#lust ended with Cypher

[masked-babes]

I would do unspeakable things for this man

[finniestoncrane]

Tattletale

Dano!Riddler x Female!OC, word count: 2.1k Final chapter here! (also on AO3). Chapter 1 is here. Chapter 2 is here. request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

Eddie didn’t sleep very much, not that he usually did. Between the nightmares, his work and his plans, very rarely did he have a chance to get the rest he required. He was running on fumes most days, fuelled only by his rage, his passion, and now his lust. But it was more than that. And while it was difficult for him to let the truth in, allow himself to embrace the vulnerability of accepting that he cared deeply for her, he couldn’t deny that there was something pushing him to act faster than he had planned. And that something was also the reason he was awake trying to make pancakes for the first time in his life.

“Morning, Eddie.” She was rubbing her eyes, stretching up so that the t-shirt she slept in revealed more of the underwear she had borrowed from him that she might have meant.

“Morning.” His voice squeaked, cracking awkwardly as he died inside.

“You’re cooking?”

“Making pancakes. Do you like pancakes?”

“Totally!”

She took a seat at the tiny table, cross legged on the chair, thighs thick and soft and welcoming. Thankfully, she was too busy fiddling with the ends of her hair to notice his lingering gaze, but both of them looked up when the smell of burning started to fill the air.

“Oh…shoot.”

“I’ll have those! I like them crispy.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Honestly, Eddie. This is the first time in a long time that someone has made food for me. Ever in fact, maybe. At least since I was able to use a microwave and reach the freezer!”

He frowned slightly as he set the plate down in front of her, grabbing the other and sitting across from her.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be funny…but it was just sad. I don’t know, a lot of my stories are like that. Weirds people out sometimes.”

“No, no. I get that. I don’t have a lot of…good stories either.”

“Hmmm…” a satisfied moan as she grinned, stuffing some pancake into her mouth.

“Are you ok?”

“Of course! These are great, I was just thinking how nice it was that we were brought together. Like fate?”

“Like being cornered in a VIP room and threatened.” He realised the words might come across as harsh and shot her a smile, looking up over the top of his glasses as he dug out a fluffier bit from the middle of his pancake.

“Fate!” She playfully slapped at his arm. “We’re very similar people, I just knew there was something about you. Something to trust, or put my faith into. I don’t know, I’m babbling. I just feel like we’ve known each other forever. That’s silly though. I’m sorry.”

“I grew up in the orphanage.”

She looked up from her plate and he avoided her gaze directly, too busy wondering where that had come from, why he was suddenly opening up. That would only complicate things. There wasn’t much that could come from it, and yet he kept going, he wanted to.

“I saw kids come and go, saw them leave happily, saw them die in the conditions. I felt guilty every day, that I was allowed to survive. I thought, briefly, that it might have been because I was strong? But I learned quickly that I wasn’t. I was weak. But for some reason, I was spared. And I believe that was because I was supposed to be here, doing this, doing…everything.” He gestured to his apartment, the notes on the wall, his jacket, question mark cypher on the front, hanging on the back of the door. “And there’s something intriguing about the fact that you think we were meant to meet too. So no, I don’t think it’s silly. I think it’s very likely.”

Reaching across the table, she took Eddie’s hand in hers, rubbing the back of it softly with her thumb, tracing the veins that stood out, tickling over his knuckles as she smiled at him and made that sound, that hum, the soft note of pleasure. His fingers untensed, palm opening up, threatening to turn over to take her hand in his, but he pulled back.

“Uh…let me show you what I worked on last night.” He got up quickly and she followed behind, much to his dismay, as he was very aware of how heavily he was breathing, fully conscious of the fact she was close behind him, face slightly sticky from the syrup, legs exposed, wearing his t-shirt, his underwear, smelling almost sickly sweet.

“This uh…this is…” he shuffled some papers away, throwing a notebook into the drawer, drawing her attention back to the notes scrawled onto loose sheets of paper. “This is what I have. I’ll be going after Falcone, I always was, but I’ve managed to successfully organise…rally everyone. It actually works out better this way, you’re a blessing.” He blushed, turning his body away from her, unaware of her own cheeks reddening behind him. “There’s…more to it, but basically it’s-”

“Wait, The Batman?”

“Yes!”

“Is it…a good idea to involve him?”

“It’s hard to explain it, but he’s already involved.”

“Wow, Eddie. You’ve got some good connections.”

She moved behind him, walking over to the window, staring down the block towards Falcone’s club. He watched her, eyes only briefly lingering on the creases where her cheeks and thighs met, mostly taking her in completely, sad that it would soon be over. She didn’t need to know about the bombs, about the sea wall. About how well his plans fit in with election night, the final nail in the coffin for Gotham’s corrupt elite. She really had made things better. It was like she was returning his favour to her.

“Eddie, I’m really…” She turned from the view, leaning against the window sill, one arm rubbing the other, uncharacteristically shy. Eddie took a few steps towards her, closing the gap, her own confidence seemingly instilled in him now, shock at his own movements. “…it’s been so weird and wonderful getting to know you. And even before you knew me, you were so willing to help. A complete stranger!”

“I feel like I know you better than I know most people, truthfully.”

“I feel the same. I feel a lot for you, actually.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, three days ago, had he thought that she’d even know his name let alone be in his house, smelling of him, his bed in turn smelling of her. Her body, washed in his shower, fed with his food, kept warm by his blankets. He’d have laughed at the very idea, scoffed, pretended to be thankful that he had his space all to himself, even though, more than anything in the world, more than revenge, righteousness, civility, he wanted someone to hold, to be held in turn.

And before he was aware of it, he had closed the distance, her body leaning to his, standing on her toes to reach up to his face, his hands holding her, balanced, softly pressed onto her hips, as their lips met. He couldn’t breathe, his breath had hitched in his throat, never really making it out and nothing making its way back in. But he felt that if he died in that moment, then he’d truly die happy. With her hands around his neck, fingers gently stroking his hair, his palms on her hips and waist, thick and soft, gently grinding against him. The kiss, soft, passionate, flavoured with genuine feelings.

Nothing had felt like that before. No lusting, no secret and shameful trips to the club, no murder, no planning, no puzzles, no imagined scenarios where he was safe, happy, loved by parents, warm in a house. There had been nothing up to this point in his life that had filled him with such a strong sense of belonging, of being wanted, cared for.

Bravery inspired by that hum again, the tuneful and vibrating symphony of her pleasure and agreement against his own mouth, inspired him to let his hands go, free to wander. Up her back, through her hair to pull her closer to his mouth, the other on the side of her waist, thumb stroking and gently teasing the t-shirt she wore up, until his fingers could feel the warm skin underneath.

Finally, the lack of oxygen caught up to him, and he pulled back, gasping desperately for air, giggling when he finally found his breath. She was laughing too, brushing her hair behind her face, biting her lip and shuffling her feet. With her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, letting her sink into him, an embrace that almost knocked him off his feet and had him standing, speechless, arms around her, head buried into her neck as he watched the streets out of the window.

“Maybe we can make it out together, huh?”

“Sure.”

“Escape somewhere, even just for a little while. See if we can make something of this.”

“Of course.”

As they drew back from their hug, he kissed her forehead, telling her she should get dressed, that the shower should heat up quicker than it did the night before. When he knew she was in the bathroom, door locked, shower on, he went over to his desk. From the bottom drawer, he pulled out a clump of greetings cards, ones he had picked up here and there, a stash so he never ran out. Inside, he wrote out a message in his best handwriting, which was still closer to a scribble.

“I’m sorry that it had to end this way. Please know that it was not my intention to deceive you. Your kiss meant so much, your friendship meant more.”

He sealed it in the envelope, holding it in his hands as he suppressed a surge of emotions. By the door was a backpack, one he had filled for her earlier. He placed the card inside, right at the back. Appearing at the door in a towel, she startled him.

“What’s that?”

“Oh! It’s a uh…backpack. I filled it with some clothes, money, just enough that you can get out of here.”

Her face contorted in instant anguish.

“Aren’t we going together, Eddie?”

“You need to go first, before everything. I can meet you after. I’ve got a place you should head to here, in Bludhaven.” He passed a scrap of a map with directions on the back to her, sneaking one glimpse at her body, went and wrapped in the towel, as he did so.

“And you’ll be there, tonight?”

There were more moments in between her question and his answer than there should have been. Her uncertainty growing with every second that passed, as he tried to decide whether his lie was worth it.

“I promise.”

It was hard for her to believe him, his eyes looking sad, hurt, behind his lenses. She left anyway, trying to show her trust in him. She boarded the right train, walked the right distance, arrived at the area under the bridge at the exact right time. Taking a seat on the bench that looked out onto the river, she waited patiently for Eddie. Phone off silent, checking it constantly. Deep down, past the knowledge that either something had gone wrong, or that he was lying, she focused on the part of her that knew he would show up. He was on his way. He’d been held up. He was coming.

But he wasn’t. For hours, she sat in the spot he had sent her to, backpack slung over her shoulder, nervously switching it from left to right as she paced, and sat, and sighed, holding back tears. And after almost 100 texts, an equal amount of unanswered phone calls, she had finally got an answer, but not from Eddie.

“Who is this? Are you an associate of Edward Nashton?”

“Who are you?”

“This is the GCPD. If you are a known associate of Edward Nashton then you’ll-”

In a panic, she threw the phone into the river, grabbing the backpack and heading back to the station. If Edward was in trouble she would help. But at the station, the crowds were gathered, watching videos, news footage on phones, some people screaming, some crying, as news of the floods, of the devastation and death in Gotham. Falcone was dead, The Riddler was in custody. Known associates, those who had acted to his instructions, were being hunted and detained.

She paid for a ticket back to Gotham. Eddie had done her a favour, he had saved her. And she would at least try and do the same for him.

[shealwaysreads]

Sterek Fic Recs: Friends to Lovers Edition

Climb Inside His Skin by @obroech 

“Derek—Derek "my predominant expressions are long-suffering and longer-suffering" Hale—has a classical literature collection. 

Stiles has managed to skirt, outwit, destroy, or otherwise run screaming from at least a dozen different supernatural shitstorms since graduating Beacon Hills High School three years ago, but nothing - nothing - could have prepared him for this.”

Beautifully built up friends to lovers, with college!age Stiles and Derek who has done his therapy and committed to staying in Beacon Hills by building his home library there. Tucking each other into bed, smiles across rooms and open and honest communication. A slight altercation with a Selkie and a happy ending. What more could you want?

Of college boys, old tv shows, trust and heavy petting by @original-cypher 

“It's a quiet midday during Spring Break at Derek's. Stiles is set on a lazy afternoon, and judging by the way Derek is sinking into the couch, he won't get any arguments from the sleepy alpha, so he settles for his usual routine of 'petting the werewolf's hair'. It all goes like usual until they make an interesting discovery.”

Alpha!Derek, everyone is alive and in college. Derek and Stiles get left alone in Derek’s apartment and simple relaxation turns into an exploration of trust and lust. Sensual and sweet, with a lovely light atmosphere. Neck kink ahoy!

The Scent Of Our Summer by @rachtay13

"You're gonna burn," Derek says, eyes lingering on the pale skin of Stiles' bicep, trailing down to the sparse hairs of his underarm. He wants to lay his cheek there and close his eyes.

Stiles smiles, stretches out further on the worn dock, and says, "Good."

Dreamy, soft story of the pack on a break away from Beacon Hills. Derek admits his feelings and he and Stiles work through them in the sunshine and the water and the moonlight. 

We’ll Still Have the Summer by @allyasavedtheday

He’s too busy waxing poetic in his own head about the surly – dreamy – dude holding the sign for the hotel to notice Scott already making his way over. He pauses halfway when he realises Stiles isn’t following him, turning around and eyeing Stiles curiously, “Dude, come on, the guy’s waiting.”

Stiles snaps himself into action and pushes his cart carrying his suitcases over to where Scott’s introducing himself to Stiles’ future husband.

“-And this is Stiles,” Scott is saying just as Stiles arrives next to him.

“I’m Derek,” the guy replies gruffly, folding the sign up and tucking it under his arm. “I’ll be taking you back to the hotel.”

A lovely summery AU with no werewolves, and sterek meeting at a hotel in Hawaii when Stiles and Scott go there to work. Cue the pack getting together (even though they aren't a pack here per say), Scott and Allison being adorable in any universe, and Stiles and Derek dancing around each other. Fluff and sunshine and a happy ending. Perfect combination.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 2 of 30]

Summary: Erik opts to keep his distance from Yani and focus on Klaue and getting to Wakanda. Erik also meets his new temporary roommate...

NSFW. Mature audience only. As always, thanks for reading and please comment/reblog if you enjoy the series. Hi new readers, happy to meet you on this new Erik journey. Part 3 on the way....

