Jon split with Caroline and moved back into his parents' place in Hampstead and we got on with the business of falling in love and finding a new guitarist. It was such a perfect moment in my life - everything was coming together.
With Jon there was more affection than I'd ever known. Sex was tender and adventurous. My other boyfriends were all planks of wood who were happy to get blown off and roll over. It was like learning to love from scratch. I couldn't believe Jon had never been with another man, though he swore blind. Eventually he admitted to once kissing his friend, but I always suspected he was hiding something.
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i am expecting dean worm crucifixion art now btw idewjkfdkjdwnfdj
🪱🪱🪱all I need to work out is how to integrate the colour green because as far as I’m aware j-dog was crucified in a pretty arid area
edit: I forgot that worms don’t have arms this will pose a problem re crucifixion
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This rec list from eldritcher probably got lost on Dreamwidth posts. But I got permission to crosspost so I am gonna copy/signal boost here.
@hprecfest folks ofc don't reblog if you already have it.
I've brought a few cherished fics to this lovely fest.
1. A favorite fic under 5k: Blishen's Firewhiskey, written by @givereadersahug Draco/Lucius. A sinister ficlet.
2. A comfort fic: All of Time and Space. Dudley, Ninth Doctor. All of time and space, indeed!
4. A fic with art: Bringing up Babymort, created by @my--witch and grooot, a terrific Snapecase entry. Severus Snape/the marvellous Hermione Granger.
5. A non-AO3 fic: The Wandering Hat, written by whimsickle. A bright ray of sunshine in a bleak life. Severus Snape, as a child. A terrific Snapecase entry.
6. An unreliable narrator fic: The Residue of His Mind, written by @paulamcg. Sirius, in the throes of dissociation. The pairing is Sirius Black/Remus Lupin.
7. A canon-compliant fic: Before I Am Old, written by @maeglinyedi. Tom Riddle, in his youth. This ficlet has had an enduring influence on my works (when I'd scribbled stories in that corner of fandom).
8. A canon-divergence fic: Friday's Child, written by deslea. This piece has had an enduring influence on how I've written Narcissa Malfoy (when I'd scribbled stories in that corner of fandom).
9. A rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics on AO3): New Joys by @paulamcg. Tenderly wistful. Amelia/Molly.
10. A fest fic: Candles Lit Against the Dark, written by @perverse-idyll. The pairing is Minerva McGonagall/Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank. A terrific Snapecase entry.
11. A dark fic: Too Old for Playing, written by @paulamcg. A brooding, unhappy piece. How could it be anything else? This is Severus Snape's Worst Memory.
16. A fic that made you laughed: Jeeves and the Secret Society, written by @perverse-idyll. I did feel sorry for Severus Snape, but Jeeves and Wooster sailed me over to an ocean of laughter. Albus Dumbledore/Severus Snape.
17. A fic that made you cry: Work is Good, written by iulia_linnea. Deeply moving and heartwrenching. The pairing is Tobias/Eileen.
19. Fic with the hottest smut: A Slytherin Gathers His Rosebuds, written by @kellychambliss. A ravishing concoction of Minerva/Severus.
20. A fic rated G: Egg Nog, written by delphipsmith. A terrific Snapecase entry. Severus Snape.
21. A thought-provoking fic: Teardrop in Your Palm, written by @danpuff-ao3. A wretched soul wants something he can't have, and stoops to despairing lows. Scorpius Malfoy (Draco's son)/Harry.
24. A holiday fic: How do you solve a problem like a DADA teacher?, written by gracelessmary. Assorted Hogwarts residents.
25. A fic rated T: The Ice cream Man and the Potions Master, written by @squibstress. I would gladly join the queue at Florean's shop (and not only for the ice-cream). Florean Fortescue and Severus Snape.
26. A fic with an ending you can’t stop thinking about: Sybil Trelawney and the Unexpected Gift, written by @squibstress. Satirical, intimate, clear-eyed, and flayingly insightful. Trelawney.
28. An under-rated fic: Gossip and Mischief by bluedreaming. Assorted Hogwarts residents.
29. A post-canon fic: The Eyes Have It, written by lash_larue. A Hoggywartyxmas present, written for me! I couldn't have foreseen this marvel in my wildest dreams. I am utterly in love with it! Ollivander and Trelawney.
31. A fav amongst favs: Accommodations , written by @kellychambliss. An unforgettable entry from Minerva Fest. Minerva/Severus.
[I'd also wanted to say it's wonderful to have a fest like this. Thank you for running it, and for running it on Dreamwidth as well.]
(source)
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an ask from @spacecadette on this game has, i regret to say, made me go feral... the rest of the answers to your questions are coming in the queue but let's dive into the one i thought deserved its own post:
say something about your ships that you want to say!
so... a musing on the five couples i said i'd play this ask game with - and then, for additional fun, some i didn't - on a crucial question:
are they barbie people or oppenheimer people?
answers under the cut:
bellamort: lord voldemort was definitely not traumatised by the second world war and it's ridiculous to suggest otherwise. they're seeing oppenheimer, and bella only has to hold his hand for about half of it.
riddledore: barbie. absolutely no doubt about it.
snack: they were going to go and see oppenheimer but they had an argument which culminated in them fucking over the kitchen table and missed the showing.
snapemort: they do the double, because it's important to be thorough, and they only have three or four arguments on which film to see first.
tomarry: front of the line for barbie. each of them thinks the other is the ken in their relationship.
-
barty crouch jr/voldemort: oppenheimer.
deamus: dean was the art director for barbie. they're at the premiere. seamus reports back to anyone who'll listen that ryan gosling is an angel.
dramione: they do the double. draco thinks both films are about the dangers of mixing with muggles. they break up for the sixth time that month.
drarry: barbie. draco is assumed to be in costume by the staff at the cinema.
dron: they're both hooked on the fourth test and don't leave the house for four days.
fleurmione: omar el zohairy's feathers, followed by barbie.
flonks: barbie, but they spent the entire time making out.
grindeldore: oppenheimer, obviously.
harmony: are a terrible couple who loathe spending time with each other. oppenheimer.
hinny: barbie. james announces, furiously, that this means he can never go to see it now, because harry loved it so much.
jegulus: i don't know her, sorry.
jily: the vhs of when harry met sally they've had since 1991.
linny: indiana jones, which luna thinks is a documentary.
lucissa: 'we've never heard of a cinema and the implication that you saw us watching gentlemen prefer blondes at the curzon last friday is insulting.'
marge dursley/dolores umbridge: neither, they're at a dog show.
minerva mcgonagall/wilhelmina grubby-plank: they're still recovering at their house on mull from the reeling at filius' wedding.
pavender: do you even need to ask?
poppy pomfrey/pomona sprout: barbie.
prongsfoot: mission impossible.
remadora: they do the double, see barbie first, love it, get bored halfway through oppenheimer, get arrested for public indecency.
romione: initially attempting to be cerebral, they go to see asteroid city, despite the fact that ron truly does not fuck with wes anderson. they come back the next day, bicker over popcorn choices, see barbie, and have a wonderful time.
ronarry: barbie, in matching hot pink tracksuits.
scorbus: they were going to see barbie. they forgot.
snarry: severus mysteriously has potions which need finishing whenever there's a showing of either.
snily: after some spectacular arguing, they do the double, oppenheimer first. severus pretends he didn't like barbie more.
snucius: la traviata at the royal opera house, barbie - separately - the following day.
taco: barbie. in this case both draco and tom understand inherently that draco is the ken.
tombraxas: barbie. abraxas thinks the costuming is exquisite. tom just thinks it's nice the colour saturation means you can see the film.
wolfstar: they are on holiday over opening weekend. they see barbie in spanish. remus cries.
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Promises to Keep
Eighteen - Three Little Words
recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc
| Masterlist | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Nineteen |
What's that thing Wainfleet says all the time? Get some?
cross-posted on ao3 here + wattpad @/beanswolo
content warning: explicit language, smut, p in v, fingering, slight cum play (?), alluded breeding kink, miles being rough, teasing, biting, marking, miles almost cums in his pants, blood, mild angst, fluff, cringe
word count: 6.3k
Miles was trying to be gentle as he kissed along Jiniraa’s skin, exploring each inch he came in contact with. Her hands explored the expanse of his back, pressing a scratching when he reached sensitive areas of her own body. He was trying to take it slow, but the overwhelming sensations of the bond were making it next to impossible.
The moment Jiniraa released the smallest whimper imaginable, Miles’ self control snapped in two. He wasn’t able to hold back anymore, no matter how much he wanted to savor this moment.
Within an instant, Jiniraa was out of Miles’ lap as he pressed her against the floor of the cave. Her hair splayed out beneath her - she looked like the sun. Bright and warm. An essential part of life - she was essential to his life now, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the emotional sentiments as Jiniraa’s lust seeped through their bond.
Miles’ plank position faltered as her desire mixed with his own. Miles smirked as he slowly traveled down her torso, pressing a sloppy wet kiss at the base of her sternum, “got me losing my strength, babydoll.”
Jiniraa could barely form the words, her rebuttal coming out as breathy pleas for his touch, “please, Miles, I need more.”
Miles nipped at her freshly exposed hip bone, “don’t you worry - I’m just gettin’ started.”
Jiniraa tried to help as Miles slipped the rest of the fabric down her legs, but her excitement and nerves were doing more harm than good, making the task more difficult than it needed to be. Once rid of her flowing pants, Miles traveled back up her legs, beginning at her ankles. Light touches and soft kisses were a juxtaposition to the harsh squeezing and bites as he passed over her knees. As he grew closer to the apex of her thighs, he could smell her arousal. She shifted against the ground in attempts to entice him into doing what she wanted, but there was no need for that. Miles felt like he was already drunk off her pussy without experiencing it yet.
Although she was comfortable with Miles and trusted him wholeheartedly, there was a sense of anxiety growing in the pits of her stomach as he seemed to delay his actions. Her knees began to close as her arms stretched across her chest, attempting to find a sense of modesty under his intense gaze. Settled between her legs, Miles despised her efforts to hide away. He wasn’t pausing because he was repulsed - which was the nagging fear in Jiniraa’s mind - he was pausing to take in the sight of her.
The way her hair was spread beneath her. The way she had already moved to remove her top of her on volition at some point. The way her entire body twitched in excitement as he trailed his index finger along the inside of her thigh. The way her head would roll back and her back arched slightly off the ground, making the dark bruises around the base of her throat more apparent. The connection of their queues that rested across her stomach, outlined by her arm of glowing dots. He loved it all.
The only thing he didn’t like was the way she tried to shy away. Being connected meant he felt all of her emotions - both the good and bad. He felt her shame and anxiety. Since the day they met, Miles was aware of how she struggled with her self worth, but he thought those negative emotions were far behind them. It seems they prevailed. He hoped she would’ve come to learn over time that there was no need to feel apprehensive around him. He loved her for who she was, even if he hadn’t said those three little words yet - hell, he didn’t even know if the Na’vi said shit like that.
With newfound determination, Miles gave himself a new goal: worship Jiniraa for all she was worth. Tonight wouldn’t be about him - it was about them coming together as one. He was used to being selfish with past partners. Now, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t finish, but it certainly wasn’t a priority as he chased his own high.
Miles grabbed Jiniraa by the hips, pulling her closer against him. Her weeping cunt pressed against his own hardened member, trapped under layers of clothing. He teased, “why you shyin’ away?”
Balancing his weight on one arm, Miles bent over Jiniraa’s torso to move closer to her head. Jiniraa’s eyes were entranced by his every move - his single arm wasn’t straining in the slightest, even though he was balancing hundreds of pounds of muscle on the single limb.
Once close enough, Miles hummed again, nudging his nose against Jiniraa’s cheek to move her head as he wished. She completed instantly, but ignored his lingering question. Miles wasn’t going to move - he would hover above her pulse until he got his answer.
Miles almost jumped as Jiniraa’s hand wrapped around the wrist that rested on her hip. He carefully watched her face as she moved the hand where she wanted it to go - where she needed it to go. Painstakingly slow, Jiniraa allowed her knees to fall open to expose her glistening heat to the cool, damp air of the cave. In unison, the pair sucked in a breath as Miles’ fingers made contact with the slick exterior. Miles ran two fingers up the entire length of her slit, trying to familiarize himself with her anatomy.
He cursed as he felt her body clench around nothing, “Jesus Christ, woman.”
Having given up enough control for one evening, Miles took back the reins on the situation as Jiniraa has given his answer. With a glance down, Miles could see how her much smaller hand remained wrapped around his thick wrist as he lazily traced along her slit to tease her a little further. He chuckled, realizing he would have to fight Jiniraa’s iron grip if he tried to retract his hand before she was satisfied.
Jiniraa whimpered, slightly grinding into Miles' hand, “need you.”
“Gotta stretch you out first, baby, can’t go hurtin’ you,” Miles kissed her clavicle, feeling her heart racing in her chest. His voice trailed off, “wouldn’t forgive myself.”
Holding eye contact, Miles ran a single finger up the length of her slit before slowly pressing inside, meeting little resistance as her slick eased the entry. He remained slow, especially as her face twinged in mild discomfort as one of his fingers was the thickness of two of her own. Miles took her pleasurable whimper to continue, beginning to pump the single finger before adding another once her face relaxed.
