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shannygoatgruff · 3 years

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Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man.

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...”

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid. She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass.

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass.

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn.

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches.

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple.

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room.

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream.

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight.

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred.

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine.

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair.

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves.

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs.

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands.

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

"Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1 @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter

#OnlyFan(s)#modern ivar #shannygoat #shannyland #Date with Destiny

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mmimagine-40 · 3 years

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Pup 3

Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Okay!!Yes, I know i have been gone some time! I’m sorry! School has been crazy and I haven’t been able to write or work on it has much as I would like. But here it is Pup 3!

!!Somethings to know first!: Alpha!Sheriff Sam , Betas! Wanda and Pietro. Pietro and Bucky are officers. Wanda is like an assistant , receptionist type thing at the Police station (Sorry I don’t know what to call it!). Also for just background info. In this story Pepper and Tony and lawyers. I’m not sure what I want them to be. (Alpha/omega, betas, who should be the omega or what). So please help me out what do you think?

Last thing: if you didn’t see my last post. I have a tiktok where I’ll be mainly doing some small imagines that aren't big enough to write something out of. I’ll also be doing some updates on stories / pieces I’m writing. Like talking about How Bucky and Nat (from this story) meet and small things like that. So if you interested go check it out: @mmimagines40

As Steve was moving around he caught a glimpse of Y/n. “Well look who's awake.”, Steve chuckled. Y/n laughed softly. “Yeah, my foot started to hurt.”. Steve frowned as he checked his watch. “Well , sadly pup you can’t have more meds for another hour. But let's ice it and see if that helps.”, Steve checks the food again before turning to the fridge to grab an ice pack, “Dinners close to done, so you just want to stay here?”. Y/n nodded as she started to move to the side and move a chair in front of her. While Steve went to grab a pillow she took the boot off. He helped her get her foot situated and the ice on it. Checking it over first. “Oof , Pup. You're getting a nasty bruise.”, Steve says. Her whole foot was almost brown and yellow, with dark purple and black colors around her ankle. Y/n pouted as she looked at it. Steve looked up to see her pout, “Aw it’s okay pup, it’ll go away soon.”. He bops her nose. Causing her to giggle. Steve smiled down at her softly. He makes his way back to the food to check it. “What are you making? It smells amazing.”, Y/n asked, turning to look at him again. ‘Cajun Pasta.”, Steve answers. “It’s pasta with a heavy cream and Chicken broth sauce with chicken and sausage. (And shrimp *if you like it*). With some Cajun seasoning and some other things.”. “Mmm. Is it almost done? My mouth is watering.”, Y/n says. Steve laughs nodding. He grabs two bowels and fills them up. He sets them both down on the table and turns back to the stove. Turning it off and grabbing the bread inside. He puts the bread sticks on a plate and grabs some forks. Setting them down as well he goes back to fill two glass with water. Taking a seat he hands the other glass to Y/n. “Thanks.”, Y/n says taking a drink. Before picking up her fork and digging in. She moans at the taste. “Oh my Steve! This is so good!”. Steve’s eyes darkened as he watched her. The grip on his fork tightened as he bit his check. Excited by the sounds leaving the omega. Steve shook his head looking down. Trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time.

Brock watched from just outside the property line. Far enough away to not alert the Alpha or omega in the cabin. Using a pair of binoculars he watched. Just making out some movement and the lights shining through the window. He watched , as anger boiled inside of him. Y/n was to be his omega , and his alpha took her from him. He was going to get his omega back no matter what it might coast. Brock smirked as he got an idea. He quickly grabbed his things and made his way back to town.

Unaware of the eyes on him not to fair away. A person in the shadows. Hindan in the tree line. Making away around the woods after a report about their being hunters out there , out of season. The person watched as Brock made his way down the path to the town, before heading back to the ATV. Radioing it in.

“This is officer Maximoff radioing in for Sheriff Wilson.”

“Sheriff Wilson speaking.”

“I got eyes on the guy you said to watch out for. He was just outside of Rogers property line. Looked like he was looking in towards the house.”

“Is he still there?”

“No sir, he just packed up and looks to be heading back to town.”

“Okay, finish up the rout and head back into town. When you do keep an eye out for him and what he’s doing.”

Sam sets the walkie talky down on his desk , next to the files he was looking over. “Who even is this guy?”, Wanda asked. “All Steve told me was that this guy's father bought an omega for him. Who he has been abusing and forcing himself on. Now he’s hunting her down. Now what did you get?”, Sam explained. Wanda sighed looking down at the notes she took, “ Most everyone said they have seen him walking around. Mostly up around Steve’s property. Some say he was in some of the business asking about seeing an omega. With the description Steve gave you. As well as asking about Steve. But they say they didn’t give him much info.”. Sam nodded as he looked down at the file. On the file this guy seemed okay. Just a few speeding tickets. But those were paid off and fast. Nothing else. But then again people had their secrets. And he was involved with omega selling and abuse. As well as states abuse. Sam closed the file , handing it to Wanda.” Send all this info to Pepper.``. Wanda nodded, taking the file and heading to her desk. Starting an email to Pepper with all the info of this alpha , what Steve told them, and the info she got. The ding of the front door, made her head snap up. Her eyes widen a bit seeing the same alpha from the files walking in. Quickly she shut the files and info putting them away. And closes the email. Before the alpha walked up to her desk. She looked up at him with a fake smile. “Hello sir. How can I help you?”. He smiles at her. “Hi there. Is the Sheriff in?”, Brock asked. Wanda nodded, “He sure is, can I ask what this is about?”. “I need help with another alpha in town. I believe he is holding my girlfriend against her will. “. Wanda nods as she types a few things on her computer before standing up. “Oh no. That sounds terrible. I'm sorry. I go see if he can see you.”, Wanda pouts acting like she cared. Brock gave her a sad smile like he was really hurting and sad. But Wanda could see right through him. Knowing he’s lying and faking this act. She makes her way back to Sam’s office. She looks back as she walks in. Making sure he is still standing there. Sam looks up at her as she walks in. Watching her close the door , while looking into the lobby. “He’s here.”, Wanda says looking towards Sam. “Saying that an alpha he's holding his girlfriend against her will.”. Sam nods as he stands up. “Okay, tell him I’ll be with him in just a minute.”, Sam says, pulling his phone out and dialing Steve. Wanda nods , making her way out. She smiles as she sees Brock look up towards her. As she walks back into the waiting area. “He’s finishing with some paperwork and will be out shortly. In the meantime have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Cup of coffee?”, she asked, overly friendly. Brock shook his head as he took a seat waiting. Wanda's smile dropped as she watched him. He hung his head down. Really playing off the sad alpha look. But reeked of anger.

“Wow, that was really good Steve.”, Y/n says handing him her bowel. Steve smiled down at her. Taking the dishes to the sink. “Thank you. It’s rare that I get to cook for someone else.”. “You never cook or have get-togethers with your friends?”, Y/n asked. As she removed the ice pack and looked over her ankle. Steve chuckles. “We do get togethers. But Nat usually cooks. She enjoys cooking and hosting them. Even if any of us try to talk her out of it , she won’t listen and will cook a feast. Bucky said it’s something about a mated omega. Apparently they enjoy the hosting and cooking for a group of people.”, Steve says as he cleans the dishes. Y/n laughed softly. “Reminds me of my mother. She was also like that. Loved to cook a huge feast for when my dad had his business parties. She loved hosting them. I never understood it. Especially since she and I were forced to do these things as we are omegas. She once told me it wasn’t about the work. It was the compliments. To know everyone was enjoying her hard work.”. Steve humbled as he turned back to her , drying his hands. “I never thought of it that way but it makes sense. Nat always does have a beaming to her when we complain about her work. And Bucky he gets a proudness to him.”. Y/n turns to look at Steve as she finishes putting her boot back on . “Really?”, She asked. Steve nods. “Alpha’s have these strong feelings to make their omegas happy. To see them loved and full of happiness. ...Well that's how true mates are.”, Steve says. Y/n laughs , shaking her head. Steve smiles watching her , “what do you not believe in true mates?”. Y/n shakes her head no as she looks up at him. “No, seeing what I have growing up. No , not really.”. Steve shrugs as he pushes off the counter walking towards the table. “I get it. I used to not believe it too. My ma used to tell me all those fairy tales about true mates. But seeing how my father treated her and me. I didn’t believe it. “. Y/n’s eyebrow’s crunch together as she looks at him. Watching his movements. “What changed your mind?”, She asked. “Nat and Bucky. You see we both met Nat at college. She asked us where some of the classes were. As she walked away. Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Watching her walk away. He then turned to me and said that one day she would be his mate. I thought he was crazy till I saw how they acted around each other. Then it clicked. Everything my ma use to tell in those stories unfolded in front of my eyes. Made me a believer.”, Steve explains making his way to her. “But how did you know?”, Y/n asked. “I didn’t at first. I thought it was just young love. Till I talked to the both of them separate. They both talked about how being around each other was like nothing else. One touch left their hearts beating so fast. How they got tingles and this gushy, warm feeling from just one little touch. How the others smelled, smelled of home. A warm , loving feeling.”, Steve moves the chair that he leg was on. He stands in front of her holding a hand out. Y/n looked up at him in awe. Thinking over his words , as she takes his hand. As he helps her stand his scent hits her. The scent that makes her feel warm and safe. Hitting her. That those things he spoke of is how she felt towards him. But surely not. They weren’t meant to mate. Although she did have that dream. That dream that left her longing for those things. To be Steve’s. Waking up next to him. In his arms , surrounded by their mixed scents. Carrying his children. Something Y/n use to not want. She didn’t want to bring children into this world of horrible alphas. But Steve has changed her mind in just a few days. Is it possible? Could he really be her true mate?

“Pup?....hello? Pup?...did you hear me?”, Steve asked waving a hand in front of her. Y/n shakes her head of the thoughts, “sorry , this true mate's talk just has me remembering home. Well not home my mom. She too told me of those stories. It was the only time of the day I really enjoyed. Sorry , i just miss her.”, Y/n says looking down. Steve’s face falls as he looks at her. Understanding her. “It’s okay, pup. Even if I didn’t believe the stories they were a time of joy for me too. When my father was asleep. Passed out, not bugging us. A time of peace between me and my ma.”. Steve grabs her chin making her look at him. He cups her check. Rubbing her check, soothing her. Y/n gives him a small smile. As she closes her eyes and leans into his touch. Letting the soothing movement and the warmth from him , calm her down. “Thank you , Steve.”, Y/n finally says as she opens her eyes looking at him. Steve smiles , “for what?”. Y/n lightly chucks as she smiles more, “For being you.”. “Well , I don’t know how to do anything else. Now, while you were in memories lane. I asked if you would like to continue ‘The Office’, while we get your room all set up and the stuff put away.”. Y/n nods yes. “Okay , come on then.”, He helps her up the stairs and into the room. Where they get all the bags from Nat's shopping , and puts them on the bed. Sorting them. “Here these are all for the bathroom. While you get those put up and how you like. I’ll get the show on.”, Steve says handing Y/n the bags. Y/n grabs them making her way to the bathroom. She closes the door. She smiles as she pulls the stuff out of the bag. Needing to thank Nat for everything.

Steve sighed as he fell on to the bed. Grabbing the remote to turn on The Office. As he gets it set up to play , he feels his phone start to ring in his pocket. He pulls it out seeing it's Sam. Looking back up to see the bathroom door still closed. Steve stands up as he answers the phone call. “Hey Sam, what’s up?”. “Red Star.”, Sam says. Steve's jaw clenched as anger started to take over him. “Where is he now?”, Steve says through a clenched jaw. “At the station. Wanda said that he came in asking for me. Saying he thinks an alpha in town is holding his girlfriend against her will. I don’t know much more. I haven’t talked to him. What do you want to do?”, Sam asked. Steve sighed thinking of a plan. His mind was running all over everything that's happened thinking. But stops on one thing. The fake claim mark. “Okay i got it. I gave Y/n a fake claim mark. So what we will do is, you do your sheriff stuff. Bring him out here whatever. We will just have to pretend that I claimed her already.”. “Okay I’ll bring Pietro and See if Bucky can come along too in case he gets out of hand.”. Steve falls back onto the bed , “okay good thinking. I better warn her first , so she doesn’t freak on us.”. “Okay , I’ll try to delay him as much as I can.”, Sam says before hanging up.

Steve sighed as he threw his phone to the side. Hoping this works. But he has to convince Y/n. He’ll need her to be calm and ready to face him. To make it look real. Cause if not, Brock could go to State troopers about him before they can get Tony and Peppers help with this first. The sound of the door opening , makes Steve snap his head up to look towards Y/n. As she walked out of the bathroom. “Hey , Pup. We need to talk?”, Steve says looking down at his hands. Y/n forward softly as she walked closer to him. “What’s wrong Stevie?”, She asked. Steve Smiled softly at the nickname. But it quickly fell as he thought over how to word what he was about to say. He looks up at her. Looking over her face. He took her hand , just in case she flips or something. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. Going behind your back. But I promise , I only had the best intentions…..I have a friend who's a lawyer. Him and his wife work on cases like yours. Helping omegas and...well really anyone in abusive situations. I asked my bubby , also the sheriff, If he could look into Brock and send all the info of him and what you told me to Pepper and Tony. So they can help you. Fully get Brock away from you.”, Steve starts explaining. Y/n looks down taking a deep breath. Trying to process everything he just told her. She did feel hurt that he did this behind her back. But a part of her knew that there was no way if he didn’t , he wouldn’t have gotten Y/n to open up to someone else to get help. And she guessed Steve knew that too. But it still hurt. She was starting to trust Steve. She wishes he would have just told her. But what was getting her was she opened up to him. Told him what happened to her. Something she’s never done. She hasn’t told anyone. Now 3 or even more people will know. Which she knows if this goes now more will know. She doesn’t want to look for sympathy or look like she was broken. Steve squeezed her hand. Nervous at her silence. “I’m sorry Pup. I know you were starting to trust me and I went behind your back and told your story to others. But I promise it’s for the good. They will get you help.”. “It’s not that. I don’t doubt your intentions or theirs. As I have seen you have good friends. People who are like you. Have big hearts and want to help. I know that with them and you I’ll get help. But this means more and more people know my life growing up. What happened to me. It’s just I’m …..I just don’t want to keep reliving it. I just want to be done with it. And how a normal life.”, Y/n says as she wipes her face as tears start to run down her face. Steve pulls Y/n closer to him. Making her fall onto his lap. Where he wrapped his arms around her holding her close. “I promise pup, you won’t. Not for ever at least. The most I know of. I’ll have to retell everything to Pepper and Tony so they can get a case going. Then depending on how fair it goes you might have to testify. Which means retelling it again and then answering questions about what happened. But after that I promise you don’t have to talk about it ever again. I’ll make sure of it too. Make sure that no one will ever make you talk about it. Okay ,pup?”, Steve pulls back to look at her face. He reaches a hand up wiping her tear stained face. Y/n nods , closing her eyes. Thinking it all over. Steve gives her a few seconds. “Pup, i wasn't going to tell you all of this yet. I was waiting to see what pepper suggested. But something happened. So i need to tell you to warn you and start helping to prepare you for facing Brock.”. Y/n pulled back, eyebrows scrunched. Looking at Steve. “What? What's going on?”. Steve sighed looking down for a sec thinking , before looking back to Y/n. “I just got a phone call from my buddy at the sheriff station , Sam. He informed me that Brock showed up to the station. Asking for Sam. Saying that he believes that an Alpha is holding his girlfriend against her will. I don’t know what else he’s going to string together , telling Sam. But as sheriff and part of Alpha/Omega laws, Sam has to bring him to where he asks and check it out. Making sure an alpha in fact did not hold an omega hostage and mate them against their wishes. So , I’m going to need you to be strong. You’ll need to face him and make him believe I mated you. And you consented to it.”, Steve explains. Watching her face closely to see how she is taking everything. “But we aren’t mated.”. “The fake bond will fool him. I’ll just have to mark it again to it smell like an actual bond.”, Steve moves her hair. Running his fingers over her neck. Where the fake bond is, slowly fading. Y/n nods understanding, “what if he doesn’t buy it or sees through it?”. “We will just have to convince him. Alpha/Omega laws are huge. So he could go to State Troopers about it. Which will lead to more trouble and make it harder for Tony and Pepper. But with the mark and witness of me , you and Sam. We could all testify against him if he does. That Sam has already checked it out and We are in fact mated. And we both consented to it. But you are going to have to be brave and face him. Saying it to his face that you mated with me. Okay, pup? You think you can do that?”, Steve says. y/n Looked away from him thinking about it. Facing Brock. Something she was so scared of. But if she wanted to be gone from him for good she knew she had to do it. Pulse Steve would be by her side the whole time. Something about being with him made her feel stronger and braver. Y/n turned back to him. Nodding in agreeing. Steve smiles at her. “Okay, good. Now first things first. We need to redo your mark.”. Y/n nodded as she moved her hair and leaned her head to the side a bit for Steve to have better access. Just like last time. Steve was a bit slow. Not wanting to rush and hurt or scare Y/n. He left light kisses around and on the mark. Before letting his teeth lightly sink in. This time Y/n wasn’t able to hold back as small whimpers left her lips. Wanting him to actually bite down. Claim her. After he then again left small, light kisses to the bite. Before pulling back. Y/n looked away from Steve. Not wanting to face him. As her face was already somewhat red. ‘There Pup. Now it seems you are mated.” Steve says trying to get her to look at him. He frowns at first thinking he did something wrong. Till he noticed the long her looked at her the more red her face got. He opens his mouth to say something which is interrupted by the sound of knocking at the door. Y/n’s head then snapped back to finally look at him. Steve looked at her , “Okay Pup. Show time. You got this okay. I’ll be standing next to you the whole time. Ready to jump in at any time if anything happens, okay?”. Y/n nods getting up. Steve takes her hand as he stands up. Leading her downstairs. He stops in the living room. “Wait here till I call you okay?”, Steve says. Y/n nods giving his hand one last squeeze as he pulls away towards the door. Y/n stands by the Stairs. Biting her nails nervous. Waiting and listening closely to what was going on.

