers a sense of nostalgia for the bliss of summer during childhood.

Caption 4: Adventures of a Stuffed Toy - changes the focus of the photo to the stuffed toy and makes viewers think of all the activities the toy has had to endure (similar to Disney’s Toy Story).

Caption 1: Grounded - viewers would think that there had been a problem with the plane or that there had been a terror threat, which forced the plane to make an emergency landing. 

Caption 2: Spectatorship - the crowd could be at an airshow, marveling at the stunts that the pilots are able to perform. 

Caption 3: Power of the Media - the man with the binoculars could be a reporter chronicling the events at this location. Since viewers cannot see what he is looking at through the binoculars, they have to blindly trust his written word.

Caption 4: Awaiting Quarantine - in today’s climate, this would be immediately associated with the COVID-19 pandemic. Viewers would assume that a passenger on the plane tested positive for the virus and now all the travelers are waiting to be taken into  a 14 day quarantine.

Mohamed Bourouissa 

The main message of Bourouissa’s work is about the concept of integration. He aims to depict the margins of society with all their socio-economic tensions and intertwine them into the main mode of history which we are familiar with. He aims to mix “home” history and “school” history into one cohesive unit. Bourouissa does this in his Free Trade series by capturing photos of youths in infamous neighborhoods which undermine the stereotypes which people hold about them. He poses his subjects in a manner inspired by classical art history.

The focus of the photo is on the two men which are the subjects. Their designer (Lacoste) dress and confident postures are contrasted by the barren environment in which they are located. The bright white coloration of their dress illuminates them against their background, delivering the effect that the stereotypical darkness of their suburb does not define or dictate how their life path will end up. They can grow up to be successful and confident despite the stereotypes surrounding their homes. Composition wise, each man’s stance resembles that of a triangle, a shape often associated with strength. I would say that it is necessary to know the context behind Bourouissa’s work in order to fully comprehend the message about bridging the gap between high and low societies. The title of this particular photo provides no helpful information and the candid style of the series is reminiscent of Bruce Davidson’s work from the gallery in week one about the UK in the 1960s. 

Anton Kusters

Kusters’ main message in The Blue Skies Project series is to investigate the concept of representing trauma. He questions how we honor traumatic events in history - in this case the concentration camps of Nazi Germany - and challenges his viewers to continue the process of memory through this series. He does this in the utmost simplistic form. The series is entirely made up of instant film polaroid images, which were stamped with the number of victims at each camp as well as the geographic coordinates of the camp. All the photos depict a blue sky above the location of the concentration camp. 

The focus of the photo is the blue sky. Its bright blue color is contrasted and accentuated by the black borders of the film. The white clouds help to call attention to the white stamp at the bottom of the polaroid. The composition of the photo is overall circular, whether it be in regards to the clouds or the actual framing of the sky. Circles are typically associated with the concept of timelessness. The sky which is depicted for the viewers of today is what the individuals at the concentration camp during World War 2 were viewing everyday. This goes back to Kusters’ attempt at helping his audience to continue to process the memory and truly feel the emotions of those that suffered during this time period. This photo also needs the exhibition text for the audience to understand its message. There is no title provided for this photo and the style does not particularly remind of another series. 

Mark Neville

Neville’s Parade series plays with the notion of utopia. The series contains two groupings of photos. One delivers the message that a better, utopia world is achievable while the other group delivers the opposite. The audience instead gets the message that the idea of a better world is only a dream, delivering the anxiety that comes with that mentality as well. Neville does this through practicing a combination of social documentation and art. The series is community-based, with both still and moving images.

The focus of the photo is the young girl holding the pom poms. The brightness of the artificial coloring of her clothing as well as the pom poms is contrasted by the earth tones which make up the environment around her as well as the dogs which are surrounding her. The girl and the dogs make up a rectangle which is a shape associated with stability. Neville spoke about the strong, personal relationships the individuals of Guingamp have with their pets and livestock. The stability of the rectangle shows that the young girl finds comfort and heightened confidence when surrounded by her dogs. The facial expression and mood of the young girl even seems to be reflected in the stances of her dogs as well. I do not think that you necessarily need the exhibition text to realize the message of the series. The message about social documentation can be interpreted from the image alone. The title of the photo is Parade #7, it does not provide any context for analysis. The style of the photo reminds me of Karen Knorr’s Metamorphoses with the relation of animals in day to day life. 

Clare Strand

The main message of The Discrete Channel with Noise is that we must question how we receive and interpret information in today’s digital age. To deliver this message through her work, Strand had her husband send her coded messages from an an already agreed upon code grid for her photographs. Once she received the message, Strand would recreate the image from the code messaged to her on a large-scale grid via painting. The resulting replication of the original image would accentuate the message on the misinterpretation of information in day to day life. 

The focus of this photograph is the man capturing an image with his camera. The modernity and prestige of his attire is contrasted by the barren and rural landscape which surrounds him. There is no color in the photo except for the red numbers which make up the grid code Strand’s husband utilized. The man’s arms create a triangle shape (strength), the camera is rectangular (stability), and the general stance of the man is rectangular (stability). Without reading the text, viewers would be confused as to the message of the photo, particularly with all the numbers covering the photo. With no background knowledge, it would be difficulty to understand why the numbers are covering the image. The title of the image is Information Source #3, without knowledge of the exhibition text, it would not prove to be very helpful in giving context to the photo’s message. I have not seen a series of similar style before. 

In my view, I believe that Clare Strand’s series should win the competition. Though her message on the misinterpretation of information in today’s digital age is not an unknown idea, her concept and delivery of the message is truly unique. She is also able to blend photography and painting, two separate forms of art, into one harmonious series. 

Caption 1: Three’s a Crowd

Caption 2: Detroit, June 2019

Caption 3: Birthday Loneliness

The message I am trying to portray with these images is about the concept of familial bonds. Family is the foundation of all life and having a strong family support system - filled with love, laughter, and motivation - truly helps to make individuals stronger. The first caption frames the photo so that it seems like the subject on the far right is not a cohesive part of this grouping, as if she was only invited on this outing as a courtesy. The second caption leaves interpretation of the photo completely in the viewer’s hands since it is vague and only gives time and location. The third caption gives viewer context that the image is taken at a birthday celebration. The subject on the far right is presumably the individual who’s birthday it is. The message from this caption could be that the attention never truly falls on the right person during a birthday celebration or that the person who seeks attention does not receive it, leaving them feeling more lonely that appreciated. When I cropped the image to remove the far right individual of the frame, it becomes easier to deliver the message about familial bonds. The subjects are two sisters, laughing blissfully together. The blurred motion depicts the constant occurrence of events in their lives which they take on together as one unit. The image is a self-timer photo that I set up.