"To every hundred niggas that came and gone missing Only a handful will go the distance I swear I seen this shit coming as if I was living up under the plumbing While niggas was riffing and mumbling 'bout, what they could do I was cooking gumbo whipping the voodoo I was in the jungle running with Zulu's We was looking past the struggle while life was moving so fast You had to be shopping at Ginsu To the top of the food group Doing what I want and how I should too

Stepped in the waters The water was cold Chi in my body But it didn't touch my soul Stepped in the waters The water was cold…"

Anderson.Paak – "The Waters"

He tells her his name, his real name, and the girl who talked to animals allowed her big wide eyes to ease up on their sharpness.

Yani sat back and allowed the water to catch her back as her body disappeared under the small wave of balmy liquid that lifted her away from him. Erik stayed put, watching her backstroke away from him and further out into the sea. He wanted to follow her, felt his toes grip the sand under his feet to cast off after her, but he felt stalkerish and remained where he was.

She was real.

Yemanjá.

Erik felt the blood in his body coursing through him, the thrumming of searing red in his veins making him clench and unclench his fists.

Disǎ.

He sat back in the water and let it buoy him up, his eyes following the path of Yani's body swimming. He found it odd that he could look at this woman and think of his ex-girlfriend Disǎ who he left behind in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

No, maybe it wasn't odd, because the way he was reacting to this young woman treading about in open water was the same way he reacted to his first love…Disǎ.

The voice.

Like Yani, Erik had only heard Disǎ's voice before he met her, and something about the tone, the lilt, the inflections, the sonic soothing he received from it made him weak for her before he even saw her face. He felt a weight drift down on him. He put Disǎ through hell, denied her things that she wanted, made promises he couldn't keep, and she left him. Refused to connect with him ever again. Walking into that relationship had been an exercise in self-flagellation. Love was something he never sought out because he knew he was not made to love and settle down.

He was a mover, a nomad…he had no real home, not really, no place to lay his head and call his own. Rootless. He had to be rootless in order to finish the path that had been laid out for him. A path that started when he found his father dead in his apartment. Dead and alone.

Erik had to keep himself emotionally dead inside and alone too. All that love ever did for him was rend his body in half and grind his bones into dust. So he knew something was wrong when he heard Yani's voice speaking to a damn lizard in a tree, recognized the tell-tale signs of that dangerous pursuit into madness. He had only ever felt that way before with his ex. All that fucking back and forth with Disǎ when he graduated from M.I.T., joined the Navy, made Special Ops, and then headed into the work of a mercenary for a greater good…it stripped away a relationship he held dear and couldn't hold onto because he was never around. And that feeling, that feeling of wanting someone was seducing his conscious mind as he watched this girl swim.

Life was about choices.

And sometimes choices meant letting things be.

The heat and the dazzling sunlight and the beauty of the pale blue sea were probably just fucking with him anyway. Plus, he hadn't gotten his dick wet in a long time, and to come across a woman with a body like that…naked, on an isolated beach…well shit, no wonder he was feeling punch drunk with lust.

Nigga, get your shit together.

Yani wasn't feeling him anyway, every time she looked at him it was like she had an extra sour lemon in her mouth.

Erik dragged himself out of the water and put his trunks back on.

He didn't bother to look back at her when he left.

###

After lunch, Klaue left a message on Erik's cell to meet him in the third house. His private abode.

Erik meandered down the compound walkway toward the house. It was perched closer to the edge of the hillside overlooking the sea. Erik caught breathtaking views and when he entered the house after a retinal scanner cleared him, he felt like he was entering an ancient Zulu enclave. Nothing in the house matched the light-colored airy Caribbean theme of the other houses. The dark shadowed interior of dark-grained wood and dark furniture enveloped South African artwork, with a plethora of large carved wooden masks, and plenty of drums. Djembes, dunduns, a three drum bata set, bougarabous…

Erik stepped in front of a djembe and rubbed his fingers across the skin. His fingers ticked up and he began beating out the rhythms he learned as a child from his Uncle Bakari when he used to drum for his grandfather and mother when they taught capoeira back in Oakland. The heel of the palm, then his fingers struck the skin harder, faster, and the acoustics picked up the sound and drowned the room with the ferocity he slapped down.

Erik rocked his shoulders and let his head droop forward, his locs flopping over his eyes as he allowed the drum vibrations to move through him. He let his head bob as he remembered days back in Oakland on school lunch tables, pounding out beats with his fists when there were no drums, or finding the hollow parts in his chest or thigh when he would strike his own body with his open palm to create the percussive boom bap to help his childhood friends spit bars in ragtag cyphers. He felt the moist sensation in his mouth as he shaped his lips to beatbox in time to his drumming. It all came back to him vividly, joyfully, and he couldn't help the curling of his bottom lip as he bit into it, thinking of his days running the streets, just being hood wild and free.

He ended the cadence with a slowing down of his hands until only his fingertips were caressing the edges of the drum.

"Well look at you."

Klaue's voice brought him out of his reverie and Erik stepped away from the djembe.

"Hope that wasn't some artifact," Erik said.

Klaue shrugged and headed over to a round old-world wooden globe. He pulled the top back and inside of the globe was a hidden bar filled with various liquors and libations.

"Share a whiskey?" Klaue asked.

"Sure."

Klaue poured them healthy amounts in crystal tumblers and handed one to Erik.

"Interesting décor."

"I wanted to have a bit of home away from home. Of all my hideaways, this place is my favorite."

"It's pretty sweet. Quiet too."

"Not for much longer. Once everyone is here, I'll need you to keep your foot on their necks."

"Newbies?"

"Most you know from the Kabul job. Is your man Tahir still a no show?"

Erik took a deep drag of the whiskey. It was aged to perfection. He let a bit of it linger over his teeth before swallowing.

"They still got him on that no-fly list. He's chillin' in Damascus. He can do any other jobs you got, but Africa is a no go."

"Too bad. Good man. And that is what we need. Good men."

Erik studied Klaue's face.

"What's the problem?"

Klaue glanced at him.

"You can always read me so quick. It's Huntsman. I really don't want to use him, but I can't find anyone else with experience on the borders."

"Tahir will probably be tied up the next six months—"

"Too long to wait."

"W'sup with Huntsman?"

"He has issues…with you."

"That's his problem. He don't even know me."

"Ah, but he knows your reputation. Something about you sticks in his craw."

"You don't have to use him."

"With no Tahir available, I'm afraid I do. Unless you have someone else."

"Nah. I culled away my last team. I only have three that I stick with now and we freelance for DynCorp most jobs. Those guys are already under contract."

"Timing is key with these next two jobs."

"You still toying with using submersibles?"

"I will need our pretty blue metal for that."

The holy grail. Vibranium.

"I got some leads that I hope will pan out soon," Erik said. He could sense Klaue chomping at the bit.

He really did have some leads.

One was from a friend of his mother's who worked with the British Museum. She had passed on some information about some museum exchanges up on the horizon, a collection of fifteenth-century West African armaments and masks. It wasn't the collection he was looking for, but it was part of an exchange program originating out of Benin. Erik and Klaue would be heading to Angola in a month to set up an arms deal and then slip into the Northeastern part of Nigeria to covertly meet with some members of Boko Haram and the Nigerian government. Klaue played both sides of every deal he made. Erik planned on slipping into Benin and checking out the newly constructed Royal Benin Museum. His research uncovered plans for the museum to start receiving indigenous stolen art on a rotating basis from European museums that held plundered artwork from an 1897 British invasion in Dahomey. Erik needed to see for himself if any pieces contained vibranium.

His tongue gently tapped against his tattoo inside his lower bottom lip. He could feel the irritating cutaneous sensation tickling his gums from the traces of vibranium used in the vibram tattoo ink. The itchy tickling only happened when he was near pure vibranium. Like the pure vibranium emanating from Klaue's prosthetic arm.

Klaue picked up the whiskey bottle again and Erik took another half tumbler of the dark amber liquid.

"I want you to move down here in this house when all the men are here. There are some conversations we need to have in private."

Erik didn't question him. It took him this long to be invited to stay at any of his safe houses. That meant that he was now part of the trusted inner circle. He would just have to watch out for Huntsman. He was Klaue's boy for the last seven years, but Erik was aiming to be the only righthand man. Getting to the safe house was the culmination of meticulous, deliberate, and patient planning. Their first meeting in Iraq gave the man an intro to who Killmonger was. They didn't meet again until an arms deal in Kosovo proved fruitful when Erik's new team was able to assist Klaue through a mutual trustworthy middle man. It was then that Erik first showed Klaue a small amount of vibranium he stole from some arms dealers he tracked down to a small forgotten village in Iraq.

Erik ignored Klaue after that, turned him down for several jobs before Klaue started hinting that he may need to return to Wakanda and steal again. Then and only then did Erik drop word that he was down for any excursions into his father's country. The two men teamed up within months to help one another scour the earth for any pockets of vibranium they could find. On those missions, they only worked with each other and two other men, Tahir and one of Klaue's boys, a fellow South African who asked very little about the blue magic. A year later, Erik was now sipping brown liquor in the man's private home.

"Let's take a walk," Klaue said.

Erik followed him down a pathway that led to another section of beach hidden from where Yani's cove jutted out.

Klaue took off his sandals and his feet touched the sand.

"Hot!" he said slipping the sandals back on.

Erik's flip-flops felt too thin for the sand in this particular area that was littered with a few broken seashells.

"What do you want out of life, Killmonger?"

Erik stared at Klaue. The whites of the man's eyes were a little pink, and there were tiny spiderwebs of broken blood vessels cresting his nose. The man did like the sauce a little too much. Erik had personally witnessed him overconsuming alcoholic beverages to the point of falling over and having to be carried off by Erik or his other men.

"Money. What else?" he answered.

Klaue let his eyes trace the horizon of ocean before him.

"You know, at one time I was a billionaire."

"Really? How you fuck that up?"

Klaue guffawed and his laughter made him rock back in his sandals and clutch Erik's arm for balance, spilling a little of his drink on the sand.

"I sold my entire cache of vibranium to a Tony Stark creation."

Erik's eyes fixed on Klaue. He had a history with Tony Stark himself, but he didn't let on about it.

"I was operating out of an old shipping tanker in Johannesburg. Had my entire supply of vibranium warehoused there. Perfect set up. And then these fucking enhanced bastards show up with this thing…"

Klaue's right wrist rubbed his left arm while still holding his drink. His eyes grew course looking and his accent flared up.

"I'm no fool. I make a deal and billions are dropped into my offshore accounts. I'm set. Ready to retire and live out the rest of my life here. But then Sokovia goes down, and fucking Stark goes back and…."

Klaue's jawline clenched tight and his left arm closed up his mechanical fist.

"Billions wiped out. Like it never happened. And I'm left to start all over again."

"You kept your entire supply in one spot?"

Erik wanted to laugh at the man, but Klaue was tipsy, and a tipsy Klaue could get agitated and rachet up to bastard behavior in mere seconds.

"I had a fortress set up on that tanker. It was safe. After everything was taken away, I learned of a small portion hidden away in what I thought was a discreet location…"

"The Mosul statues…"

"I still don't know who really took it. S.H.I.E.L.D. maybe. The Pentagon. Perhaps even that ass Stark…fucking Iron Man…Iron Prick."

Klaue raised up his tumbler toward Erik's face.

"When I ask you what you want, Killmonger, I need to know the God's honest truth, because when I finish off these next few jobs, I'm going back to the source. With your skills and mine, we could steal even more vibranium than the first time I went in. I'm the only person who went into Wakanda…and lived to tell the story."

Erik's jaw clenched.

The first time Klaue went in.

With the help of his father, Prince N'Jobu, a man who only wanted to bring the vibranium out to help his woman and her people. All those in the diaspora.

Erik gulped down all of his whiskey.

Focus.

Erik fought back the whispers in his mind to kill Klaue where he stood. Because of this cretin, his father was killed. Because of this shit stain of a human, his father was unable to save his mother. Because of this devil, his family had been destroyed.

"What's the story on that place?" Erik asked.

"It's my white whale. But that's a story for another day. I want to talk Angola logistics now."

Erik wrenched his eyes away from Klaue and gazed out at the water. He had to hold onto his mental acuity. His own temper could carry him over the edge and destroy all of his plans. This was the long game. He had to hold on and not give in to the rage festering in his belly. He couldn't wait to crush this weak maggot. And like his Uncle, King T'Chaka, Erik would take great pleasure in destroying Ulysses Klaue.

###

Yani stood by the intercom at the front gate. The guard on duty, Jamie, watched her try her best to carry on a discreet conversation with her cousin Kendall who stood on the other side of the gate.

"Twyla just said she couldn't watch her today. C'mon now Yani, take your baby!"

Yani could hear her Sydette babbling a mile a minute behind the thick metal divide.

"Can you keep her for me, just for a couple of hours? I have to finish one more house and then I can leave," Yani said, the pleading in her voice not moving Kendall one way or the other.