Steve took a deep breath as he reached the door. Before opening the door. Putting on the act. “Sheriff, Hi. How can I help you?”, Steve smiles at Sam. Trying to keep calm as his eyes move over to the Alpha standing next. Brock. The same guy he saw the other day in the forest. “Hey, Steve. Sorry to bug you this late but this guy came into the station. Saying he was out here the other day looking for his girlfriend after she ran away. And he ran into you and you told him you haven't seen her then asked him to leave. Well he thinks you where lying and are holding his girlfriend here against her will.”, Sam explains. Steve's eyebrows raise in surprise. “What? Come on Sam , you know I would never do something like that.”, Steve says. Sam sharks his head ,”I know but you know the laws make me have to question and check it out no matter what. Now tell me what happened that day?”. “I was out cutting some wood. When I heard someone running around. Thinking it was a hunter on my land. I went to check it out and found this guy. I just informed him it was private property and I was sorry to hear about his girlfriend. But asked him to leave.”, Steve explains. “Was that a lie? Did you see a girl he was talking about?” sam asked, taking notes. Steve nods , “Yes , I saw her. But not till after I had asked him to leave. I found her on my way back , injured. She sprained her ankle tripping over a tree root. I brought her back here to help her. I didn’t know at the time she was the girl he was talking about. Till after she told me what she was doing out in the woods alone.”. Sam nods as he writes it all down. “Is she here now?”, He asks looking back up at Steve. Steve Signs looking down. Looking as if he was hurting and not wanting to say. He sighed one more time as he looked up. He looked towards Brock. Meeting his hard eyes as he stared back. Before turning back to Sam. “Yes..Yes she is. She’s….She’s my mate now.”. “WHAT?! YOUR MATE?!IT”S ONLY BEEN A DAY AND YOU FORCED YOURSELF ON HER?!”, Brock started yelling. Keeping the play up that Y/n was his and he was scared for her well being. But really , Steve could see it was anger that he beat him to mating her. Sam grabs him by the arm pulling him back. “Now you stop right there! I’m the sheriff! I’ll be the one asking questions and getting down to the info here! If you don’t like that then you can go wait by the car.”, Sam says growling as he pushes Brock back. Brock just huffs nodding as he backs up. Sam then turns back to Steve, “Could you please ask this young lady to come here , so I can ask her some questions?”. Steve nodded as his eyes stayed on Brock. Watching him with an angered look. “Pup, Can you come here for a second?”, Steve calls into the cabin.

Y/n took a deep breath. Calming her nervousness. Knowing that Brock will be able to smell her emotions. She just hoped that Steve’s scent on her would distract him from it though. She takes one more breath as she makes her way to the door. “Hhmm” She says walking up next to Steve. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “This is Sheriff Sam, He wants to ask you some questions.”, Steve says. Y/n turned to the man in front of them. Trying not to let her eye wander over to the man next to him. She actually felt relaxed as she met Sam's eyes. His eyes and smile were soft. Especially for an alpha. He seems so sweet and nice. “Evening Ma’am. I just have a few questions to ask if you don’t mind.”, Sam says sticking his hand out to shake her hand. Y/n nodded, shaking his hand. “Okay.”. “Okay firstly, you are Y/n L/N right?”, He asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Okay , can you tell me , do you know this man?” Sam points to Brock. Y/n sighed shaking her head. Steve pulled her closer to him. As he watched Brock's breathing pick up noticing the mark on her neck. Sam nodded , “Can I ask what your relationship is with this man?”. “Nothing, he has been chasing after me wanting to mate me. But I didn’t want to.”, Y/n says taking a quick glance at him. “Okay and can you explain to me what happened that led you into the woods and meet Mr. Rogers.”, Sam says. Y/n nodded looking down quickly before looking back at him. “We got into a fight about the mating thing. He tried to force himself on to me and tried to mate me. I was able to get away from him and ran away. But he was following me. So I ran into the forest thinking I could get away from him. But he followed after me. I ended up tripping and hurting my ankle. While I was sitting on the ground, not being able to walk. Steve found me. He helped me up and into his cabin. Asking what happened.”, Y/n explains to Sam. Sam nods writing what she told him down. “You Bitch! In Thanks you let him fuck you and mark you!”,Brock yelled trying to step closer. But Sam wiped around putting his hand on his chest. Pushing him back, “Mr. Rumblow this is your last warning!”. Brock huffs pushing Sam's hand off of him. Y/n jumps do to the yelling. Causing Steve to wrap both his arms around her and hold her closer. She puts her head in his neck not wanting to see Brock anymore. Sam sighed as he turned back to Y/n and Steve. “I’m sorry about that. I know this is a touchy subject but can I ask how this mating came across.”, Sam asked. Y/n looked up at Steve , not knowing what to say. Steve looked at her too. Before looking back to Sam . “It was an accidental mate.”. Something popped up in Y/n’s mind. She just praid that Sam understood it or knew what it was. “Partialis Calor.”. Sam looked at her for a bit , before nodding in understanding. “And what? She’s making shit up now. He probably forced her to make some stupid shit up like that.”, Brock says turning to Sam. Sam kept looking at her impressed. “No she’s not. A partialis calor is something that happens between true mates.”, Sam says turning to Brock. “It's a heat/rut type thing that takes over an Alpha and Omega when they meet their true mate. And most end up like these two. Alphas will have this other power to mate their omega.”, Sam explains. “So see he forced that mark on her! Are you going to do anything about it!”, Brock started yelling again getting in Sam's face. “No! Miss . L/n and Mr. Rogers has made it clear that their mating was conditional. Even if it was accidental , they are both fine and happy being mated together.”, Sam says trying to push Brock away. “This is bullshit! Your mine Y/n! You know who your true alpha is!”, Brock keeps trying to push Sam away and get closer to them. Something snapped in Y/n. She finally turned to fully look at the alpha. “My true alpha is Steve. Even though I may have just met him , we have more of a connection then you and I ever did. He makes me feel things you never could. In every way possible.”, Y/n snapped at him. Steve smirked not only proud of her but also at what she was implying. Brock's eyes widen and fill with pure agner. “YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He pushed Sam down the steps of the deck and away from him. Reaching behind his back. Pulling out a gun. He raises it to her face. Steve was quick to pull her behind him. “Even better!”, Brock says. Before he could do anything , he heard the sounds of guns cockling all around him. He looked around seeing Sam behind him pointing a gun at him and Two other large guys on either side of him , holding shotguns. One an alpha and another a beta. “Put the gun down, or not I don’t mind putting a hole through you.”, The dark haired alpha says. Brock turned to look at Sam , ‘You set me up.”. Sam shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a set up. Just safety procedures. You reeked of anger and dominance when you walked into the station. Those two things usually never mix well and end good for alphas like you. Now put the gun down!” ,Sam says staying calm. Brock looked back to Steve. Staring him down as he dropped the gun. Raising his hands in surrender. Dropping slowly to his knees. Bucket reached over kicking the gun away. Before they lowered their weapons. Sam walked up behind the alpha and cuffed him. “Pietro, read him his rights then take him back to the station. Throwing him in a cell. “, Sam says. Pietro nods, taking the alpha towards the car. Steve turned around to face Y/n. “You okay , pup.”, he asked. Y/n nodded as she threw her arms around Steve pulling him into a hug. Steve wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her close. So close he was lifting her up to where she was on her tiptoes. “You're okay , pup.” , he whispers in her hair. “Y/n? You okay?”, A voice asked. Y/n and Steve pulled away and turned back to Sam and Bucky. “Yes, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up .”, She says. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I had no idea he had a gun.”, Sam says looking like he really was truthfully sorry. “It’s okay, it’s a good thing you thought beforehand to bring back up.”. Sam’s attention was brought to his phone as it buzzed. “That’s Wanda she said she emailed Pepper and she got back to her fast. She and Tony will be out here in a couple days to see and talk to Y/n. I’ll email her this report and what happened tonight.”. Steve nodded , “Thank you Both of you I owe you two.”. “It’s nothing. You would have done the same.”, Bucky says. “Now enough chick chat. You two get some rest. This add on to everything else is going to be a long and tiring process once Tony gets here.”, Sam explains looking back and forth to Steve and y/n. Mainly watching Y/n to ensure she is okay. They both nod in understanding. They all say their goodbye. Steve and Y/n watch from the door as Sam and Bucky leave following Pietro. Down the road to Town.

------- TAGS-----------

Pup:

@woodworthti666 @chrisevanisliterallysir @sukeraa @bxnnywriting

@cuddlebuddydraco @tnysmalls @tenaciousperfectionunknown

@wonderlandfandomkingdom @animegirlgeeky @gryffindorqueensworld

@loveisgayandmy @waywardwifey @supernaturallover2002

ABO:

@physically-a-cheesecake

---------------------------

So I have basically no school next week , so I’m going to try and work on this story. I’m thinking it might be only a couple more parts! But I honestly don’t know yet. Again if you want updates or small imagines check out my tiktok. Also if you like MHA i have another tiktok (@babybird_40) where I have posted some small imagines about some of the characters. Right now it’s just Hawks. But depending how it does I’ll be adding more and others. - MM

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, sex toys, bondage, blindfolds, use of safeword (yellow, not red), aftercare, pet names, praising, degradation, controlled orgasm - delay/denial/forced, oral (m receiving), masturbation, face fucking, loss of virginity (wink wonk it’s our namjoonie), however not full sex just a bj

DAY FIVE

“Going outside again today, Namjoonie?” Yoongi questions with a teasing grin.

Namjoon sighs morosely at the thunderous downpour of rain visible through the kitchen windows. “It’s over for me,” he announces sullenly. “I’ve lost.”

You pause, spoonful of rice hovering in front of your open mouth. “So your prompt was ‘the outdoors’, huh?”

A miserable cry leaves his throat before he buries his face in his arms, slumped at the dining table where a few of you have gathered for breakfast. “Damn it,” he whines, muffled by the thick cable knit sweater he’s wearing.

You’d woken up early to a crack of thunder; the weekend storm apparently descending upon the villa earlier than expected. For once, you’d had to help Jungkook work out the heating system, cranking it up until you could smell the quickly-heating dust that had gathered from lack of use.

Yoongi, also an early riser, had announced that a day like today required a hot breakfast, and you’d helped him prepare a basic stew and some steamed rice as you were gradually joined by Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok. You’d waited a bit for the remaining two contestants, but the wafting aroma of beef and potato quickly broke your patience.

You finish your mouthful with a chuckle, leaning over to rub his back. “But now that you’re already going to get the penalty, you may as well do whatever you want.”

Namjoon’s body is still for a few moments as he considers this, before the faded purple of his hair jostles with a nod. “I guess so,” is the reply that comes from the crook of his arm.

You grin. “It’s okay, it’s not like you’re the last one. Hoseok hasn’t gone yet, and I swear Jimin doesn’t even wake up before midday.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at you challengingly but before he can retort, the youngest makes a noise of disagreement in his throat.

“Oh, he’s not sleeping,” Jungkook answers breezily between cheeks stuffed with rice. “What? Yesterday I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of his shirts for my stream this week - you know, that see-through pink one he wore over a white shirt? - and he didn’t answer when I knocked so I opened the door-”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi and Jin cut in simultaneously, faces turned down in disappointment.

“Wait!” Jungkook protests. “It’s not as bad as it sounds! I just stuck my head in the door and he was in the bathtub-”

“He gets a bath and I don’t?” Hoseok asks incredulously.

“Hobi-hyung, please,” Jungkook whines. “Not the point. So like, his hair was covered in white stuff and he had this bright green clay mask on his face and a black one all over his hands and the water was like pink, but still see-through and I could kinda smell rose and maybe tea tree oil but then he was yelling at me to get out and then I got a text saying if I told anyone he’d-” Jungkook pauses, his excitement fizzing out suddenly, replaced by a look of pure fear. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. Let’s pretend that never happened.”

Jin looks like he wants to ask for more information, but Hoseok huffs, shuffling in his seat impatiently. “Who cares,” he spits petulantly. “He isn’t fucking Edward Cullen; just because he’s mysterious doesn’t make him hot. I can be mysterious.”

Yoongi gasps, pointing at Hoseok’s feet wordlessly. That alone is enough for the younger man to let out a pealing yelp, stumbling up out of his chair and jumping on his feet, frantically patting himself down as he wide-eyes the floor. Yoongi begins chuckling, a dry cackle that spreads to the others at the table, and Hoseok deflates, sending him a withering gaze.

Sitting back down in defeat, though not without glancing down one last time cautiously, Hoseok huffs at Yoongi, mouth sticking out in a pout. “You’re lucky I’ve already found my arch nemesis or it would be you, Yoongi-hyung.”

“What a relief,” Yoongi replies in sarcastic monotone.

Hoseok frowns, before cheering up again to send you a bright grin. “Hey, Y/n, are you gonna go out to the confessional booth today?”

“Real subtle,” Yoongi murmurs lowly.

Ignoring him, you shake your head. “It’s raining,” you reply, “I’ll get wet.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hoseok tuts, the dull thud of his foot stomping making Yoongi fight to prevent a smile. “Stop it, hyung! You’ll give it away!”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you assure, “it doesn’t really matter if you lose. The penalty is just spending the week in the bunk room. If you think about it, it’s like a sleepover.”

The doms eyes slide back and forth as he considers this. “Okay!” he announces cheerily. “My prompt is the confessional booth! If everyone else says theirs, we can all hang out together!”

You swear you could hear a pin drop. Namjoon looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself again, Jungkook and Jin are both avoiding his entreating gaze, and Yoongi just stares at Hoseok unabashed, smirk deepening as the silence stretches out.

After a minute of dead air, Hoseok frowns. “Fuck you guys. I wanted to sleep on the bunk beds anyway.”

Feeling bad for him, you stand up, collecting the empty bowls around the table and taking them out to the kitchen. “It’s okay, Hobi,” you chime, “if everyone else succeeds for theirs then I can keep you company.”

Hoseok’s eyes go wide, before he turns to Namjoon. “Buddy, you gotta fuck her outside. Let me have this.”

Namjoon pales, staring at the rain outside which continues to bucket down. “We’ll catch a cold.”

“Fine, I’ll just make sure I don’t lose,” Hoseok insists, standing up himself.

You walk back towards the dining room. “What are you gonna do, ma-Hobi!” You squeal as your body is suddenly lifted, swung over a shoulder.

“Woah, hyung, you’re strong!” you hear Jungkook gush as Hoseok carries you without so much as a grunt. “That’s so cool!”

“Hey!” you try to snap, but with your body folded over a bony shoulder and hair dangling on end, you can’t imagine the heat of your comment is felt by anyone. “This is kidnapping!”

“Not really,” Jin calls out in a bright tone, “he’s not taking you off the property.”

You kick your legs in the air in frustration, blood rushing to your head. “Fuck you! You can go fuck Yoongi without me next time!”

“As far as threats go, that’s not strong,” Jin retorts, his voice carrying over the three shocked parties. “Fucking Yoongi would be a pleasure.”

“Thanks, Jin-hyung.”

“No problem.”

You feel your cheeks heat up with the added blood and your eyes ache, so you give up the fight, instead batting your fists against Hoseok’s ass in protest. “Hurry up, John Cena,” you grumble. “Either let me down or take me to the confessional room before I pass out.”

“So demanding,” Hoseok tuts, but before you know it you’re shifting, getting tugged down and up and sideways, vision spinning sickly until you’re resting, bridal style, in Hoseok’s arms.

You pout up at the dark-haired man. “Hobi, I feel seasick now.”

He grins, lips quirking into a heart shape. “Are you that wet already?”

Your head lolls back as you kick your legs weakly in his hold. “Stop it,” you whine. “Being mean.”

“Poor baby,” he jibes, and calls out a cheery goodbye to the others, walking you out to the outside dining area where you’d spent that first night, and following the house around until you arrive at the garden shed that houses the confessional room. Once he lets you down, he checks his phone, wincing at what he sees. “Shit. Producer Shin is getting impatient.”

Even with all the excess blood in your head, you pale at the thought of the friendly middle-aged man that operated the camera in the room. “He’s not waiting there, is he?”

“No,” Hoseok dismisses distractedly, typing out a reply, “I exiled him to Sejin’s caravan out front. He just doesn’t like leaving his post for too long in case others want to film.” After he pockets his phone, he glances up at you, a strange dark flicker in his eyes. “Get inside and sit on the stool. Wait for me.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden change in his tone, his demeanor. “Why should I have to wait?” you protest. “You’re the one that wants me in-”

You jump when a sudden smacking noise rings in your ears, sharp and thin. In front of you, Hoseok has simply clapped his hands together once, but the fright as well as his sudden seriousness has your words dying in your throat.

“I don’t appreciate subs that talk back,” he says slowly, each word enunciated and clear, like he’s reciting an important law. “So go inside, sit on the stool, and wait.”

“Yes, sir.” The honorific is meant to be a final sarcastic sign of defiance, but you find yourself meaning it as you say it. This isn’t Hobi that you can joke and laugh with. This is a glimpse of what he’s like at his job at the dungeon. Of what he’s like when he’s Master.

His back straightens and his face clears in approval, but he doesn’t praise you for it, simply standing in stoic expectation for you to follow his order.

When you get inside, you feel his eyes on your back like two hot pinpricks, but you don’t dare look back, leaving the door open a crack as you sit on the stool.

The room itself is cramped, with just enough room for the stool, the camera, and a seat behind it, empty for the first time since you’ve arrived. You’re used to seeing a producer sitting behind it, open from eight in the morning until midnight; Producer Shin doing the early half and Producer Kang in the evening. Both were friendly, middle-aged men. Shin was divorced and Kang was happily married with two kids in primary school, and after you’d gone through whatever thoughts were on your mind and whatever questions fans had sent in, both men would often switch off the camera and chat with you about whatever topic felt interesting at the time.

Though it wasn’t broadcasted like your interactions with the other guys, you really had found good company in the two of them, as well as Sejin. On the Tuesday after Namjoon had walked out on you, you’d even gone out the front door to the caravan where Sejin resided, joined by Shin as the two ate dinner. While the two of them, Sejin especially, preferred not to know any extra information about the game just to maintain a professional distance, but that didn’t mean they didn’t give you a hot cup of tea and a portion of the Chinese food they’d ordered in and distract you with chatter about a k-drama Sejin was watching.

Used to them, it feels strangely empty in the confessional room with that empty chair, more so now that you’re restless with anticipation, eyes straining to see outside the sliver of door you left open.

He leaves you for a long time. Whether it’s on purpose or not, or whether you’re just feeling the drag as you wait, you don’t know, but it seems like hours of being on full alert before the sudden metallic screech of the door opening gives you a fright, heart racing as he steps inside.

You gape as he casually steps behind you, a hand on the back of your head locking you in place when you try and look back at him. The glimpse you got was enough to see that he’d changed clothes slightly; bright yellow sweater replaced with a black leather jacket open over a see-through black shirt. The sight of him in your mind flashes every time you blink like an afterimage. Beyond the all-black ensemble, the tight ripped jeans and the heavy boots, perhaps the picture that stays behind your eyelids the longest is that of his hands. You didn’t have enough time to see, but he was holding what looked like a small rucksack, like the kind you’d take swimming or to play tennis. Somehow, you imagine what it contains isn’t so innocent.

You swallow as his fingers press on your scalp, splayed out. “Face the front,” he commands, and his voice brooks no protest. Once his hand leaves you, you remain still; hyper aware of the effort it takes to keep your eyes ahead, staring at the wall behind the Producer’s chair. “Arms.”

Pausing, you stare dumbly down at them as they rest on your lap. “What?”

Hoseok lets out a light sigh, like he’s exercising great patience, and taps your elbow. “Behind your back. Both of them.”