In order to get a better view of her body, Miles shifted to lean on his one side, forearm stretched around the ground. Reaching three fingers, Jiniraa’s hand left his wrist as she began to arch off the ground, trying to grind down on his fingers in time with his thrust. He wasn’t going to withdraw anytime soon, at least not until he came around his fingers. In a flash, Jiniraa’s newly free hand stretched above her head, blindly tapping around to find Miles.
She could feel that familiar build deep with her stomach. In the few times she experimented and touched herself before, it had never felt like this - never this good or building this quickly.
Miles snickered as Jiniraa’s fingers finally found his own, quickly weaving them together - she was trying to ground herself. Through their bond, Miles could feel her own build affecting his own body. He had yet to take off the makeshift shorts and he deeply regretted it - he was painfully pressed against the rough cloth and unrelenting zipper. Jiniraa seemed to sense his discomfort as he shifted around to find some relief. With her other free hand, Jiniraa tentatively brushed her fingers against the tent in his pants. Now, Miles was never a two-pump chump, but just the feeling of her fingers ghosting over the outline of his cock almost had him cumming in his pants.
“You wanna feel me? Feel my cock?” Miles teased as he shifted his hips out of her reach. Jiniraa pouted, liking the effect such a simple touch had over him, but her thoughts were interrupted as his thumb swiped over her clit while continuing the pumping motion. His fingers began to curl at the apex without slowing down once.
“I can feel you squeezin’ me, baby. Once you cum on my fingers, I’ll fill you up just how you need. How does that sound?”
Jiniraa’s eyes rolled back at his dirty talk - she felt so full as it was with just three of his fingers, she couldn’t imagine being stretched out more, but it was enough to push her over the edge. Her eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm raced throughout her entire body. It was almost too pleasurable and she could barely comprehend what was happening as Miles continued to thrust his fingers into her pulsating body, grinning as she writhed under him. He was so busy trying to catch a glimpse of how her slick managed to saturate his entire wrist that he didn’t see her jaw open before clamping down on the meat of his shoulder. She was trying to ground herself in the moment - the overstimulation became too much and almost rendered her temporarily unable to use her brain. Her fangs penetrated the skin but not too deep. She was able to refrain herself that much, but the blood slowly pooled around the fresh wound.
Jiniraa licked it clean, while muttering an apology, “m’sorry.”
Miles shook his head as he slowly withdrew his fingers, lightly tapping at her spazing cunt, “you cum like that around my cock and there’s gonna be no reason to apologize. Squeezin’ the life outta my fingers, baby.”
Jiniraa nodded as the aftershocks continued to rack through her body. MIles groaned as he licked his fingers clean - her taste was divine. He wanted to bury his face into her, but if he did that he certainly wouldn’t last long enough to actually cum inside her. As Jiniraa continued to twitch along the ground, Miles took the opportunity to finally remove the rest of his clothing, haphazardly throwing it elsewhere. He didn’t care, but it would be a problem later when he tried to find his belt that was tossed into one of the nearby pools.
“Miles..” Jiniraa whispered.
Miles rolled back, carefully moving to rest over Jiniraa’s body. Jiniraa shook as the tip of his cock lightly brushed against the tender and bruised skin of her inner thigh.
Miles mocked her breathlessness, even though he was light headed as well, “what’s that?”
Jiniraa reached down, dancing her fingers along his narrow waist. She couldn’t reach the object of her true desire, but the message got across, “your turn.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but tonight ain’t about me, sweetheart.”
He wouldn’t say it, but if Jiniraa’s hand or mouth came anywhere near his engorged cock, he would be done for. He wasn’t sure if he would blow his load instantly or not, but he wasn’t about to find out - another time.
Jiniraa began to protest, but Miles silenced her with his lips. Harsh and aggressive as spit slowly pooled at the sides of their mouths.
Miles pulled back to sit on his haunches, grabbing one of Jiniraa’s legs to hook it around his hip as her entire body was on display for him. In the dim purplish glow of the cave, her slick glimmered as it dripped down her slit and began to form a small puddle on the ground.
Jiniraa looked down the expanse of her stomach to find MIles on his knees, gently rubbing at her thigh. He looked bigger than usual from this angle. Each curve of his muscled torso and arms were accentuated by the shadows of the cave. His lids were lidded over and pupils blown out.
Traveling down his body, Jiniraa found his cock standing tall and proud. Her mouth instantly watered at the sight of it: the tip was a deep purple, seemingly painfully engorged by this point. It twitched as blood continued to rush to the appendage.
Curved ever so slightly to the left, he was long and thick, even though she didn’t have anyone to compare it to. She’d only heard about her friend’s mates, never having seen a hardened member. She almost laughed - even when her friends would talk about their partner’s equipment - which they surely exaggerated for dramatic effect - came nowhere close to what was waiting for her.
Miles could tell Jiniraa’s mind was beginning to float away as flashes of her memories passed through their bond. He softly slapped the outside of her thigh “you with me?”
“Yes, Miles, I am with you.”
“You ready?”
Jiniraa gulped and nodded, realizing they finally were there. Even though Miles clearly had the capabilities to hurt her in this time of vulnerability, Jiniraa trusted him. He had the strength to kill her with his bare hands, but he would never create any bruise that wasn’t from her pleasure.
Miles tried to steady himself. His hands were shaking as he almost felt like a sixteen year old who was nervous to even palm at his high school sweethearts chest through her shirt. Jiniraa was nervous as well, but it was difficult to differentiate between her own anxieties and Miles. To ease them both, Jinraa tentatively took one hand away from her hip, intertwining their fingers while giving a slight squeeze, enough to encourage him to continue.
Miles snapped back to his usual domineering self, pinning their intertwined fingers to the side of Jiniraa’s head. His other hand continued to squeeze at her flesh, holding her still as he shifted his hips to line himself up. He couldn’t tell what he wanted to watch more - her eyes fluttering closed as she embraced him or how she would suck him in inch by inch.
He settled on her face as a feather light kiss was pressed to the inside of his wrist.
His first thrust was an utter failure, only clipping the rim of her cunt before sliding through her slit. While it wasn’t on purpose, they both revealed in pleasure. Miles groaned when Jiniraa moaned as the head of his cock rubbed along her clit, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.
Miles growled in annoyance. He was tired of delaying this. He couldn’t wait any longer. The frustration took over more than he’d realized as he pressed the entire head in at once. Jiniraa’s eyes rolled back as she whimpered, spine curling off the floor as their torsos touched together.
Miles’ strength faltered as the warmth of her cunt seemed to take over, making his mind go blank. His mouth dropped open in a heavy breath, jaw twitching. Miles wanted nothing more than to press further until their hips met, but he knew it would be too much too quickly.
Through gritted teeth and razor thin restraint, Miles gritted out, “you - you alright?”
Jiniraa nodded, squeezing at their intertwined fingers. Her head lulled around as she tried to process the new sensation.
“Words - I need words, baby.”
Jiniraa matched his semi-annoyed tone as she just wanted to be filled, “yes,” she hissed, “just fuck me.”
Miles slipped forward another inch at her vulgar language. He’d never heard her use English profanity, even when she was pissed off beyond recognition. She was desperate for more.
Mockingly, Miles nodded, “yes ma’am.”
His girth was the hardest to overcome, stretching Jiniraa further than she’d ever been able to achieve on her own. There was a dull ache in her pelvis as he finally settled in. Unknowingly, her vaginal muscles tensed as he pressed forward to the hilt. This time, Miles did collapse on top of her as he tried to suppress the quickly growing orgasm. He needed to move or else he was going to bust, “goddamn.”
He was finally close enough that she could kiss him, trying to distract herself from the ebbing pain as she grew accustomed to his length. He was more than happy to comply, but paused to suck in a breath each time her walls squeezed around him.
“I know you’re still adjustin’ and all, but baby, I gotta move.”
Jiniraa nodded, but quickly corrected herself knowing he would want a verbal response, “please move.”
Miles kissed the corner of her mouth, “since you asked so nicely.”
His thrust started off slow as he carefully studied her face. The movement caused her eyes to clench shut, but he continued as her muscles became more relaxed. Once those sweet little sounds started to spill from her mouth, Miles took it as a sign that he could dial it up a notch. Just because did not mean he lost any depth - he continued to hit that sweet spot deep inside her with every stroke.
Jiniraa gargled between thrusts, her entire body shifting along the ground as the momentum pushed her upwards, “Miles… you - it feels - so good.”
Miles lowly moaned, “cunt is so, so sweet, babydoll. I’m one lucky man. It’s mine, right?”
Jiniraa whined at his possessiveness, “yours.”
Without missing a beat, Miles continued, “sucking me in so good. Doesn’t want me to leave. You want it? You want my cum?” Jiniraa nodded, walls squeezing at the thought of him painting her insides. Miles smirked, “oh ho ho, I felt that. You want me to fill you up? Have you drippin’ when we get back? So much that I need to push it back inside. Gotta keep it where it belongs, yeah?”
Jiniraa released a high-pitched moan, scratching at his back as the familiar pressure began mounting in her lower abdomen. Miles felt it as well, but he was trying his damndest to hold off until she came around him. He needed to feel her cum clenched around his cock.
The dirty talk was working, but not quickly enough. A skilled hand navigated to the juncture of her legs, expertly finding that little bundle of nerves. One swipe and she was already convulsing on the floor. It wouldn’t be long.
Jiniraa felt light headed as everything suddenly was so overwhelming. She was deprived of air as Miles continued to smother and kiss her. Her clit, already swollen from earlier, was being relentlessly circled with a heavy thumb. Her entire body continued to rock in time with his deep thrusts, each time pressing impossibly further into her.
“Miles - I -”
She was unable to finish the sentence before the wave crashed. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Her limbs wrapped around his body, clinging on as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. In her moment of overwhelming pleasure, Miles sped up his hips in attempts to trail her as closely as possible. Within seconds, he was unloading into her. Half a dozen pumps of sticky cum lined her walls. His balls continued to tighten as they forced every last drop out, milking him for all he was worth.
With one final thrust, Miles pressed as deep as he could, feeling his cock twitch at the overstimulation as her walls continued to squeeze erratically. Even so, he wasn’t going to pull out anytime soon. No, he would stay deeply settled in the silky warmth. Pulling out now may be too jarring for Jiniraa.
Once her full body twitching finally slowed to a stop, Miles slowly rolled their conjoined bodies over so she laid against his chest. Nether knew it was possible, but Jiniraa slipped further onto his cock before falling limp against his chest. The first bit of cum slipped out, forming a semi-translucent ring around the base of his cock.
“That was -” Jiniraa was too breathless to finish the sentence, burying her face into his neck.
Miles was the same, “yeah.”
After catching their breaths for a minute, Jiniraa traced circles along his bare chest, “the bond is complete now. You are mine and I am yours. Until death.”
Jiniraa licked a beat of sweat off his throat before pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Miles tensed under her, feeling a rush of blood back to his cock, “you better knock that off before I start fuckin’ you again. This time, I won’t be gentle.”
Jiniraa ignored him as they fell into a peaceful silence. Neither knew how long they stayed there as their breaths fell into tandem. After a while, Jiniraa began to wince in pain as her hips tensed from the position. Miles didn’t want to lift her off, but it was going to happen at some point or another. He slowly sat up, making sure not to jostle Jiniraa as she fought the urge to sleep.
Neither enjoyed the sensation as Miles’ strong arms wrapped around her torso to lift her off his soft cock. While the pressure was gone, Jiniraa suddenly felt empty without him. Her walls constricted, forcing a glob of his cum to slip out of her stretched slit, landing right on his balls. Miles groaned at the sight, forcing himself to look away so he wouldn’t grow hard again.
Jiniraa fell limp against his chest as more of his cum began to slowly seep out, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as she tried to find a comfortable position to rest her exhausted body.
Like before, Miles softly slapped the outer side of her thigh, “c’mon, stay up for just a few more minutes, sweetheart, then you can sleep.”
Jiniraa bashfully whined, “want you to sleep with me.”
Miles' ego soared, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I just did that.”
Jiniraa half-heartedly swatted his chest, whining as he lifted her off his lap to lay her against the ground. He gently disconnected their queues and suddenly his mind was too quiet without her there. Her hands reached out as he moved away to wet some extra cloth in a nearby pool. His heart tightened in guilt as he seemed to pull away too quickly.
He pressed a kiss to her sweaty hairline, trying to smooth it down, “I’m right here. Just gonna clean you up.”
Jiniraa was unable to pay attention as Miles cleaned the inside of her thighs, rough fingers lightly tracing the outlines of bruises. He muttered small apologies when her face tightened, but it was only semi-sincere. He managed to remain relatively tame with his marking this time. It seemed Jiniraa enjoyed it as well - the bite mark on his shoulder and thin scratches along his back were proof enough.
Miles hesitated for a second as he collected their clothing. He knew they should get dressed, especially in case they were to encounter someone or something, but he just wanted to feel her skin against him. Jiniraa was beginning to grow impatient as he took too long, so he quickly shuffled back, but not before grabbing his revolver to keep it close. It was stupid to throw it so far away in the first place. What would’ve happened if they encountered something as he was balls deep in her? Well for one, Miles would’ve ripped someone to shreds if they saw Jiniraa exposed like that - no one would ever have the opportunity to hear her howls of pleasure or see the way her mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
With lidded eyes, Jiniraa reached out for Miles to settle down next to her, “Ma Miles.”
Miles hummed, “what’s that?”
Her exhaustion was undeniable as her words slowed down, “term of endearment. Fondness.”