"I would if I could, but I'm going to hang out with Bunny and Gregory. They might let me record some things at their place. I can't have a baby there with me. You know they smoke—"

"Kendall, please—"

"Yani, I can't watch you pickney. Sir, please open the gate."

Yani and Jamie could see Kendall on the security viewscreen holding Sydette in her car seat with her baby bag slung on his shoulder.

Yani's eyes glanced at Jamie.

"Open the gate please, Jamie," Yani said, defeat and weariness in her voice.

Jamie punched in the gate code and it slid open.

"I'm sorry, Yani," Kendall said. His deep dark chestnut skin was shiny and he sported a fresh baldie cut. He shoved Sydette's car seat handle into her hand and Yani grabbed the baby bag.

Kendall ran back to his idling work truck and hopped in with gardening equipment uncovered in the rear.

"Don't be late tomorrow. Tell Freddie Mr. Klaue wants the trees and the bushes by the front and middle house trimmed."

Kendall just waved and drove off, his truck backfiring as he left.

Yani rubbed her hand gently over her daughter's soft dainty curls. Sydette was sweating from the heat, the dampness making her baby hairs stick to her scalp.

"Mommy is glad to see you, but I have to work. I need you to be a good girl today for me. Yeah?"

Jamie gave her a serious look.

"Don't tell anyone she's here, please Jamie? I don't want to cause my Auntie trouble."

Jamie nodded and Yani scurried with her daughter to the apartment under the first house.

Leona was feeding dirty sheets and towels into the washing machine. A huge stack of clean sheets waited to be folded and put away.

"Auntie," Yani said with Sydette clutching her chest.

"What she doing here?"

Yani felt her spirit sink from the sound of her Aunt's annoyed voice.

"Kendall brought her. Twyla can't watch her today and he has somewhere to be so he can't keep her for me—"

"Call your mother—"

"You know I can't do that—"

"What you expect me to do?"

"Can she stay up here with you? I need to finish the second house—"

"And I need to finish this bedding and get ready for dinner. You have to take her with you."

Yani sucked her teeth. Sydette balled up her fist and sucked on it then dropped her head down on Yani's left breast and tried to suck through the t-shirt. Leona gave a sympathetic look but then continued putting sheets into the washer.

Moving swiftly back to the middle house, Yani entered it slowly.

"Inside," she called stepping in and looking around. Thank God, no one was there. The soft bristle broom she was using to sweep the floor was leaning against the couch. She tossed the baby bag on the floor near the couch and plopped her butt down with the car seat. Sydette's saliva had soaked Yani's shirt.

"Hold on, gyal," Yani said hoisting up her shirt and releasing her left breast. Sydette latched on her nipple and Yani cradled her head and watched her daughter suckle like she was starving.

"I know I left you plenty of milk with cousin Twyla. Why you so greedy? Huh? Where you put it all?"

Sydette's cheeks puffed and hallowed as she fed on Yani. A thousand thoughts went through Yani's head. What if Twyla couldn't watch Sydette over the weekend? She had plans to go out, the first time in a long time. Her cousin Kendall was set to perform for the first time in a club that hadn't seen Yani's face since she first got pregnant with Sydette. She didn't even have to sneak into it anymore now that she was finally of legal age. It was a tourist trap for sure, but the D.J.s there were really good and played a good mixture of Hip Hop, Soca and other types of music that she enjoyed.

She couldn't be too mad at Kendall. He really wanted to make music and the local producers Bunny and Gregory were giving him a chance to record something. They helped her baby's father get his first and only record deal. Maybe her own cousin could do better and go further.

Sydette's lips slowed down, her sucking not as desperate. Yani kept an eye out for Klaue's men in case they were returning. Wednesday was cleaning day for the compound, and the regulars knew to stay busy while she and Leona worked the place. There really wasn't too much to do, in Klaue's place or the first house, but Hunstman and Polk were slobs. She hated touching their sheets or towels because she once found obvious semen stains on them. Nasty.

Yani lifted Sydette up to check her diaper. She smelled okay and was dry, so no need to change her. When her eyes were drooping and her lips fell away from Yani's nipple, she was gently burped. Yani allowed her baby to sleep in her arms for a bit. She was tired herself, still thinking of all the things she had to do. Friday morning and afternoon she was scheduled to work her third job at the Eco Tours company giving kayak tours through the mangroves. Unlike Klaue's compound, she couldn't hold Sydette to her breasts while she paddled through mangroves and oversaw hermit crab races.

Something had to give soon, she was wearing herself out. And that something was Chez. She felt her stomach knot and tension crease her forehead as she thought of Sydette's wayward father. He paid no decent child support, promised to at least help with babysitting (which he never did), promised to seek better work so that she could drop one of her jobs and care for Sydette on her own and not pass her baby girl off to various relatives. It was hard not to hate Chez, especially since he had another baby with another woman only three months after Sydette was born. Worse still, he was living with that baby's mother and paying her rent while Yani had to share a bedroom with Sydette and Twyla.

She knew it was mean, but she was so happy that Sydette looked like her and not like him at all. She would hate to think how she would feel if she had to look down at a child on her tit who had that man's face, no matter how fine he was. And Chez was fine. And selfish. And a bully. And abusive at one time…

Yani shook her head from the thoughts. She needed to get the middle house clean and vacate the premises before Klaue or anyone knew she had a baby around. She had to coat the floor tiles with a protective tile cleaner that prevented sand and grout damage.

Just get through the next two hours.

She wished she could be back out in the warm water floating on her back. Naked. At peace. Alone. Not responsible for anyone or anything.

"Oh, Sydette. I wish I had done better. I wish I had done so much better."

She kissed her daughter's sweat-laden forehead. Standing up she turned on the air conditioning and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Two hours.

###

The middle house smelled clean and was quite cool when he entered it from spending time with Klaue. Erik kicked off his sandals and left them by the front door. The tile looked polished and a less dingy from when he first arrived. He was ready to relax and maybe lounge by the pool.

His mind was still calculating all the things he had spoken to Klaue about in planning their Angola run. The base of operation that they would work from in Angola still needed to be prepped and ready, the warehouse that was to be used to house the new crop of munitions and rocket-propelled grenades had recent fire damage, and when Erik looked at satellite photos of the landing strip where they would import the black market goods, he discovered an uneven and unsafe landing zone. Large potholes and depressions peppered the ground. There was a lot to take care of in a short period of time. A political problem sprang up also because of a new governor in the province who was flexing a bit of muscle to try and intimidate Klaue. This new guy was not playing the game of allowing their crew to circumvent the regulatory and oversight systems they were used to bypassing with monetary incentives to look away like previous government officials had done. Erik already decided if the man became a problem, he would nickel his brain and keep it pushing. Klaue had no problem with that. Erik knew how to dispose of problematic bodies and loose lips. He had the scars to prove it.

Erik turned down the air and went into his room. Taking off his shirt he folded it and placed it on the dresser by the window. He was about to power dive on the bed when he noticed a baby lying on it.

The hell.

The baby, a girl by the looks of the butterfly barrettes pinned to her curls, was sound asleep on her stomach, her backside up in there air a bit as if she woke up suddenly, moved, then fell right back to sleep.

He walked over to the side of the bed staring at her. He could hear someone moving in the kitchen, there was the sound of sink water rinsing down. Leona or Yani perhaps still working.

Erik crawled onto the covers trying not to rock the double bed too much with his big body. He laid back resting his head on a pillow. When he turned to look at the baby again, her eyes were open and she was staring at him. Looking about eight or nine months old, she didn't cry when she saw that a stranger was right next to her. Instead, she gave him the biggest toothless smile, a stream of slobber falling from her mouth onto the blanket, and he saw that she had dimples like him.

"Hey, Lil Mama. What's your name?" he whispered, making his voice as soft as he could. She babbled something and more clear saliva dribbled down her chin. Her chubby arms spread in front of her and she bounced her body and grunted like she needed help.

Erik reached over and picked her up and that startled her and her fat cheeks twisted up and she started crying.

"Aww, why the tears? We was cool just a second ago—"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

Yani swept into the room and scooped the baby out of his arms.

"I didn't think anyone was using this room. It was so clean. I didn't even touch it. Give me a few minutes and I can go through here—"

"Nah. I'm good. I clean my own room. You don't have to do all that for me. I'm self-sufficient."

"I wish the other men were like that."

He watched Yani's lips get tight after she said that.

"Don't tell them I said that."

"I didn't hear a thing. She yours?"

"Yeah."

"What's her name?"

"Sydette."

"She's cute. Looks like you."

"Thanks. We'll get out of your way—"

"You can leave her in here with me if you still need to finish. I think she finds me acceptable. She's not crying anymore."

He reached out and stroked the girl's cheek and Sydette touched his finger, then grabbed it.

"Sydette," Yani said pulling her hand away from Erik's finger.

Erik found himself staring at Yani's face.

"My babysitter fell through, so I had to take her…please don't say anything to the others. I'm not supposed to have her here while I'm working."

"Won't say a word."

"I'm done, so..."

"Will you be working here tonight?"

Why the hell did he ask that?

She had a baby, so obviously she had a man too…

"No. I have another job I do at night, and I need to leave now so I can get ready for that."

"Oh. Okay," he said.

He was still sitting on his bed, and she was holding her baby in front of him. He was feeling hella awkward. Sydette stared at him, and then she smacked her lips and turned back to Yani.

"Oh…Sydette!" Yani squealed when the baby started sucking on her chest, her head moving around searching for a nipple. Erik couldn't help but laugh. Yani lifted up Sydette's chin and the baby began to fret wanting her mother's milk with urgency. Erik stood up and walked into the living room, slipping on his flip flops and heading for the front door.

"I'ma let you handle that and give you some privacy. I'll be by the pool. Before I forget, I'll take the afternoon shift on the beach if you want to keep the mornings."

"Okay," she said.

Her daughter bounced in her arms and Erik could see a mixture of what looked like embarrassment and something else on Yani's face. Weariness.

He didn't see a ring on her finger. She worked two jobs too. She was probably still just a baby herself.

"Sorry about the room," she whispered. Her eyes looked watery like she was about to cry.

"Don't even trip. Sorry for being so neat. I felt like Goldilocks for a minute there."

He tried to lighten the mood for her.

"Goldilocks?" she asked.

"Muh…muh…muh…" Sydette said waving her chunky fingers in her mother's face.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed because it was just right…the three bears…?" he said.

"Oh!" Yani said. Her face lit up and she smiled, her dark sloe eyes no longer welling with tears.

"Bye, Sydette," Erik cooed out. The baby could only focus on Yani's face, "Bye Yani."

He stepped back out into the sunlight and tried to shake the lingering need to stay in the same room as her. Her baby was so adorable. Sydette's dimples are what sold him. That initial gummy smile. The puffy little curls mashed down on one side of her head. Her little blue t-shirt that couldn't cover her fat little belly all the way. Her little outie belly button.

It was a tough job and he wasn't cut out to do that ever. Take care of a baby? Pfftt. It was probably why his mother only had him. Too much work. And Lil Mama looked like she could be a little pushy the way she was going for Yani's breasts.

Shit.

Erik sat on a lounger by the pool still wearing the trunks he had on that morning with an added t-shirt. He felt a thickening in his trunks, his dick getting a little chubby thinking about Yani's breasts that he saw down in the sea. No wonder they seemed extra ripe. She was full of milk and those big ass dark nipples of hers were making his shit tent in his shorts. Fuck.

Erik reached down and tugged on his bulge, trying to smooth it down from being too obvious. But the minute he touched it, a spark ran down his length, making him rock hard in seconds. No one was around. His eyes scanned the area to be sure and he grabbed the towel hanging behind his head and placed it over his lap. His right hand slipped under the covering. His trunks were loose enough where he could get access to his erection by lifting up a little of the swim trunk material from the bottom.

Damn, his dick was so hard, the thick head firm between his rough fingers. He kept his eyes open and alert for others as he replayed images of Yani in the water.

"That big fat ass…fuck…" he groaned low and into his chest as he plucked at his tip as it pressed against his thigh. The warm ooze of his pre-cum dripped down his leg. He felt his right leg jerk from the sensation. He could see the slight dimpling in her ass cheeks and that layer of fleshy softness around her belly that he loved on women. That space to place his head when he wanted to rest in softness. The faint lines of stretch marks he saw on the sides of her breasts made his mouth chuff, his breath revealing the arousal he got from staring at the beauty of skin breaking to make room for more…more thighs…more ass…more stomach…more big ass titties.

He imagined placing his length in between her breasts and fucking the shit out of her tits, pinching those nipples, making his balls squeeze out a hot thick nut that would drench her neck and chin—

"Oooooh shit!" He gasped as he felt heavy spurts shoot all over his leg and the towel covering him. His eyes rolled back and he was left wondering if that big nut happened because he hadn't had pussy in so long, or if this girl put a spell on his dick. The fuck he look like beating his meat by a pool over some young baby mama he just met? Fuck outta here with all that.