You follow his order, a shiver running through you when his hands, calloused but limber, grasp your wrists tightly. He ties you up in silence, the cool caress of silk making your eyes slip shut in bliss. While you definitely have an interest in it, your experience in bondage isn’t particularly vast, and you marvel at how such a simple tie changes you. With every swish of fabric against the delicate skin of your wrists, your nerves all over your body sing out, need pooling between your legs. Your shoulder blades are tucked back, opening out your chest, and even in a thick hoodie and leggings, you feel deliciously exposed. Your forearms are crossed over in the hollow of your back so that the tie binds your wrists together. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around your opposite forearm for support, and knowing that there’s no back to the chair, that you’re now open on all sides, has your heart-rate picking up.

You feel your arms tugged as he tightens the knot with a flourish, before slipping two fingers under.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs, and you obey. “Try to get out.” You pause for a moment, but then pull in opposite directions, attempting to wiggle yourself out, but to no avail. “Good.”

You swallow again, fighting against the dryness of your mouth. “What are you-” Your eyes fly open wide as his hand claps over your mouth, pulling your head back to rest against his chest as he looks down at you. You make a noise of protest, but he shushes you, brows in a straight line of disapproval.

“I ask the questions, princess. You see that chair?” He points ahead, and you try to nod but fail as his hand keeps you still, your breath coming hot through your nose. “That’s where the producer sits and asks you questions. So the only thing I want to hear from you are the answers to my questions, and your safewords if you need them. Understood?”

You try and nod again; this time, he unwraps his fingers from over your mouth and lets you catch your breath. “Yes, sir,” you confirm, voice small.

“Do you remember your colours, princess? Can you tell me?”

You lick your lips where they’ve gone dry. “Green for go, yellow for slow down and red for stop... Sir.”

If he catches the pause where you almost forgot to say his title, he lets it slide. “Good. Let’s begin.”

You’re left dazed when he lets go of you and steps away in one swift motion, stepping to the side. You force yourself to keep your gaze ahead, unsure if the command from earlier is still in effect, but your eyes strain to make out the peripheral of him bending over the rucksack, rifling deep inside it. Your stomach curls at the sounds that emanate; the soft thuds of glass and silicone, the jangle of metal, the rustle of fabric.

Finally, he stretches up again, and you suck in a breath when his hand finds its way to your mouth again, this time wrapping tightly around your jaw and turning your face to look up at him, at the small device he’s wiggling in his fingers.

“Do you know what this is, princess?” Hoseok grins, and your eyes focus in on the small metal object. It’s short, a stubby cylinder. On closer inspection you notice a small remote tucked in his palm. A remote-controlled bullet vibrator. You nod as much as you can in his iron grip, and his eyes twinkle. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me and let me put it in?”

Your heart stops, blood rushing south as your desire skyrockets. “Yes, sir,” you gasp needily, unable to help yourself rocking your hips against the smoothed top of the wooden stool.

Hoseok tuts at your movements. “Good girls stay still,” he chastises, and you freeze, feeling your jaw ache once he lets go.

As it turns out, ‘in’ doesn’t mean inside of you, but rather in your panties. Your fingernails dig into your forearms with the effort to not move, biting down hard on your tongue. He steps in front of you, hands dipping shamelessly to the front of your leggings, fingers tugging at the elastic and releasing, letting it snap onto your front. You hiss in a breath through your nose but don’t speak, remembering his rule. Going back, this time his hand slips under both layers, and you can’t help the whine that comes out when you feel cold metal against the heat of your core, sliding over your clit. Frustratingly, he himself doesn’t touch you, only placing the vibe before removing his hand, patting over your crotch where you can see the obscene bulge, straight down the middle.

You let out a breath, brows furrowing with want, but he simply walks away, leaving you tied up and waiting as he sits behind the camera.

He looks entirely in his element, legs spread and leaning back in the chair, fingers running over the control in his hands. In front of him, slightly to the right so his face isn’t blocked, is the camera. It’s still set up, black lens staring you down from its position on the tripod. You watch with baited breath as he leans over and turns it on with a little electronic beep, Your pussy clenches at the thought of him filming this, not for the show but for himself.

How he’d take it to his room, booting up his laptop and locking his door. He probably sat much like he is now when he jerked off; legs wide to make room for his hands. Watching you moan and writhe, hands trapped behind you and chest pressed out as the metallic whine of the vibrations is just barely audible through his speakers. Would he drag it out, wanting to savour every last minute of the video, stroking himself slowly so as not to cum too soon, or would he be frantic, desperate, panting alone in his room as he tries to orgasm in time with you, spilling all over himse-

An unbidden cry leaps from your throat as you’re taken off-guard by the sudden voltage between your legs. Your thighs snap shut but the pleasure continues, Hoseok watching raptly as your shoulders twist, the instinct to pull your arms forward even as soft silk holds firm. “Hobi,” you whine imploringly.

He ignores you, ramping the vibrations up enough that the noise fills the room; a constant high-pitched whirring that rings in your ears even as you clench your thighs around it. Though you’d enjoyed the odd vibrator yourself, you were sure Hoseok knew full well that there were always a few high settings that were quite simply too much. It overstimulates you before you’ve even orgasmed, so much you can’t take it.

“Hobi!” you cry, curling over yourself as if you can escape it. Belatedly, in your electrified brain, a puzzle piece clicks into place. “Sir! Sir, please, turn it off! It hurts, please!”

You go lax, shuddering when it stops suddenly; the only sound in the confessional room coming from your heavy breathing.

“Oh, princess,” he soothes in a warm voice, “don’t worry. Sir will help you learn. Think of this as training, hm? I want our time together to be enjoyable, but it’s important that you know how to behave. Sir would rather reward you than punish you. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

You straighten up awkwardly, the weight of your arms crossed over your back making it difficult. He’s patient, smiling once you face him upright again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

His eyes glimmer at that, and your core clenches, all too aware of the powerful motor resting over your clit. You wanted him to be happy with you, not just because you want a reward, but because you know just how unbearable his punishment would be. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer them. If I don’t like your answer, you know what happens. Understood?”

You feel your arms and thighs break out in goosebumps at the thinly veiled threat. “Understood, sir.”

“Then let’s begin. We’ll start with an easy one, hm? How do you address me?”

“Sir.”

“Correct. When should you speak?”

“When spoken to,” you answer automatically, but his head cocks to the side, raising the remote meaningfully. Your mind scrambles. “Wait! And if I have to use the safewords, sir.”

The hand holding the remote lowers again as he nods. “That’s right. I can punish you for forgetting the other rules and move on, but if you ignore that then we can’t play at all, princess.” Hoseok smiles placidly. “Those are the ones we’ve already learnt. Let’s see how good your instincts are.”

You take in a deep breath, eying up the remote warily. This was uncharted territory, so the chance of you making a mistake just went right up. Rather than making any comment, you bite your tongue and wait for him to address you.

“When do you get to cum?” Hoseok asks in an authorial tone.

You pause for a moment, not wanting to blurt out something wrong. “When Sir gives me permission?”

He smiles placidly. “Good. Now; normally with my subs, they come only by my say-so. But I know for you, that isn’t reasonable given you have to play with the others. However there is still something I expect to have control over. Think for a bit; I’ll give you time. What can you not do without my permission?”

You stare at him imploringly but he just waits for your answer. You rack your mind for some clue, running over his words. He only wanted you to cum with his permission, but he was saying sex with the others was fine. So it wasn’t like you couldn’t cum at all without him around... You blink, feeling cold dread settle down your back as you come up blank. “I don’t get it, sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s disappointing.” Even as you brace yourself, the powerful vibrations shock you to your core, more intense than you remember them. Hoseok’s eyes remain on you as you rock your hips and wiggle your torso, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as you know you can’t. He holds you like that for what feels like an eternity, though it can’t be more than a minute or two. Finally, just as you feel like you’re going to fall apart, he takes mercy, and the vibrations cease, leaving you gasping.

“The answer I was looking for,” Hoseok explains coolly, “is masturbate. You are not allowed to masturbate as long as I am in the show. If you want that release, you’re to come to me, and I’ll decide if you’ve earned it. Is that clear?”

You open your mouth for a disingenuous yes, but he beats you to the bunch.

“And if you break that rule, don't think I won’t notice. I have mercy for mistakes but I don’t take well to direct disobedience.”

You deflate, lips turning down in a frown. It takes you a moment to commit. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His eyes glint proudly at the power you’ve handed over to him, and you clench your thighs together, not wanting to admit just how much that look affects you. “I have one last question for you. What would you like from me?”

This feels like a question with no right answer, but still you hesitate. Ask for too much and he might chastise you. “A kiss, please, sir,” you try tentatively.

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle slowly as he smiles, standing up. “How romantic, princess.” You turn your chin up in anticipation, toes curling as he sidesteps the camera and moves closer, leather jacket shifting to reveal tantalising slips of skin, covered by the black sheer mesh. Once in front of you, he bends down painfully slowly, close enough that your eyes slip shut, the lightest brush of his lips on yours and-

He chuckles above you as the vibrations reappear with a vengeance, making you jerk violently and curse.

“Sir! Please!” you cry. Each time the vibrations come, they’re more insufferable, like they’re breaking down your defenses one pulse at a time. “Sir, please stop it, it’s too mu-uch!”

Hoseok turns it down, but not off, so that a gentle thrumming keeps you shuddering. He reaches behind you to tug your hair, pulling your head up to face him as he stands above you, tutting. “Why would I give you what you want?” he asks rhetorically. “You didn’t answer all my questions correctly. Maybe next time, hm?”

The vibrations are now the exact opposite of before - too low to bring you close to your high. “Hobi, plea- Sir, please, make me cum! I tried my best!” You round your eyes and pout, trying to plead with him.

Though he tries to hide it, his poker face falters for just a second. Just a twitch of his eye, a softening of his jaw, but you know you have him.

You let your voice soften even more, the sweetest begging. “I’ll be good for you, sir. Please just let me cum.”

Hoseok lets out a sigh, eyes melting. “Just this once, princess,” he allows, “Sir will go easy on you since you’re just learning.” He smiles at the way you moan in relief once the vibrations pick up again, the divine middle ground between too much and not enough. With your senses so heightened, it’s no surprise to feel the coil in your stomach quickly tightening, egged on by the fond way he strokes your hair, brushing it off your face to drink in your reactions. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathe, hips rocking as much as you can without compromising your balance. It’s an overwhelming feeling having your arms still tied behind you. The thought that you aren’t in control of your own pleasure. Considering his prior rule, it doesn’t surprise you that he started with a scene where you didn’t even have the choice to cum without permission. Every time the silk tugs at your wrists or the metal vibe slides slightly with your grinding, it just reminds you of how you’re fully at his mercy, and you can’t wait to feel what that’s like once you finally cum. It’s not quite enough though; so wet, the metal slips more than you’d like and it frustrates you when the pressure isn’t enough, or is in the wrong place. You hiccup a sob when he turns the vibrations up just one more level, so close to your edge you could cry. “Ho-hobi, please, I need more.” You sniff at the way his brows tick. “Sir,” you cry desperately, legs widening in invitation.

Hoseok lets out a low grumble as his jaw flexes. “You’re lucky I’m going easy on you,” he announces, before dropping a hand down and cupping it over your center, pressing the vibrator right over your clit. “You better cum now, princess, I’m getting impatient. You wouldn’t want Producer Shin to walk in right now, hm? Poor man just wants to do his job, not deal with whiny little girls like you who just want to cum. Do you know why I’m not fucking you right now, princess? Because I know you couldn’t help yourself from making a mess. I bet you’re sopping wet in those panties of yours.”

With every sentence, Hoseok grinds the heel of his palm over you, jostling the vibrator against your swollen clit and before you know it, you’re cumming, leaning forward and burying your head in his chest as you latch your thighs around his hand, cresting the high.

He holds you there the whole time, vibrator jumping up another level to make you let out a squeal. As your vision begins to clear and your body returns to normal, the vibrations make you jump and whimper against him, arms flexing aggressively as you fail to pull your hands in front of you, no way of stopping the assault of sensation- unless; “Sir! Turn it off, sir, please!”

Hoseok takes mercy on you and the vibrations cease. As you gasp for breath, the sheer fabric of his shirt itching your cheek, you feel his palms slide over your shoulders and down your back, warm even through your hoodie, and reach for the length of silk. You make a low noise of disapproval at the feeling of being untied, not wanting the scene to be over, but he just shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Your shoulders twinge once your hands fall to your sides, and you follow his instructions to roll them out as he massages the muscles. While his fingers aren’t as heavenly as Taehyung’s, it does ease the ache, and you let him sit you up as he fishes the slick metal bullet out from between your legs, smirking at the way you shudder when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit.

“Now, princess,” he announces lowly, “Shin will be coming back soon, so we need to head out. But I still have one last lesson for you. Are you able to keep going? It’s nothing too crazy, I promise.”

You swallow the dryness in your throat that’s come from your heavy breaths and nod, a soft smile gracing your face with the satisfaction of a good orgasm.

Hoseok hums, pleased, and pats your cheeks warmly before holding up the black silk. “One of the most important things in a scene,” he explains, brushing your hair back with his free hand, his knuckles light against the sensitive skin of your neck, “is trust. So we’re going to take a walk back to the house together, princess. Only you’ll be wearing this.”

Your breath hitches as the silk comes over your eyes, cool on your lids and temples as he ties it in a knot at the back, tight enough that it won’t slip but making sure it isn’t catching your hair or digging in. It’s a new kind of vulnerability, having your hands free but your sight prohibited, and you find your head tilting up blindly, seeking him out in the void.

“Oh, Y/n,” you hear him chant in a whisper, “you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You shiver, hands clutching at him, slippery fabric and sharp teeth of a zip scratching your palms. “Sir,” you say, no words coming to mind but his title as his hands grasp your sides, lifting you off the stool. You stumble a but, hands flying out to steady yourself in the darkness. Your heart races when you realise your hands are empty, and as you wave them around, it’s all open air, feeling deep like a crevasse. “Hobi?”

Hoseok ignores the slip, his voice coming slightly to your right, but at a distance. “Follow my voice, princess. I’ll keep you safe. Come.”

Your mouth hangs open and your feet feel leadened to the floor. As fear begins to roil in your chest, you slide your feet forward, shuffling closer, hands scanning the air in front of you. With no sight, every inch feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, hands grasping for contact that never comes. Your breath hitches, lungs not expanding fully. “H-hoseok, yellow,” you gasp, eyes tearing at the fear that grips your heart. “I don’t like it.”

“Okay, shh, you’re alright, I’m here,” Hoseok comforts, his voice closer, and you let out a sob of relief when your hands touch the mesh of his shirt, elbows buckling as he pulls you into a tight hug. The restriction on your ribs falls away the moment his chin rests on the crown of your head and his hands rub soothingly at your back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he murmurs gently, “too far, hm? Are you still okay with the blindfold?”

You sniff and nod, bottom lip trembling so much that you don’t dare speak.

“So not being able to touch me was too much? That’s okay, don’t get upset, we don’t have to do that. Do you think you could walk to the house with me if I hold your hand? Would you like to try that instead?”

As he speaks, he slips a hand into yours, squeezing tightly. You take a steadying breath, feeling those sickly stresses fade away. “I wanna try, Sir,” you decide, voice only wobbling a little.

“Are you sure?” You hum in confirmation, and he rewards you with another soft kiss to your forehead. “Then let’s go, princess. Walk this way with me.”

It’s still scary stepping out blindly, but Hoseok reassures you every few moments, and his hand is like an anchor in the black ocean, keeping you steady. His hands are surprisingly slender, but they just fit into yours all the better, warm and strong and tugging you along slowly.

The first thing you feel once you leave the shed is the spots of rain on your cheeks, air fresh with moisture. Rather than be a negative, however, the lighter downpour soothes you, as well as gives you an incentive to walk faster.

There’s a slight lip where the patio begins, and once Hoseok guides you to step up on it, the rain ceases to hit you, now a soothing patter against the eaves of the house and the roof over the outdoor dining area. The swish of a glass sliding door, and finally you’re led inside, Hoseok warning you about furniture you’re close to so that you don’t trip.

Even as it gets easier with time, you still let out a heavy breath of relief once he slides back a chair at the table and helps you sit, unwinding the knot and baring your eyes to the world once more.

You blink, wincing at the bright lights of the kitchen and dining room, feeling Hoseok’s hands on you, warm voice praising you. Strangely, your mind feels more fuzzy now that it’s over, and you tell Hoseok, rubbing your eyes to try and get your vision to focus on his face.

“Probably subspace,” he answers, taking the chair next to you and holding out his hands, palms up. You frown blearily at him and he just laughs, reaching out for your wrists. You look down and let out a noise of surprise. All your struggling has left harsh red lines circling your wrists, and you hiss as Hoseok gently rubs them, pressing in an almost clinical manner like he’s making sure you haven’t hurt yourself. “Typically the trust exercise alone wouldn’t make someone fall that much, but I suspect cumming first had gotten you halfway there.”

“Okay,” you answer dumbly, making his lips quirk in a smile, letting your wrists down.

“I’m going to get you a drink of water and something sugary and then we’re going to sit down at the couch and watch a movie together, okay?”

“Okay,” you say again, head feeling heavy. Perhaps you’d lie rather than sit on the couch, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You did so well for me today, princess,” he praises. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you slur happily, waiting for him to duck into the kitchen and retrieve the supplies.

And so for the rest of the morning, the two of you curl up together on the couch, gradually joined by the others, until all eight of you are watching Paddington 2, Jungkook furiously playing a game on his phone to hide the fact that he’s tearing up at one of the climaxes.

It’s easy to let time pass like this; long after you feel fully clear and coherent again, you remain safe in Hoseok’s lazy embrace, his head resting against yours and his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Jin and Yoongi bicker about the movie choices as the day goes on, and Taehyung demolishes enough snacks to clear the pantry, but you and Hoseok just relax, enjoying the mutual comfort after your scene.

In fact, you barely notice the afternoon drifting by until Jin stands up and announces you order in some dinner, because it was too late to cook. True to his word, it was almost 8pm, and you didn’t fancy waiting until 10 or later to eat.

It’s not you, or even Jin or Yoongi, but Jimin that notices Namjoon’s change in demeanour. The eight of you are crowded around the coffee table cross-legged (or, like Taehyung, lying on his stomach) in an uncommon silence founded by the delicious food you’re all stuffing into your mouths.

Not all, apparently, as Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. “Namjoon-ah, why aren’t you eating?”

The silence changes, then. No longer the contented hush of eating, but the frozen uncertainty of a social faux pas. You’d only known each other five days and already Jimin was using a very familiar term, one that normally you wouldn’t dare use to someone older than you. Namjoon, however, doesn’t seem offended, but rather sends the younger man a grateful look.

“I’m just not hungry,” he weakly explains, staring mournfully at the steaming dishes in front of him.

“You didn’t eat lunch either,” Jimin points out, making you raise your brows. You’d seen on many occasions that Jimin was an observer - the memory of his hand around your throat still makes you shiver - but to hear it directed at someone else’s wellbeing impressed you.