Miles hummed again, smoothing down Jiniraa’s hair as she curled into his side. Given the low temperature of the cave, it would’ve been a smarter idea to get redressed, but he was trapped now. There was no way Jiniraa was letting him get up again.
Miles rubbed at her bare skin, hating the way she was slightly shivering, “get some sleep.”
Jiniraa nodded in agreement. She wasn’t going to fight on that one, “you should too. Sleep.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout me. Rest.”
Her breath evened out in under five minutes.
●●●
For the fourth time in twenty minutes, Spider began thinking out loud, “where are they? It’s been hours. She promised to be back before dark. Well, it’s almost dark.”
Lyle and Zdinarsk shared a pointed look. They both made their own observations about what the Colonel and Jiniraa were up to, but they wouldn’t say anything. Afterall, Spider was still a child and they were the closest thing he had to parents. He didn’t ever need to have that mental image in his head.
Lyle widened his arms, roughly slapping Spider on the back, “cheer up kid, I’m sure they’re on their way back. Why don’t you go help Mansk?”
Across the clearing, Mansk scowled at the Corporal. He had finally found solace in the preparation of food and there was nothing he despised more than when someone indeed - not even his darling Renia was immune to his neurotic habits when it came to food preparation. He knew better than to snap at Wainfleet as Spider had been fiddling with his knife for the past hour, periodically sneaking away to see if he could locate the Colonel and Jiniraa. Mansk was the sacrificial lamb to keep the boy entertained.
Begrudgingly, Mansk scooted over to make room for the human. Spider instantly began critiquing the way Mansk was fileting the yerik Spider shot earlier - the first attempt to distract the human was Lopez taking him on hunting expedition. Mansk’s eye twitched under his sunglasses each time Spider reiterated how it wasn’t the Na’vi way, but he managed to keep his cool.
Lopez was leaning against a tree trunk, repairing a hole in his vest. To no one in particular, he called out. “So you think they finally fuckin’?”
Zdinarsk shot the tattooed Recom a pointed glare, pointing at the human sitting just a few feet away. She was glad Prager and Ja were out on patrol because without a doubt, Prager and Lopez would’ve begun an explicit discussion about the possible sex life of Jiniraa and their Colonel. Spider’s cheeks flushed hot in embarrassment as he tried to hide away. Lopez shrugged his shoulders as no one responded, muttering something about how Miles was one lucky bastard.
A few miles away, Miles and Jiniraa were slowly waking up. Once Miles realized he accidentally fell asleep in the first place, he instantly snapped up to survey their location. He must’ve failed trying to remain awake and keep watch, but it was too hard as Jiniraa continued to curl further into him. His sudden jolting had Jiniraa stirring awake, but at a much slower pace. She was instantly annoyed, ears pinned slightly back as he pulled her from the wonderful sleep.
Miles apologized, “sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to wake ya.”
Jiniraa mumbled something incoherent as she tried to settle back down. Her body was begging to go back to sleep as the soreness began to settle in. She groaned in protest as Miles began to shift away, reaching for his pile of clothes a few feet away. He hastily pulled on the clothing, cursing when he couldn’t find the belt. A thin waist and narrow hips did not agree with standard issued Project Phoenix military pants - his hip bones were on display as the pants instantly sagged at his first step
Jiniraa continued to lay on the ground, having reached over to use his tank top as a makeshift pillow in his absence. She was wide away now as she continued to admire the view of his broad back and shoulders as he navigated the dimly lit cave in search for his belt. Miles cursed, reaching into a shallow pool of water as he finally found his belt, “oh, fuck this.”
Jiniraa grabbed the canteen, taking a few deep gulps of the lukewarm water. While she didn’t want to leave their little bubble, she knew Miles would want to reconvene with the group sooner rather than later, so she may as well start getting herself ready.
She bit her lip as the thoughts of Spider suddenly crashed down upon her conscience - what would he think? Would he approve? Spider had his father’s ability to hold a grudge, so if he was upset with her, she would have to grovel endlessly until he accepted it. There was nothing they could do to change their mating bond, not that either wanted to.
Miles’ soft spot for Jiniraa had increased tenfold over the previous night. As a human, Quaritch had never felt this way for a woman. Not even Paz Soccoro, Spider’s mother, who got pregnant during their stint as fuck buddies. His love for Paz was different, mostly because she was something constant in a time of uncertainty.
But his love for Jiniraa? A whole other level. The softness of her skin, the way her eyes shone in the darkness, the trail of glowing freckles, her little laughs at Spider’s interactions with the other Recoms. All of it. He loved her because she was good. Better than he ever would have deserved, but she still chose him. She chose him because she saw the good Miles had buried deep inside. The chance to do better. She’d given him a reason to be better - for her, for Spider, for his team.
Miles couldn’t help it as he hastily dropped to his knees, pulling Jiniraa flush against his chest. She was slightly startled as she was in the middle of dressing, but reciprocated nonetheless. She melted against him, but her clinging wasn’t nearly as desperate as Miles’ was. He was scared. Scared of how she made him feel - scared because he felt safe enough to just fall asleep next to her. Scared that now he had something to lose.
“Ma Miles, what is wrong? What is it?”
Miles shook his head, not wanting to say anything. There was a tightening in his throat - if he tried to say anything, it would come out choked. Jiniraa didn’t push it any further, not needing their entangled bond to decipher the intense emotion he was feeling as his hands began to shake around her. She remained as calm as possible, slowly stroking at his bare back as she murmured reassurances against his ear.
Miles’ voice was muffled against the skin of her collar bone. Jiniraa tried to pull away so she could hear him better, but Miles grip tightened on her as a sudden shot of fear coursed through his veins. Once again, he mumbled something that was muffled by her skin.
Jiniraa didn’t try to pull back this time as she softly whispered, “what did you say?”
Miles lifted his head from his hiding place to stare into her eyes.
“I said I love you,” Miles declared. Jiniraa recognized the utter devotion and sincerity he held in them as they were glossed over with a thin layer of moisture.
Jiniraa pressed her forehead against Miles. The words didn’t quite make sense to her as it wasn’t a usual part of Na’vi relationships, but she knew they must’ve held weight as Miles struggled to say time until the third try.
“Oel Ngati Kameie, Ma Miles,” Jiniraa whispered back.
Miles laughed, remembering how flustered Spider got a few weeks ago when he asked the kid for a translation, “that your way of sayin’ I love you, huh?”
Jiniraa shook her head, “it means ‘I see you’.”
Miles hummed, not having enough emotional capacity to try and maneuver through the cryptic and riddling complexity of the Na’vi language. He would just imagine that’s what she said.
There was little rush to leave the cave as they slowly gathered the rest of their items. Jiniraa pouted as Miles strapped his tactical vest back on. It probably was a good thing his back wasn’t exposed, but Jiniraa had no way to cover the bruises that painted her skin. At least the bite mark around the roundness of his shoulder was impossible to hide.
“Quit your pouttin’, we gotta head back. Can’t delay any longer,” Miles caressed the side of her face. With a huff, Jiniraa took one last look at her special hiding place before beginning the ascent upwards towards the mouth of the cave. Miles followed closely behind, ready to grab at her waist in case the ground shifted under her and she slipped.
Even though it was beginning to get dark, the light was still blinding as they exited the cave. Jiniraa hissed as she covered her eyes, turning around the shield herself from the sun. Miles rolled his eyes at her dramatics, even though he wanted to do the same thing.
“Call your ikran. It is almost eclipse and we do not have time to climb up again.”
Miles complied, placing two fingers between his lips and whistling as loud as he could. Jiniraa’s ears flattened slightly, not liking how Miles had cheated and used a human-style call for Cupcake. They waited in silence for a few seconds before the powerful flaps of wings could be heard. Cupcake soared down from above, chittering as he was finally reconnected with Miles. Miles grimaced at the dried blood around Cupcake’s jaw, but said nothing of it. He must’ve just gone hunting and it obviously was successful.
Even though their exit of the cave was unrushed, Miles’ anxieties were beginning to build once they were out in the open. He wanted to return to the safety of the group as quickly as possible, only pausing for a moment before shuffling Jiniraa towards the jittery ikran. The flight was rather smooth as the winds were working in their favor for once. Jiniraa would wince every once and a while at the soreness between her legs, but it was nothing a few of Miles' caresses couldn’t fix.
As Miles slid off his ikran, maybe twenty or so yards away from the group’s clearing, he paused Jiniraa in her tracks. “You gotta hold back Spider when we get back - that kid is going to try and slice my balls off.”
Jiniraa rolled her eyes at his graphic description, but there was a real sense of fear behind Miles’ joke. She returned his smirk as she turned away, “you are a big baby.”
Spider was pacing around the fire as Jiniraa and Miles finally broke through the treeline. In an instant, he was all up on her like a crazed mother hen with a rapid fire of questions asking where she was, why it took so long, and if she knew how worried he was.
Miles took a half step in front of Jiniraa, trying to save Jiniraa from the rapid fire questioning, “kid, slow it down.”
Miles' protective step was enough to tell him everything. Spider’s eye twitched as he quickly glanced between the two. In his crazed questioning, he hadn’t seen the bruising that littered Jiniraa’s chest and abdomen. Once he saw the bite mark on Miles’ shoulder, Spider lost it.
“You son of a bitch! You fucking -” Spider cursed, waving a pointed finger at the Colonel. Miles stood there with an amused and cocky expression - it just added fuel to the fire.
Jiniraa was the only one thinking rationally as she tried to diffuse the situation, “Spider, calm down.”
Spider whipped to her, “calm down?! You mated with this piece of fucking-”
Jiniraa’s demand had everyone stop what they were doing. “That’s enough!”
A few of the Recoms snickered at her outburst, but her glare was enough to make their tails go between their legs. Spider huffed through a few breaths, as he continued to glare up at the Colonel. Miles’ lip twitched and everyone knew he was about to make matters a whole lot worse.
To Jiniraa, but loud enough for Spider to hear, Miles murmured, “I told you so.”
Spider unsheathed his blade, swinging it at the Colonel, “you - you fucker.”
Miles had been expecting it, so he jumped back in defense. He didn’t even scrape his pant leg. In a very un-Jiniraa-like fashion, she stepped in front of Miles to stop Spider, but she wasn’t quick enough as Spider accidentally slashed her forearm. Spider was too blinded by his rage to even notice that Jiniraa had moved to protect her mate, but his blade clattered to the ground as he realized what he had done
“I-I’m so sorry, ‘Niraa, really - I didn’t mean-” Spider choked out.
Jiniraa cut him off, trying to suppress her winces, “it’s okay, Spider, really. I’m okay. I know you didn’t mean to.”
Miles was next to Jiniraa instantly to survey her wound, pressing down against it. It wasn’t deep by any means and wouldn’t even need stitches, but in that moment he was back all those weeks ago when she was attacked by viperwolves. All that fear he was so scared about came rushing back. Spider seemed to realize the care the Colonel actually held for Jiniraa as he quickly searched her over.
Miles fought to suppress the urge to scream at Spider for what he had done, but it would’ve made Jiniraa more upset. With his ears pinned flat to his head as he glared at the human, but softened as he saw the way his hands were shaking.
The rest of the Recoms were awkwardly watching from their respective seats. Zdinarsk was prepared to tackle Spider to the ground if needed. Lyle had the same thoughts about the Colonel.
Mansk was the first to speak in the aftermath of the confrontation.
“Dinner is ready,” Mansk called out, hoping it would diffuse the situation. It didn’t, but everyone was about to have the most awkward dinner of their lives.
Next: Nineteen - What's Real?
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so this has so many errors throughout it, but i wanted to post before i started driving back to school in a few hours.
i hope you enjoyed and it wasn't too cringe. ain't been bedded in six months (tmi i'm sorry)
Taglist - let me know if you'd like to be added
@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed
@oceandeepthirst2
@bolggerist
@mxddymay
@ttreader
@luciddasher
@sofiebstar
@azilove
@fairycaitlin
@graysonmalik2550
@quaritchxx
@dakotali
@lillybbyy
@biggestsimpever191919
@cr1mz0n-wh0r3
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@violet-19999
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Welcome to the Star Scattered Sky, hopefully you find your home among the cosmos :)
pt: Welcome to the Star Scattered Sky, hopefully you find your home among the cosmos :)
i’m mod Mono, i’ll likely be the most familiar face on the blog :)
a little thing for 100 followers!! right here!!
this is a safe place for therians, otherhearted, fictionkin, otherkin, introjects, irls, neogender havers, neopronoun users, systems, neurodiversities and physical disabilities of all kinds, and pretty much anyone else who wants to be here :)
[pt: this is a safe place for therians, otherhearted, fictionkin, otherkin, introjects, irls, neogender havers, neopronoun users, systems, neurodiversities and physical disabilities of all kinds, and pretty much anyone else who wants to be here :)]
we are here to help!! feel free to request different things like playlists, moodboards, fashion ideas, stimboards, den/home ideas, care kits, foods or recipes for your kin/theriotype/source/etc, names and pronouns, xeno/neogenders and flags (we can coin, or go searching for pre-existing ones, whatever is preferred) and more!! just ask!!
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mods! (there will be more of us soon! we just need to talk with the system!)
[pt: mods! (there will be more of us soon! we just need to talk with the system!)]
mod mono: he/they/🔦/static/xyr/moth
mod 🩸: she/they/he
mod 👾: they/them
mod 🧪: he/him
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mod 🎉💊: they/them
mod⚔️: he/him
Requests open!!!