He needed to get out. Go to a bar or club and be around some grown ass child-free bitches. Get his dick wet properly. Chase that nut the right way.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed out toward the beach again. Yani was leaving and he could have the cove to himself to rinse the cum smeared all over his leg away. His trunks were soaked with it.

Damn.

From now on he was going to focus on Angola, getting that airstrip ready for Klaue in the next two weeks, and finding a way to get Tahir to St. Thomas.

New rules: Stay the fuck away from Yani.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]   [Part 4]  [Part 5]  [Part 6]

Tag List:

@fonville-designs​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse

[visionmarred-archive]

OC Interview meme

couldn’t decide whether I wanted it pre-reveal or post-reveal so... guess I’m doing two different flavors for fun :^D

name ➔ Pre: “Amethylia Cypher. You can call me Amy.” Post: “Revan. The one and only.”

are you single ➔ Pre: “Yeah, because for some reason, women don’t seem to want to date cynical, rude schuttas without a filter. Can’t possibly imagine why.” She rolls her eyes and picks at her nails. Post: “...It’s complicated.” She says, with a slight smile. “No.”

are you happy ➔ “Do you care?”

are you angry ➔ “Keep asking me stupid questions and I’ll get there.”

are your parents still married ➔ Pre: “They’re dead. Thanks for the reminder.” Post: “Apparently they never were, and my father’s dead.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ Pre: “Deralia. Mom had me in a taxi before she could make it to the hospital.” Post: “None of your business.”

hair ➔ She stares derisively, then scoffs. “You blind? Black.”

eye colour ➔ She rolls her eyes. “Green. Next question.”

birthday ➔ “Autumn. Not telling you the date.” (she’s a Scorpio)

mood ➔ “Wondering why you feel this need to interview me. Don’t you have literally anything better to do?”

gender ➔ “Nonbinary. She or they, I don’t care which.”

summer or winter ➔ She wrinkles her nose. “Winter, I guess.”

morning or afternoon ➔ The wrinkle turns into an outright glare. “Pass.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Pre: Her expression softens, and she crosses her arms. “I, uh. Well.” She looks to the side, and then scratches the back of her head. “...Yeah, but it’s tricky. Sometimes I think Bas - she doesn’t like me very much. I can’t really blame her.” Post: Her expression softens. “...Yeah, I am. For some reason, she loves me back. Didn’t really see that one coming.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ She blushes. “Uh. Um. Krif, move on, would you?”

who ended your last relationship ➔  Pre: “Lia had a spice overdose and died in the ‘fresher.” She answers dryly. “Kidding. She dumped me. Who could’ve seen that one coming...” Post: “Not sure. Memories are still fuzzy.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  Pre: “That requires expectation, and people don’t usually have a lot for me. So I doubt it.” Post: She simply glares.

are you afraid of commitments ➔ “No. Stupid thing to be afraid of.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Pre: She sneers. “Don’t touch me.” Post: “Yeah. Don’t touch me.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Pre: “I doubt it.” Post: “Wouldn’t be surprised if some horny ensign saw heroic Revan and sent her his nude photographs.”

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Pre: She simply glares. Post: “I had it coming.”

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Love. But lust is fun.” She says, giving a slight smirk.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Don’t care. Iced tea, I guess.”

cats or dogs ➔ “Cats. Easier to take care of. But dogs are good, too.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Few best friends. Less maintenance.”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Romantic night in. I’ve done my partying, and I’m over it.”

day or night ➔ “Night.” Motioning to her all black clothing, she snarks, “Are you surprised?”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Pre: She shrugs. “Yeah, when I was a teenager. Grandfather caught me once or twice.” Post: “Apparently, Revan snuck out a lot when she was a teenager.”

fallen down/up the stairs ➔  Pre: “Yes, in the same tragic accident that claimed the life of my mother.” She says dryly. Post: “Yes. That’s how I got amnesia in the first place.” She says, with a deadpan expression.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ She scowls and looks away. “Move on.”

wanted to disappear ➔ She simply glares.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “...Eyes. Something striking about them.”

shorter or taller ➔ “Taller. Pretty easy to find, for someone short as me.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ “...That just depends on the situation. Intelligent people are attractive, though.”

hook-up or relationship ➔ “Hook-ups are nice, but I’d rather have a relationship.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔  Pre: “My grandfather and I get on just fine. Planning on messaging him later.” She says, with a slight smile. Post: She glares. “If I did before, I doubt I do now. How would you get along with people you didn’t know existed until now? I got along just fine with the family I thought I had, but he isn’t real. He never was.”

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔  Pre: “Spice dealer and blaster smuggler turned Jedi? Probably.” Post: She just glares.

have you ever ran away from home ➔  Pre: “No, never. Loved my grandfather too much to think about it.” Post: “Do you read your history? I don’t feel like detailing my recruiting the Revanchists - space, and I named them after myself? How tacky can I get? - and running from the Jedi, thanks. That enough of an answer for you?”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔  Pre: “No.” Post: “I should’ve been.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ She scoffs. “You’ll know if I hate you.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Sure. Are we almost done?”

who is your best friend ➔  Pre: She smiles slightly. “Carth. Don’t tell him I said that. But I appreciate his honesty, and the guy’s funny.” Post: She frowns sadly. “I guess it used to be Malak. Alek. He was my best friend once. Then I dragged him to the Dark Side, and then I killed him. So I probably shouldn’t do best friends anymore.”

who knows everything about you ➔  Pre: “Nobody. That’s how I want it.” Post: “Bastila... she knows a lot, better than anybody else, but space, I hope she never learns everything. I want her to still like me.”

[sethnakht]

For the ask meme...Vader/Padme? Like, post-Mustafar Vader.

Sorry this took so long, love. Had to think about it, then got caught up in dissertating, then self-absorbed by depression. Woke up today and realized it was time to respond. That being said, I’m not very good at this sort of meme — I clam up and say things wrong — so don’t expect too much. Would be very excited to see your own response to this one!

Give me a CHARACTER or a SHIP, and I will bold the statements that are true, and elaborate on my preferences and specific narrative kinks where I am so moved.

Do not want. Ptooey.

I am neutral, indifferent and serene. Send me a rec and change my mind.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they’re in it.

I’ll enjoy anything as long as they get a happy ending.

Break them and make them bleed.

Swaddle them in fluff.

I’m mostly interested in gapfilling and exploring their canon interactions.

Throw the canon out the window; bae deserves better.

By which I don’t mean: throw the suit out the window.  If I’m invested in anything wrt Vader, it’s characterization that is committed to the suit and all the structures and problems and possibilities it creates. Stories where Vader can be returned to a baseline self/identity with the right treatment in a straightforward linear process are certainly given legitimacy through the Special Edition of RotJ; stories where Vader is basically unaffected by the suit have their merits (I liked a lot of things about the Soule comic, in which the suit was largely irrelevant). But when I am dreaming on my own I prefer things messy, gory, without easy solutions. I’m wary of models of the mind-body relationship that essentialize identity — I like things fluid and reflective. Basically, I come to fic and comics about Vader to explore the lack of a sense of self, to think about fragmentation, trauma, grief, damage, the uncanny, the amorphous nature of the mind. The suit is integral to that field of thought.

I … am struggling to talk about Padmé, because … not only did she ABSOLUTELY deserve better, there is a part of me that refuses to be reconciled to her death, even though I can appreciate the irony, the tragedy, the parallelism, etc. How to put this… I want stories where Padmé is more than a symbol, more than her relationship to Anakin or her children … I want to see her own trauma play out, her own cracked mirrors, her own shifting sense of self, her own fight with her body, mind, the structures she has created and was shaped in, the blind spots flaring open wide … for her own ambitions and complicity and power-lust to be factors … and you see why this meme took me so long to answer.

Here’s a different way of putting it. I’m old, so my understanding of Padmé was formed in that period before AotC when it was still uncertain whether she would go by Padmé or Amidala, when it still seemed like she would go into hiding with Leia on Alderaan, when she was surrounded by handmaidens and drowning in heavy robes, when she presented as a cypher who disappeared behind face paint or into a crowd, as someone whose identity constantly transformed. I loved this idea of Padmé as more than unaffected beautiful surface, as someone whose very surface creates an experience of friction. So I’m still super partial to stories based on Naboo (I have a fic rec list somewhere that lists some of these) that sort of confront that parallelism between a Queen who wore a painted mask encoded with symbols of grief and the Knight entombed behind a mask … you get the picture.

Many stories deal with the role of projection in this relationship — Anakin and Padmé both project a great deal onto one another, and there’s plenty to unpack there — and stories about them getting therapy, stories about them projecting even harder, etc are interesting to me. I adore how this is handled in that one Legends comic where Vader is taken down by flamethrowers and has had the mask taken away and is practically hallucinating from the lack of oxygen and is holding himself together with nothing but spite. If the comic is at first concerned with Vader’s excessive violence, with his weirdly detached reenactment of his own lung and heart trauma in horrific torture sessions, the best bits play out in his own head, such as when a witch projects Padmé at him. Padmé transforms before him into an accusing corpse and he accepts this transformation as real, as though he’s pictured her as a rotting corpse so many times that it’s all that he wants, all he has longed for, awaited, desired — her judgment — and when he realizes he wasn’t really speaking to Padmé’s ghost, that he’s lost her even in death, the ensuing devastation is kind of mesmerizing. The wild swings between grief and rage and madness and hallucination — between murder and attempted suicide — make for a damning, visceral portrait. The new comic does a variation on this, but it’s less clear that Vader is having a battle with himself, as it could be that the Dark Side is simply projecting an evil Padmé at him to tell him to “let the past die” or somesuch — anyway. I love the stuff that stares into the abyss and lets it stare back.

Gimme crackfic.

Gimme all the tropes.

Subvert the tropes and set them on fire.

Fire in the story itself is always good too.

I am a simple soul: I’m here because they’re hot and sometimes naked.

Here is my OTP. Come between them and I will…ship and let ship, because I am a civilized fanperson, but CAN’T YOU SEE THEY’RE PERFECT TOGETHER??! (Or perfectly, fascinatingly, shippably dysfunctional, in certain cases.)

I have favoured and disfavoured ships. Convince me. Seduce me.

I’m not into ships for the romance / whatever, but for what particularly intense relationships can reveal about character. While there’s a part of me that insists Vader is a black swan, alternate ships (Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Aphra, etc) can be fascinating.

I had an OTP once, but then this amazing author, [insert author here], seduced me. Goddammit.

Fandom bicycle, baby! \o/

I have no shippy feelings at this time.

My feelings cannot be summed up by this meme. Have a seat while I put the kettle on.

[ellalovesjoonie]

Head over heels

Namjoon x Reader

Summary:

"You are tired of routine, everyday wake up, get ready, go to the work you hate at the hotel, go back home, sleep.

Music, your only escape... That music that takes you to places you wish you were, that made you feel like that void in you was slightly filled with something else than your self hatred, your salvation.

But, that day, life was going to surprise you with the unimaginable."

Warnings: +18, self derogatory behavior, Smut, explicit, rough language, Angst, role play Sub/Dom.

[OK, so, this is my first ever fanfic of bts, please bear with me, also, english is not my main language so if you find any typos or errors in grammar I apologize TT_TT I hope you like it!]

Chapter 1

-That is not a part of my contract - You argued with the hotel's manager in a tired manner. He was always making you do extra stuff, extra hours, extra anything, sometimes you felt like he feed on your misery.

- I know, but this is a very special occasion, this hotel has never hosted such important guests and we need to make a good impression -The manager retorted with a smirk on his face, he was so proud of his accomplishment of renting an entire floor of the hotel to the staff of an important company nobody knew about that he was forgetting that everyone had a job description, he was being more of a pain in the ass than usual and the staff was more than fed up with him.

Your normal job consisted in managing the maids and cooks and recieving orders from rooms and sending over whatever or whoever was needed, but more often than you would have liked, you have ended up going yourself to deliver room service and even to help some maids with the rooms where parties were held, the joy of a hotel for others was that others get to clean up your mess, not so fun when you were the one having to clean after.

You had studied for 4 years, management and languages, you could speak several of them and your dream job as a translator or interpreter of some major firm was now buried with all of your dreams of possible happines, you have ended up failing to get your dream job and getting stucked in a crappy one that even if it payed well, it didn't make you hate it less.

Tired of complaining in vain you gave up an headed to work. With all the commotion you were forced to go room by room after the maids ended the cleaning to supervise and put flowers, fill mini bars and make sure everything necessary was there for the guests.