Namjoon just shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Abandoning his own meal and ignoring the gawking stares from the others at the table, Jimin reaches out with his chopsticks, piling food from all of the dishes into Namjoon’s bowl. “You’re going to sit here and eat with us, Namjoon, and then you’re going to tell whoever you feel comfortable telling why you’re upset.”

Namjoon’s face falls, guilty. His fingers fiddle with the hair tucked behind his ears as he watches his portion grow. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he mutters softly.

“You aren’t a burden,” Jimin says firmly, sending him a firm look and sliding a set of chopsticks his way. “Just say thank you and eat.”

“Thank you, Jimin,” Namjoon says in a small voice, grabbing a piece of pork cutlet first, biting into the crunchy crumb.

With a quiet smile, Jimin turns back to his own food, continuing to dig in. As if that’s the signal for the rest of you, the group returns to their bowls, a satisfied silence falling once again.

After a few mouthfuls, Jin sets his cutlery down, wiping his mouth on a stray napkin. “I think all of us are probably facing some challenges in this situation. No matter who gets voted out and when, we’re the only ones we have right now, so let’s be honest with each other and support each other. We shouldn’t expect Namjoon to be vulnerable with us without being able to do the same. So I’ll start; one thing I’ve been worrying about is that I’ll get my own feelings in the way - whether that’s affection or jealously or competitiveness - and not be able to give you all objective advice. I want you all to see me as a person you can talk to and a shoulder to lean on, so I’m worried if I get too in the game I may no longer be able to do that.”

Finished, Jin returns calmly to eating, pulling a long trail of cheese ramen into from the bowl into his waiting mouth. To your surprise, it’s Jungkook that speaks up next; the boy having kept quiet this whole time.

“I’m worried-” he begins, before his nose twitches violently like he’s fighting the urge to tear up. “I’m worried that I’ll miss you guys. If I get voted out or any of you get voted out. Like; once the competition is over we can still hang out at stuff sometimes, and we can still talk, but it won’t be the same.”

You coo as he presses the back of his hand to his nose, blinking hard. Sitting beside him, you leave your own food and wrap your arms around him in a sideways hug, resting your head on his shoulder. He sniffs, but his head tips to the side to lean against yours, and you feel his body relax into the embrace.

“I worry about that too, Jungkookie,” you admit. “Though my biggest fear is that whoever I vote out each time will hate me for it. I know it’s hard not to take things personal. It’s going to be an impossible decision every week, and I don’t think I could handle it if you got angry and didn’t want to speak to me again.”

“That won’t happen,” Taehyung answers certainly. “You’re so cool, Y/n, and getting a bunch of hot people to fuck you every week is the dream, but I would never want to be in your decision. We all know it’ll suck more for you than it does for us.”

You smile as the other guys at the table nod in agreement, letting out a low hum as Jungkook’s shoulder jostles beneath your head, the boy reaching forward to grab his bowl. As he lifts a hunk of white rice to his mouth, you poke him in the ribs, opening your own lips.

Though you can’t see his face, Jungkook scoffs and you can picture the reluctant grin he must sport as he changes angles, lowering it to your mouth instead. You hum happily once the warm rice fills your mouth, but it soon turns into an indignant squeak as Jungkook pulls out a cut of cooked pork with his chopsticks, eating the much better morsel. He chuckles, feeding you the next strip, and the two of you sit contentedly like that, feeding each other as the conversation continues.

It seems like it’s Hoseok’s turn. He has his gaze internal, biting at his lip. “I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up and say something wrong or do something wrong and then people at my work will think I’m a bad dom. I swear I’ve read Y/n’s limit sheet a million times but I still messed up today.”

“Hobi,” you sigh, voice soft with empathy, “that wasn’t your fault. And you handled it perfectly. Please don’t feel bad.”

Though you know the others have questions - Jimin especially is staring hard at Hoseok, not angry but burning with curiosity - nobody asks, simply letting things move on. Yoongi pats Hoseok on the back from beside him and looks towards the center of the room.

“My concern is with the editing team,” Yoongi explains. “We don’t really have any way of knowing how much is going to be shown in the episodes on the website, and I don’t want people to watch this and get altered perceptions of things. I’m sure it can’t be avoided, but I do sometimes wonder how much the audience even sees.”

“I bet if one of us takes our clothes off, they’ll air this part,” Jin offers between mouthfuls of meat. “If you ever want to make sure something gets on the show, just remember it’s a porn website. I bet I could get five minutes of me talking about the economic state of Poland on the show if someone was going down on me at the time.”

Namjoon chokes on a sip of his water and you laugh heartily at the satisfied grin on Jin’s face. Always one to lighten the mood, the eldest seemed relieved at the way Namjoon blushes, but still chuckles, looking less anxious.

“Alright, then,” the virgin announces shyly. “I’ll get it off my chest. I’ve wanted to make my move this whole week but I keep chickening out. I’m worried that I’ll get to Sunday and not have done anything.”

You straighten up off of Jungkook. “That’s easy, Namjoonie. I’ll just make a move for you. After dinner, let’s go to your room.”

He chuckles nervously, but the whole room burst into a joyous cheer when he nods at you.

“Namjoonie, you casanova!” Hoseok jokes, but you can see how his eyes glimmer with pride, all the guys genuinely happy for him.

Namjoon senses it too, and some of his nerves seem to dissipate. He laughs, rocking his fist like a small punch of victory, and sends you a grateful smile. “Anyway,” he says once the celebration calms down, “we still have Taehyungie and Jimin to hear from.”

“I’ll go first,” Taehyung insists, jumping up from his spot lying on the floor to sit instead, placing his hands palms-down on the table like he’s divulging state secrets. His eyes narrow, his voice lowers. “My deepest, darkest fear is that either I or Jimin-hyung will get voted out before I get the chance to give him a massage.”

Jimin rolls his eyes as everyone oohs at the confession, but he can’t hide the upwards twitch of his lips. “Go on, then,” he allows, cheeks plumped as they fight to hold back his grin. “I need to be loosened up to admit my feelings anyway.”

Taehyung hoots, springing up and stepping around limbs and bodies until he’s sitting on the couch behind Jimin, legs on either side of the older man’s body. “You’ll have to take off your sweater,” Taehyung announces, fingering the cream-coloured fabric around his shoulders, “it’s too thick.”

Once again Jimin surprises you by actually removing his sweater, delicately slipping the ends of the sleeves over his wrists before lifting it up. He’s not shirtless - underneath the sweater is a thin cotton tank, tucked into his white jeans - but it’s the most skin you’ve seen on him, and you gape at his bare arms, lithe and pale.

The atmosphere in the room has changed very suddenly, everyone’s eyes on the pair as Taehyung rubs his palms together, warming them before laying them over Jimin’s shoulders with an excited grin. Jimin sighs almost inaudibly, lips parting as Taehyung begins to work his magic.

“Tell us then, hyung,” the masseuse requests, “what’s eating Park Jimin?”

Jimin’s lids flutter, the tension returning to his face with a frown. “That none of you would like me. That I’d get voted off just to make things less awkward for the rest of you.”

Taehyung’s hands freeze, his face falling. “We love having you here, hyung,” he insists lowly. “You’re a tough egg to crack, but I bet you’re a softie deep down. We’ll get there.”

“Thank you,” Jimin replies shortly, feeling considerably uncomfortable with the eyes on him for once. “I do hope that wasn’t the end of the massage, Tae, you barely sat down.” His tone is flat, but he lifts his head up to send the younger boy a sidelong grin.

Taehyung winks back at him, gently turning Jimin’s head back to face the front. “Of course, not, that was just the warm-up. You’ll be so relaxed when I’m done, you won’t be able to walk up to your room.”

Jimin lets out a little laugh as Taehyung begins pressing his fingers in more deeply, the flesh rippling beneath his touch. The masseuse, however, glances up to the rest of you, jerking his chin away like he’s asking you all to leave. Privacy, he mouths, and you fight the urge to nod in understanding.

Jimin probably wouldn’t let himself relax like that if all of you were just sitting there staring at him; you can see the way he nibbles lightly on his bottom lip that he feels out of his comfort zone.

Jin takes the first iniative, letting out a satisfied sigh and standing up. “I’m full,” he announces, “who’s gonna come help me do the dishes?”

And like that, you all clear out and leave Taehyung and Jimin behind, Jimin’s shoulders dropping in relief when he thinks nobody can see. Instead of helping clear up, Jin tells you to take Namjoon upstairs, and before you can really comprehend it, the two of you are sitting on the end of his bed in his room, kicking your legs out awkwardly.

“Well,” you say after a moment, Namjoon jumping slightly like he hadn’t expected you to speak, “how would you like to do this, Namjoonie? Lying down, sitting up, standing?”

He swallows, fiddling with the ends of his hair. “I think sitting,” he answers. “Could we, um, do it under the covers?”

“The blowjob?” you ask in surprise, and Namjoon nods, cheeks bright red.

“Nobody’s seen me naked before, and it doesn’t matter if I get disqualified for not showing everything because I’m going to get the penalty anyway for not doing it outside.”

“That’s fine,” you coo, “whatever makes you comfortable. How about I turn away while you get undressed?”

He nods, and you face the wall, listening to the sound of him hastily undressing, like he was worried you’d get impatient and turn around.

“You do realise I’m going to see you naked anyway?” you call out. “I can’t suck your dick with my eyes shut. Well-” Your voice lifts up as you consider it. “I suppose I could.”

Namjoon laughs, and you let yourself smile proudly at the sound. “You can turn around now,” he instructs, and you do, smile widening at the way he sits up in bed, pulling the covers up over his chest cutely.

“Namjoonie,” you sigh, stepping over to perch on the side of the bed, “I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready. Are you sure about this? I don’t mind waiting.”

He mulls it over for a moment, chin pressing out as he tenses his jaw. “I think I’ll be fine once we get into it, you know? I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get into it,” you announce, fishing out your phone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon’s shoulders deflate. “What are you doing?”

You smile softly, selecting a romantic playlist to set the tone a little; a slow, soothing guitar and husky male vocals emanating from your phone. “Setting the mood,” you answer, placing it on his nightstand and turning to him. “You’ve kissed before, yeah?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes widening once you stand up, shimmying out of your clothes. “I- y- mhm. Oh, god.”

“What?” you ask innocently, like you didn’t just get naked in front of him. This whole ‘being filmed 24/7’ thing had done wonders for your body confidence, and so you boldly straddle him, the duvet being the only thing that separates you. “We’ll just start with something you know, then.”

He makes a little muffled squeak of surprise when you press your mouth to his, but it shocks you just how quickly he seems to calm down and kiss you back. Perhaps he was a natural, or he had more experience than he’d let on, but in few short moments he begins to take control of it, deepening it and making your mind hazy with slips of his tongue.

“Wow,” you gasp out between kisses, “how did you learn to - mmph! - kiss like this?”

“Sorry,” he replies, voice already husky with arousal, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” you chime with a light giggle, “are you excited all over?”

“N- Yes,” Namjoon admits, stricken.

“So soon?” you question teasingly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling away and clenching his eyes shut like it pains him. “You’re really pretty.”

To hide your blush, you slide a hand down his chest and stomach. “Do you want me to touch you now?”

He nods quickly, jerky motions as his hands fist at his sides. “Shit, can you- This duvet was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have-”

“Hey,” you interrupt softly, standing up off him. He makes a low noise of loss and opens his eyes, widening when he’s visually reminded of just how naked you are. “We can take the duvet off, don’t worry. It’s easier this way, too.”

Once he nods his consent, you flip the covers back, revealing his naked body.

Your mouth drops open. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Namjoon frowns, brows knitting together. “That’s not a good reaction,” he says unsurely, hands tucking over his hardness. He’s huge - big enough to rival Seokjin’s - and he’s practically leaking precum like a faucet, his tip looking so red it must be painful.

“Oh, I can assure you it most definitely is,” you gush. “God, I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky?” you ask yourself in wonder, stradding him again. This time, you sit lower so that you can bend over and take him in your hand, marvelling at the weight of it.

With that simple touch, Namjoon’s head falls back and knocks loudly on the headboard, making him hiss. “Y/n, if you don’t put your mouth on me now, I swear...”

Your eyes widen, mouth in question falling open in shock. “So Namjoon’s a baby dom, hm?”

He lifts his head off the wall, staring at you like he can’t believe the words that came from his own lips. “Sorry, was that rude? I’m going crazy, I want you so bad.”

“Don’t apologise,” you croon, running a single nail lightly up his side, “I like it. I’m going to suck you off now, okay? Tell me what feels good.”

He nods, a small amount of his prior nerves returning, but before they can take over, you dip your head, wrapping your lips around his tip and simply sucking off the precum that pools there.

“Fuck! God, oh my god,” Namjoon all-but shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle around him. “Don’t laugh,” he chastises, a hand winding its way in your hair to pull it back from your face.

You glance up at him, lips still on him, and slowly sink down, letting his hardness fill your mouth all the way to the back. He’s barely halfway in, but when you flick your tongue against one of the veins on his underside, it looks like he’s reached nirvana. You pull up, licking your lips, and use your hand to spread the wetness around his length. “Good?”

“Good, just keep - fuck - keep going.” You grin when his lips press together and he visibly forces himself from saying please, now that you’ve said you liked his dominant streak.

Always one to please, you drop your mouth onto him again, this time building up into a bobbing rhythm, a salty tang hitting your tongue as sweat and precum mingle. As you jerk off what can’t fit in your mouth, Namjoon curses lowly and his hips rise off the bed, pushing himself deeper so that his tip begins to breach your throat. You gag in shock, but he just groans louder at the obscene noise.

Expecting him to do it again, you try and relax your throat, but instead you feel tugging on your scalp as he pulls you up by your hair. He’s still slow enough to be painless, but he seems more comfortable taking some control and it makes you grin when you get pulled up off him, sucking air into your lungs.

“I want to try something,” Namjoon admits with wide, lust-ridden eyes. “I won’t push if you don’t want to.” He swallows, fingers tightening in your hair. “Can I fuck your face?”

Your mouth drops open even more, but your grin only broadens. “Fuck, yes,” you enthuse. “Is like this okay, or do you wanna change positions?”

“Like this,” he says, and his other arm moves down so that he can hold your head with both hands, fingers brushing back the hair that’s fallen in your face. “Just hit me if it’s too much?”

Your heart warms at the thought of him worrying about your safety, and you nod, taking the initiative to lean down, opening your mouth to rest his tip on your tongue, glancing up at him.

“Okay,” he breathes, and begins.

Rather than fucking up into you, he first starts by guiding you up and down on his cock with his grip on your head, each time a little lower, a little deeper down the back of your throat like he’s readying you. After only a few pulls up and down, his head tips back again, smacking noisily against the headboard as he speeds up, eyes shutting in pleasure.

It’s only once his eyes have closed that his hips begin to thrust up too. Like he’s letting himself get lost in the pleasure and just feel. You get lost in it, too. It’s easy to go passive like a doll, just focusing on the way he fills your throat. The way he hisses when you gag, and moans when you swirl your tongue in time with his thrusts.

Your eyes tear up with the intensity of it, breathing through your nose and trying not to cough on him, but you’re in heaven, a hand slipping down between your legs to give yourself some much-needed friction.

It’s once you start touching yourself that everything suddenly happens much faster. The rush of pleasure makes you moan around him, which makes him open his eyes blearily to look down at you, slowling his thrusts when he sees your hand between your legs. Once he realises what you’re doing, he curses again, and his hips pick up their speed, surpassing it until you’re gagging on every thrust, your jaw aching and tears streaming, but still you rock against your hand and moan onto him, caught in the pleasure of feeling, watching, and hearing him fall apart as you fall apart yourself.

As you grow close, a hair’s breadth away from orgasm, you reach your free hand between his legs and cup his balls, softly rolling them in your grasp.

Namjoon shouts as he reaches his orgasm, and suddenly he’s pressing you still against him, cumming down your throat with a stream of intense groans, thighs shaking.

You can’t catch your breath; his cock triggering your gag reflex but staying deep inside you, and it’s that desperation, that lack of control that brings you over the edge yourself, soaking your hand and the sheets below it with the force of your orgasm. He lifts you up as you’re riding your high, spent himself, but the sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs only heightens your pleasure, and you collapse, face pressed against his stomach as you cum and suck in air and cum some more.

Your own legs are shaking by the time you finish, core throbbing with aftershocks, and it takes all of your energy to push yourself up beside him so that you can lie against his bare chest again.

The room is filled with nothing but panting for a few moments, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as his arm wraps around you, holding you tight.

Namjoon is the first to speak, his voice low even in the silence of his bedroom. “Will you stay?”

You swallow back the hoarseness in your throat, using your foot to hook the duvet back up and over your lower halves, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll stay.”

TAGLIST

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theficplug · 4 years

Text

|Next Lifetime|Erik Killmonger|

previous chapters : Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

erik killmonger x black reader

|part 4|

warnings: um definitely smut this chapter at the end. so 18+ for this chapter! and a possible trigger warning for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcom.

synopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). This one is a long ass chapter. So, grab you a snack and something to drink! I hope y’all like it.

“You promised on our birthday that you would give me something far more special than the charms you would gift to me. In 2018, you wanted to avenge your birth parents and you went off and did something foolish and when you- when they returned you to me you were-.” you struggle for a bit to find the words to explain it all to him as he takes a step back to gather himself.

He rubs his eyes before grabbing your arms gently and massaging them . He leans down to look you in your eyes before asking “Ma, did you take something before I came to pick you up? You alright? Cause what you saying don’t make no sense at all... Your pupils don't look dilated though.”

“I know how this must sound. Batshit crazy. I know it sounds crazy to me too. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m losing my own damn mind. I don’t know how or why. I just know that you came back to me.” you say to him and he shakes his head.

“Erik. You’re talking about your ex boyfriend...The one that passed... . Alright, I’m going to take you home now... I still don’t understand what’s going on here and I’ve had about all I can take of trying to understand what’s going on here.” N’Jadaka says quietly to you before going around and opening your car door.

The drive was silent as you picked at your nails and let the soft r&b roll over the tension between the two of you.

Your own thoughts were going in about a billion different directions again. It didn’t feel right to just sit on all of that and not say anything at all. As ripped from a science fiction film as it sounded at least he knows.

He was never one to think quietly because you could practically read his thoughts with the changing of expressions across his face.

The relief of seeing your building washed over you as he offered to walk you to your door.

It was bittersweet because there was still so much of him in this different version of him. Even when he was upset with you or livid with whatever ghost that was haunting him back then, he still showed nothing but tenderness to you.

You nod and give him a small smile before following him up the stairs , to your elevator, and finally your door.

“I know that this is a lot. I mean who in their right mind would be able to process all of that.I wish there was any other way to say it... But thank you, I had a really nice time.” your soft words snap him out of staring at your face as if he was trying to piece it all together.