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a DNI banner with the background being the promotional image for Little Nightmares 2. The writing reads:
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A picture of the pale city, showing haunting blue atmospheric lighting with the two sides of the city split by some kind of crevasse. the buildings lean in towards the center, and a thin wooden plank spans the crevasse. Two small silhouettes are walking across the plank. the buildings are inhumanly large, and the city stretches off far into the background, vanishing into the blue lighting. the silhouettes are so small, it makes the entire image give off a sense of awe and mystery, and almost unnerving.
end description]
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SAVED BY A SIREN
Chapter 3: Is this the end?
Pairing: Crosshairs/Drift
__________________________
"Oi! Scram ya filthy flyin' vermin! Find yer own damn fish!"
Crosshairs was currently shooing the noisy seagulls away from taking the fish he caught for himself. One of the seagulls managed to sneak behind Cross and snatch one of the bigger fish and flew off before Cross noticed. The seagulls cried and flew off, leaving Crosshairs alone in his boat.
He sighed sitting down, running his hand through his messy hair. It has been a couple of days since he left the AutoShip and luck has not been on his side. It rained two nights ago and he got completely soaked, luckily the spare clothes he brought along stayed dry under his other belongings. Food was another issue. He didn't pack enough for himself and soon had to fish for food. The seagulls quickly became a problem because they kept stealing the fish when he wasn't looking.
Now here he was, alone on a small boat at sea, with the hot sun shining down on him. There was not a single cloud in the bright blue sky. Surrounded by miles and miles of sea, the sound of hungry birds flying above him.
"Bleedin' hell..."
Crosshairs took off his coat and placed it aside, but he was still feeling hot. He slowly turned his head and glanced at the water. It was tempting to just jump in and feel the cold water cool down his sweaty burning skin, but he shook it off, remembering all the creatures that lived in the salty waters. He noticed his reflection and boy it was bad. His hair was messy and oily, skin dry and burnt. He grew some stubble on his cheeks and his previous thin stache slowly became thick with hair. His eyes were the last thing he noticed. His emerald eyes were dull with bags under them. He looked like a mess!
His reflection disappeared from a splash of a fish, now just looking at the ripples. He sighed and sat back up.
Two days have passed and all he could do was lay on his back with his eyes closed. It wasn't as hot, the weather was warm with a slight breeze, the waves were calm but they still gently rocked his boat in a soothing way. Crosshairs was absolutely bored out of his mind though. Sometimes he would start a conversation with himself for no reason.
"Is there anythin' else ta eat otha than fish..?"
"Well ya could catch a seagull and eat that-"
"Nah, Ah ain't gon pluck feathers. Too much work.."
"Then keep eatin' fish ya dumbass-"
Crosshairs groaned, putting his arm over his face.
"Could this get any worse..?"
And as if on queue, the wind picked up and the clouds darkened, low roars of thunder replied.
"Guess it can--"
The weather quickly changed. The waves slowly got strong and the wind aswell. The boat began to rock more, making Cross move around along with his stuff. He held on tightly watching the waves get bigger by the minute.
"Shit shit SHIT! This ain't good..!"
He began to panic. The thunder got loud, the sound booming in his ears. The waves slammed against the boat, rocking it roughly. Crosshairs could only hold on and look at the situation that he's in. There was a loud crash behind him, making him turn around and the sight terrified him. Before he could react or say anything the massive wave crashed down on him, breaking the boat and washing away his belongings.
Crosshairs was now in the water, opening his eyes to watch the wooden planks and equipment float away. Now what was he suppose to do?!
Suddenly he felt his stomach turn. He felt weird, like...something or someone was..watching him? But there was no one.. he was alone..but he didn't FEEL alone.. He turned his head and only two cold blue eyes met his, making him yelp, causing him to lose some air. He quickly shut his mouth again and began to swim away, away from that..that THING- whatever the hell it was! He kept swimming and swimming and when he looked over his shoulder he saw the Thing follow him, and it was fast.
Crosshairs tried to swim up to the surface but the rough sea kept him down. He was running out of air and soon his body went still. Whatever air he had has left him. The last thing he saw before blacking out was a shadowy figure and those same cold eyes from earlier.
"Ah guess this is the end fer meh..."
___________________________________________
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New Faces
The ship came to a slow, gentle stop in port, carefully coaxed in by all hands on deck. The long journey is, for now, over. Unloading the passengers takes hours, however, as snaking queues clatter down the gang planks hauling cases and bags. Soon after the unloading of cargo will start, but you don't need to be around for that. The captain has been tending to her own duties, checking that her trunk is sorted, and gathering up the ship's log book to take to the company offices. For once she's in her proper uniform and looks rather smart; a long navy blue top coat, wing collar and black tie, and her usual peaked cap. You bump into her as she's leaving her cabin.
"Oi oi!" she beams. Even in her smart clothes, she's still the same wild character as always.
"Good thing I bumped into you, I was going to ask if you wanted to get a pint? I need to go drop off these logs first, you can come with and we'll get a drink after. Sound good?"
She doesn't even give you time to answer before clapping you on the shoulder in her typical way.
"Grand stuff, let's go."
Eventually the two of you reach dry land, after talking with the other crew on the way out. You'll all see each other again in a few days when the ship is due to put to sea again, but for now it's just you and the captain. After a whistle-stop tour to see the most humourless desk clerk you've encountered at the Reedereibüro the two of you set off along the dockside, weaving amid freight and jostling through the melee of people. You try to match the captain's bounding strides, who seems to melt through the throng without a problem, and you spot how occasionally dockers will look in your direction. Sometimes the captain waves, to the surprise of the other party. One man holding a skein of cord seems to whisper something to a young boy, who goes sprinting off into the crowd. They can't recognise you surely, you've never been here before.
After cutting through the crowds effortlessly, and talking without pause on a jumble of subjects both professional and personal, the captain dives down an alleyway to the right. Clearly she knows the place well, that much is obvious. The streets get narrower the deeper you go, and more and more often you hear whispers in courtyards and catch sight of people looking out of gloomy windows. After a surprisingly speedy and exhausting forced march, you reach a ramshackle pub. The sign above the door, impeccably painted and maintained, reads 'The Fiddler's Green'.
Swinging an arm around your shoulders, the captain deftly bounds through the door in a single effortless motion. The interior is gloomy, lit by a few sputtering oil lamps hanging from nails that curl up from the wall posts and hang from rafters. The air is heavy yet cozy, the wood muffles sound in the way old timber frame buildings do. A woman is standing behind the bar, cleaning glasses and heavy beer mugs whilst humming a tune to herself.
The captain presses her finger to her lips and virtually drags you across the room. When you're only two thirds of the way to the bar, the woman looks up and gasps.
"Dear Gods!" she splutters, setting the mug down with a heavy thud on the countertop, "Nelly!"
Before you know it, the woman has leapt around the end of the bar and grabbed the captain in a long hug. The captain returns it in kind as the two laugh.
"I didn't know you were back on land!" the woman says, almost in tears, "Gods the place is going to be full to the rafters tonight mark my words. Look at you! You've changed, yet you're still the same little whelp I know. How long are you staying? You can have the smaller room if you want, we've got guests in the other I'm afraid. Have you eaten? How's it been at sea? Cripes I need to get Badger to tell the others, they'll want to know you're here."
Her stream-of-conscious ends abruptly as she realises you're there. For a moment she's extremely wary and casts her eyes over you.
"Oh how rude of me, who's this then?" she asks, suddenly coming across as quite formal. The captain introduces you and she relaxes again, back to her previous warm demeanor.
"Think of them as one of the pack, they're lovely. I can vouch for them," the captain says, winking at you. You're not sure what being 'one of the pack' entails, but you don't really have time to think about before a door behind the bar opens and a tall, heavy set figure walks in, tucking a weighty hammer under his broad leather belt.
"And where on earth have you been, you scoundrel?!" the figure booms, grinning broadly. A flash of sharp teeth. Even the captain seems dwarfed by the man as he lumbers over with those same, oddly muffled footsteps that the captain makes. In a blink of an eye she's in a headlock, laughing as her cap falls to the floor to be grabbed by a young girl you hadn't noticed was there. Members of the family, mostly young but also a few adults, seem to be filtering invisibly into the room through hidden doorways. You hadn't realised how busy it was until now.
The captain makes sure to introduce you to everyone, and you receive an endless barrage of hugs, vigorous handshakes, claps on the back, and shy wide-eyed greetings from the younger ones. In the distance you can just about hear the wail of factory whistles echoing as the workday ends.
The man with the hammer is called Edward ("Gods no, please call me Tip, everyone else does") and asks you lots of questions, pressing a pint into your hand as he talks with the same breathless enthusiasm the captain does. The captain herself is chatting to the woman from before, whose name is May, and ruffling the hair of the young girl who's still clinging tight to her hat. A few more women and men come in to roars of excitement and another round of emotional greeting. Nothing, however, could prepare you for when, about ten minutes later, the pub door bursts open anew causing the plate glass in the window to rattle.
"Who's this stranger in our neck of the woods?" a man in a flat cap cries, and a gang of working folk of all kinds floods the bar like an unstoppable wave. The chaos is boundless, a cacophony of voices that you find yourself in the middle of. You're still standing next to Tip, but now you're being enthusiastically grilled by a docker called Horatio on the subject of engines (he seems well informed as he wipes oily grime from his hands with a cloth). A fearsome and matronly fishmonger called Ms. Flite asks about how the captain was aboard ship and if she 'behaved herself', as a young lad in a smart suit whose name you didn't hear chuckles when you relate some of your more eerie experiences aboard the Fenrir. The din only rises as the captain and a group of compatriots break out into a bawdy rendition of The Barley Mow. It's enough to make your head spin, yet you feel strangely at home in the throng of people.
After a while, Tip strides to the bar and, checking that all the adults have some kind of drink in their hand, silence the room with his deep booming voice.
"Everyone," he calls to the room, "to our little Nelly!"
The thunderous cheers and raising of glasses threatens to bring the ceiling down, and the captain, beaming and blushing bright red, graciously accepts toast with a bow. Her wing collar and tie are already gone, she's back to her usual messy self.
"To the pack!" she calls back, and the cheers begin again. Horatio takes a swig of his own drink then looks at you.
"Drink up friend!" he shouts over the renewed clamour of conversation, "Next one's on me!"
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Please tell me about the boat story. Oh and can you also tell me why your family made you get drunk when you were a kid I forgot to ask about that
Okay so basically my grandparents had a time share in at those old condo Hawaii thanks to my grandpa’s “service” in the navy. Every other year, all six of us would cram ourselves into this one-bedroom condo and spend a week or two fucking around on the beaches of Kauai. This particular year, we got to do something Extra, and go on a snorkeling tour out at the more remote islands. A tour complete with an 8 hour round trip boat ride, fancy sandwiches and fresh fruit, and unlimited mai tais.
So, for background, my grandpa is the most obnoxious, self-absorbed dumbass I’ve ever met. He wants to be Elon Musk, he’s a flat-earther, he’s an mlm hon who tries to sell his products to strangers in public, he tried to cure his skin cancer with essential oils, he’s ex military, he cooks hamburgers to rare, he’s Chevy Chase in national lampoons vacation franchise, he makes a 500+ photo long slideshow every holiday that includes his cousins open casket funeral and pictures of the car vs train accident that killed them, he flirts with waitresses, he gets mad if you out-pun him, he thinks the silent treatment is a punishment, he’s friends with a local self-taught artist who draws like the average 5th grader (it’s not a stylistic choice), he maims squirrels for fun, he tailgates cars on purpose, he hates animals… basically, his greatest contribution to the world will be dying since he’ll no longer be a waste of oxygen. And what does a waste of oxygen do on a boat ride with unlimited mai tai’s?
Get fucking CRUNK of course
Now, not only did the tour have fancy sandwiches, but they also had unlimited red Hawaiian Punch. That drink was a forbidden and thus very coveted thing in my house so my brother and I probably drank 8 cans apiece. We also ran into rough seas during the last leg of the trip. I guess my grandma took one for the team because she somehow ended up below deck with two sleepy, seasick children on her lap.
This, unfortunately for us all, now meant that my grandpa was left unsupervised.
I don’t know how long we were knocked out for, but I woke up to my mom standing over us, whispering to my grandma with a very concerned look on her face. (Fake names from this point).
“Bev? Bev. Bev. Your husband is-“
The loudspeakers turned on and she was interrupted by the captain.
“Sir! What you’re doing is just stupid. If you fall in the ocean, we will not be coming back to help you. I repeat; we will not stop this trip to save you. Get back in the boat and stop being stupid.”
Silence.
“Don’t do that again”
Queue my mom and grandma looking absolutely fucking mortified.
Apparently that dumbass saw the waves and thought it’d be fun to walk the plank. Every time the boat went down off the back of a wave, he’d jump, and somehow, he did this several times without actually falling into the water.
My grandma does not believe in showing emotion. After getting off the boat she was the maddest I’ve ever seen her. She ripped the keys out of her husbands hand, pushed him into the back seat, and drove him to the condo while the rest of us went out for dinner.
Quite frankly I wish he had fallen off the boat, and the captain had followed through. Because the next time we went to Hawaii, he spent a 9 mile hiking trip harassing different people to buy his mlm granola bars and vitamins since his “business” had just gone international…
Anyways… to answer the other question.
My parents believed that wine knowledge was an important life skill. So when I was like 12 I was allowed to have tiny sips of wine, and at 15, once or twice a week, I’d get a half glass of wine with dinner (occasionally more if I agreed to help my mom grade papers).