That day you were feeling particularly miserable, your headphones changed song while you were fixing some flowers and it was as if they were answering your call, you smilled when the swift notes of Cypher pt 3 filled your ears and you started to sing along, how free that made you feel, the amazing fast paced rap rolled in your tongue with incredible easiness, you were so familiar with the lyrics that you could have singed no matter how fast it went.

It was still amazing for you how good a song could make you feel, you were lost in the sound, not paying much attention to the manual work you were doing and even less attention to the fact that the guest of the room you were working on had arrived and was watching you from the door with amusement.

Namjoon and the rest of BTS were in England recording a Von Voyage, so it had been a secret were they were going and they even chose a smaller hotel than usual in a small city and gave a fake name to be able to remain as anonymous as possible, he had entered his room and was sorprised to listen to his own song being sang smoothly by a female voice, he saw a ponytail of long hair swinging as you moved, he assumed since he couldn't listen, in rhythm to the beat, you weren't tall, 5"3 at the most but you were slim and curvaceous and looked really young in his eyes, he just stood there not knowing why he was stucked looking at you like that, something about the way you were singing was enticing, it called to him, what was it? He felt lost for a moment, only your movements and voice were important, the soft sweep of your hips kept him in trance and when you bent over to fill the minibar the breath got stucked in his lungs, he had never felt the inappropriate urge of grabbing the ass of a girl he didn't know, his hands twitched at his sides but he didn't moved.

You turned once the minibar was filled and noticed the man standing on the door -Shit - You muttered, taking off your earphones and bowing slightly in the direction of the stranger, not even looking properly at him you mutter and apology -I'm so sorry, sir, we weren't expecting you yet, welcome - You said smoothly, in a rehearsed manner, as always, you plastered your fake smile on your lips before lifting your head but when you gave the stranger a proper look, the air got stucked in your chest, your eyes enlarged in recognition and you blushed furiosly... Of all the people in the entire world why did Kim Namjoon had to listen to you butchering his song?

You knew better than to act like a stupid fangirl (You weren't that kind of girl anyway) but you had humiliated yourself in front of your freaking idol, so you had only one possible course of action.

-I hope your staying with us is pleasant - You said with a straight voice, or as straight as possible and rushed past him before he could utter a word, running away far of him, as fast as you could and you didn't stop or looked back until you were in the safety of the employee's bathroom in the first floor, your heart was pumping furiosly and words of self hatred filled your hair- You stupid bitch, how could you ridiculize yourself like that? In front of him? In front of the man you admire the most? He must be laughing at you, he must... He... - You started to feel dizzy, you slid into the floor against the door and put your head between your hands, clenching your nails in your scalp in an attemp of causing outside pain to get out of the spiral of self hatred in your head, you weren't one to self injure yourself, you couldn't even stan blood or cuts, but here and then you founded that some fisical pain was better than the self hatred and it worked to bring you back to reality, you did your best to gain back your breath and empty your head, that process took you some solid 10 minutes, but you were able to stand up. You fixed your appearance and went straight to the manager's office -Everything is done and the guests are in their rooms -You announced.

-Perfect! -The bright smile in his face seemed disgusting to you, he was more than thrilled to have the biggest band in the world staying at the hotel- Now you go home -He said to your utter surprise, but before you could get your hopes up he continued- I need you back here at 8 pm, you are up for the night shift since I can't let the hotel in charge of anyone else with such important guests here, when you come back I'll give you a list of things to do, now go to sleep, you will need it.

You just looked at him, turned around and left, now you had to spend the night with your idols and the man you had ridiculize yourself in front off... Great, just great.

Kim Namjoon had had a shock too, he felt confused and embarrassed but above all he wanted to see you again, everytime he remembered the way you moved, his big hands twitched, he had broken his headphones that were unlucky enough to be in his hand when one of those twitches came, everyone had been laughing at the "God of destruction" for his even clumsier behavior that day. After everyone settled in their rooms they went to have lunch at the hotel's restaurant that had prepared a buffet for them, they had a translator with them which made things easier, his head was in no place to translate, he kept looking at the people entering and leaving the room in hopes of seeing you again, to do what?, he had no idea, maybe to apologize for embarassing you, to ask why you had run, to praise you for your smooth rapping, to hold you flat against his body... No. He shocked his head and flushed slightly at such thoughts, he didn't know you, you weren't some cheap whore hired to pleasure him when he had wanted. With his busy lifestyle those were the only "romantic" encounters he could have and he had had one tracked mind since their debut anyway, writing, learning, growing as a group and as a person, he never missed the relationship he was "deprived" of because of his idol status, his sexual urges could be satisfied when he wanted and he didn't care much for the rest, success was his goal, lately, to help others, the love yourself movement have been one of his most important achievements and he was fully committed to make the world a better place. It took a girl on a small city at the other side of the world to suddenly remind him that he had never had an encounter or relationship of any kind with a "Normal girl", the way he was lusting for you was almost too much, he thought of asking discretely for a escort or something but he had stopped several times, he didn't want an escort, he wanted you.

That day they were free to explore but he couldn't bring himself to go out with his mind in the state it was and maybe he had hopes of seeing you sometime during the day if he was being honest, he didn't really know, he just said that he was tired because of the long trip and rathered stay and sleep for a bit, Yoongi too had decided to stay, he knew he really wanted to sleep, walking around wasn't one of his favorite activities.

You were getting ready for your night turn at the hotel, your stomach tight with dread and maybe some excitement that your favorite band was in the building were you worked, if only Namjoon hadn't seen you embarassing yourself... You banished that sorth of thought for the hundred time that day, it was easy for you to imagine how he would have told the story to the others and laughed some more so you had to keep your act together, you had to work, maybe you wouldn't even see them, it was the night turn after all. You dressed with a black dress, the top similar to a shirt with buttons but at the waist a flowy skirt started and ended a few inches above your knee, you did black sandals with straps till your ankles and your required ponytail. You weren't dressing up because you liked it, but because the night shift required it from you, it was mandatory to attend dinner time in a semi formal dress, you looked in the mirror with disgust only to make sure that your hair was perfectly tied back, you hated to look in any mirror and see yourself for the disgusting creature you were.

You left your flat with a sight and went straight to the taxi you had ordered to take you to work, trying not to think much about what was to come -You better not mess this up even more with your stupidity - You told yourself while trying to breathe in regular intervals to cast your nervousness aside.

Namjoon had tried to rest in vain during the afternoon, he slept shortly but with troubled dreams, he woke up because of the hard bulge on his pants, he was 12 again. Sighting he went to the bathroom and took a cold shower to calm his body and changed clothes for dinner, he had been told they had to be in the dinning room of the hotel at 8:30, but restless as he was he just went there at 8:00, maybe he would order a drink or something, he was grateful that the cameras had gone with the others and he was left in peace, the last thing he needed was the crew to ask again what was wrong with him. He went down to the lobby and straight into the private area the hotel had prepared for them, it was empty but everything was more or less prepared for their dinner, he sat on a couch near a window waiting for someone to ask a drink to come in and when the door opened he wasn't disappointed, you, at last, his breath catched again while studying your outfit, a dress, he could see your legs in display even thought the skirt was by no means short, it was enough for him, it was as if you were teasing him by wearing such sandals that closed just at your ankles, calling for his eyes to enjoy the sight of the smooth skin of that part of the body that he founded incredibly erotic, your top was buttoned but left a nice cleavage look at sight. Definitely, you were a sight for sore eyes and he couldn't help himself, he stood and walked towards you, more like gravitated towards you, there was no discussion about stopping now.

You had entered the dinning room to check that everything was in place, closing the door behind you, you took two steps into the room when you saw him and your face blushed, your stomach tightened, all your preparation was now gone as you watched in panic how Kim Namjoon walked towards you, you swallowed trying to regain your composture, your eyes fixed on the floor until you noticed he was standing really close to you, your nose was suddenly filled with his musky, woody scent and you wanted nothing more than to look at him and thank him for everything he had done for you, but you were frozen in place, he was so close...

Namjoon only stopped when he was close enough to get your scent, something he had wanted all day, you smelled sweet, as he had imagined, a little flowery but sweet, he noticed just then he was a bit too close but he couldn't care, he just wanted to do unspeakable things to you, he couldn't, but he would talk to you.

-Hi -He said as a way to break the ice and made you look at him, he noticed how your eyes were casted on the floor and he wanted for you to look at him- Hi... I mean, good evening, I hope you are having a pleasant staying at our hotel- That was the best you could say, you didn't dare to look up at him, he was so tall... You remembered his height of course, but having him standing in front of you didn't made it justice to any picture or tv shot you had seen, you picked just a little bit between your lashes to see he was wearing gray jeans and a white buttoned shirt, you nearly jumped when he bended to have his face at the same height than yours- It has been great, you were in my room earlier, I wanted to excuse myself for making you uncomfortable -You were not looking at him but he would make you, when he bended he was even a little closer to you, he could see your flushed cheeks and the narrowness of her breath which did little for his already sexualized thoughts- You shouldn't apologize, it was me who was stupid and embarrassed myself, I'm sorry -You said in a rush not measuring your words, you lifted your eyes in panic when you noticed what you have said and you saw his face and the frown between his eyebrows, he was unreal, so beautiful you could have cried but you have spilled too much again.

-Why would you say that? -Namjoon found himself mad at you for the harsh words you had casted upon yourself- I was surprised in the best way when I heard you, I have never heard that song with a female voice and the intent it has, you were perfect -He found himself scolding you but telling you the absolute truth, your eyes were on his now, big eyes with long lashes that fluttered at his words, your expression was of absolute incredulity but he was glued to your eyes- You don't have to say that... I... -You muttered, taken aback with his compliment, your self hatred already eating you inside- You think I'm lying? -Namjoon arched a brow annoyed that you would think that- No, that is not what I meant, I... I just... -You stumbled trying to come up with an excuse, your face blushing even more- What did you mean, then? - The tall man in front of you radiated heat, he was mad, if course, you always made people mad at you by being so stupid, but the truth, invisible to you, was that the heat you felt was his raw desire for you- I'm sorry, I... -You tried again but his presence was too strong and you were finding hard to articulate any more words, you lowered your eyes again but his hand flew to hold your chin and make you look up, your breath catched, fuck, why was he touching you? He shouldn't, he was too beautiful to taint himself with someone like you- You are... -Namjoon muttered but he didn't finish, touching you was barely too much, he lost his train of thought noticing how your face was holded in perfect place by his hand, you couldn't lower your eyes anymore, you couldn't run from him anymore, he was in control, he could even... He leaned down till his mouth was an inch away from yours and he breathed in your breath, sweet, sweet, sweet... His mind was lost, he tightened the grip in your chin and pressed his lips against yours, you gasped, breathing in his scent and he obviously took the chance to seek your tongue with his, your mind left you, you were having an out of body experience, his lips molded hungrily against yours, tasting every inch of your mouth, you responded naturally but not daring too much. He couldn't stop himself, your taste was what he wanted, his right hand janked your ponytail back to have your mouth at his mercy while his left hand ran across your back, stopping in your hip and pressing his fingers there to push you against himself where you could feel his excitement throw his pants right in your hip, he was barely breathing, intoxicated, he only stopped when you both listened to voices outside the room, you inmediately took a step back, disbelief clouding your mind and stepping on every other happy thoughts or desires there, your lips were swollen and your ponytail a bit undone, your breathing harsh, as if you had ran a large distance but you knew you had to get out of there so you turned and bolted to the door, leaving just as everyone else was entering, all 6 of your favorite artists in the world walked passed you and you didn't have a glance to spare, your mind was filled with him, you walked quickly, and instructed the staff to go offer appetizers and drinks as you walked straight to the staff's bathroom and closed the door behind you- Fuck...

[sodoyouknowbts]

Yoongi x Reader - Backstage

Summary: You haven’t seen Yoongi for months. He catches you backstage and shows you just how much he’s missed you.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Prompt: Moxie and her need for Min Oppa smut

Author: Pilot

You nod at the security guard with a smile and he leads you through the crew doors. You find yourself a spot near the side of the stage, among some of the other light and camera crew. The stage is dark and all you can see are flashing lights from the ARMY bombs in the crowd.

It had been months since you had last seen Yoongi. Three to be exact. They had just landed back in Seoul today, ready for their last concert for this leg of the tour.

You’d have gotten to the concert much earlier if you could have helped it. Unfortunately you had been caught up at work and had only just been able to make it. The concert had started two hours ago.

Blue lighting strips illuminate the edges of the stage and green strobe lighting begins to flash. Then you hear it, the familiar sound of the opening of Cypher pt4. It plummets through the speakers. The screams from the crowd ignite, roars and shrieks from exhilarated fans echo throughout the venue. 

Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi rise from below the stage. Your eyes immediately race to Yoongi. He’s relaxed, one of his hands are resting on his belt buckle of his ripped black jeans as the other holds his mic up nonchalantly. Yoongi strides to the centre of the stage as Namjoon and Hoseok walk their way around. Yoongi’s already sweating in his thin white shirt and long coat. He licks his lips and throws a hand up to the crowd. It riles the crowd and they scream.