He knew deep down that there was something about you and what happened that weekend while dreaming in colours and other worlds but he couldn’t wrap his head around all of this happening in real life.

You lean up to kiss his cheek and he grabs your shoulders softly. “With all due respect. You seem like a lovely person and a good woman, but I just - this all a lil too weird for me and I don’t think it’s a good idea that we continue seeing each other.”

He kisses your hand and leaves with one look over your shoulder as you call out “Meet me at our spot. If you are still anywhere in there. You’ll know what I mean.”

“What the hell happened ? I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow morning?” Iri says as she settles on the other side of the sofa and patted the spot next to her as you kick off the sandals and lay your head on her lap with tears already prickling your eyes.

“Oh you didn’t? Please don’t tell me you told him about the soulmate reincarnation thing? Sweets, you probably scared the hell out of that man. We needed you to keep that waaay down in the vault.” Tiki adds as she pops the cork off the bottle of wine in her hand and pauses the movie playing on the screen in the background.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do . You’re gonna text him and tell him that you had just gotten your wisdom teeth removed earlier today and the meds had you unexpectedly zooted as fuck. “ Iri suggests and you chuckle softly.

---

Meanwhile at N’Jadaka’s house he was already being pestered by Lina and Penn for some type of details about what happened during the date. Orleans was already in the kitchen cooking and ear hustling but went back to his conversation on the phone with Big Mike when he realized there wasn’t any tea.

“I don’t feel good. I’m finna go lay down. I’ll talk to y’all in the morning”. He says simply to them before trudging his way to his part of the house.

They had been friends since college and just got used to the idea of living together as they did in the dorms so they made it work after graduation.

It helped them save money for when they finally separated and all of their schedules kept them busy so they didn't have time to get sick of each other. They also knew him well enough to know when something was bothering him and to leave him alone when he gets this moody.

"What the fuck?" He whispered under his breath

"What the fuck was all that?" He continues talking to himself as he strips and walks past the bathroom mirror to the shower.

He stops when something catches his eye. He sees a birthmark on his chest that almost resembles the shape of claw marks. He lets his fingers linger over the mark for a second. Thoughts of a panther mask clouded his memories for a moment before he shook his head and entered the shower.

---

A few hours later of talking through it with your girls about possibly seeing a therapist about all that's going on and you were ready for bed.

It didn't take long to drift off, you were ready to put the whole thing behind you.

The familiar setting of purples , pinks, and hues of blue came into focus and you looked around letting the butterflies land on you again.

You walk through the flowers and find Erik sitting by a stream of water weaving some of the flowers together.

"What the hell, E?" You ask as you run over to him and wrap your arms around his neck

He turns to you and smiles big , his dimples on full display before shrugging.

"It ain't perfect but it's the best I could do. They said it's like a do-over or something like that. I get a second chance but as a result of the way I did things the first time it's a lil different. Like when you restore a computer and it lose all it's files and shit. I get a new life but I'm still kinda stuck. I kinda like it though. I don't remember all the other shit when I'm awake. It really is like starting over. Shits crazy to explain when you think about it. But for you , you already know. I'd find you in this life and the next and the one after that. I don’t think I’mma ever fully remember what happened with all of that when i’m awake. I’m cool with it. It ain’t something I’m tryna remember." He says tipping your chin up to look at you and kissing you softly

"I know. At least I get to hold you in the real world. It's just different. But guess what I saw today? I seen that bench that you and me signed all them years back. It's still there." You say to him and he places the lil flower bracelet around your wrist as y'all sit and talk for the rest of the night.

By the time you wake up with the aroma of breakfast wavering throughout the loft you feel a little better about the whole situation with Erik, not Erik.

You opened your phone and sent him an I'm sorry gif with a few extra words inspired by Tina's wisdom tooth lie.

After easing into the kitchen and standing in the doorway you see the two lovebirds dancing around the kitchen singing to each other and laying food on the plates.

"Morning lil sleepy head. Don't forget that I'll still be coming down to the center with you today for the seminar. You hungry?" Iris asks as she places the plate in your hands with a kiss to the top of the head.

"Of course. There's a young girl, Sophie there that I really think would love to talk to you. She's just starting her transition. And her parents are wonderful but they don't really have much money. She hasn't really had the chance to get more “feminine” presenting clothes and she likes makeup. " You say and she nods catching your drift.

"Well it'd brighten anybody's day seeing a beautiful successful trans woman like myself honey. But let's lift her spirits even more. I'm gonna bring some of the makeup I got from pr packages and some of the clothes from this collection. I really hope it helps." She answers and Tika just saunters over to her proclaiming her love for her.

"Alright alright alright. I get it. I'm single as hell." You say laughing softly

---

Two weeks ticked by with radio silence on N'Jadaka's end. After the 4th day when he gave you the cold shoulder at a coffee shop, you decided to stop trying.

Maybe it wasn't fate and maybe you were just believing what you wanted to believe.

You reason with yourself as you walked around the loft making notes about the new housing project you were working on.

Finally having the house to yourself with the lovebirds gone for the day on a little adventure. You got to work budgeting and calling different areas to rent out apartments to you for women and lgbtq+ with housing insecurities.

Your ramblings and thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door , thinking that Iri or Tika left something behind.

"I told you to take your sunscre- Daka?" You question as he stands in front of you

You cross your arms and furrow your brows while waiting for an answer from him.

He stands for a moment like he’s trying to gather all of his thoughts together in a way that makes sense to both of you.

"What're you doing here?" You ask putting your hand on your hip.

He drops his shoulders and lets out a soft sigh before looking at you.

"I didn't wanna believe it. What you said that night cause like how the fuck does something like that happen? I’mma be honest. I wanted to just believe that you were a lil off and leave it at that but something keeps telling me that you right. I can't remember shit before college and all I wanted to do was be with you. From the moment I met you in the store. I was like, this is it. This is what's missing. A piece to a puzzle that's all jumbled up." He admits and you nod slowly before letting him in.

You walk around the kitchen getting a cup of tea for yourself and sitting a cup of coffee down on the counter for him.

“Don’t worry it’s black, I know you dont like it sweet.”

"You know I didn't exactly expect my fiancee that I buried months before to show up at a damn supermarket of all places. This isn't some movie or fanfiction. These kind of things don't happen in real life. Daka you, you had claw marks all over you. The last time I laid eyes on you. And now you're here in front of me. I thought that I was losing my mind." You say and he starts to unbutton his shirt.

"These." He says peeling his shirt off and showing you the birthmarks on his chest and shoulder.

You trace your fingers over it before leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I asked my parents about my childhood and when I passed by my old neighborhood a few days ago andI remembered some things. I remember what happened to my other parents, in pieces. Shit’s brutal." He says dropping his gaze

"It's okay." You whisper to him and wrap your arms around him. You rocked him for a moment letting him let all of those feelings wash over him.

He embraced you for a moment before kissing you tenderly. You tug at his bottom lip before deepening the kiss when he press you against the counter.

"We'll figure it out... Something telling me I'd be a fuckin fool to lose you again." He says quietly against yours lips.

"Are you gonna make love to me or are you going to keep looking at me like that?" You ask as he studies your whole face like he's looking at art.

"A memory. It's you. We stood right here and I kissed you the same way. You were saying something like "you bring yourself home to me"." He says and you nod frantically, holding him closer to you.

"I did. It was right before you left." You admit and he nods before lifting you up onto the counter and kissing you heatedly this time. He kisses down to your breasts before looking up at permission from you to unhook your bra.

Always a man that knows what he's doing. He takes kisses around your breasts and nipples. He takes his time to lick and caress you until he works his way down.

You shake your head yes before moving to slide off your panties but his kisses and his mouth is already beating you to it as he kisses down to your thigh.

He slides your panties off with his teeth and tosses them over his shoulder.

You tilt your head back as you feel him wasting no time massaging over your clit and working you over with his fingers, curling them and stroking you gently.

Your soft moans fill the room when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and begins to suckle your clit softly , swirling his tongue over it.

"Tika will kil- Ooh god. How does your tongue feel like it's vibrating?" You ask and he only chuckles and grips onto your cheeks to bring you closer to him.

He was feasting on and devouring you like he was going to lose again and you could grind your hips down against his tongue and moan his name sweetly.

He didn't stop his tongue or fingers working in you until your legs are shaking and you're gripping at his head.

"You have- fuck. I'm a squir-" you moan his name brokenly while trying to get out your words and lean back for a moment licking his lips before realizing what you're trying to say.

"Hold that for me. I wanna come with you." He says to you and you pout and protest as he removes his fingers. He picks you up off the counter and carries you bridal style asking you which room is yours.

"Left , left." You giggle into his shoulder as he helps you slide your dress off and you unbutton his jeans for him.

You capture him in a kiss for a moment feeling his soft plump lips against yours again for the first time in what feels like forever.

"It's been a long time since I've done all of this. . . Gentle." You say and he runs a calloused finger over your cheek moving a curl away from your face as he looks at you.

He gets a quick flash of a memory of you and him in bed. You wore a smile on your face before telling him "happy anniversary".

He trailed his fingers down your body remembering almost every scar , every moment.

When Erik got to a scar at your side. He chuckled, unlocking a memory of you two running from the neighborhood rottweiler , Smokey.

That old ass dog hated you and he hoisted you over the fence first after being out late one night in high school. The gate had caught your side when you jumped.

Erik felt so bad he brought you food from anywhere you wanted everyday from to school for a month.

He leans down to place open mouthed kisses to it.

He traced over your thighs to the cellulite and stretch marks remembering when you first got them.

He was moving homes at the time and he wasn't ready to be further away from you yet. You two just sat for hours at the park in the grass, talking.

" You know white men behind all of that anyways. They want y'all to feel like you gotta look the same way. That's how they make them billions. My mama had 'em . Yo mama , and generations back. And it ain't ever stop them from being the women they are. Besides if any dirtneck nigga ever try you , just tell me. Imma handle it." He would say as you sat with your head on his lap, staring at the sun setting, knowing good and well your grandparents were gonna ground you for being late when you get home.

They never did though cause you were with Erik they knew you were gonna be alright.

"Nothing to worry about. I… I've never done any of that stuff before…Have you?" you question hesitantly as you stare off.

"Tisha. From Ms. Wilkes class. We was coming from the kick back-"

"Uh uh . That's your business , you ain't gotta tell me all of that." You say slightly upset at the fact that Tisha of all people was his first.

----

"I got you." He says kissing your forehead then your nose before hooking your leg over his hip and easing into you slowly while his lips are still on yours. His eyes never left yours as he cupped your face sweetly like he didn't want to lose you again.

In this moment he gets a glimpse of prom night and how things changed between the both of you forever.

He wraps his hands around your waist. One of his hands splayed across your belly.

He remembers the pregnancy scare you both had afterwards with him holding your hand and telling you no matter what happens he wanna be there for both of you.

Luckily, nothing came of it but you were definitely closer because of it.

You let out an open mouthed gasp at the feeling of being so full of him after so long.

You rest your hands on his neck and shoulder and he bottoms out fully settling into you as he moves his arms next to balance himself.

You close your eyes as he begins to stroke into you trying to set a rhythm for you as his praises for you fall from his lips.

He kisses his way down your neck licking the marks that are already starting to form there.

"My lil baby." He mutters out after licking a freshly formed hickey forming on top of your breasts.

You open your eyes slowly , looking at him and the way he's looking at you .

"It's been way too long since I've heard that from you. You're remembering?" You ask quietly as you let out a soft moan.

N'Jadaka's muscles flex and tighten as he picks up his pace. His abs clenched as he pulls out almost completely and filled you at a different angle.

The sounds of your moans filling the room with every stride and stroke of his hips, it seems like you're closer to floating in space. The man was fucking you like his life depended on it and at this point all you could do is wrap your arms around him again to comfort you as he shutters and rolls his hips deeper into you. Your walls tighten around him as you relish in the feeling of him.

"Fuck. I remember all of it." He says half chuckling at the way it's coming to him and half nearly in tears cause he really missed being with you.

"I also remember that this is your favourite position cause you like to see my face." He teases before leaning down to kiss you again with them plump ass lips.

"E?" You ask , grabbing his face with trembling hands.

"Baby?" You ask again

He moves his hands from your waist and places your hands in his. Then moving them above your head as he flashes in between making love to you for the last time and now.

You roll over with him and place your hands on your chest riding him slowly getting the rhythm as he strokes into you from below.

He laughs softly when he realizes what you're doing.

"Are you spelling my fucking name , baby?" He asks and you tell him that you can spell both.

You let out a whimper when he brushes your spot and let him take over as he runs his hands over your thighs to your butt and over your back as he strokes into you.

He plants his feet on the bed and work your hips in rhythm with him.

It didn't take long for you to orgasm with a loud shriek of his name . You had forgotten how he gets when he's close as his hands on gripping all over your thighs and your back. You were already feeling sensitive with your second orgasm coming through and this man felt like he was trying to put it in your belly.

He rolls you onto your side giving it to you deeply.

With a loud hiss and panting from him he cums , holding you in his arms.

"I don't think it has felt like that since our birthday last year." He says into your ear as he pulls you closer into his arms.

He engulfs you fully in his embrace and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

You laugh softly and roll over to face him , resting your forehead against his.

"I remember. You took me to Paris. I had never been and at the time I was obsessed with everything Parisian. We fucked on the balcony and somehow I ended up popping the straps to my favorite dress. You still owe me by the way." You tease and he shakes his head laughing.

"I think we ended up saving they marriage from across the way though. They was arguing the whole time. Then they gon watch us like we ain't see them." Erik says laughing as he squeezes your thigh playfully.

"I know they was trying some things." You joke

"I missed you so much. You don't even understand." You admit with a somehow saddened and relieved expression.

"I know. I want to start over this time. All of that Erik Killmonger shit is over with. I wanna keep the name N'Jadaka and just start over. All of that was too heavy on me to carry. I wanna let it all go. I wanna do it right with you." He explains

"Good because if you put me through that again. Wakanda will be the least of your damn worries." You say to him and he nods giving you his word, sealed with a kiss.

"It'll be alright. Everything happens for a reason. And I think that right now a bath needs to happen and I'm gonna need you to do that thing again that you did in the kitchen cause I'm tryna figure out when you learned that-"

At some point after the bubble bath/ shower combo you were both out like a light until Iri and Tika decide to come busting in like they usually do with little gifts and food for you.

"Guess who's your fave- SHE GOT A WHOLEASS MAN IN HER BED" Iri announces to Tika before your pillow hits the door as she closes it.

"Sorry about that. This is kinda our cuddle hour so they're used to just coming on in." You say sleepily and he just laughs it off while holding you closer.

"It's all good. I remember that I ain't know them much before but when we did spend time with them, they were good people." He says, still trying to piece it together.

----

You fell asleep more peacefully than you had in a long time. Now granted, good sex didn't fix the many layers of issues and mysticism surrounding everything.

But for now, you knew that you had him, you had your girls, family and your business. Everything felt alright again.

Right up until the point of sleeping through the first alarm to meet the property owners.

"Bae. Bae your phone going off." N'Jadaka whispers in the dark room , voice still riddled with sleep and grogginess.

"Shit. Shit. I'm gonna be so late." You call out , quickly jumping out of bed and stumbling around the room.

It takes you about 25 minutes to speed through getting dressed in your best skirt suit.

N'Jadaka sits on the end of the bed putting on his shoes and watching you shuffle around.

He had offered to drive you there and stay with you and check out the property with you.

He slows you down by grabbing you by your arms gently and placing a kiss to your lips.

"Good morning, handsome. Let's go"

You walk through the living room with Iri and Tika already posted up in the kitchen placing two breakfast burritos in a container to grab and go.

You grab your things from the counter all while thanking them and jetting towards the door.

"Good luck pooh!" Tika calls after you.

"Byyyyeeee Dakaaaa" they call out after him

---

"Here it is . These are the apartments. I know they don't look like much now from the outside. But from the pictures it looks great. And they'll be safe and comfortable here-" you babble on to N'Jadaka while you both stand outside of the building where Erik grew up , until you notice two women walking to a car that clearly wasn't from this area.

You notice Shuri and your breath hitches in your throat.

Frozen in your anxiety, the seconds ticked by and it was too late to leave. She looked you dead in the eye and then at N'Jadaka like she had seen a ghost.

She gasped and Nakia followed the eyes before back into the car.

"SHURI WAIT - PLEASE" you yell out to them but the car was already speeding away.

tag list : @doublesidedscoobysnacks @chaneajoyyy @mirandkimy @doitforthevine67 @amyhennessyhouse @dasia21 @depressionandfandomsinc @sinfully-dope @ambitionwood @heybriheyyy @wholelotta-melanin @theesotericqueen @mbakuwife @spookys-girl @teardropzih @bigchoose @ceo-of-baby @sweetpeachjones @lost-ssoull @shyblackgurl @justpeachee @nijajoha @imayhavemisunderstood @beautifullmelodyxx @alookintohersoul @rbhp @champagnesugamama @just-peachee @almeda-344 @mahogany2021

#black panther #erik killmonger #black panther smut #erik killmonger smut #Erik killmonger x Reader #fanfic for black girls

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chancelloramidala · 3 years

Text

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

TWO.

Despite her Jedi training, Ahsoka couldn’t help but be have a child-like excitement of their surroundings. She sat in the window seat beside Anakin and pressed her face against the glass, staring at the big flashy lights and people they passed. From what she saw, Manhattan looked like a smaller version of Coruscant, and lacked the many, MANY, skyscrapers, flying speeders in the air, and alien species walking around. In fact, Ahsoka could only see the human species on the streets and in the cars they passed. Were there no other alien species on Earth? Was she the only alien species here?

Padmé, who was on the other side of Anakin, grinned at Ahsoka’s visible enthusiasm and constant pointing at something new she didn’t recognize but thought it resembled something back home. She nodded along to the teenage Torguta’s animated hand movements and tried to answer as many questions as she could. But the Senator, once Queen, was equally as curious about this planet they were on as Padawan, but dimmed down a couple of notches.

Anakin on the other hand, didn’t like any of this. He was one to throw original plans out the window and improvise, but this was a completely different territory for the Jedi Knight. Hell, this was a completely different part of the galaxy that didn’t know anything about the Jedi or the Force.

Obi-Wan, who was sitting in the front seat with the chair slightly reclined backwards (not that Ahsoka was complaining), could sense his former student’s anxiety about their new environment. Their bond never diminished as time passed, but fortified and became a constant in their lives. He turned his head to look at Anakin and gave him a small smile, sending him soothing waves of warmth through their bond and then closed his eyes for a moment.

Rex was stuck in the back with Artoo, and even if the SUV was roomy, he did not like the tight space. It was different, nothing like a speeder or ship he’s been in. Even Artoo was quietly grumbling about how much he hated this stupid speeder because with each turn and stop, Rex had to outstretch his arm(s) to make sure the astromech droid didn’t topple over and hit Anakin in the back of his head.