At 17 I was allowed to have alcohol whenever the family was drinking (so like if my mom made margaritas on a Friday night I would be allowed a margarita or two) so I wouldn’t go overboard when I got ahold of it in college.
Unfortunately this did not stop me from going overboard I just knew that 1) I could be very productive after 2-4 shots of rum and 2) the optimal “good time” range was 5-8 shots and that’s how I lowkey became an alcoholic until I discovered weed!
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Chapter 11 - After
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Summary: In an upper-class residential Virginian neighborhood, monogamous values rarely get broken. A dangerous serial killer chooses to lay into dormancy exactly there for the next five years with his latest victim. Or for as long as it takes to catch him. Two highly trained and widely different agents go undercover, posing as a married couple to scope him out and make the arrest. They’ll be nothing more than professional for months, working under the same roof.
Word count: 2.9k
Warnings: Lil angst, mentions of sex
A/N: Guys this was so hard to write, I almost gave up bc I honestly didn’t know where I would take this chapter.
Masterlist
Gif credit: ??
Waking up, you felt the coldness of your bed, the missing piece. It was weird waking up next to nothing. After having spent so many nights cuddled up with Aaron in that bed. That wonderful bed that had been yours for a while. You missed it. Waiting for the alarm to go off, you stared up at your ceiling, your eyes following the connections of the white painted planks as you dwelled on everything that had happened over the past couple of months. The assignment. The first night in the house. Meeting everyone for the first time. The party where Aaron had started showing his true colors. And everything after that as well. Thinking about your get-away life with Aaron made your heart flutter. Butterflies flying around in your body and making you feel giddy, like a teenage girl seeing pictures of her crush. You couldn’t help but think back to all the times before, how you’d been at each other’s throats, jeopardizing almost every single mission. You’d thought that it was out of pure hate for the opposing person. When in reality, it had all been the tension, sexual tension, that had misguided both of you.
As your alarm blared out its annoying sound, you groaned as you hit the button, skilfully turning it off as you slipped out from under your sheets. Although you loved your job, you really hated having to get out of bed and go to work. The commute was horrendous at this hour, right in the middle of the morning rush hour.
With half-closed eyes, you stumbled out of your apartment and into the parking garage, finding your slightly rusty car. That was certainly one thing that you hadn’t missed while being away. Having gotten used to the large Cadillac and the way it rolled smoothly over the asphalt, you almost wanted to kick your own car. Seeing the scratched alu rims from the previous owner, the indent under your tail lights from the time someone hit you, the stone chipped windshield from that one hectic day where you took the highway to work. It was a rusty trash can of a car, not even a broke college student would choose to drive around in it. You needed a new car, and soon.
For once, the road to work was not crowded with cars. Perhaps it was the later hour, or the high spirits hearing your prayers. You didn’t mind it, you loved not having to wait in a long queue of cars that would only let two or three cars through the lights at a time, max. It was freeing.
Parking in your spot at the office, you looked at the time. For once, you didn’t have to rush upstairs to get to your desk in time. For once, you could sit down and enjoy a nice cup of coffee, because you had the time. For once, you wouldn’t be late. There was something about everything that made you happier, genuinely happier, it was like a new you had emerged from the Emerald Hills. A you that had changed for the better as you leaned into yourself. A you that wasn’t afraid to make a mistake, to disappoint. You finally had the ability to be you.
You hummed lightly, a joyous melody while waiting for the pot to finish brewing your coffee. It seemed that you were the first person in that morning. Not having checked if Hotch was there. Everything was calm, no sound, no phones ringing, no cases looming over your heads as you tried to consult from afar.
“(Y/N)? Are you humming? Babe, what happened to you in there? And who are you?” You heard the sound of Emily’s voice behind you. She had pulled you out of your own thoughts, snapping back to reality. You spun around to look at her. Carefully sipping the hot mugful of black delicious coffee as you waited, trying to find the right words to say. Emily was right, you weren’t yourself, but this was for the better and you knew it.
“We caught the guy. What’s there more to say.” You smirked before striding away from the conversation and over to your desk. She was left in the kitchen area, watching you with a touch of disbelief hinting in her features, determined to get the truth out of you at some point. They had all seen the way that you acted with Aaron yesterday, and all of them wanted answers. They knew they weren’t going to get it from him, maybe Rossi could, but you were their best offer to get the information.
Upon sitting down in your chair, you noticed the pile of paperwork you’d left unattended before being sent undercover. You cursed yourself under your breath for always pushing it off to the last minute. At this point, it looked more like a mountain, ready to collapse, than a stack of unfilled notes. It was hopeless. Picking up the first file in the load, you flipped it open, skimming over the dates and place names. How on earth were you supposed to remember something so far back? When all your life had been reduced to the glamourous aesthetic of book clubs and wine walks. Your brain had quite literally forgotten how to do work in the time away from your desk.
The rest of the team kept filing into the bullpen, taking their respective seats at their desks as they started working on their own reports. It was weird how none of the usual banter was shared that morning, how everyone seemed so focused on their work at hand. It was like they weren’t themselves like something had changed them during the past couple of months. You wanted to know what, just as much as they wanted to know what had happened to you, but you weren’t ready to talk. You didn’t know where you were standing with Aaron yet, what exactly your relationship had become. But for now, it was best to just let it remain private between the two of you and wait for the next step together.
“(L/N), can I see you in my office?” Almost on cue, Aaron emerged in the frame of his door, looking out over the bullpen, like a king on his subjects. He was quickly gone once again. As you rose from your seat, the rest of the bullpen’s eyes rested on your back. They watched you walk the walk of shame up to the principal’s office, as they liked to call it. You swore you could even hear Morgan click his tongue at you as you passed his desk on your way up the few steps.
“You wanted to see me?” You closed the door behind you as you walked in, seeing Aaron sit behind his desk, hands folded on top of the leather blotter, you felt mesmerized by him. Although you were devastated as you noticed that he had shaved off the beard he had been growing while in character as Nick. Your body remembered the tremendous amount of pleasure he had bestowed upon it, and twice at that. It remembered every single spot his fingers had ever touched. The way his cock had stretched you out and brushed against you with every single thrust. It remembered everything. Somehow it was like his scent was starting to cloud your vision as you stood there, waiting for him to say anything. But he just looked at you. As if he was searching for something that could make him return to your old relationship, before the case, before everything.
“Take a seat.” Aaron gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. They were uncomfortable, you remembered that from every single time he had reprimanded you in his office. He really ought to get some new ones if the rest of the team were to stop referring to it as the principal’s office. You followed his wish and sat down, hands folded in your lap as you tried figuring out what exactly he had called you up for.
Sitting in silence, you waited for him to continue. To tell you what you’d done wrong. What had caused you to sit in this chair? What did he want from you? You were silently panicking. Perhaps even thinking that one of your mishaps from the case could be the root of your visit to his office. It was almost as if Hotch could feel your worry as he spoke next.
“You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.” His face lit up in a grin, watching you visibly relax as you slumped a bit in your seat. “I really just wanted to talk to you about the other night.” You were listening, knowing exactly what night he was talking about. The night where you’d revealed your interest in the Greeks and their mythology as you laid on your balcony engulfed in each other’s arms, stargazing. Something that you’d never done with anyone before. It was a special memory for the both of you, and one that you in particular cherished above anything else. “I just couldn’t help myself. I had to see you. I have no idea why, but there’s not a single minute that goes by without me thinking about that date you promised me.” He smiled at you. This was undoubtedly the most unprofessional you’d ever seen Aaron Hotchner be while you’d worked under him. It was like you were taken right back to high school again. All those jitters of your crush talking to you, the gossip that followed. Everything just seemed so familiar to your teenage years. You couldn’t lie that you hadn’t been thinking about it as well. It was the excitement bubbling. The mere thought of having the real Aaron Hotchner to yourself. Not the unit chief. Not Nick. Not Hotch. Just Aaron. A smile formed on your lips at the thought. Everything was perfect.
“What are we going to do about…?” You nodded your head towards the closed blinds. Aaron instantly knew what you meant as he too remembered the peering eyes of his agents the day prior. Thinking it over for a moment, he nodded once, directing his attention back at you.
“If they ask, tell them that I want your report on the mission on my desk first thing Monday morning.”
“And do you?” You raised a brow at him, already knowing the answer as you watched his lips twist into a small smile.
“Actually, that would be great (Y/N). Now c’mere.” He leaned forwards on his desk. Almost lifting his ass off the seat of his chair as he waited for you to lean in as well. You happily complied, pursing your lips to push them against his. You felt how your heart started beating faster and faster as you were mere inches from each other. You brushed your lips softly against his. Your lips danced together in a perfect symphony, just long enough for Aaron to inhale your scent when a knock on his door pulled you away from each other. Almost as quick as it had started, the kiss ended.
“Enter,” Aaron announced after you had time to adjust yourselves in your respectable chairs. Not a single strand of hair was out of place as Garcia entered the office with her tablet clung against her chest. She looked at the two of you. Desperately trying to figure out what all of this was about and why you seemingly weren’t at each other’s throats like usual. Instead, you were meek. Never had she heard you be as silent as you were right now. And especially not around the unit chief.
“Cruz is on the line for you Sir. Says it’s very important.” Garcia informed the chief. Hotch quietly thanked her before picking up the landline on his desk. He clicked the flashing button, waiting for Cruz to start speaking. You followed Garcia out. Stretching your hand behind your back before you walked out of his office to wave a silent goodbye to the man. Although you didn’t see it, Aaron still fluttered his fingers back at you.
As you plopped back down at your desk, you were instantly surrounded by your fellow agents. Their questioning looks made you feel like you were being interrogated. Even Garcia tried her best to look as intimidating as the rest, but you couldn’t help but smile at her poor attempt. She really was just as frightening as a newborn kitten.
“Now, tell us! What was all of that about?” Rossi was the first to speak. Figuring that although he probably could manage to pressure it out of Aaron, that it would be way more fun putting you under the spotlight.
“He just wants the report done by Monday morning.” You shrugged trying to spin your chair to face your desk. But Morgan was quick to spin you back around.
“Babycakes, you know that’s not gonna cut it. We want to know about the hand holding yesterday! Are you two an item?” Morgan was firm in his tone as he nearly forced you to hold eye contact with him. It was no wonder why most unsubs cracked under his hard stare. You were sure, that if you hadn’t been trained for these situations, that you would’ve cracked too. There was no way in hell that you would tell them that you had sex yesterday before arriving. Or that he had fucked you merciless after the thing with Reid. Even just thinking about it, you could feel your pupils starting to dilate. Mentally slapping yourself, you made them retract again, focusing on the people in front of you.
“I was overwhelmed, alright. That want you want to hear?” Lie. “It’s hard being yanked back and forth between what’s real and not.” The tone in your voice was starting to grow irritated as you quickly started twisting your story back to reality, portraying how you really felt about the situation. “Listen. I don’t know how many times you guys have been undercover. But I truly don’t want to do that anymore. It’s tough. I haven’t talked to my mother for months. Hell, she probably thinks that I’m dead. I grew accustomed to that life. The luxury. The car. The peace and quiet. And now I have to figure out how to resume with my old life. So please and thanks if you would just let me write this report so I can finally go back to what’s normal.” You were sure that you were almost yelling by now as you shifted your gaze between each and every one of your friends. “Hotch could tell that I was tired and overwhelmed, so he made sure that I was okay. Like he would’ve done for any of you.” You scowled at them. Your arms now crossed over your chest as you leaned your body back against the back of your chair. Brows were furrowed as you tried to make them realize just what kind of a situation you’d been forced into on the day you had gotten your assignment. Not of them had been undercover at any time during your years with the BAU. But you, you had even been lent out to other sections and departments in the Bureau. All things that you had never asked for as you had sent in your application for the job.
“Wow, we really didn’t think of that. I’m so sorry (Y/N).” Penelope was the first to speak after you’d reprimanded every single one of them for being as inconsiderate as they were appearing. Of course, you weren’t actually angry with them, but they just had a need to pry in everything that they could. It was their nature. This time around, you really wanted to keep things private.
“Don’t worry about any of it. I’m not mad. I’m just frustrated. You know how many times I’ve been sent out?” Your voice was calmer as you’d taken a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to be civilized. It was not their fault afterward. “Too many. I’ve lost friends and family members due to the times I’ve been gone. All which I hadn’t chosen to do out of my own accord. I never wanted to go undercover. It’s just a lot. And I hope this will be the last time. Please just let me finish this stupid report that mister hard ass up there wants on his desk by Monday morning.” You hoped that by mocking Aaron, that you would throw them off their scents.
It wasn’t hard for them to understand your frustrations. They knew just how aggravating this job could be. Most of them having done it several years longer than you. To the point where it was all they ever knew how to do. They left you be as you finally managed to turn your chair in. Picking the folder for the report up and started working on it.