“RM!” Yoongi yells out.

Namjoon begins to rap. Yoongi continues to work the crowd, building them up. He lets out an occasional grunt in unison with the base. He nods his head in time with the beat, one hand now resting on his hips.

Namjoon finishes up his rap and the boys begin to jump up and down, yelling out the chorus. You can’t take your eyes off Yoongi. His black hair is tousled and you can see the sweat beginning to collect at his brow. Finally, it’s his verse.

He pauses for a moment, building momentum. The boys watch as he does his thing, rapping freely and easily, spitting fire at a rate of noughts. He walks towards the camera, takes a breath, licks his bottom lip with his tongue and smirks. Somewhere along the way his shirt has gotten untucked. Hoseok is next.

Yoongi walks over to the side of the stage and bends down to pick up a water bottle. That’s when he sees you. Your breath catches in your throat and his eyes get heavy. He maintains eye contact with you as he picks up the water bottle, biting his lip. Your stomach starts to knot and all you want to do is reach out and touch him. He smirks at you and steps backwards.

He cracks open the water bottle while moving back to the centre of the stage. Yoongi takes a gulp of water and smiles to himself, pouring it over his head and onto the rest of the crowd near him in a swift and powerful motion. His hair is dripping wet and his shirt is see-through. He stands at the centre of the stage and adjusts his coat.

Yoongi’s stage presence intensifies, you can feel his desire and passion from the stage. He's going hard at it, thrusting, jumping, throwing his arms up. He looks out to the crowd, throwing sideways glances at you every now and then. You feel the sexual tension in the air amplify. You both stare at each other as the song comes to an end and the lights go out.

The crowd roars.

The stage lights up once again and all seven of them are standing on the stage now. Flames flicker on the screens and you already know what’s next. His voice commands the venue.

“Bultaoreune.”

***

At the end of the show, one of their assistants you had met before calls you over and invites you to wait for them in their dressing rooms.

You leave the crew pit and head to the back. You’re navigating your way through the corridors when suddenly someone grabs your hand and pulls you backwards into a dark room and shuts the door. You let out a slight cry in shock and you hear the lock turning. The lights turn on. It’s Yoongi. 

His hand is still in yours and he’s dripping wet. You watch his chest rise up and down quickly. He’s breathing heavily.

You open your mouth to greet him but he advances on you, slamming his mouth over yours. You feel the air get knocked from your lungs as he roughly pushes you against the door. Yoongi’s hands have left yours, instead deciding to ravish and grasp at your body. Usually he would trail kisses along your cheek and your neck but he’s too impatient and hungry to do anything other than kiss you roughly on the lips. 

His hands make their way to your legs, pushing your skirt up at your thighs and they settle on your ass. He kneads at your cheeks, a smirk plays at his lips and you quiver, your knees buckling. Yoongi grips you and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck in response.

You can tell he’s sexually frustrated by the way his mouth latches onto your skin, biting and nipping away. Your skin prickles and your breath hitches. His mouth wanders to your ear and bites at the lobe, pulling on it and making you squeak out slightly. He bites back a moan.

“Yoongi?” You say between breaths.

“Mmm?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this here we’ll get caught -”

He ignores you and shuts you up with another kiss. He moves back and places his finger against your lips. 

“Shh. I don’t care.” He murmurs.

Before you can say anything else to dispute this his lips are back on yours, his tongue probing deeply. He desperately grinds himself against you and you can feel his belt buckle hitting against your core. He props you up against the door, leaving one of his hands free. 

There were no more questions in your mind as his hand roamed over your body, his palm rubbing against your aroused bud and then moving to your breasts. He squeezes them and begins to unbutton your shirt. You didn’t want him to stop.

You had missed him, emotionally and physically. It wasn't until his hands were on your skin that you realised just how much your body had missed his.

Yoongi pulls back to breathe, only for a second. He stares at you, desire swimming in his eyes. You maintain eye contact as he continues to touch you and tease you. He bites his lower lip and smirks. He slides your underwear to the side as he pushes two fingers into you. He’s still wearing his rings.

You break eye contact with him and whimper and rasp, raking your nails through his hair. He lets out a curse as you moan.

You trail your arms across his shoulders and his back. One arm reaches down to stroke his length through his pants, feeling the weight of him, urging him to take you. He doesn’t, instead continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you.

“Yoongi,” you moan.

Yoongi had been waiting for months to hear you say his name like that. He attempts to hold onto whatever was left of his patience, continuing instead to move in and out of you with his fingers. He fights with himself - the need of being inside you versus the need to tease and taunt you. 

Yoongi pulls his fingers from you. He cups your backside and walks with you, placing you down on the edge of the table in the room.

His hands go straight to your waist and you grab his hips, shoving his body closer to yours. Yoongi smirks again and sinks to his knees, tugging your skirt and pulling you to him by your legs. His hand moves from your waist and trails down to the apex of your thighs, where he slowly rubs circles against your clit through your panties.

He hikes your skirt up and places a kiss on your mound just to tease. He looks at you with downcast eyes and tugs at your panties suggestively. He raises your hips and slowly slides them off. Your legs dangle off the edge of the table and your hands run through his hair as you arch your back. He pauses, his lips just above you. You can feel his breath, hot and heavy. 

He begins to dart his tongue over your clit, playing with your wetness between his fingers. He parts your lips and flicks his tongue over you, delving between your folds tenderly. One of his hands clutch at the side of the table. You moan and strengthen your grip around his wrist in response, nails digging into his skin. You’re feeling dizzy and lightheaded. A growl resounds in his throat. He brings you close to the point of ecstasy but moves away sharply.

He gives you one last kiss there, chuckles and slowly brings himself to a stand, pulling himself upwards, all the while keeping his hands on your body. You sit up, panting, trying to catch your breath he had taken from you.

Yoongi presses his forehead against yours as he stands between your legs.

“Did you know how much I missed you?” he purrs into your ear and your body feels with heat. His breathing is ragged, his body responding to the feel of yours pressed against his.

You kiss him again, his lips slightly salty from sweat. His lust is back and he greedily begins to pull off your clothes. He unbuttons the rest of your shirt and flings it across the room. Yoongi lifts one hand to your breast and squeezes it, hard. 

He then reaches behind you and unclips your bra and slides it off you. He finishes undressing you, the material of your clothes pooling on the floor. Yoongi steps back and bites his lip, admiring your body and the flushed colour of your skin.

He eyes your plump breasts and kisses them both, taking one in his mouth. He swirls his tongue over your nipple and sucks gently, easing off with a light bite at your tip. 

He runs his hands over your curves, grabbing and clutching at you with raw need. You shiver as you hear him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You pull at his damp white shirt in turn. He moves closer to you, dissolving any space between your bodies with a passionate kiss. Yoongi hisses with pleasure, the friction of your breasts against his chest fuelling him. He had been denied of you for too long.

He parts your legs and sinks into you swiftly. Pleasure shoots through your body and you tremble, tightening around him. A heated cry tears from his lips as he begins to move against you. The pleasure was intense and so arousing he could hardly stand it.

Your nails sink deep into his shoulders and you cry out. He thrusts into you, deep and possessive, his eyes watching you as you tilt your head back in ecstasy. He’s biting down on his lower lip, staring at you as he fucks you. He urges you to wrap your legs high around his waist and you do. He pulls back and out, only to bury himself to the hilt again in a swift thrust.

In an attempt to get back at him you go between kissing him gently and biting sharply at his skin, causing him to hiss and groan with pleasure. He sucks on your neck and kisses your breasts all the while moving in and out, pulling your hips down harder onto his. You cling onto him desperately, your orgasm building.

“Yoongi -”

“I know.” he says simply. His fingers find your clit again, moving against you in a quick motion, pushing you over the edge.

Your cries are stifled by his lips as he kisses them heatedly, his body shaking. He takes his hands from you and you quake against him, body tingling. You moan his name. This gets him. A growl resounds in his throat and he’s reached it. The pool of his desire finally releases.

His chest heaves up and down. He runs his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in. Yoongi tries to control his heart from pounding as he recovers from the intensity of the orgasm. A mischievous expression playing on his face.

“Missed you babe.”

End.

[zyzzyva1936-blog-blog]

“Lemma the Librarian - Prologue”

Published: July 8, 2007 http://mcstories.com/LemmaTheLibrarian/index.html And so our great adventure begins! Well, not really, the adventure begins next time. This one’s just laying out the pieces on the board, as a good prologue should.  We get our two main characters here, Lemma and Iason. Lemma is sketched out very efficiently. The very first thing we see her do is be massively, unearnedly smug, followed by a flashback where her history of wrecking shit ‘cuz she can is revealed, and she gets tricked into the collect-all-the-lost-books plot of the story by being even more arrogant. (Seriously, as even she acknowledges afterwards, the archmagus was setting up the world’s most obvious trap.) Then in the present she meets Iason and lusts after him a little bit. Pretty much all we’re missing is Lemma setting a human being on fire and we’d have the whole starting point of her character arc laid out. Iason is a bit more of a cypher at this point. He’s clearly very good looking, seems to be a good guy, is unusually knowledgeable about magic and related stuff (as one would probably have to be, as a monster hunter). We don’t get much of a closer view of his character yet; but don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to get to that. He’s sticking with us to the end. Not much mc - the geas at this stage is a plot point rather than a vehicle for sexytimes - and no sex. It’s ok. It’s a prologue. And both of those things will change massively with the first real story...

When The Fuck Are We? 🤷

So there are two main things here. First off is Lemma’s homeland of Lemuria. This is, just to state the obvious, not a place that exists. It is a “real” name, though - one of the three famous “lost continents”, along with Atlantis and Mu*. which fits its position in the story as the narrator’s somewhat more technologically advanced and vastly more magically powerful homeland. Fun fact: originally, Lemuria had nothing to do with magic or ancient civilizations. It was proposed in the mid-19th C by evolutionary biologists as an explanation for how lemurs and related primitive primates, not notably famous for their swimming ability, ended up in Madagascar and India and Malaya but no places between them by land: there used to be a land bridge running across the Indian Ocean. This land bridge was, somewhat cutely, called Lemuria. Geologists shot it down pretty quickly on the grounds that continents Don’t Actually Do That, but had no explanation for the species distributions.** Then the Theosophists got their hands on it. Theosophy is a... religion?... invented in the late 19th C, with a really, really complicated and (to modern eyes) kinda crazy and racist cosmology and mythology. It involved Atlantis and, since the Lemuria theory was having its big burst of public visibility just the same time as Theosophy was being made up by con artists revealed to humanity, it got added too; but, like Atlantis, as a human-era place with progenitor human civilizations on it, rather than a deep-time geological event. Which, since the biologists have abandoned it, is more or less where it has stayed in pop culture until now.

The other piece of history, which lets us get an actual time and place for the story, is the, er, actual places that the story involves: Iason and his ethnicity of “Sea Peoples”, the Tin Islands, the kingdom of Kyrnow. Since this note has gone on long enough, and since we’ll be kicking around with them for a while, we’ll save that for next time. *More on them later. Much, much, much later. **Nowadays, of course, the explanation is that Madagascar, India, and Australia were joined together when the primates evolved and have since drifted apart due to plate tectonics. It fits the evidence very well and also fits a lot of unrelated evidence from other parts of palaeontology and geology. But, to be fair, 19th C geologists would have considered it just as mechanically ridiculous as the “rising and falling land bridges” theory.

~ 

Next time: lots of mc, lots of sex! Also the Sea Peoples, the Bronze Age Collapse, and actually sticking a date to this thing.

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 02: RITUAL OF THE MAHJARRAT

QUEST SUMMARY:

With the Mahjarrat Ritual upon them, Jahaan, Sir Tiffy and the others venture into the frozen North in an attempt to curtail Lucien’s latest power grab and reclaim the Staff of Armadyl. But a bloodcurdling battle of the Mahjarrat might be the least of their worries…

CHAPTER 4: YOU WILL KNOW ME

Idria limped over to Sir Tiffy, her limbs bruised and battered, a scar quickly former underneath her right eye. “Lucien is dead, but we were too late. The dragonkin are here, and Akrisae...”

She broke off, her lip quivering. She shut her eyes tight, trying to block out the memory that wouldn’t leave her any respite.

“I know, Idria,” Sir Tiffy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all feel the loss for one of our own, but right now, we need to focus, chaps. It's not over yet.”

Gathering his shield and resheathing his scimitar, Jahaan concurred, “Sir Tiffy’s right, we need to do something about the Stone. It's clear the dragonkin are linked to its use, and that Lucien's lust for power is what brought them here in the first place.”

“Yes, and the Stone is still here,” Wahisietel noted. “We must hide it away to prevent its further use… or misuse.”