Their driver, Clint, stared at the strange bunch. Now when he was expecting a couple of aliens that had kidnapped Peter, he was expecting something along the lines of the Chitauri that he faced all those years ago. But these aliens, weren’t anything like them. Most of them were human, the teenage girl though, she was definitely an alien, for she had orange skin, white face markings and something that resembled horns? She also didn’t have any hair, which wasn’t an issue for the man, but it was different than what he was used to seeing.

But then again, after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and becoming an Avenger, normal wasn’t in Clint’s vocabulary anymore.

After they finally reached the garage of the Tower, Clint parked the SUV and lead everyone to the elevator, including the beeping robot, which somewhat resembled a rolling trash can, that he forgot they had.

“They have turbolifts here, Master,” the orange skinned humanoid female commented as the elevator started to move. “Fascinating,” she mumbled under her breath.

“It’s slower,” the shaggy-haired human male said with a small smirk.

Clint chuckled softly, “Don’t let Stark hear you say that, he’s already an insufferable bastard as is.”

“I take it this Stark person made this turbolift?” Padmé inquired.

“Yup,” Clint popped the ‘p’, “and the entire building along with a lot of other technological gizmos. He’s the one in the metal suit from earlier that wanted to blast your asses on the spot,”

“Comforting,” Anakin said dryly.

Then, the doors to the turbolift or also known as elevators, opened revealing a red and gold skinned being. Vision smiled amicably at the newest arrivals and stepped aside to let them through. “Welcome, my name is The Vision or just Vision. I’m a synthetic android made from vibranium that was once an A.I for Mr, Stark. He also told me to lead you to the medical labs to be checked up on and to provide you with clothes to change into.”

“Thank you, Vision.” Padmé smiled back at the man and decided to walk beside him, introducing herself and the rest of her group to him.

Anakin then took Obi-Wan off of Rex’s hands, allowing his former teacher lean against him as they followed after Vision and Padmé down the long corridor. When they finally arrived at the doors to the lab, Vision input something into the panel before the doors slide open. There was a man in a purple shirt with his back to the rest of them, staring at a holographic screen and rubbing his chin anxiously.

“Dr. Banner, may I introduce our guests?” Vision told the man, causing him to turn around with blatant surprise.

“Vision, hey,” the Doctor nodded his head and curiously glanced at the group behind him.

“This is Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and their astromech droid, R2-D2,” Vision carefully gestured to each and every being clearly making sure that each brief description Padmé gave him correlated correctly.

“Nice to meet all of you, my name is Bruce Banner,” he raised his hand slightly to wave. “I’ll be doing some basic scans and check-ups on all of you, Tony guessed all of your sizes and has some clothes stacked on the bench over there,” he pointed to said bench, “that you can change into. There’s an bathroom connected through that door,” again, pointing to where said door was.

“I’ll go first,” Ahsoka stepped forward with a bright and eager smile.

Bruce eyed the young Torguta with a great amount of curiosity before nodding firmly and gesturing to the table he’d be examining her on. “Thank you, and you’re... Ahsoka, correct?”

“You’re right, doc!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

An hour or so later, everyone had changed out of their clothes and into Earthly outfits. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Rex were given gray, black, and blue sweatpants along with white, green, and gray t-shirts. Ahsoka and Padmé wore black leggings paired with red and blue tees. They’d also been given black sneakers and socks which were surprisingly comfortable.

Obi-Wan, despite his initial injuries, was given a thorough check up by Dr. Banner. His chest was wrapped and he was given some pills for the pain. Everyone else had a clean bill of health, and vaccinations just in case.their space bodies couldn’t handle whatever illnesses Earth had to offer.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé were then tasked with trying to explain their situation to the Avengers (which Anakin was absolutely floored to learn that was their actual team name.) Ahsoka and Rex lingered in the background, keeping to themselves and talking to each other about how weird this all was.

An eccentric billionaire who used all of his high-technology to make the world a better place. A super soldier that was frozen alive for 70 years with a heart of gold. Two assassins with a deep history with one another. Super-powered twins, one was weird, the other was fast. A Doctor that turned into an alternate person which was green and severely muscular when angered. A former assassin that was brainwashed to be a human weapon... and many other team members that they haven’t met because they weren’t on site according to Vision.

“Sorry if I find it hard to believe... any of that.” Tony blinked after Obi-Wan and Padmé spoke about the Clone Wars that had recently ended in their galaxy. “And sorry, that you two and the kid are... um... space wizards?”

“Some find that the Jedi are sorcerers with our magic-like abilities through the Force,” Obi-Wan nodded patiently.

“What about this War you had? You said it was caused by the secession of star systems from your government, the Republic to the Confederacy and for the War, the Clone Troopers were created for the Republic to be used for battle... but there was another alternative plot beneath it all?” Steve asked, particularly eager about the war they had fought.

“Yes, the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Sheev Palaptine, was actually a Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire War. He wanted the Republic to crumble along with the Jedi Order so he could restore the Sith Empire... and...” Padmé carefully glanced over at Anakin who was now staring at his hands, gripping them tightly.

Padmé frowned softly and then reached forward and put her hand over his, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Palpatine... Darth Sideous was grooming me for years and nearly seduced me into the dark side of the Force to become his new apprentice...” Anakin announced in a soft voice as he tried to steady himself from lashing out or leaving the room.

“He had chips put in Rex and all of the clones that when activated, would massacre any and all the Jedi they served.” Obi-Wan added, quick to take attention away from Anakin, knowing all-to-well that the revelations of Palpatine’s true nature was a hard pill for his former student to swallow.

The room went silent for a moment, allowing the information they were receiving to float in the air. It was clear that this group had been through hell and back again for the three years that the Clone Wars raged on.

Steve looked at each and every person, taking note of what kind of role they played. Padmé was a senator, the former Queen of her planet Naboo, who didn’t agree with the War from the start. Obi-Wan and Anakin were generals who watched hundreds of soldiers die under their command for a worthless war. Rex was one of those soldiers who didn’t know where his place was without the War and had survived it but not without a few battle scars. And Ahsoka, she was only a child when the War started, now a growing young woman who not only shouldn’t have never stepped foot on a battlefield, but never had a real childhood.

"I still don’t understand how you got here though. I know space is huge, but out of all the planets to land on, you really chose Earth, huh? And New York nontheless!” Tony chuckled lightly, doing his best to make light of the situation.

“It’s possible that during our escape, we got sucked into a wormhole.” Obi-Wan suggested. “There’s been no records of anyone travelling through one before.”

“Yup, now you’ve lost me,” Clint blinked blankly before getting up to walk into the kitchen. “Anyone want some beers? Don’t answer that, because everyone is getting one. We’ve deserved it.”

“Like I said before, there are Separatist sympathizers that want us dead. They hit our hyperspace drive right when Ani put in the coordinates while we were escaping the skirmish and... here we are.”

Clint then returned from the kitchen, handing out beer bottles to everyone before stopping in front of Ahsoka and eyeing her warily. “How old are you anyway?”

“Galactic Standard would have me at 17,” Ahsoka replied as she eyed the beer bottle in his arms. “It’s the legal age to drink in most of the galaxy,”

“Ah, sorry little lady, but the legal drinking age here is 21,” Clint patted the space between her montrals ever-so carefully in a playful manner before continuing to pass out drinks.

Ahsoka scrunched her face together in annoyance and turned her head in the direction of Anakin. “What a bunch of bantha-poodoo! Master, you’ve seen me drink before! Tell the sleemo,”

“Sorry Snips, but if their legal age is different here then...” Anakin shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the situation was simply out of his hands before popping open the top of the beer bottle and taking a sip.

Rex laughed loudly and slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. He’s seen his fair share of the Torguta drinking, many times he had to drag her back to base over his shoulder because she was a bit of a lightweight. And if he was going to be honest, this was the peek of entertainment.

The teen crossed her arms over her chest and huffed as she watched him drink. “This sucks, Skyguy.”

“Ah, I’ll have to decline from drinking.” Obi-Wan gestured to his chest. “I’m on medication and I don’t know how well that would mix with alcohol.”

“I can make some tea instead, I don’t drink anyway,” Wanda waved her hand as strings of red floated from her fingertips and towards the kitchen, where the stove turned on and a tea kettle started to bottle.

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan nodded his head in her direction, thankful that they at least had tea here. “Might want to make some for Ahsoka here, she looks like she needs a calming tea.”

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at the older man in a childish manner. “Oh you think you’re so funny, Master.”

Whilst everyone was busy conversing and sharing stories, Padmé would discreetly pass her beer to Ahsoka, knowing that a few sips couldn’t hurt. The teenage girl was more than happy that the Senator was giving into her whims. Plus, the two have had their fair share of nights spent sharing a bottle of Alderaanian wine towards the end of the War.

Though, this act didn’t go unnoticed by everyone. Tony thought it was funny when he first noticed the exchange, recalling how his first few drinks were at home with Jarvis. He didn’t say anything, just smirked behind his bottle and went on with their night.