It was a living hell trying to write it up, your thoughts running wild as you reminisced about everything that had happened between you and Aaron. How you’d grown as people. You were snapped out of your own head as you heard the sound of your phone going off in your bag lying next to you on the desk. You stuck your hand through the opening, rummaging around until you grabbed the electronic, seeing that a message had popped up:
Already miss you. Date tonight? Wear something nice ;) - AH
Taglist: @bitchwhytho @ashhotchner @ssahotchslover @witchybitch2 @wheelsupkels @red-red-rogue @katiehall99 @mintphoenix @slytherinprincess00 @skylar666 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @cheyxfu @hotchnerxo @rousethemouse @honeyofthegods @ssamorganhotchner @mayasreadingnook @avatarkanemi @mischiefmanaged71 @fullmoonshadowwrites @chelseagirl77 @itsmytimetoodream @isa-the-butler-simp @marvel-mars @blacksstarrynight @lethological-clara
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Just don’t look down
Request: Alrighty! I’ll try my hand at requesting once more. For this fic, I was hoping for a Minho one again (there a serious lack of fics centred around him, so I’m using this opportunity to make up for it—if you’re okay with writing two Minho ones in a row) with Seungmin and Chan as the caretakers. Since he has a fear of heights, I was thinking the group goes to tree-top-climbing/zip lining, and because it gets progressively higher he isn’t entirely worried until he gets passed the third course. He becomes shaky and has a hard time getting through the obstacles, which have also become harder to surpass—with more gaps in between, smaller walking planks, loose supports, etc—and he’s evidently anxious. The members don’t think much of it because they are all harnessed in, so if he were to fall he would simply dangle in mid air. That being something that could happen, Minho is very scared of slipping, and nearly does so a few times. His fear is escalating to the point where his stomach starts getting affected. No one really checks in with him as he lags further behind (except for the occasional call from whoever is at the head of the group) and soon they’re all out of his sight. Only when he goes down the final zip line (and the highest, longest, fastest by far) and both his feet are on solid ground, does anyone notice. His stomach rebelles and he throws up. Queue both Seungmin and Chan (who were also slower getting through the course) hurrying over in worry. They end up sitting him down, trying to quell his anxiety before a panic attack can start.
Sorry that it’s very long! I just remember doing tree-top-climbing with my hockey team and it was so scary! I was just barely tall enough to go up, and at one point I was walking on tippy-toes trying not to fall.
Anyway, take as much time as you need! You are seriously amazing ❤️
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The Stray Kids were riding excitedly to the surprise location that they would be filming an episode of SKZ Code. They had no idea where they were going, but from the little details they had received, it sounded like a fun way to spend the afternoon. As they rode farther on, it started to become a more woodsy scenery, and the members wondered what they could be doing.
When the car finally stopped, the group looked out the window to see a tree top climbing course.The group was pumped for an afternoon of fun in the trees. Well, most of the group. Lee Know, was feeling quite the opposite. He was terrified of heights. He sat in his seat, where he looked calm at first glance. But inside, he was panicking.
“Minho, you coming or what?”
Hyunjin said from outside the car. He snapped out of his panic induced trance to see that the members had all already made their way out of the vehicle.
“Oh..Yeah- I’m coming.”
He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the course. But he forced himself to climb out of his seat and out of the van.
The walked the short distance to the entrance, where a man waited with eight harnesses. He began to explain the safety procedures and rules.He also told them that they would have go pros strapped to them the record their time in the trees. Minho was only half listening. The rest of his mind was worrying about what could go wrong. What if a rope breaks? What if a wood bridge collapses? What if his harness comes off and he’s left free falling into the forest?
Before he knew it, he was being strapped into his harness and hooked to a rope that held him to the course. He was putting his whole life in the hands of some thin rope that would probably snap any moment.
With that, the members were sent off to complete the course.
He trudged forward taking as tiny steps as he could, before reaching the first “obstacle of the course. It wasn’t much of an obstacle merely a simple bridge to walk across. Easy enough. If he just didn’t look down, he would be fine. Hopefully.
But as he stepped onto the bridge, it shook an swayed and creaked. It was scarier than he expected . He held onto his rope for dear life as he made his way across the wobbling bridge. He sighed a breath of relief when he got across. At this point, all the members were well ahead of him. They were all enjoying themselves as the hung from ropes in the sky. But Minho was definitely not having a good time.
He passed a few more of the “simpler” obstacles before reaching the first zipline. Oh God. He was petrified. He could see some of his members up ahead of him now, and when they noticed his hesitation, they tried to motivate the scared boy. It was a short zip line after all, so they didn’t really understand what was the hold up.
“Come on Minho, you’ve got it. Just don’t look down. It’s over before you know it.”
Someone called from the other side. And after hyperventilating for a minute, he lifted his feet and let himself fly down the zipline, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open, screaming the whole time. He landed on the platform on shaky feet. He was dizzy. His feet felt like they would give up and he would pass out, hanging there in the harness. After a minute of trying to collect himself, he pushed forward. He just had to get it over with and get down from there. Just don’t look down.
He ventured forth through the course, until he reached another bridge. But it wasn’t an ordinary bridge. It was split into four sections, and you had to step from square to square to get across. each square would move and sway differently from the next. He couldn’t give up there. He would if her could, but he physically could not get out of the course without crossing the obstacle. So, he held right to his rope and stepped to the first square. It was like standing on a swing. Only it was way up in the sky and if you fall you probably die on impact.
The swing- I mean “stepping bridge” swayed below him. He stepped his foot to the next wooden square as carefully as he could, and it flew forward with Minho in an awkward straddled position. He realized he definitely couldn’t stay like that for long and quickly stepped his other foot along with it. He still had more steps to go. As he tried to continue on with the obstacle, he almost fell. It was terrifying. He knew that if he did fall, he’s strapped in, and he would just hang there for a second before continuing the course. He was so scared that he was dizzy, and his stomach feels weird from the sheer amount of fear rushing through his body. Still, he trudged along through the course. Just don’t look down.
The farther he got, the harder(and scarier) the course got. Wooden steps got smaller. Zip lines were longer. There were less things to grab onto. By the time he was in front of the last part, he was shaking. His stomach still churning and the dizzy feeling still remaining. The only people in sight were Chan and Seungmin, who seemed to be taking a quick breather. Minho looked to see what the last level was. It was a giant zip line. He was petrified to be quite honest. He watched Chan and Seungmin get up to go down the zipline. Seungmin went first. As Minho watched, it only made him even more anxious as Seungmin flew down the zipline, screaming in a way that was more from the thrill, and not fear. Chan went down as well, also zooming down at the speed of light.
When it came time for Minho to go down, he was close to a panick attack. But he had to get down out of the sky. Just don’t look down.
He stepped up to the zipline, closed his eyes and started flying.(metaphorically obviously)
He screamed, not from thrill but from fear. That’s when made the biggest mistake possible. He looked down. He felt adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was light headed. And his stomach was churning like. crazy. The ride was almost over, and he felt himself starting to cry in terror as tear streamed down his face.
When he finally made it to the landing pad, Seungmin and Chan were waiting for him.
He stepped onto the hardwood floor, and before his friends could say a thing, he leaned over and let out a stream of vomit.
Once they saw his condition, they rushed over to help their friend. He was pale and shaking.
“Minho, what’s wrong?” Seungmin asked feeling his forehead but not finding much of a temperature.
But the boy gave no answer. Chan realized what was happening. Minho was having a panic attack. How could Chan be so stupid! He should have stayed with him. He knew about Minho’s fear of heights. He just didn’t know it was this bad. He should have stayed with him. If he had, maybe their friend wouldn’t be standing here, surrounded by fresh air and still unable to catch his breath while standing in front of a puddle of puke. He turned off Minhos camera, along with his own and told Seungmin to do the same.
“Minho, look at me. Breath in….Breathe out….”
He continued to help Minho to calm down, Seungmin holding onto the boys hand and tracing circles along it. Once he was finally calm, they took him out of his harness and sat him down on a nearby bench.
“I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you. I knew about your fear. I should have made sure you were okay.” Chan said. He felt so bad. What kind of a leader leaves his friend to do the something that scared him like this all alone.
“It’s okay. You were having fun. I’m glad you got to have a fun day. Sorry I ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. We ruined it by not being there for you.” Seungmin said.
Minho didn’t know what to say. It’s not like they were wrong. But he accepted their apology. Chan went to talk to the staff about what happened to have it cut from the video and so it would get cleaned up, while 2Min headed back to the car. When the other members found out what happened, they all felt guilty and promised to make it up to him somehow. Minho was just glad to be on solid ground where he could finally breathe again.
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Sorry this request took me so long! I hope it’s what you wanted.
🫶
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A Regal Look at Elizabeth Swann's Costumes in At World's End
I may not be an expert in historical fashion but I know good costume design when I see it - let's dive in!
We first meet Elizabeth in Singapore, disguised as a native, presumably a man. Going to meet Sao Feng results in her having to remove most of the outfit down to this. I like that her hair is braided, sort of like a queue, which would have been more common here. I also really like the gag of how much firepower she's hiding under that poncho (and not so much the joke where she has to strip down to go in the bathhouse).
Female representation: 5/10 The first bit is 10/10 for being a very good outfit that tells us a lot of information about where Elizabeth is on her journey (i.e., a very prepared pirate). But then the whole bit of getting her down to her undershirt and especially being looked at from under the planks is pretty tiresome and a 0/10, so I averaged them.
Practicality: 7.5/10 The whole outfit gets a 10/10 for being the most practical thing she could possibly be wearing in this situation. As with above, the following outfit is pretty disappointing but I wouldn't give it a zero, so the overall rating is a bit higher for practicality.
When they leave Singapore, Elizabeth is wearing this costume for the next few scenes. It appears to have an Eastern-style undershirt, with slacks and shoulder protection added on. It definitely feels like an outfit she cobbled together in a hurry and that makes sense for the situation (being on the run from the East India Trading Company). It's also I think the only time we see her wear armor until her pirate king outfit. This shows us how well she's adapting to pirate life on the run as well as her goal of getting everyone to make a stand and fight back against their enemies (her main goal for the movie).
Female representation: 10/10 Not gonna lie, I was sad not to get a full-length picture of good quality because it is one of my favorites of hers. It fits the situation perfectly and tells us a lot about her. It's also unique from what the fellas are wearing without singling her out as the lady of the group.
Practicality: 10/10 Easily the most practical thing Elizabeth ever wears. The only negative I can think of is that she might be hot, but she mainly wears this in Asia and then to the ends of the earth, where it is certainly cold at some points (it looks hot in Davy Jones' Locker but we don't know if it is).
Sao Feng has her dressed in this outfit while she is his captive. She wears it while she is next captive of the EITC on the Flying Dutchman until James Norrington helps her escape. It is obviously a ceremonial costume and is absolutely gorgeous. The embroidery alone is amazing, let alone all the other detailing. it is easily as rich and beautiful as any of her dresses in the first movie.
Female representation: 10/10 Honestly, the outfit for a woman who is currently a captive and mistaken for a goddess does not usually look like this. I would expect something white and billowy with a lot of skin showing (though obviously that is a Western view and I'm sure things are different in Singapore, but this was made by Hollywood after all). Anyway, I couldn't ask for better.
Practicality: 8/10 Being ceremonial, it presumably is not the most practical outfit for the kinds of adventures Elizabeth is on. It does allow her to climb up a rope to escape, which is more than I can say for most of her gowns.
And here she is, the pirate king! After taking a dip in the last outfit, she presumably puts this together from whatever was on the ship she and Tai Huang (and his men) take to Shipwreck Cove. And just look at it - it's beautifully made and actually has some good armor for going to war at last. It's perfect in every way.
Female representation: 1000/10 Our leading lady gets a costume change before the final scene and actually gets more layers? That never happens. She looks like the hero of our story and the king of the pirates and it's wonderful.
Practicality: 1000/10 Again, she actually gets to wear armor! In a battle! None of our other leads get that. It wouldn't do much against a direct shot, presumably, but there is a lot of shrapnel from the canons and I'm sure it would be some help against a sword. I can't think of another lady who gets such a practical change of outfit for the final battle.
This is presumably what she was wearing under the pirate king outfit. But of course she looks great in it. It's also more feminine than anything she has been wearing before it (even the other undershirt was more clearly a man's). That makes sense for her wedding night. Or the morning after, technically. It also makes sense canonically for it to be sunset but the mood lighting adds to the romance of the scene. I particularly like how the skirt (?) pieces swirl around as she runs down the beach.
Female representation: 9/10 It's basically like wearing a man's button down the morning after, but it is also actually her own clothes and she looks pretty without inviting oggling.
Practicality: 8/10 She's not wearing any shoes (except Will's boot briefly) and has a lot of skin bare for being in the Caribbean. It doesn't compare practically with the other outfits of this movie, but I mean I would wear it.
Ten years later, we check in Elizabeth wearing this outfit while taking her son to meet Will. We don't get a lot of information about what she has been up to all this time, if she is still pirate king or whatever. but we can see that she is pretty far from the proper lady we met in Port Royal. She is wearing a loose shirt and skirt with a waistcoat - presumably man's clothes above the waist and the skirt could be loose pants for all I can tell (there aren't a lot of pictures sadly). In any case, we can conclude that she is still bucking tradition even if she is now a wife and mother. Even if she might not be a king of all of the pirates anymore.
Female representation: 10/10 For a lady pirate wearing man's clothes, she looks pretty great - just loose fitting and comfortable instead of it being an excuse to show skin. Not that I expected otherwise from this franchise at this point (they've done fantastically going against tropes the whole time and especially with Elizabeth's outfits). A wonderful last scene of her.
Practicality: 9/10 Obviously not as practical as the armor, but she's not going into battle. It's a great outfit for what she's doing.
More costume reviews HERE
Check out my thoughts on Elizabeth and other female characters here
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The Fairy and the Prince #6 +#7 + #8
Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72
Alright, I managed to sort out the queue, and realized there are a lot of updates. Like. A LOT. Which makes me fret, because I want the story to be read, you know? I want to know people enjoy it. And waiting until March of next year for it to be anywhere near done (it isn’t), seems far too long a time.