“Good luck with that, my brother,” Sliske sauntered up beside Wahisietel, his wights absent from his side.

“Still here, Sliske? I thought you'd have left with the rest of them.”

“Not just yet. I wanted to introduce myself to our mutual friend,” he turned to Jahaan. “We've met before, but I doubt he remembers me.”

Jahaan raised an eyebrow. “I'm sorry, we've met?”

Sliske smiled, cheerfully, but there was a shadow behind his eyes. “Many times. Though it's nice to finally converse without all the charades and masks, isn't it?”

Jahaan didn't know how to answer. “I…”

“My name is Sliske. I've been watching you for quite some time now, Jahaan,” Sliske continued, “So I thought it only polite to properly introduce myself. After all, I have the feeling our paths are going to cross again very, very soon.”

Scrunching his brow, Jahaan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Sliske smiled an unnerving, unreadable smile, and vanished into the shadows.

Blinking away the cobwebs, Jahaan glanced at Wahisietel. “He's your brother?”

Wahisietel smiled thinly. “You don't know the half of it.”

“He was the acquaintance that told you of the dragonkin attack, wasn't he?” Jahaan guessed, finally piecing it together, though what bigger puzzle he was constructing, he had no idea.

Wahisietel frowned. “Yes. He must have known I would have come to you, to gather mortal allies from the only mortal I can trust. In doing such, I led you right to him.”

Shrugging, Jahaan casually remarked, “He seems… alright. I mean, he saved my life back there.”

Peering suspiciously over his shoulder, Wahisietel leaned in closer to Jahaan. In a hushed tone, he stated, “He may have saved your life, but I know that Sliske doesn't take an interest in things - or people - unless they serve to benefit him in some way. If there's one thing you can trust, it's that you can't trust Sliske.”

Chuckling, Jahaan assured, “Thanks for the heads up Ali- I mean, Wahisietel.”

Smiling warmly, Wahisietel said, “My use here has ended. I owe you enough to not betray you by watching what happens to the Stone. I return to Nardah. Farewell.”

In a haze of purple, he teleported away.

Seeing the area was clear, Thaerisk hurried over towards Sir Tiffy and the others gathered beside him. “We need to get the wounded back to Falador,” he stated, solemnly. “They won’t make it out here much longer.”

Nodding, Sir Tiffy ordered, “Get the druids to teleport them to the infirmary. Idria, I want you to get patched up too, ol’ girl. Thaerisk, you are to return here as soon as possible. I need your help with our little Stone problem.”

“Understood,” Thaerisk hurried away to complete his task.

Once the wounded were safely dealt with and everyone but Jahaan and Sir Tiffy had vanished from the site, they looked uncomfortably between each other.

The silence and serenity of the plateau was harsh, a difficult transition from the bloodthirsty battle they’d left behind.

With a huff, Sir Tiffy stroked his beard, clearing out the tangles and ruffles he previously accrued. “Well, it looks like it's down to us two, Jahaan.”

“What now?” Jahaan queried. “I don't know how to move a relic of infinite power that unleashes guardians capable of defeating Mahjarrat. Do you?”

Shaking his head, Sir Tiffy replied, “Not a bobbin, but we need to do something with it. Its power is too much for any single person to control, after all.”

A smile tugged at Jahaan’s lips; he tried to conceal it. “I've been thinking of building a nice house. If there’s plenty of space in the garden, it might make for a nice water feature…”

Chuckling, Sir Tiffy wagged his finger. “Nice try, ol’ boy. I do hope Thaerisk has an idea, otherwise we really are up creek, what?”

Soon enough, Thaerisk teleported in. In the brief time he had spent back in Falador, he’d obviously gotten used to the warmer climate, as he’d foolishly taken off his overcoat and left it behind. Shivering slightly, huddling into himself, Thaerisk surmised, “So, we need to hide this somewhere it can never be found?”

Sir Tiffy nodded. “That’s right, ol’ chap. Do you know of anything in your teachings that can help?”

Thaerisk pondered for a moment. Finally, he replied, “Hmm… yes. Yes, I think I know just the thing. We can channel a teleportation spell.”

Jahaan didn’t seem all that impressed. “Any trained mage can teleport. Heck, I could probably do it with the right runes. Is that all you've got?”

Thaerisk explained, “You misunderstand. It’s a tri-fold mathematical teleportation spell. We can all hold numbers in our minds. I'll focus on depth, to ensure the Stone ends up deep underground and not in Varrock Palace gardens or something. Tiffy, you focus on any number, as big as you want. That can channel into the coordinates of the Stone. And you,” he pointed to Jahaan, “you focus on a simple number, used as a cypher for Tiffy's number. The spell will then go through each of our minds, encoding Tiffy's coordinate with your number, and my depth. Individually, none of us will know where it will end up.”

“Blimey, now that sounds like a plan!” Sir Tiffy cheered, slapping Thaerisk on the back. “I may be old, but I can still count just fine!”

“Good to hear. Let's get into position and then channel the spell. You okay over there, Tiffy?”

“Ready when you are!” Sir Tiffy affirmed.

“Jahaan?”

“Same here.”

“Then focus your minds… NOW!”

In a pulse of green light, before Jahaan could even register the action, the Stone had vanished into the ether.

Opening one eye carefully, then the other, Jahaan ventured, “Is it… is it done?”

Thaerisk straightened out the ruffles in his robe. “It is. Thank Guthix that's over. Back to Falador?”

“Righty-oh,” Sir Tiffy concurred. “I think after all this excitement, I need a nice cup of tea…”

When they teleported back to Falador, the sharp contrast in temperature ricochet through them like a gunshot, making them all shudder. It took a few moments to adjust to the ambient warmth surrounding them, but once they did, they made their way into Falador Castle, nodding to the Knights that guarded the gates as they went.

Sir Tiffy instructed Jahaan to wait for him in the study while he went to the infirmary to check on Idria and the others. Remembering the way, he took himself through the long corridors and thin passageways, ignoring the uncomfortable looks he received on the way, from Knights and kitchen staff alike. Feeling slightly insecure, he checked his head to see if they were looking at a wound or something else protruding oddly from him. Unable to find the cause, he instead worked to hurry his pace to get to the solitude of the study quicker.

Closing the door behind him, he relaxed back against the creaking wood and finally let out a pent-up exhale, relief washing over him. In the warmth and the low candlelight, he was alone.

He was alone, and Lucien was no more.

So why don’t I feel better?

He’d dreamt of killing Lucien enough times, of finally seeing the wretched Mahjarrat draw his last breath. He dreamt of a dagger to his heart, a spear through his chest, a sword to remove his head… he’d even dreamt of Lucien being eaten alive by the Queen Black Dragon herself.

Well, this comes close enough, he accepted, trying to force himself to smile. It was an effort.

Maybe praying would help? Jahaan considered, his heart feeling hollow. That unenthusiastic thought was chased down by a simple, Meh. Who to?

Born in Menaphos, he was raised to worship the Menaphite Pantheon, a group consisting of two gods, two demigods and four lesser deities. No-one outside the desert followed these gods, and those that moved out of the land they were born in often turned to other deities, like Saradomin, who was the god of the majority of humans on Gielinor.

Jahaan never converted to any of the other gods. He didn’t like the idea of blindly following one entity you barely knew anything about to the ends of the universe and back again. At least he’d actually interacted with Icthlarin, the Menaphite God of the Dead. Despite this, it felt odd praying to a god he’d met in person twice before, a god that called him a friend, with the sentiment returned. Praying to him now would seem... forced... and so Jahaan just let his mind continue on without the comfort blanket of prayer.

However, his solemn contemplation came to a crashing halt when the door behind Jahaan tried to open, jolting the startled young man forwards. Hurrying away from the door, Sir Tiffy entered with a full-bodied chuckle. “You okay, my lad?”

Regaining his composure, Jahaan hastened to refocus his mind on the here and now. “Sorry, I was just thinking…”

Shutting the door behind him, Sir Tiffy stroked his beard. “Yes, we’ve all had a lot to think about today… it’s been a tricky one, hmm.”

“That’s an understatement. How’s Idria? And the others?”

“She’ll make a full recovery,” Sir Tiffy assured. “We lost a few good men today, but they died heroes, and will be remembered as such. Thank you for all you’ve done, my boy. Your alliance with those Mahjarrat fellows, and the guts you had charging Lucien like that! Ha! I was dumbfounded, what? No my boy, that was an interesting move, but I like your style!”

“So, can I become a Temple Knight now?” Jahaan eagerly asked, proper convention out the window. He was washed over with a weird, uncomfortable mix of fatigue and adrenaline, and it didn’t let his mind tick to a steady rhythm.

“'Fraid not, sonny,” Sir Tiffy smiled sadly, patting Jahaan lightly on the back.

Jahaan's face fell. “Oh.”

“I’m saying no because you're a young lad with a lot of talent and potential. Tying you to a knighthood would be a waste of you. And be honest with me, do you really want to spend the rest of your days in Falador’s wall, ol’ chap?”

Jahaan winced, his shoulders sagging. It was answer enough, and it caused Sir Tiffy to chuckle.

“I knew from the start your heart wasn’t really in it. I may be old, but I’m no fool, what? Besides, we're a little bit stuck in our traditions, us Temple Knights. We only accept true Saradominists into our ranks.”

“I thought you said it didn't matter what gods I followed,” Jahaan protested in vain.

Sir Tiffy smiled, wryly. “That was a little white lie. If you were up to snuff - which you are, my boy - I would have found something else to reward you with. You passed my test. Bravo!”

He’d be lying if Jahaan said he wasn’t at least a little bit irritated, being used like that. But he’d also be lying if he said that he wasn’t used to it by now - people do have a habit of taking advantage of young, naive adventures, after all. However, he stayed his tongue, adjusting his tone to not convey his true sentiments when he said, “So… is that it? I’m to just toddle off on my way now?”

“Not exactly. I do have one little thing for you…” rummaging around the study for a little while, he found a blank sheet of paper and a quill pen. Carefully, he scribed out a little note, but made sure to block Jahaan’s view of its contents. After blowing it dry, he found an envelope, inserted the note, and found his wax stamp to seal the envelope shut.

Handing it to Jahaan - who was feeling increasingly like a mailman - he said, “Take this to Fionella of the Legends’ Guild. No peeking now, my boy.”

With only a mere moment’s hesitation, Jahaan took the envelope. Bowing his head, he thanked Sir Tiffy and made to leave for his temporary chambers, hoping it was implied that he could stay another night as he was too tired to start his journey now. However, at the doorway, Sir Tiffy caught his wrist and added, “Oh, one more thing - keep the armour, my lad. It was doing no-one any good in that store room.”

Now THIS lifted Jahaan’s spirits, taking away the pit of disappointment that had been lingering around mere moments before. Profusely, he thanked Sir Tiffy, bowing lowly as he tried his damndest to hide his grin and keep his cool. Closing the door behind him, Jahaan literally lept in the air with joy, though regretted the clink his armour made as he did so. With a smile that couldn’t be washed off, he began to make his way to his chambers. The rumbling in his stomach, however, decided to reorganise his priorities, and instead he made for the kitchen, wondering with glee what delights they fed the knights of the castle…

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[alexanderking]

Another top 20 Albums of 2016

So I didn’t post any of my old lists up here but...

...’Another late list of last years albums for yer! I’m going strictly with albums this year... 

“Have I left anything out?”- Albums et al of 2015: 

Nicholas Payton- Letters: Nicholas Payton follows up ‘Numbers’ with ‘Letters’; music written and played for each letter in the alphabet. While this didn’t blow me away, there were some nice pieces on here. I really like ‘B’, ‘I’ and ‘X for Patrice Rushen’

Native Dancer- EP Vol. 1: This is a name I see on the live circuit a fair bit. I initially neglected going to their shows (surprise, surprise), but they appeared at the Jazz Re:Fest last July and delivered some truly impressive music; I was kicking myself for about a minute for not listening to their stuff earlier... 

...Errr...I can’t think of any more...please feel free to make suggestions here...

...2016:

20) Ab-Soul- Do What Thou Wilt.:

I did like this slightly more than ‘These Days...’. I find this album as Ab-Soul sharing various thoughts and ideas without fully committing to them, although there is a fair bit of questioning gender roles on here. My favourites include ‘Huey Knew THEN’, ‘INvocation’, ‘Beat the Case’ and the vulnerable ‘Evil Genius’.

Random Note: If Black Hippy were the TMNT, I reckon Soul would be Mikey... 

19) Josef Leimberg- Astral Progressions:

I got on to this one pretty late; I came across this on Bandcamp’s top 100 list. Some nice melodies and some strong playing on here. Unfortunately the song that caused me to buy this album (‘Interstellar Universe’) is by far the best musically for me. ‘As I Think of You’ and ‘Between Us 2′ are pretty good runners up...  