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thenewlarislynn · 4 years

Text

In The Spotlight

Chapter One

Pairing: Actor!Loki x Reader

Word Count: Approx. 2k

Next Chapter >

~~~

“I will no longer have you freeloading in my house! You’re 24, you need a real job! This will teach you a lesson, pack your things.” The door slammed shut, leaving you alone in your room.

Tears streamed down your face as a sob racked your body. Where would you go? Shaking your head, you grabbed your suitcase. Maybe you could convince your mother to reconsider. You stood up and cautiously opened the door.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she warned. “Don’t give me this ‘theatre is your dream’ B.S. Find a real job, start earning a living, then you can come back home. Until then, you’re on your own.”

Sighing, you closed your door. You slumped down against it, putting your head in your hands. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through your curtains, casting a muted glow across the room. Well, there wasn’t anything you could do to improve the situation.

The blue suitcase sat abandoned in the middle of your floor. Picking it back up off the carpet, you set it down on your grey bedspread. As you collected your belongings, you pulled your phone out of your pocket.

Navigating to your messages, you quickly sent a text to your best friend. “Hey Meg, I just got kicked out. It’s a long story. Can I crash at your apartment for the night?”

Not even a moment later your phone lit up. “Of course,” she replied, “you can stay as long as you need.” Well that was certainly a weight off your chest.

Truth be told, you had always been a little jealous of Meg. Ever since elementary school, she had seemed so put together. Right out of college she had a successful job and her own apartment. Now you were thankful she did.

Once all your things were in the suitcase, you shut it with a sigh. Creaking the bedroom door open, you stepped out into the hall. The suitcase rolled easily along the wood floor, all the way out to the garage.

Stepping into the one car garage, your nose crinkled at the odor of mildew that clung to the damp air. You maneuvered your way around the lawnmower, back pressed against the car door. Eventually you made it to the rear of the vehicle, and groaned. The metal around the taillight was corroded with rust, and it was spreading along the back of the car, towards the latch of the trunk.

As you tried to unlock the back of the car, the key got stuck in the lock and had to struggle to unlock it. When the key finally turned, you put your baggage in the trunk and slammed the top shut with a satisfying thud.

The driver’s side of the car presented a similar probably, but you were used to it. Once you were finally in the driver’s seat, you sighed in relief. Looking over your shoulder, you pressed the button to open the garage door.

After a moment, it slowly rose with a loud squeal. It stung that your mom hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, but maybe it was for the best. You put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. Once you reached the end, you pushed the garage door button again. However, this time it didn’t work.

For a moment you considered getting out of the car to close it, but the sun was already beginning sinking on the horizon and you’d hoped to make it to Meg’s by nightfall. You had a full hour’s drive ahead of you, so time was of the essence. Rolling your eyes, you continued to back out of the driveway, then turned and drove down the street.

“If she’s able to kick me out of the house, she’s able to close the garage door,” you muttered to yourself. When you reached the stop sign at the end of the road you paused to roll down the window. You scowled as you turned the crank, bitterly musing to yourself about your old car. Once you had a job and a permanent place to live, buying a new car—one with power windows and a working A/C—would be your top priority.

Soon after, a cool breeze filtered through your window, you took a deep breath. The smell of must and mildew had cleared from your lungs, and was now replaced by the warm, dry air of the summer evening. You turned on the radio and let the music take you out of the moment. All that lay ahead of you was an open road, the red and purple hues of the sunset and the welcoming comfort of your best friend’s city apartment.

That was another thing you had been jealous of. After the divorce, your mom kept the house in rural, upstate New York, while your dad stayed in the city. Since your mother had full custody, you had to kiss any hope of city life away. Including your dream of theatre. Meanwhile, Meg was able to live in the city and pursue whatever dream she wanted. Yet you didn’t resent her for that.

Whenever you had a chance to visit her, the city always fascinated you. Sure, it was bustling and usually quite dirty, but it never died. No matter where you were, there was always some background noise to preoccupy your mind.

The further you got from home, the more uneasy you began to feel. Looking at your fuel gauge, you pursed your lips in frustration. You were practically running on empty, and from the looks of the empty road around you, it was a long way from the nearest gas station.

Sending a silent prayer to whatever gods may be listening, you pulled out your phone. Apparently those prayers were answered as you had a signal and could pull up the map. From the looks of it, the closest gas station was only a few miles away, so you kept driving.

In five minutes time you arrived, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly at the sigh around you. Gravel crunched under your tires as you pulled in, and you hoped you wouldn’t drive over a nail. There was only one gas pump and it looked as if a strong gust of wind could blow it down. The service station next to it was equally unkempt.

The paint peeled off the front of the building and you couldn’t quite make out the name of the station. One of the windows appeared to be shattered, and the one light illuminating the whole area flickered ominously every few seconds.

You parked the car away from the pump, wanting to check it out before getting any fuel. Upon inspection you realized they didn’t accept credit, only cash. Walking back to your car, you began to rummage through your glove compartment for some loose bills.

A loud screech brought you back to reality and you looked up. There was a flashy black sports car parked next to the pump, not even a foot away from the front of your car.

That was it. You weren’t getting pushed around any more today. Stepping out of your car you yelled at the driver, “Hey watch where you’re driving! And I was here first, asshole.”

A tall man folded himself out of the car. He was dressed impeccably, wearing a dark green dress shirt with black dress pants. Long black hair fell in waves just past his shoulders, and he held himself with a certain level of elegance. You blinked, forgetting what you had been so upset about, instead finding yourself preoccupied with his chiseled jawline and sharp, high cheekbones.

However, the moment he spoke, it all came flooding back. “Oh dear, nasty manners. I have places to be. You can wait.”

“What makes you assume that I don’t have places to be?” Alright, now you were mad. Who the hell did he think he was?

He walked over to you and you began to feel antsy. Just because you wanted to fight him didn’t mean you wanted to fight him.

“Here, take this for your troubles. Maybe get some anger management with it.” Forcibly, he shoved a crisp fifty dollar bill in your hand. You weren’t sure what to do, but you decided to keep the cash. The need for fuel was greater than the need to see that smirk wiped off his perfect face.

As abruptly as he walked up to you, he turned and walked away, heading into the building. You sighed and got back in the car, waiting for him to leave so you could purchase your fuel and be on your way.

There were about fifteen missed messages from Meg, and you couldn’t help but smile. Most of the texts asked where you were and if you were alright. You responded, telling her you were about a half hour out of the city, but you had to stop for fuel. Something told you to leave out the part about the pretentious British jerk. That was a story to save for when you saw her in person.

As soon as he left, you drove your car forward, getting ready to buy the fuel. Walking over to the station, you bristled. The door handle was covered in a deep rust, worse than the corrosion on your car. Cautiously, you reached out, pulling on the door. It didn’t budge.

It was at that moment you noticed the large sticker above the handle that said ‘push’. Of course you noticed it only after you made a fool of yourself. Sighing in exasperation, you pushed open the door. Entering the small service station, you blinked back your surprise.

Bright fluorescent lights illuminated the shop. While most of the display racks had auto repair goods, some advertised different overpriced snacks. Looking at the ridiculous price of three dollars for a candy bar, you scoffed. So that was how this place managed to stay in business.

Placing the fifty on the counter, you nibbled on your bottom lip. You’d only need thirty dollars worth of fuel. Besides, you wouldn’t be driving much once you reached the city. Finally you came to a decision. “Thirty dollars of fuel and one coffee please.”

The man behind the counter nodded gruffly. He handed you back your change and your cup of coffee. It was black as night, no cream or sugar. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you,” you began.

“That’s the way we serve it,” he cut you off brusquely. “You can take it or leave it.”

Part of you considered ‘leaving it’ all over his face. But instead you shook your head and said, “No it’s alright, thank you.” God how you hated being a pushover.

When you were finally back on the road, you took a sip of your coffee. It was somehow still piping hot and not quite as bitter as you had expected. Or maybe the exhaustion was finally setting in and everything was losing its flavor. You were more willing to put your money on option two.

Finally you made your way into the city. It was near impossible to see the moon or any stars, but judging by how dark the sky was, you knew it was late. Meg was waiting for you outside the apartment building, and once you were out of the car she rushed to give you a hug.

“Are you alright? When it took you so long I was worried,” her eyebrows were knit together in concern.

“I am, thank you. But how about I tell you all about it in the morning? It’s been a long day and right now I just need to sleep.” Meg nodded, leading you up the stairs to her apartment.

It was nice and cool inside, and you took a breath. Looking at the couch you saw that blankets and pillows were laid out already, and you smiled. Leave it to Meg to know how exhausted you would be. After washing up and once again thanking your best friend, you collapsed onto the sofa, falling immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~

Hey everyone! As promised, here is Chapter One! If you want to be added to my taglist for this fic let me know! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

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thebeauregardbros · 3 years

Text

“The Ultimate Character Questionnaire”: Alus Beauregard

a fuckton of random questions abt alus ramblingly answered

questions stolen from [here]. i cut out ones that ask the same questions i accidentally answered prior, or just didn’t interest me enough to answer, so if you wanna do this for your own OC I recommend copy+pasting it from the source!

Basic Character Questions

First name? Alus (pronounced ‘Ah-Loose’)

Surname? Beauregard (taken from adoptive father)

Nicknames? Alus wants to be called “Al” but it doesn’t stick because his name is already short. Lots of people unfortunately call him Alice. he does not like that

Date of birth? unknown but he celebrates his birthday on All Saint’s Wake (aka Halloween)

Age? Funfact: Alus and Arc’s age is the age between the RPers’ real-world ages (I’m 24, Arc’s player is 25, but for a brief period Arc’s player becomes 26 while I’m still 24.) So they’re going to be 25 this year (2020)... what the fuck. stop growing. dont do that.

Physical / Appearance

Height? I... he’s tall. Despite Alus being the max height for Miqo’te characters (5′8″/173cm), other male Miqo’te RPers say their characters are taller than that anyway, so I’m like.. not sure what to answer. I don’t want to break reasonable canon of what’s possible for Miqo’te but I also don’t want him to be short or average sized in comparison to other average Miqo’te. I’m just gonna say, definitively, “Alus is tall for a Miqo’te”. If you have a tall Miqo, Alus is just as tall. Or half an inch taller. Take that as whatever you want. I’m tired.

Weight? I... don’t know? This question really doesn’t clarify anything to me; people can be the same height and weight and look totally different in body type. If you absolutely had to get an answer from me, my best guess is maybe somewhere between 170lbs-180lbs? (assuming he is 5′8″)

Build? Wide shoulders, slender hips, long legs, big wide chest and a nice strong core. He is muscular; burly and brawny; his body type feels intimidating and large. He has a healthy amount of fat over his muscles, but still has much clearly visible muscle especially while flexing.

Hair colour? Golden blonde; it’s got a subtle yellow-ish tone that reminds you of sunshine.

Hair style? Alus’ hair is naturally thick and wavy. His hair is grown out long; about armpit length. His hair is choppy, even somewhat feathered. It’s a bit badly damaged from years on the road, but the split ends and fly-aways sparkle brilliantly in the sunlight like a messy halo around his head. His hair naturally very poofy, like damaged 80s hair. Long bangs that were once pushed back fall gracefully over his face like a wild child running about in spring. Whilst resting away from work, he braids it loosely.

Eye colour? Heterochromia; A raspberry red in one pupil, and a sun-shiny yellow-orange in the other.

Eye Shape? Thin and serious, and slightly down-turned. Small double-lid.

Glasses or contact lenses? His eyes are overall pretty healthy, but he’s slightly far-sighted. He uses glasses once in awhile to read, but they’re not super necessary.

Distinguishing facial features? Heterochromia and his adult male Miqo’te markings. He tends to wear purple eyeshadow around his eyes and a subtle purple lip tint.

Which facial feature is most prominent? The facial structure of Alus more resembles an Elezen than a typical Miqo’te; he has a long slender nose, a oval face shape and noticeably high cheekbones.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? Alus’ lion-like tail is somewhat unique among other typical Miqo’te.

Other distinguishing features? His style of dress tends to stand out in a crowd; he favors pure white and soft pastels over more popular color tones among adventurers like blacks and greys. Also unlike the typical adventurer, he is more want to wear fabrics of the fancy and soft nobleman, decked out in frills and lace like a prince locked far away in a chamber more than any man on a dusty and bloody battlefield.

Skin? Uh... a... “medium tan” skintone? (again I have no idea how tf I’m supposed to figure out labels for skin tones when there’s no widely used phrases for specific tones fghdjkgh) with a “warm gold undertone”. The small amount of skin that’s ever exposed upon him is surprisingly soft, as if he never did much hard work in his life. [SPOILER]Underneath his clothes, however...The countless scars upon his torso, back, legs and upper-arms are rough and hard, like treated leather.[/SPOILER]

Birthmarks? Not that he knows of. He has lots of scars from messing around in his childhood but he can’t remember the origin of them all. Any of them could be birth marks as far as he can tell.

Tattoos? None! And he never plans to get one. He has yet to see any tattoos that match his personal aesthetics of what he’d put on his body yet and even if he did, he can’t imagine liking them enough to want to get one.

Physical handicaps? [SPOILER]Numbness in various small patches of skin throughout his body.[SPOILER]

Type of clothes? I already answered this somewhat but if you’re curious about specifics, I made [this pinterest] of stuff I’d imagine he’d wear. Pretty much just take the “aristocrat” Japanese street fashion genre and turn it white, and give it a bit of a gold trim. Lots of frills and lace; heavily inspired by fantastical shoujo manga glorified depictions of what a Prince Charming looks like in medieval setting fairy tales.

How do they wear their clothes? Some (not all) of the specific guidelines I have in my head of what his wardrobe’s like; Colors are only pastels, white, or gold - once in a blue moon he might wear a rich dark raspberry red color or bright orange or yellow. He will NEVER wear grey or black. Pants have to be long enough to reach the ankles. He prefers wearing his shirts tucked-in. Clothes MUST fully cover everything on his body excluding head, neck, and hands at all times - low neckline acceptable in off-duty time. Under special occasions only (ie beachware); lower arms, top of feet or shins can be uncovered. He wears a lot of jabot ties.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) Alus takes his quality of fashion seriously. He’s the type of guy who wears expensive fancy soft white socks trimmed with gold nobody will ever see with the little suspenders on his legs to keep the socks from sagging down. He adores wearing white pointed dress shoes, especially if they have a bit of a high heel. Gold jewelry or buckles are lovely, and any shoe with lace, bows, ribbons, fancy beadwork or faux flowers are supreme. (Google image search ‘Bridal Boots’ if you wanna see his shoes. He’d seriously wear any of them.)

Race / Ethnicity? hhhhhhhhh it’s 5am man I dont have the energy to google faces until i find a reasonable faceclaim and try to figure out that person’s ethnicity... they’re Fantasy Characters... alus is a miqo’te.. maybe had some elezen or hyur in his lineage? idk

Mannerisms? Alus is like a living embodiment of a cartoon Disney prince. I don’t know how to better describe it; He’s elegant and gentle for the most part but can also so comically stiff you could mistake him for an automaton or a piece of background cardboard - then when the moment hits, he can spring into an unrealistic slapstick looney toon nightmare. He always seems to be in a constant state of floating between elegance, stiffness, and slapstick. There is never a break. There is never an in-between.

Are they in good health? For their active life circumstances of constant physical hardship, they are in amazingly good health.

Do they have any disabilities? I don’t think of ADHD as a disability (and I’m saying that as someone who has autism and most likely ADD or ADHD myself) but it’s classified by a lot of people as a disability. So yeah, uh, Alus absolutely has ADHD.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Definitely more optimistic, sometimes to a fault. I think there’s a degree of choice in there but he’s kinda lost the boundary between blind trust and trying to believe in people and situations because he morally wants to. He is still a worry wart, and that is what causes him to fight so hard as he does for making things around him better as well as making himself better - but I think he makes a very active effort of not letting anyone see that part of him, maybe in an effort to convince himself as well that everything is and will be okay.

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted in a lot of ways and introverted in others. Alus loves and thrives around people, and I think he’s a bit more drained than the average person when he’s alone vs. being in a crowd, but he’s still living more as an introvert - one-on-one deep talks can make him extremely anxious. He’s great at the surface niceties but can often find himself too devoted to strangers, which leads him into trouble sometimes. He’s like a really great social co-worker and a extremely awkward off-duty member of society that doesn’t really know how to function or navigate normal relationships.

Do they ever put on airs? A b s o l u t e l y. Alus’ entire persona is carefully hand-crafted over a lifetime. It’s not to say “This isn’t who he really is, he’s a liar”, but moreso “He’s not quite the person he wishes he was yet.” He makes a really large effort to put on airs of this confident and beautiful Princely type of heroic figure straight out of a fairy tale where he simultaneously knows that such a goal is impossible, since this isn’t a story book - this is real life, he is flawed and complicated, and nothing is as perfect as you wish it was. But he keeps trying no matter what.

What bad habits do they have? Low-key bullying his brother, for sure. Arc is the only person Alus just can’t really put on airs with so his perfect image just breaks down around him. While Alus appears to be a very gentle and kind individual around other people, he’ll comically slap and roast his brother without mercy. (Don’t worry; it’s mutual between them.)

What makes them laugh out loud? Almost anything. Alus is definitely a big giggler, and an even bigger loud spontaneous laugher.

How do they display affection? There’s two major levels of it. First, it’s showering you with little gifts - sweets, flowers, even money if you’re in need, with nothing asked in return. If you’re very close to him, it’s skinship; he loves spontaneously hugging others and holding hands and all that kinda platonic stuff. He’ll pretty much not let go of your arm if you’re around him. He also loves dancing with people, you bet he’ll do the whole nine yards of weaving you around him, lifting you above his head and dipping you.

Mental handicaps? Hates being touched. He has some really bad memories of being manhandled and despises any type of physical restriction on himself, especially from people he doesn’t find VERY close to him. He hates even more to be seen in casual clothes, especially clothes that expose his skin. He’s really not a fan of his exposed body and it’s gonna take a lot for him to get over it. He’s slowly getting better but it’s a long journey.

How do they want to be seen by others? Someone to look up to; someone to rely on. He wants to be the hope for humanity, essentially. He wants to inspire others to heroism and kindness just by seeing him, and he wants to make the world a better place just by existing in it.

How do they see themselves? Someone who’s just not good enough; Someone who needs to keep working to be better; someone who’s chosen destiny is to be the hero of humanity.

How are they seen by others? Probably as a weirdo. He definitely comes off as eccentric; his strange comedic ramblings and sudden dancing mid-conversation, as well as his random gifts and bag full of pranks, magic tricks and fireworks just really feel off-the-wall. His immediate devotion to others may also come off as exceedingly suspicious. I think how he dresses and his cafe also indicate he’s kind of the ‘rich unhinged guy’ stereotype. People who know him well though know that he’s an extremely good person who would give you the clothes off his back if you needed them more. He loves humanity and would do anything for it.

Strongest character trait? His stubborn devotion to his ideals, for sure. If he wants something, he’ll work his hardest to make sure it happens.

Weakest character trait? Far too trusting of strangers; he gets taken advantage of very easily, and he’s almost always happy to come back for more. He’ll even give the biggest villain a 2nd and 3rd and 4th chance. His inability to condemn anyone as truly evil may cause far more hardship for everyone in the long run than if he just chose to kill the person or lock them up indefinitely and be done with it.

How competitive are they? Alus thrives in competitive environments due to an absolute love and adoration for sportsmanship. He does a fantastic job making his competitors have fun and feels that a competition that is too one-sided doesn’t have any fun or worth. He loves difficult competition because he feels that it helps better himself and his rival.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Oh, he’s absolutely a “strike now while the iron’s hot” type of a guy. He knows that even a second of a wait can change things for the worse. He’s also definitely a philosophical type that thinks over every possible scenario in his mind in his off-time, but ultimately, he’ll always be the one running off to get things done as soon as they’re brought to his attention. He’s the opposite of his brother, who wants to slow things down before making rash decisions. Alus just knows those decisions need to be made, so it might as well be now, so he just gets it done and worries about the outcome later.

How do they react to praise? He’s actually probably never used to it. I think he has a bit of a low self-esteem problem in how he sees himself as never quite as good as he wants himself to be, so praise can catch him off-guard pretty easily. He’ll cover that up by clumsily stating something comically over-the-top like “Of course, I am incredible! I am the best! Mwahahaha!” but not before gasping for air and stuttering like a shy schoolgirl first.

How do they react to criticism? He has a great ability to deflect toxicity into positivity; he asks what people mean and tries to understand them. I think if the criticism can be taken as constructive, he’s always happy to take it. If the criticism is just plain mean, I think he’ll ask if there’s anything he can do to help the person he’s talking to - he knows nobody would say such mean things to another unless they were having a pretty bad day.

What is their greatest fear? Oh, y’know. Losing his brother. Slugs and slimy things. If you wanna get painful and philosophical about it, I think he’s terrified of the future. He tries to live in the moment and just do the best he can at all times, but when he sees that what he does doesn’t help a lot of the world to stay safe, it freaks him out. In his mind, he’s doing a lot, but in reality - it’s not much at the grand scheme of things. He tries not to think about it too much. He tries not to think much of the past either - of all the mistakes, of what he could and couldn’t have done. It frustrates him. I guess you could say his greatest fear is his own limits. It never feels like he’s doing enough, or even if he ever could do enough.

What are their biggest secrets? [SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY] Alus is absolutely disgusted with the military powers of the world, and the politicians. He tries to stay optimistic and bright on the outside - he stays useful and does what he can without complaint, he tries to lie to himself and say it isn’t too bad, tries to focus on the good these systems do, to be placated and trust his brother that things will work out alright in this setup - but he sincerely wishes that somehow they could be abolished entirely. He’s frustrated with the idea of any one person or power having control over the lives of others - people those single powers may never meet - will inevitably cause a lack of humanity and understanding of others. Nobody should have this power, not even him, not even the gods. As Alus’ writer, I don’t think he knows a good alternative, he just knows he’s seen enough immoral and inconsiderate shitfuckery in these systems that he can barely stand it anymore. I think many soldiers probably feel like this eventually. [/SPOILER]

What is their philosophy of life? literally just look at the [quote insp tag]

When was the last time they cried? I FEEL LIKE ALUS IS THE TYPE TO TEAR UP AT EXTREMELY COMMON SHIT TBH?? EVERYTHING IS SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING TYPE??

What haunts them? [SPOILER]Literally just... becoming a soldier or a fighter to begin with. He wishes it never happened, he wishes the world didn’t need fighting to begin with. But he knows he can never go back now, and even if he did, he’d probably still become a soldier all over again. It’s all he can do in this violent, terrible world.[/SPOILER]

What are their political views? Notable traits would supporting equality rights for Beastmen, more funding towards helping refugees, more funding to adoption agencies and orphanages, more transparency about tax profit and spending, creating opportunities for different countries to share their culture.. etc. (Note: I like to believe that larger glaring IRL political issues like lack of LGBTQ+ rights, gender inequality, ableism, skin-color-based racism and other large current inhumane social problems aren’t problems in FFXIV’s universe. If your RP character uses bigotry in accurate line of these IRL social issues as a character trait, you are not welcome in my RP circle. Period.)

What will they stand up for? He hates violence in general, so he’ll do whatever he can to stop it. Anyone who seems to be controlling or keeping other people against their will is something he loathes. No means no!

Who do they quote? Urianger. like a lot. Probably mostly accidentally; he picks up a lot of vocal mannerisms from the guy.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy, for sure. He grew up under the stars and being forced indoors for a long time will probably give him feelings of anxiousness and claustrophobia, especially if the space is small. He has had some bad experiences being unable to go outside so he takes his freedom to roam outdoors very seriously.

What is their sinful little habit? He loves sweets. This guy is all about boasting a healthy diet, but his weakness shows the exact opposite. More serious answer: He tends to procrastinate bad, especially when it comes to his passive military duties.

How do they treat people better than them? If they breathe, they’re royalty. Utmost respect and courtesy. Treats them as if he’s the royal butler to their fancy ass selves, even if they’re the lowest of the low in poverty.

How do they treat people worse than them? Honestly? Pretty much the same answer as above. If he gets truly angry at someone, he’ll tell them how and why straight-up, but he’ll never stop giving them the respect and courtesy he believes every human being deserves.