So the updates are going to get a little bigger where possible.
Spring was sweet and summer was golden, and fall rolled in rich and blustery and full of bright colors. Three princes, the oldest, went into the woods; one of them came back. The next day, when he went to saddle his charger in the stables, the horse trampled him quite dead.
The palace staff had to acknowledge that, perhaps and possibly, there was something to the rumors of a fairy curse. Master Leminy requested more guards, and got them. New teachers arrived from a distant land, and new classes were offered to the older boys. All of this passed Adam by unnoticed; he was far more focused on wringing as much fun as he could from his time with Linden, well knowing it would come to an end with the first snow. He didn't ask why. The what and the how and the why of Linden were things that Adam knew were dangerous topics of conversation, and he didn't want them to cost him his friend. Instead he simply accepted Linden as they were, which was easy enough when their days were too filled with adventures and mischief.
He did ask one thing, as they perched on a long-forgotten dock over a deep, ice-cold pond in the middle of the hunting woods. "Are you sorry I don't have more friends?"
"No," Linden replied without missing a beat, watching as fish nibbled mud from between both their toes. "You'd be with them, instead of with me."
"No, I mean, are you sorry it's just the two of us?"
"Are you?" The shattered, many-colored eyes came up sharply to meet his.
"No, but." Adam looked away, kicking idly at the water. He'd been thinking on it for a long while, and had decided that being taught to be a king was far too big a job for him. It put ideas in his head that did nothing but hurt. "I feel selfish, is all," he muttered.
"Selfish!" Linden exclaimed. "Selfish, you!"
"Because you don't get to do anything else. You're stuck with me."
"Stuck with you!" Linden shoved him and laughed. "We're both the youngest, Adam. It's not being stuck with one another, is being together against everyone else!"
"I still feel bad about it!" Adam couldn't help but smile. "Maybe your family wouldn't think you're silly if you had more friends."
"Ugh, who cares what they think," Linden flopped back on the worn planks of the dock. "And where would we even find friends? With all those Princes in the palace? How confusing would that get, all those faces and they're all called Prince."
"They're not called that, Linden, it's their title. They've got their own names too."
"Pfft." Linden flapped a hand in dismissal. "They wouldn't like me."
"What!"
"They wouldn't!" Linded persisted. "They're afraid of the woods and the fog."
"Shouldn't they be?"
"Well, fine, sure, alright, maybe a little. But I don't fancy trying to make friends with people who are afraid of me before I've even done anything."
Adam had to be silent, simply because Linden was right. It was one thing for the palace staff to gossip and whisper and consider the possibility that there might be fairies in the woods, that they might have a compact with the Dowager, that there might be a terrible price to pay for any prince that wanted to be king. But for the princes themselves it was awfully personal to know they might get yanked into the woods one day, and they might never come back out. Adam wasn't afraid because, in his child's heart, he believed Linden would protect him. He believed Linden would always be there to catch him when his fingers slipped from the ledge. And he was wise enough to realize his was a unique protection, afforded to no one else.
He didn't bring it up again. The conversation, apparently, had a much greater impact on Linden than he'd expected, because three days later, on a very blustery day, he was dragged into a goat shed, empty at the moment with the flock out to pasture. There, in the dim and warm straw-scented shelter, there was a boulder.
"Absolute!" Adam exclaimed. The boulder was three times as large as the two of them combined. "How'd you even get it in here?!"
Linden blew a rude sound at him. "You're so blind, Adam." They jabbed a finger sharply into the boulder.
It groaned and whined in protest, and Adam took a startled step back. "Did you just hurt the boulder?"
"It's not a boulder," Linden replied archly. "You can sleep later!" they yelled at the boulder-that-wasn't. "You've been bugging me two years running, now come on!"
The boulder unfolded itself, very slowly, and Adam blinked, trying to figure out how he could have ever thought it was a boulder at all. The creature before him - a boy, it was a boy, his mind told him very certainly, was tall and lanky, with immensely broad shoulders and astonishingly long arms, the rest of its body narrow. His face was rough and uneven, with a very long and sharp nose, tiny and soulful brown eyes under bushy brows, a mop of dark, clay-colored hair.
"Well, go on," Linden urged impatiently.
"Don't be mean, he's scared. I would be too, if I kept getting poked," Adam shot back.
"Ugh, fine, I'm sorry I poked him. I'm sorry I poked you."
The immense, strange boy looked between Adam and Linden, and then offered a big hand.
"Gently," Linden warned.
Adam took the offered hand and shook it, feeling the strength in that grip, carefully controlled. It was like shaking hands with... well, not a mountain, but certainly a small hill. The skin was cool and pebbled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you Linden's friend?"
"He's my younger brother," Linden replied solemnly.
Adam cocked his head and pressed his lips tightly shut. He looked at the boy, who was taller than the both of them together, who outmassed them like a horse outmasses a chicken. He rubbed his hair and said nothing for a long moment, trying to think of anything he'd been taught about being princely and kingly that would not sound mean. "... Younger?"
"Ugh!" Linden cried out all the same and kicked straw at him. "You are so judgy, Adam! Never mind that." They turned their attention back to the newcomer. "Go on, then, like we practiced. Tell him what you want him to call you."
Adam drew himself up very straight. He even laced his hands behind his back, like he'd seen the Dowager do at court. "What may I call you?" he asked in his most polite, most princely voice.
Linden's 'younger brother' drew himself up just as straight, fingers wriggling nervously before him. A mouth Adam had never seen, a gap in that narrow face, puckered. "Booooouuuuuuulllllll...."
There the youngling's breath ran out. They waited in the blustery, rich autumn silence, Linden rocking on their feet, Adam trying to be patient. They waited, and waited, and waited some more.
A thin snore came out of the young boy's mouth.
"You did it again!" Linden shoved their 'younger brother', who staggered awake and moaned in wordless embarrassment.
"No, wait, it's fine. Really, it's fine, Linden!" Adam stepped between the two. "Don't be so mean to him! Little kids sleep all the time when they're young!"
"Well, yes, but we'd practiced! And he's been begging me forever to bring him with me, and since you were talking about friends, I thought -"
"And I'm very glad to meet him!" Adam assured them hastily. "It doesn't have to be perfect, Linden. It's not like we're at court or I'm a king or something." He beamed into those shattered eyes, and then turned to offer his hand to the boy once again. "It's very nice to meet you, Boul."
"'s Boulder," Linden muttered. "For Boulders-for-brains."
"I think Boul might be easier for you, right, Boul? At least until you get a little older?" The boy nodded eagerly. "I'm Prince Adam Lestrelle, but it's fine to just call me Adam."
"Adam," the boy croaked. He had a bullfrog's voice, coarse and abrupt.
Adam turned to look at Linden. "You didn't have to," he said quietly.
Linden shrugged, looking down. "I know. But I didn't want you to feel selfish. And maybe I've been a little selfish myself. And anyways, he can't come all the time, light's hard on him. And they keep being horrible to him -"
"Horrible?"
"On account of he's so small."
"Small?!"
"For his age, I mean."
Adam stared at Boul, who looked woebegone and ashamed. "Well, that's stupid. I think he's just fine the way he is. And I'd be glad to be his friend."
Linden hugged him abruptly. "Thank you." And then shoved him. "Well, he can't climb so I figured we could go see the mushroom caves."
"There's caves?!" Adam was beginning to reel from far too many surprises.
"Honestly, Adam, don't these people teach you anything useful. Come on!"
***
The caves were not particularly large or extraordinary, but to three younglings left to their own wild devices they were everything. They had the rest of autumn to explore them, to fight dragons made of stalactites and find great hoards of priceless beetle shells and broken bits of quartz, to learn the language of bats, of blind, pale lizards and of trundling mushroom folk. They found the aquifer, far beyond the surface, and met the pale, beautiful, singing creatures there, that sometimes might grant a wish if it were small, in exchange for a token thrown into one of many wells on the surface. In the dim glow of the mushrooms it was hard to see one's way for anyone but Boul. Adam fell once, when the path under his feet went straight down a cliff-face where he could neither hear nor see the bottom, and for once it wasn't Linden's hand around his wrist that saved him; it was the young troll catching the scruff of his shirt and pulling him back up. Adam clapped one of his shoulders and ran on, shaking his stinging hand. Boul puffed up like a freshly knighted squire.
Winter came and winter went, and once again Adam put the time to use catching up on his studies. Master Leminy had to sit with gritted teeth and a frozen, atrocious smile on his face while the teachers gushed that the youngest prince was the equal in his studies of many of those that counted fifteen or sixteen years. Adam learned to ride with a couched lance, which seemed to him the height of stupidity. If someone came at him on horseback with a big old giant piece of wood, the first thing to do would be to take the horse out from under them, not come at them with another big old giant piece of wood. But he was to learn, and learn he did; he was the youngest still, and small enough he could practically disappear behind his shield. If he braced it just right on his jousting saddle, no one could move him, lance or not.
He kept bringing Dane to his pugilism classes. The teacher couldn't complain, it gave Adam someone his age to spar with, even if the young boy was shooting up in every direction. The students couldn't complain, it spared them having to spar with Adam, who had developed a habit of going kicky and bitey like a feral squirrel when they didn't pull their punches, which was often. And Dane certainly wasn't complaining; he loved the learning almost as much as books bored him to sleep. Master Leminy tried to complain, but Adam wisely pointed out that Dane had been *his* choice of companion, and if he were to someday become a king's man-at-arms, he would need to know how to fight side-by-side and back-to-back with his liege. Unless, of course, the Master of Scions had chosen Dane for another reason?
He had tea with the Dowager on his twelfth birthday, squirming. The silver-haired Queen examined him far too keenly with his mother's eyes, and her bland questions about the progress of his studies didn't seem harmless anymore.
She wanted to know if he'd gone into the woods. He shrugged. Everyone went into the woods.
She asked him if he'd made any unusual friends. He nodded. Beli could read numbers like some people read letters. Who even did that?!
She instructed master Leminy to start his deportment lessons. Adam could have died of shame on the spot, but as the news spread they bought him, at last, an ounce of pity from his peers; none of them wanted to sit for two endless hours listening to some young lady-in-waiting or another droning on about spoons and forks and napkins and tea and how many sugar cubes were too many. Fortunately Arditty knew as well as Adam that he would never be king and, much to his surprise, offered him the same deal he'd once offered Beli and Dane. The only caveat was that he had to hide where she bid him while she went necking and kissing with whatever boy currently held her interest; that usually meant the drawing rooms overlooking a snow-choked garden or a tiny inner courtyard, reading and doing homework two years ahead of his age while Arditty's maid did the mending. She snuck pastries and cheese to the boys, and they would have done anything for her.
Rickard ambushed Adam in the closed jousting courtyard two days after his birthday. He would be fifteen soon, he informed Adam as the older prince's buddies pinned the youngest of their number down, and too old to be picking fights with babies.
In the ensuing brawl, Dane broke Rickard's nose. Everyone was dragged off to punishment detail looking sorry and bedraggled, and neither Alexander nor Ulster would be seen in Rickard's company again. Dane looked flustered and guiltily pleased under Adam's praise.
Spring came once again, and as snow dripped and plopped off the roofs and ledges, Adam took his courage in his hands and asked his winter-friends a dangerous question. "Would you like to know where I go during the year?"
Dane instantly threw his hands up, shook his head and walked away. Beli seemed to think on it very hard. "I'm curious," he admitted, as careful with his words as he was with his reading. "I'm not going to say I'm not. I've always been. But I think..." He glanced at Dane. "If it's what I think it is, I think it's best if we don't, highness."
"You know what it is," Adam guessed.
"I think I do," the boy corrected. "And it doesn't bode well for anyone."
"But why? It's not like I'm going to be king. I'm barely a prince as it is."
Beli chewed restlessly on his upper lip. "I think you need to talk to the Culli-maid about it, highness. This is a courtly matter, like."
Adam did. With Arditty ignoring his education completely, her maid had stepped in to fill in the gap, sort of. She'd begun life as a scullery maid, back when she'd been quite as young as Adam, if not more so. 'Culli-maid', she'd called herself, and it had stuck. Her real name was Sophronia, which no one back then had cared to learn to pronounce, and which she loathed it anyways. The young prince caught her on a bright and sunny afternoon after a heavy snowfall, while Arditty and a new suitor played outside like young and awkward fawns.
"Culli, you know it was my birthday not so long ago."
She nodded. In her meek and low voice, she offered. "Happy Birthday, highness."
"Thank you," Adam flushed as he hadn't before anyone else's good wishes. "The Dowager was asking me questions during tea."
Culli set her mending down and examined him with shrewd brown eyes. "About the woods?" When he nodded, she stared out the window. "Do you want me to tell you what is said or what is known?"
Adam hesitated. "Can't you tell me both?"
She bit down a smile. "I could. It's the wise thing to do. I forget you're wiser than most." When he wriggled under the praise, she reached out to tuck his cravat back in place. "They say that a fairy prince fell in love with the Queen, back when she was a princess."
"But she's not married."
"Oh, she's been married. She's been married thrice, that's known to all. But back then, they say that she laughed at him, dismissed him, disdained his promises of wealth and power and love."