18) Derrick Hodge- The Second:

Derrick Hodge gives us another solo album with ‘The Second’. This album has elements of Hip-Hop, Blues, a bit of Folk, Jazz (obviously), Soul and a strong element of the modal sound present in a lot of electronic influenced music (I’m referring to artists like ‘Floating Points’, ‘Kelsey Lu’, ‘Little Dragon’, and so on...). The last quarter of this project is the strongest part for me. Shouts to Freda for bringing this to my attention...

17) Danny Brown- Atrocity Exhibition:

‘Some interesting experimental Hip-Hop to be found on this project. The subject matter comes across samey at first, but a few listens and some research into Danny Brown has me concluding that this album is be a reflection of his drug fuelled days...I could be wrong...

16) Terrace Martin- Velvet Portraits:

I felt that the really stand out tracks are blocked out by a fair bit of filler. However, the strong pieces are those that I’ve gone back to quite often over the year. ‘Favourites are ‘A Tribe Called West’ and ‘Think of You’...

15) ScHoolboy Q- Blank Face LP:

I initially ignored this album (shock horror -_-), but my friend Dan had tweeted about how good this album was. It encouraged me to check it out: I wasn’t disappointed. ‘Definitely the strongest offering from TDE last year. ‘Kno’ ya Wrong’ and ‘Ride Out’ (one of Sounwaves hardest beats in a while) are standouts.

Random Note: If Black Hippy were the TMNT, I reckon Quincy would be Raph.

Another Random Note: This thought trail is based on my tendency to associate Hip-Hop artists (usually groups) with colours, and loosely based on the model sheet ‘The Line Animation’ did for their vine of the TMNT. If on the off chance’ you’re curious...: 

http://thelineanimation.tumblr.com/post/153342691923/turtle-assemble-progression-reel-and-model-sheets

...But I digress...

14) Incognito- In Search of Better Days:

Although by now I feel pretty clued up on what to expect from this band sonically, I ended up really enjoying this project more than recent offerings; their best since ‘Tales From The Beach’, although feature spots from bassist Stuart Zender, drummer Richard Spaven, and vocalist Vula Malinga, help in revitalising their sound...

13) Collective Peace- Introducing Collective Peace:

While I didn’t find much new in the Neo soul sound Collective Peace bring, I did find myself coming back to this album quite a lot. This album makes it this far up the list on the strength of ‘Sun Chaser’. ‘Let the Music Play’ and ‘Track IV’ do really well on a clear day also... 

12) Aisling Iris- Night Time Moves:

‘Another recommendation from Miss Laidlaw; She shared this album on twitter. I clicked the link and: I always forget how much I like Drew Horley’s production until I hear it again. Some strong melodies and Aisling Iris touches on love, loneliness, lust, being true to your dreams and the current political climate over these 13 tracks...

11) David Bowie- ★:

Over the past year and a half, I’ve done slightly better at taking recommendations from friends (even though I discover most things through someone else o_O). During the wake of Bowie’s passing, this album had received a lot of kudos and so on it went. I found myself sucked into the melodies and some of the soundscapes, particularly ‘Girl Loves Me’ and the title track. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised as Bowie was always quite forward thinking in his approach to musical trends...   

10) Nicholas Payton- Textures:

It’s no secret that I find Nicholas Payton- The Blogger quite cantankerous and unnecessarily miserable when speaking on music (there were quite a few points I agreed with in that ‘Black Messiah’ blog, but the delivery... *sigh*). The Musician however, has some pretty good ideas. This album was composed based on the textures an artist painted. Musically I can hear Odd Future (‘Hard’) or Terence Brown (‘Fuzzy’/‘Sticky’) creating something like this...

9) Solange- A Seat at the Table:

‘Don’t Touch My Hair’ was doing the rounds and so, having enjoyed ‘Solo Star’ (yep. That long ago...), I gave this a listen. I adore the subject matter along with the honesty to keep in mind “Not everyday ‘woke’, somedays take it easy”. I found a lot to enjoy on this project...

8) Claffy- Claffy:

Alexander Claffy presents us the stages of going through a break up; from travelling alone once more, to removing his things from his exe’s flat, to acceptance...only to lament once more with my favourite break-up track this year, ‘Epilogue’...

7) Robert Glasper Experiment- ArtScience:

While this band has been quite consistent with their output this year, I enjoyed this album the most. ‘My favourite works from the Experiment since ‘Festival’, and so great to see the whole group (particularly Casey) even more involved in writing the music. ‘No One Like You’ is my go to track on here.

Random Note: ‘You’ is used a lot in the track listing...Is ‘You’ the new ‘Love’?...

6) A Tribe Called Quest- “We Got It From Here...Thank You 4 Your Service”:

I pretty much agree with ‘The Guardian’s’ review of this album: “...loses focus in the last third, but the first two takes no prisoners lyrically or musically!..”. Nairobi comes correct with his bars on ‘The Space Program’. ‘Solid Wall of Sound’ and ‘Dis Generation...’ has the tightest super rapping I’ve heard since ‘Move yer Self’ by the Procussions. ‘Kids...’ is my favourite on here with tight solo verse followed by tight cyphering.

Side Note: The liner notes are definitely worth a read...

5) Corinne Bailey Rae- The Heart Speaks In Whispers:

‘Another artist I ignored while she was doing the touring circuit last spring. Hearing that she worked quite a bit with the Strother sisters (KING) caused me to check this album out. ‘Green Aphrodisiac’ was on repeat (I was relieved to find that this song wasn’t about smoking weed). ‘Loved the vulnerability in ‘Hey, I won’t Break Your Heart’, the synths in ‘Taken By Dreams’ and the echoey acoustics of ‘Night’.

Side Note: I found that this album feels more complete without the bonus tracks...

4) Kev Choice- 88 Steps to Eternity:

This musician/emcee has been pretty relentless with his output since ‘Oakland Riviera’ in 2014. I was stoked to hear that Kev was releasing an instrumental album and was impressed with what I heard. This album takes from Jazz, Soul, Hip-Hop and Trap. I found the A-Side was superior to the B-Side... 

3) KING- We Are KING:

‘We Are KING’ has been five years in the making. Despite hearing bits and bobs over the wait, I thoroughly enjoyed the complete product. My favourites include the glistening ‘The Right One’ and ‘Red Eye’, although ‘Supernatural’ and ‘The Story’ feel very much enhanced with their introductory movements. This was another project where I found the A-Side more compelling than the B-Side...

2) Soweto Kinch- Nonagram:

Soweto returns with a 96 minute journey of instrumentals and some rap tracks that attempts to convey ideas around the nine sided Nonagram. While I couldn’t quite figure that out, I have found myself replaying this album often too. Many of the instrumental pieces bring images of being at the start of some kind of challenge, whether it be building something, solving an equation, or just living...Had I not got this in November, I’m sure that ‘Soul Bearings’ would’ve been my most played track this year... 

1) 

Esperanza Spalding- Emily’s D+Evolution:

After this album’s release in March, I heard very little discussion about this project from other outlets. I myself however revisited this project throughout the year. ‘Emily’s D+Evolution’ shows a somewhat departure to the soft, sunniness we got from ‘Radio Music Society’, to deliver a Jazz/Rock fusion LP with the straight ahead attitude of a pop record. My favourite is ‘Noble Nobles’; this reminds me of something Thundercat might write. A very close second goes to ‘Ebony and Ivy’; ‘bonus points for the fact that my nieces enjoy this song too.

Random Note: This was another project in which I found it felt more complete without the bonus tracks...

Honorable Mentions: I’m only going for 10 this year; my previous lists have seen the honourable mentions list be longer than the top 20 list itself...

Yussef Kamaal- Black Focus:

‘An electronic/broken affair. The standouts are pretty great but I enjoyed the above more...

Anderson. Paak- Malibu:

...I’m sorry to say I have yet to fully get Anderson. Paak. There were definitely some strong pieces on this album, but I wasn’t that enticed by the rest...His live performance was brilliant though...

Chance The Rapper- Colouring Book:

This deserves a mention fully on innovation and general positivity musically.  This wasn’t something I revisited that much however...

Kanye West- The Life of Pablo:

This album is effectively a culmination of all of Kanye’s stages so far. There’s an element from each earlier album on here. While I’m not feeling all of this album I cannot deny Kanye’s ideas...

Isaiah Rashad- The Sun’s Tirade:

This album goes from hip-hop to trap influenced hip-hop...or is it hip-hop influenced trap?...I found the latter more intriguing, although ‘Bday’ gets a shout... 

Hiromi- Spark:

The Hiromi Trio project grace us with another project with sounds ranging from ferocious to gentle and everything in between. I just enjoyed the above more...

Chantae Cann- Journey to Golden:

There some lovely melodies and vocals on here. I felt like the 11 tracks are actually more like 6 or 7 pieces of music and so I felt a little cheated...

Music Soulchild- Life on Earth:

As far as standard RnB goes, there’s a fair bit to like on this album. I’m really feeling the head nod factor of ‘Heart Away’. I was a bit confused with the message in ‘The Girl’. I still enjoy that track as a slow jam though...

Kendrick Lamar- Untitled. Unmastered.:

Kendrick gives us what is effectively an anthology project containing demos from the ‘Butterfly’ sessions. Untitled’s 1-3, 5, 6 and the first half of 7 are strong. I found ‘Untitled 08′ paled in comparison to the live performance. I haven’t found myself returning to this that much...  

Random Note: If Black Hippy were the TMNT, I reckon Kendrick would be Donnie (Be honest. Who thought I was going to say Leo?)

Childish Gambino- “Awaken, My Love!”:

My relationship with funk is flaky at best. To illustrate the point, the standouts for me are ‘Riot’ and the reflective ‘Stand Tall’...

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Doug Ramsey/Cypher :

While on a mission in Washington, D.C., Doug plays out the oldest trick in the book - the honey trap.

~Reel him in,~ Doug thought to himself, catching the motion from the corner of his eye. He recognized the driver, and allowed the other man to approach him, seeming like he was paying attention to others around him more than his mark. When the driver reached him, he turned and visibly sized the man up. "Heeeey," he drawled slowly, affecting that sort of speech pattern that marked someone who'd had a couple drinks or a tab of something to loosen up before coming out.

The driver, Jefferson, looked Doug up and down with an near audible sniff as he nodded at the car. "Someone would like to meet you," he told Doug shortly, opening the driver side rear door and gesturing in. Delegate Taylor was obscured by the shadows, but he was staring out of the window, not giving Doug a glance through the open door, the same thoughts chasing around in his head, twin exclamations of shame and excitement.

"Someone, huh?" It didn't really matter what the driver thought, and in fact given the context, disapproval was practically a given there unless he was hyper-loyal to the delegate he worked for. The driver wasn't the mark, after all. Doug sashayed up to the car and leaned against the roof and open door in a way that would make it difficult for him to simply be forced into the vehicle. He didn't want to appear too eager, more choosy. "How you doin', sugah?" he asked, doing his best impression of Rogue's folksy Southern drawl.

The delegate gave into the urge to break his tradition, and turned to examine the man standing in the doorway, his eyes tracking up and down the man's face, twin pools of lust and disgust tracking up and down Doug's body before he turned away to stare out of the window. "Fine," he grunted, indicating the seat across from him without sparing Doug another glance.

The one glance had told Doug everything he needed to know, though. He bent down and got into the car. "You got a place to go, or should we use mine?" he asked playfully, stretching his legs out in front of him almost like a cat.

Jefferson scoffed as he got into the car, "Nothing like that," Delegate Taylor noted still staring out of his window, "you won't be here long enough to get comfortable, a dark alley should do for us. The usual Jefferson;."

It fit the man - hide his sins in the dark. And Doug was reasonably sure that he could predict exactly what would happen - he'd get shoved to his knees, do his 'duty', and then get left in the alleyway with his payment. "One hundred," he said firmly, since the delegate didn't appear interested in preliminaries.

The delegate finally looked over at Doug again, looking him up and down before nodding. "One hundred," he agreed, before looking away from the mutant again, "find somewhere near the park Jefferson, then get yourself a coffee while you wait."

Doug had a suspicion that Jefferson knew every alleyway around the park by this point. He parked the car, and all three men exited the vehicle, one headed to a small local shop at the end of the block, two disappearing into the alleyway. Doug brushed his hand against an older brick wall, leaving an unobtrusive fisheye lens in the mortar that would take nearly superhuman vision to spot, especially when he knew the delegate's eyes were on the way his hips were moving.

Once they were out of view of the alley entrance (but perfectly framed for the camera), he turned, producing a dental dam that seemed like it couldn't possibly have fit in his tight jeans. "Can't be too safe," he murmured, suspecting that the delegate wouldn't be the sort to use a condom voluntarily - it would ruin the power differential. "Anything in particular you want?" he asked, his voice dropping lower and husky.