Adam, having seen Arditty do the same to a boy every week like clockwork, and having lived through the unavoidable consequences of it, grimaced, his gaze turning towards the glass-paned windows. Culli, catching sight of what the prince was looking at, nodded. "Aye. Like that, but a hundred times, a thousand times worse. They're wild and alien, the Folk In The Woods, highness. They don't think as we do, they aren't as we are. When one of them steps forward to meet us halfway, it's wise to at least make an effort to meet them back. The Queen did none of it, that anyone knows of. They say the Folk In The Woods killed two of her husbands. The last one came back, but didn't. You know what I mean, don't you?"
Adam nodded, horrified.
"She was Queen then already, and that's not the sort of thing a Queen can abide. It's bad for the people, it's bad for the land, and it's bad for keeping the crown steady on her head. So, this we know, she went looking for them. She went looking for her prince. They say she found him, his love turned to poison. But she was Queen and he was just a prince, and she forced a peace out of him. Of sorts."
"I wouldn't want anything I force out of a fairy. It's sure to be a trap."
She tapped his nose with a work-roughened finger. "You're wiser than most, I already did say. She was not to be wed anymore. If he couldn't have her, no one could. I suppose he doesn't know what a favor he did her. They say the Folk In The Woods wanted her to put one of their own on the throne, and she wouldn't let them. They say she had to agree to let them at least help in the choosing of the heir, or they would let there be no heir at all, and the crown would go to ruin."
"Help." Adam felt terribly cold. His clothes, so warm and comfortable a moment before, chafed him like burrs. He could hardly breathe around a lump in his throat. "Help in the choosing."
"You should never take anything you force out of a fairy," Culli repeated his words to him. "Particularly if it looks like it's a gift."
"Haven't they met anyone they like?"
"I don't think it's the meeting a prince they like, highness." Culli shrugged, picking up her needle. "I think it's meeting someone they like more than the prince hates. And he's had a lot of time to build up his hating."
***
Adam, unable to sleep that night, sat on a windowsill and thought on what Culli had said. He weighted it all, Dane's reaction and Beli's caution and the maid's story, against his friendship with Linden, his head full of worries too great for a twelve-year-old boy, except that he was a prince that might be a king and such worries were his to carry. Even if he didn't want to.
He was afraid, of course. He was worried. But, and this was an important difference that he couldn't quite figure out, he wasn't afraid of Linden, or Boul. At all. Not in the way he should be. Boul could be clumsy with his strength, but he was trying so hard, you could always see it. And he was terribly young, you could see that too.
And Linden, well. Linden was Linden. His friend, forever and always.
Did they know of the Queen's bargain?
Adam perked up as the answer came to him at last. Yes, Linden probably knew, of the prince and his hatred and the agreement and everything else. But the thing was, to Linden there was always a very clear, absolute difference. Whenever they spoke of the Court it was always "them", not "us". Not "we". Linden though of the Court as a separate, alien, unwelcome thing that they wanted nothing to do with. It was such a foundation of their person, their character, such a vast part of their heart, that Adam couldn't imagine his white-haired wild friend abiding with them, even a little bit.
On the other hand, the Court thought Linden silly for spending time with Adam, and in a very cruel way the young prince understood why at last. Why waste your time with someone you know is going to die?
Was he going to die?
"No," he muttered to the cradle of his arms.
He didn't want to be king. And he suspected that, when it came to the choosing, to the 'helping', that fact would matter more than anything else the Queen Dowager or the Folk In The Woods could come up with.
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Playboy's, y'ready or not?
bts + dystopian + other idols
description: THE NEWEST dystopian novel, where various youths - from different diversions - are drawn into the domains of the game - through the haunting invitations. They grow into adolescence together, secluded in the unknown, in the epicentre of danger and daring exploits, and with the repeated battle for existence. Each has their own history and a withering future that the game holds. Stray along in-between the brutal and agonising journeys of the protagonists, as each spiral into insanity in the arena. Each to their own. Further along in the battle for survival, hidden haunting memories flood back to them, reminding them of the reason why they're in there. The games tainted them but weren't they were already tainted?
pairing: mainy maknae line, but hyung line included interactions! ( btw this is a fanfic - mainly bts - but many other idols will be mentioned. ) x !reader
genre: dystopian ( e.g. hunger games, divergent, the maze runner) action-adventure, action-romance.
rating: 15- 18+ ( mainly 18+ due to the mentions of injuries or more sensitive topics!)
warnings: different warnings will be set with the different chapters!
------
Chapter 4 - Laughing Stock
warnings: bit of violence ig
WHY DO WE continue to live?
Because we hope that what awaits us is a life more favourable than death, so... would you live your life again?
Would you decide to live your life again if you was stirred from a slumber by a roaring audience, in the midst of an arena?
Would you, even if you was hanging in the air, swaying in the grips of the four thinning edges of the rope on a plank of wood that is accompanied by the coarse underfoot of grass, sprouting from the wood plank, consider dying all together and re-living your life?
Even if you progressively take in the chants, the applause, that seems to louden as you cover your ears, itch your eyes, wipe your mouth and scrunch your eyebrows, would you?
The turning point of this all, was when you sat up, tried to at least. The smallest movements made the plank sway, larger the movements the more vigorously the ropes tried to sustain a balance, mid air.
It was either the fact that you're floating in the air, on a plank of aesthetic wood, in the centre of an ancient Roman amphitheatre. Or the fact that there's twelve other people hanging, all at different levels and with different worded silk banners cascading from the edge of both sides of the planks.
Shock doesn't wash over you after you look up to see a couple contestants hanging nearby or above you, but when you look down, past the swaying silk banners, past the grass and past the small - sprouting flowers caught in the webbing of your fingers when you grasped the grass for balance, the odd few people slightly below you, to the side, but the distance from the ground, is the deciding factor.
You're a sky-scrapers height away from the rooted, tough and reedy grass beneath, you're floating at the top of the arena by just four strings and a rectangle patch of grass, soo small that everyone's legs and arms are lulled over the edge, full display.
Wavering your eyes away from the ground, you look upon a crowd of a whole city, all with their hands flaying above their heads, screaming with excitement at the awakening contestants.
You had only positioned your legs either side of the plank and arduously lifting your arm to hold on one of the four ropes when you had began to get frightened. People shouted, commented on the writings on the flailing silk, on you, and on your face. There was a continuous roar of catcalls, laughter, yells pierced occasionally by a scream.
Similar to the jarring sounds of the tedious capitol, a blustery screech, a speaker, a microphone and a keen voice set out a queue of silence.
"What a crowd! What a crowd!"
And if that didn't cause the slight stumble of the remaining planks, then the declaration after, did.
"Some of them must be soo tired!" With a maniac cluster of a laugh and a sudden accompanied series of laughs from the audience, he continues.
"I think Kim Taehyung needs a little wake up call, don't you! How typical for someone from Amity!" Another roar of laughter but what follows exceeds the the rest of the violent noise. A full blown chant.
"Kim Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, Kim Taehyung!"
It takes a glaze of the hanging decks, similar positioned bodies, shuddering banners, to see the boy. His deck is hanging below mine, to the left. I take the two ropes in-front, into my hands and peer down.
He doesn't take the collective chants calmly, instead with one sudden turn he rolls over, past the two ropes beside him and he hangs. Hangs with one hand finding security amongst the flowers and grass of the deck, and not long after, with both hands and a with a grunt ripping from his mouth.
The chants have died down but the sudden emerged laughs replace them. Seemingly louder.
Taehyung releases one of his trembling hands, and reaches for the rope near his left hand, similar motion for the right hand. Yet instead of the plank working in his favour, it tilts, and with a sudden drop, the grassy surface nearly faces him, the grass showcased the ground.
The audience in hand, were spotlight of this arena. The way they dressed was fascinating. Everyone has heard of them, the snobby, the entitled and the praised, they didn't belong to any of the five factions. They took the title of the rich and took a non- identifiable look, they were soo colourful.
The people of the capitol used their external appearances to express their money, their greed and their wealth. They dress up to express the capitol in itself.
The vibrancy of the colours all over the capitol contrast the dull lives of each and every faction. The factions ironically were created by the capitol for the segregated parts of the country. All the while, the capitol and the overly dressed citizens ruled themselves as non participants of this law, never knowing of the repeated suffering that was suppressed under this law. The law being to 'Choose faction before blood.'
Amity, being the peaceful, give freely knowing, hoping, that they're given what they need. They render themselves free of anger, as a whole. Amity follow key teachings, to follow up on the law accurately ; ' The opinions of others cannot damage you.' and ' Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words and hurt you as much as they wound their target... blah blah blah. They all grow into adolescence and grow into adulthood knowing to value peace and harmony above all else, they're all willing to serve, but not face-to-face, physically.
Its ironic really, such vulnerable individuals offering to help others, when they are the ones most in need. In all actuality, Taehyung had wished, and was angered, when he didn't receive help that he needed, he always helped, so why didn't he get help back? With both parents dead, with his sources of life, living and to live dead. God, it was unreal, the amount of anger he felt, disconnected from reality at times had rendered him with thoughts that shouldn't root from the typical mind of an amity.
Thoughts of killing the capitol, each and every leader that sat on the prestigious dias'. Each one that ate from the prestigious scrapped cutlery, those that ate those prestigious meals, when he couldn't. when no one in his village could. The ones that grew with a gold spoon to their mouths, the ones that their hair groomed, shortly after their last appointment - to merely kill time. The ones that held a ring, on the ring finger of their left hand, and yet as surrounded by the numerous desirable, all-good-for-nothing-women, he was going to kill each and every one.
Everyone told him that it was alright to feel lost, feel anger at such times, even if he was forbidden from feeling anger. Forbidden from feeling. But everyone is wrong. He knows they're wrong. He knows because, he doesn't feel lost, in fact, he has never felt better and he has his goals in line, he isn't lost, like they all say. He knows he's going to kill the capitol and he knows exactly how to do it.
He's not lost.
Being forbidden from feeling anger was rooted in his mind, yet didn't stop him, ever, from feeling it. He could say, that in all his time in amity, he began developing feelings of anger more than anything else. So when he was laughed at like an elephant, an outsider, at the centre of a circus , an arena, he felt beckoning wrath in the form of reddening skin, veins splurging and displaying themselves all around his body.
The laughs and being at the epicentre of the joke, was all it took for Taehyung to pull himself up, a swift movement between a mid-air pull up and a jump, onto the plank, but he wasn't done, and neither was the capitols laughter. Arms aching, he positioned himself to stand on the wavering plank, hands either side, a demolishing and veiny grip on the ropes.
Laughter seized. Speakers were succumbed to silence as he pulls a daring move. The daring move.
With the tilt of his body backwards, his head and elbows following, he swings the plank in its entirety. And it moves fast and faster after the third lunge, his right ropes moving fast towards the centre of your plank. That's when it hits you, quite literally, your body tilting off to the side, and instead of both your hands being on the ropes in front, there's two on one rope. The heavy breathing and the anger palpitating through him, doesn't shock only you it shocks everyone. Everyone. Your plank is rocking like his now, with you still straddling it.
There's nothing you can do about it, the stares, the shocked gasps and the peering eyes from the other hanging participants.
With a swift movement of you flipping yourself upside down, mid-air and still straddling the plank. There is something you can do, give him a taste of his own medicine. So when he keeps swinging towards your plank, and you swinging towards his, by his second swing you grip his plank, from the bottom. This stirs a more sudden swing, but with your planks now attached, you grab the back of his leg, trousers even, and pull, at first it causes his leg to hover over the edge.
But your nails didn't, with all your might you tugged, and he lost balance from already being mid air, and now he hovers again, but this time, his whole body, flailing arms and everything.
He let a series of grunts out, his plan of trying to make someone else a laughing stock, failing. Failig miserably at that. And he realises that ;
He couldn't and wouldn't kill the capitol, the capitol would kill him.
And if they didn't then you would.
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+ woah a tiny bit of action buttt what do we think...
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Good FCs are the ones where autistics and other ND's who have ""maladaptive"" social habits aren't instantly branded irredeemable assholes and kicked.
My FC on Goblin had one, and more than a few times she'd make off-base comments. There was a time I did spring decorating on the FC yard, with elements that were personal to me. She went around mocking all the design elements, and it was intended to be something silly and harmless, but she didn't initially grasp how actually hurtful that was. When she was spoken to, she was deeply apologetic. She cropped up every now and then with other conflicts, but effort was always given and reciprocated.
In my Coe FC, we've had people who are on the spectrum and likewise engage in socially abrasive behaviours (being "rude", talking over others, outward emotional dysregulation) and the leadership team takes the time to sit down, get multiple angles of input on the issues, and try to figure out the best means to approach the person about behaviours in a non-combative or belittling way.
In a game like this I feel like it's vital to ensure that autistics and NDs can feel accepted in a social space and not forced to either completely avoid them, or hide away in tiny 6-person FCs of close friends.
There will be those times when you get someone who will go out of their way to make themselves everyone's problem and either ignore or directly oppose being privately contacted (we had one recently, always posted contrarian comments when someone expressed interest in something, ignored my DM to ask him to be a bit more courteous). But, by comparison those cases are rare. You'll always have the bad eggs too.
Point is, not everyone might be on the same page with social queues and etiquette, and I feel like it's reasonable to give people chances, and to come up with ways to communicate issues in a reasonable fashion before making them walk the plank.
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Daily Dispatch 4/28
Probably won't post these the next few days as I'll be on vacation. Don't worry though, my queue will keep you warm at night.
Plank time: 72 second
Healthy Eating Ratio: 89/117 (76%)
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