What quality do they most value in a friend? Someone who is as ridiculously open-hearted and ready to confess love to the nearest person along with anything else in the world as Alus tends to do, but also someone who pays close enough attention to him that they can tell when he’s in distress. Alus has a hard time speaking up about when he feels uncomfortable, so someone who has a talent for empathy - detecting other peoples’ emotions - would be incredibly invaluable. That’s the fastest way to his heart.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? None, and all. He thinks that if anyone gets carried away with any traditional virtue to the point that they’re causing evil in the world, they’re just misguided. He understands that - or at least actively wants to understand that - so he can forgive.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? He... honestly thinks of himself as more of an Elezen than a Miqo’te. So anything that ‘gives away’ that he’s a Miqo’te, he could probably do without. He likes his ears and his tail though! But maybe if he was taller? lmao. (I don’t intend to ever Fantasia Alus FYI, MAYBE if male viera comes out and my partner agrees to it AND I have absolutely no active RP going on, but it’s very unlikely, and if it does happen it will be considered a retcon, not a character development)

What is their obsession? Definitely his aesthetics. He spends an incredibly large amount of time, effort, and money on making himself look and properly act like a “fairy tale prince charming”. It’s not only a philosophical mindset of being moral and heroic, but also being charming and supportive to everyone around himself. He honestly hopes and believes that if he succeeds in creating and upholding this image that every person who rests their eyes upon him will be filled with determination and hope that heroism and safety is real.

What are their pet peeves? He disapproves of the glorification of alcohol, smoking, or any other vices that are bad for the average person’s health. He won’t turn away the people with these vices as potential friends, but he’ll certainly be tempted to lecture them on it. He is also really not a fan of casual skinship between strangers, nor is he a fan of an aggressively pessimistic attitude, nor will he ever really be used to people who wear very little clothing (He isn’t disapproving of the sex industry or sex workers per say, he just doesn’t ‘get it’; he could never imagine himself in their shoes), nor is he a fan of other people trying to change him to be more chill about his aesthetic code (how he dresses, how he positively interacts with others, etc.) - but he tends to be more quiet about his dislike of these things. He tries to stay open minded and patient, but yeah, maybe it’ll take a bit longer to get to ‘close friend’ status with these things.

What are their idiosyncrasies? (special mannerisms?) His posture tends to be stiff as a board: too perfect, like some sort of breathing statue or mechanic humanoid, while at other times it’s as if a switch is flipped to make him become a crazy slapstick ragdoll. He tends to speak in a constant fluctuation of ‘ye olde English’ and common casual speech, and he keeps a few feet distance from people he isn’t especially close with at all times. He’s generous with money and far too trusting of strangers to the point it feels like an overblown parody of these traits. He’s painfully optimistic and takes compliments first with a moment of surprise before he adjusts his reaction with over-the-top narcissistic vigor. He’s a constantly faltering image of himself. He’s a walking symbolism of good-hearted chaos.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? The only people Alus regards as true family is his twin brother, Arc, and his late adoptive father, Gwenneg. There are other Beauregards in the world, and other great “found family”-esque friends yet to make, but Alus cannot imagine them ever meeting the kind of friendship and connection he has with his brother and had with his father. Perhaps he’s tried in the past, but it just never feels the same. He’s at the point he’s given up on the idea of it happening casually.

What is their perception of family? A close-knit group that is always there for eachother, practically living at eachother’s hips. The type of people you can just glance at and they can read your mind, and even if they disagree with you, they’ll go along with you and fix it later. They’re always up for improving eachother. They are essentially extensions of oneself, and like limbs, even if such is cut - it is carefully looked after and healed, the rest of the body worries and tries to better it, never blaming it’s limb for not being good enough. All part of one system.

Describe their best friend. Arc is undeniably Alus’ best friend. I feel a bit weird talking about my friend’s OC for them, but I will say this; Arc’s strengths are in his slow and strategic approach to things; his love of politics and ability to glide through them, the way he finds the best routes and setups in battle, the timing, everything down to the little tiniest details to turn a battle of either wits or blood - he thinks over all of it, something Alus lacks. And despite being much less prone to trust than the willingly naive Alus, he can find the good in just about anybody when it really comes down to it. Arc knows the dark side of this world and is constantly aware and remembering of it, but understands it’s still worth fighting for. He’s also got a pretty good fashion sense! He seems extremely shady when it comes to his bar business though... It seems to be played up as a joke, but you’re never quite sure as you’re talking to him about it.

Ideal best friend? In assumption this means ‘a best friend besides Arc’, I think Alus’ standards are low. Of course, he’d love to have someone who shares his basic interests of aesthetics and his moral philosophy that centralizes on a love for humanity, and the honor and strength of action to act on it, but he also wants to know someone who can teach him a lot. I think that type of person could be absolutely anyone, especially someone that is nothing like him. Alus doesn’t want to necessarily completely change himself through the journey of knowing anothers’ life, nor change someone else entirely either, even if it’s for the better. He just wants mutual understanding with others. He finds a joy that can be found nowhere else when he feels two people, who don’t have anything in common, can find a common ground. This kind of thing excites him. I think something in-between -- someone who is a lot like him in a lot of ways, but has a few traits he lacks completely -- is ideal for him.

Describe their other friends / Describe their acquaintances. (combo’d) Alus doesn’t really have other people he regards true friends, I think. He kinda regards every person he meets as his friends. That’s really all there is to it for him.

Do they have any pets? No pets, just a lot of animals that follow him around for food scraps and snacks. He always has an open window for birds and butterflies, and an open door to dodos and chickens and stray cats. He enjoys the company of birds the most, though he’s a fan of the loyal doggy too. In terms of his mounts - He mainly only claims ownership over his military-issued chocobo for paperwork purposes, but regards her as a friend without a voice more than an animal under his ownership.

Who are their natural allies? Anyone who agrees for humanitarian rights, I think. Alus just exists to be a hero, really.

Who are their surprising allies? People he once fought. He always reaches out a hand for people who’ve made mistakes and tells them that he’ll be their friend if they agree to stop their mean-spirited behavior.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Equal combination “good kid” and “absolute little shit”; On the surface, he’d always be loyal to his father and polite to strangers, but the second he and his brother got some time to themselves they’d get into all kinds of shenanigans - especially if they manage to find some way to conceal their identity. Most of those shenanigans were pranks trying to scare people with All Saint’s Wake-esque props. They were also a time they were absolutely not above purposely trying to confuse people on which brother was which whenever it was convenient or just funny.

Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor, but I think he still thought himself as lucky. He might not have had a big room to himself or a lot of possessions, but he got to travel the world and meet so many interesting people and see so many interesting things in his father’s caravan.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured for sure. His family were joined at the hip.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said? I’m sure Alus used to have a potty mouth when he was a kid and young teen. He picked it up from being exposed to so many different individuals growing up. If he’s been around a lot of sailors in Lima Lominsa, I think it’s a safe bet that he probably swore like one too. After his father died that changed almost immediately though in order to honor his dad’s memory.

What is their greatest achievement? I’m sure there’s much more impressive individual achievements he has accomplished - monsters he’s fought, hostage situations he’s negotiated, villains he’s managed to persuade to become heroes, but if you asked him, he’d tell you that simply being lucky enough to be chosen to become one of the Warriors of Light or opening his cafe are the achievements he’s most proud of.

What was their first kiss like? [spoiler]Still haven’t had it![/spoiler]

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? I feel like even though Alus adored his father, he probably did a lot of things to make him worried or stressed out, maybe even ran away once or twice just for the fun of it. It was a lot more innocent time for Alus and I don’t think he’d do anything like that in adulthood.

What are their ambitions? Alus just wants to end all war. Full stop. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t really know the most effective way how to, though. He just keeps doing whatever he can when people request his help - which usually ends up taking advantage of his physical combat skills.

What advice would they give their younger self? Cherish this time. Hug your father and tell him you love him more often. And maybe focus on being a medic or someone who helps the world peacefully more than someone who uses violence to solve the world’s problems. Maybe care a little more about politics.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Chamomile, road dust, seasalt, and old fancy dusty antiques.

What was their childhood ambition? To grow up to be a glamorous warrior that saves the world again and again and to rescue a pretty princess.

What is their best childhood memory? Dancing on the streets of Ul’dah with his brother for a little extra pocket money and becoming unexpectedly popular.

What is their worst childhood memory? Losing his father to the calamity and being passed between temporary foster homes again and again, then finally losing his brother in that mess, too.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Alus left out honeyed milk for faeries all the time as a child. Post-calamity, he started to quietly make-believe that faeries and little unicorns visited him when he was particularly lonely or bored, or just wanted to escape his own mind for awhile.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? [FFXIV POST-STORMBLOOD SPOILER]Hearing about Zenos’ body being revived against Zenos’ wishes for a perfect death.[/SPOILER]

What past act are they most ashamed of? Any time Alus can’t save someone from death. Sometimes, Alus must be the one to kill them himself. This is an unbearable sin to bear for him.

What past act are they most proud of? Any time he can save someone. Any time he can help the suffering of someone by giving a little coin. Every time he has made someone smile. It is all the most cherishable, wonderful memories to him. None better than the others.

Has anyone ever saved their life? His twin brother Arc probably on at least a weekly basis. I think saving eachothers’ lives is a regular thing on a battlefield, even if your ally is basically a stranger.

Strongest childhood memory? Just sitting underneath the stars, curled up under a blanket with his brother while they rest their head on their father’s lap as he reads them bedtime stories.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Absolutely. Guy will trust anyone at the drop of a hat, why not fall in love, too?

Are they in a relationship? Not officially, no. I think he casually flirts a lot and has gone out on sporadic dates with many people, but he hasn’t become anyone’s “steady”.

How do they behave in a relationship? Alus is extremely inexperienced. I think he’ll end up trying so hard to show off to whoever he’s dating that he’ll become exhausted. He wants to treat his future spouse like royalty.

When did you character last have sex? [SPOILER]Never![/SPOILER]

What sort of sex do they have? Nothing kinky or out there, he’s a shy confused mess to begin with when it comes to sex - he’s probably very reserved and traditional about it. I should note that Alus is canonically asexual, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet. He doesn’t really understand the appeal of sex but he’d want his significant other to be happy. [NSFW/18+] He’d definitely insist on being a top, though. [/SAFE!]

Has your character ever been in love? As an greyromantic writer, I have no fucking solid idea what romantic love is supposed to be defined as. If you define it as ‘fantasizing about having a certain person in mind as a future spouse’ then, yes, Alus has been in love loads of times.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Many times, but it rarely gets him down for too long - he’ll fall in love with the next person he sees, then the cycle restarts.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? A fake, forced smile. Explaining calmly to the enemy that what they’re doing is wrong. Explaining calmly to the enemy to drop it and go drink tea with him instead. If being calm doesn’t work, yelling at them about their hypocritical morality like some sort of shounen superhero making a speech.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, for sure. Alus will be so painfully reasonable with his enemies that the only way he’s drawing his sword to fight is someone else draws first.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Like any hero, he’s a sucker for hostages. Also, math completely turns him fucking stupid. [SPOILER]Also... having his morality questioned, especially being accused of being a hypocrite.[/SPOILER]

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? A faerie tale storybook from his childhood his father read to him often when he was alive.

How do they perceive strangers? “A friend he doesn’t know yet.”

What do they love to hate? I don’t really imagine Alus truly ‘hates’ anything or anyone, just greatly dislikes or disapproves of them. And even then I think he doesn’t particularly enjoy disliking them. I don’t think he views negative feelings as something to be prideful over.

What are their phobias? Slugs and other slimy creatures, as well as mild situational claustrophobia.

What is their choice of weapon? His fists, for sure; there’s some sort of philosophy inside his mind that fighting with his bare hands or body without tools or weapons to aid him is the ultimate form of respect towards other human beings’ pain and livelihood - he wants them to know he shall feel pain right back if he strikes someone else, and he’s allowing himself the possibility to be hurt in return.

What living person do they most despise? I think anyone who justifies war or pain as a glorious and wonderful thing instead of a tragedy is someone he dislikes. Especially if said person has no respect for human life or the bodies of the fallen.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? Plenty. Unfortunately mostly his given name is particularly targetted. He’s also been called too soft plenty of times.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home - his house is well soundproofed and cozy. He may go on an off-trail walk alone in the middle of Thanalan or the like.

Who are their enemies and why? The Garlean army, the Ascians.. do you really need to ask why? They wish to create death and chaos, that’s plenty of a reason enough.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Maelstrom military field medic, café proprietor, free paladin

What do they think about their current job? The café is seemingly always empty, but he doesn’t mind continuing to pour money into it. It’s a safe haven to him and a symbol of his independence from the violent life of military duty. Being a field medic is endlessly horrifying, but he’s glad he can help people. His status of Free Paladin makes him obligated to carry out duties to help Eorzea, which is something he’s proud of - but he is always not all that great at drawing his sword at the sign of trouble.

What are some of their past jobs? The only other “jobs” Alus has had in the past were mostly just side jobs for a little extra pocket money, mostly dancing on the street.

What are their hobbies? Dancing, capoeira martial arts, piano, tea brewing, baking, reading, writing, sketching, watercolor art, goldsmithing, fashion, bird keeping.

Educational background? Went to a school for accounting for a few years. He retained absolutely no information about accounting.

Intelligence level? Literate; can read older more complex texts easily. Good with maps. More of a “physical education” kinda guy.

Do they have any specialist training? Paladin training. Nothing else formal.

Do they have a natural talent for something? Weirdly incredibly good at parkour - stuff like navigating tightropes and climbing up buildings without any hesitation or struggle.

What is their socioeconomic status? At the moment, Alus is pretty well-off. He and his brother own their own business in the Lavender Beds, and Alus can afford high class clothes, hobbies, furniture and the like. He’s also prone to donate to charity near constantly.

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? whatever birds are ROUND

Which animal to they dislike the most? S L U G S

What place would they most like to visit? His cafe, honestly. It’s a safe haven.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? People.

What is their favourite song? Simply Satie

Music, art, reading preferred? Alus loves playing piano, drawing sketches and reading storybooks. I don’t think he could trade one for the other! (He’s awful at singing though.)

What is their favourite colour? Pale blue, white, yellow-gold, and pastel pink.

What is their password? “Password”. Nobody will ever get it!

Favourite food: La Noscean toast! (AKA French toast!) with lots of berries and whipped cream!

Who is their favourite artist? ??? ((OOC: if Alphonse Mucha was in FFXIV it’d be him idk))

What is their favourite day of the week? E V E R Y D A Y (but probably mostly Sunday)

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Fresh salad, fruits, fresh berries, vegetables, tofu, jackfruit, orange juice, leftover strawberry shortcake, protein shakes, leftover rice, eggs, butter, yogurt, frozen berries... and even fresh flowers?

What is on their bedside table? A dozen lighthearted fairytale and academic books on aether he recycles through reading every night as he goes to bed, a pitcher & glass of water, a vase with a flower in it, reading glasses, 3 inch tall lil stuffed dodo.

What is in their bin? Compost bin for old fruits/vegetables/egg shells/bread and a recycling bin full of paper and packaging garbage.

What is in their bag? A lot of coin, a hairbrush, a box of ice chilled flowers, travel-size beauty products, lots of fireworks and other fun little spectacle toys, a pocket-sized book of poetry, a basic armor polishing set, a miniature sewing kit, bandages, healing potions.

What is their most treasured possession? A very old and damaged book of fairy tales from his childhood.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? His adoptive father - at least, that’s what he wants to believe.

Do they believe in the afterlife? Yes! Very much so.

What are their religious views? [SPOILER]Alus has a complicated relationship with religion. For the most part of his life, he’s believed in The Twelve like every other Eorzean, but as he’s grown older he’s found himself more and more impatient and even disgusted of the cruelties that the gods allow to happen, and the ways followers of Nald’thal and Halone use their religion as a means to prey on the weak for the sake of money, classism, and racial disparity. Hearing the words of Garlean soldiers point out that proof that The Twelve exist is seemingly nonexistent has further disrupted Alus’ belief in them. Alus does, however, firmly believe in Hydaelyn.[/SPOILER]

What do they think heaven is? Alus has no true confident belief in what exactly the seven heavens are, but he likes to think heaven is a place where flowers bloom all the time, the weather is always warm and sunny, bugs don’t bother you and war and violence never happen, and relaxing tea parties are hosted all day long, clothes are comfortable and pretty and never soiled by dirt and mud no matter how much you play in the grass.

What do they think hell is? Like many Eorzeans, Alus believes in the seven hells. The seven hells are a place that one must climb out of to eventually make it to heaven, and depending on how bad of a person you were in life, the deeper in hell you start out in after you die, and the more you have to climb before you get upward into heaven. Alus finds great comfort in this ideology because it means that no matter how bad a person was in life, they may still find forgiveness and redemption in death.

Are they superstitious? I think he’s open-minded. He seems to discover so many legends of being real every day that it’s difficult for him not to believe in anything and everything he hears. He tries to be respectful of the unknown and follow their rules, but when push comes to shove it’s all about the grandest happiness for everyone - he will challenge whatever fae or ghostly apparition that wants to mess with him if he thinks what they’re doing is immoral or unfair.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A stream. A rosebush. A rainbow. Something that others can look at and feel at peace, something for others to enjoy. A way to give love without living a life that inevitably creates suffering through heroism. To just exist as part of the beauty in the world.

How would they like to die? He doesn’t know. Death scares him. He does not want to die in battle. He does not want to die sleeping in a bed. But he wishes he’ll be old. He wishes he’ll have lots of friends. And he wishes he did everything he could while he was alive to make the world a better place as much as he possibly could.

What animal is most like your character, spiritually speaking? .... A golden retriever. Eager to please, extremely loving and loyal, a strong body, picky about weird things, and incredibly goofy.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Betrayal?? torture?? bullying?? rape?? what do you want from me. He hates all forms of toxic and violent behavior!!

What is their view of ‘freedom’? The ability to form your own path; the ability to be whatever you want, even if the dream seems impossible to everyone else. The ability to go anywhere you want, walk and run anywhere you want, travel anywhere you want. The ability to say no when you want. The ability to be respected as independent.

How often do they lie? NEVER!!!!!!! He might bend the truth a little bit or side-step an answer but even white lies he’s not into. He rarely needs to white lie about anything anyway; he tends to see the best in everything.

What’s their view of lying? BAD AND UNNESSESARY

How often do they make promises? Constantly.

How often do they keep or break their promises? He 100% keeps his promises unless he’s literally physically incapacitated and in which case he will apologize and try to make it up to you so much

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Vegetarian. He eats really healthy and he eats a lot. Big fan of asian food I think. Has no problems eating stuff that’s bland as hell; I feel like it’s part of his determination to better himself. Has a terrible weakness for sweets, though. Secretly hates stuff that’s slimy, like mushrooms, but he will never complain if it’s given to him.

Do they have any allergies? Nope, he’s lucky. If he does, he hasn’t discovered it yet.

Describe their home. Very white, tons of gold nouveau trim on everything, and tons of flowers everywhere. Looks like the home of royalty. [Here’s his housing aesthetic.]

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Neither, I think. Maybe leaning closer to minimalist over clutter-lover; he likes everything being clean and easy to access in his house. His design aesthetic of nouveau isn’t necessarily minimalist in inherent style though imo.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Wakes up extra early, takes a quick cool shower to wake himself up, eats a quick and simple breakfast full of protein; most likely something with a lot of nuts and eggs as it’s ingredients + big salad. packs a simple lunchbox and starts his day: Every morning, he walks to the statues of Nald and Thal, viewing the warm pink sunrise in the process. he pays his respects to each; cleans and dusts with a simple cleaning kit he’s left there prior. Leaves some simple offerings. Finds somewhere nice and empty in Thanalan to do some excercises and martial arts training for the day. sits down and eats lunch afterwards. lazily walks home, takes another quick shower to get the sweat and dust off. while his hair is drying, he puts on makeup and decides a proper outfit to wear for the day. meets up with arc, goes on their obliged military-issued mission for the day.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Makes an effort to drag Arc over to his place for a big fancy dinner. Tea and crumpets as an early evening appetizer. Alus cooks everything while Arc hangs out and talks, lending a bit of help when Alus demands asks for him. Arc sneaks in alcohol. Alus yells at him. repeat next week.

What do they do on a Friday night? this but like, outside, alone, in the middle of thanalan somewhere

What is the soft drink of choice? If soft drinks existed in Eorzea I can’t help but feel like Alus is one of those freaks who don’t like any of them.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? NO

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? This question originally linked to some basic archetypes, but I already have TVtropes collected and they’re far more interesting as an answer imo SO: [All-Loving Hero], [Reluctant Warrior], [Cloudcuckoolander], [Warrior Poet], [Stepford Smiler], [Motor Mouth], [Large Ham], [Stupid Good], [In Touch With His Feminine Side], [The Fashionista], [Light Is Good], [Flower Motifs], [Declaration of Protection].

Who is their hero? I don’t think Alus has a specific person in mind that isn’t fictional - fact is, nobody is as perfect as the type of person he strives to be. I think he finds traits of admirable heroism everywhere in people, though. Everything from his friends who fight for the good of the world no matter what, from the villain who unexpectedly saves someone while nobody else is watching, to the single mother who works hard to raise her children, to the homeless people who just continue to fight on to live even when everything feels so hopeless around them. I think he sees traits in others he wishes he had all the time. He wants to embody all the good traits of everyone. And I should mention, if one is to have a ‘hero’, it is expected that person to be better than one, yes? I don’t think Alus believes he’s particularly better than anyone else, especially in their positive traits.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Alus goes HARD on All Saint’s Wake. He and Arc’s signature best costume always ends up being these hyper-realistic ghost costumes that they trick out with special glamours, magic, and tech to surprise the passerby. If it doesn’t genuinely scare someone, it isn’t enough!

Are they comfortable with technology? I think he’s absolutely got the boomer brain when it comes to allagan technology. He can get by fixing old mechanical clocks and the like but when it comes to allagan stuff, he’s just absolutely out of his element. He’ll certainly listen if someone wants to try explaining it to him, but it’ll take considerable time before he fully “gets it” and usually when he does, it’s more on blind faith and an ability to follow basic directions more than true understanding. I think in general it just doesn’t really interest him and if he’s going to spend the time and energy to learn about it, he’d rather use that energy on his other interests - books, physical training, baking and the like. (Modern AU: He’s absolutely the guy still using an ancient flip phone because “It still works!” Also, he capitalizes and uses perfect grammar in all his extremely-hard-to-type number code texts.)

If they could save one person, who would it be? It’s a difficult question, because of course - the first person to come to mind is Arc. But the thing is, Arc can take care of himself. And Alus knows this. Alus trusts this. So when it comes down to choosing between Arc and someone less capable.. Alus will most likely help the less capable person. If Arc is hurt, Alus knows he’ll forgive him. But if Arc were to die? And it be Alus’ fault? It would utterly crush him.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Arc, of course. There’s nobody Alus would rather have by his side while dealing with problems.

What is their favourite proverb? “Since it is likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and courage.” – C.S. Lewis (Personally my fav proverb in thinkin about Alus is “Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell.” – Hermann Hesse)

What is their greatest extravagance? This is kind of a depressing and even controversial answer, but it’s honestly any time he has ducked out from military duty with or without permission when all of it has just gotten to him too much. He knows that him not being there will be more of a problem than a solution - he knows that - but any moment he can just pretend, for a moment, that he’s just a normal man running a normal little girlish cafe during a time without war.. That’s his greatest extravagance.

What is their greatest regret? The amount of enemies he has been forced to down when talk wasn’t enough is piling higher and higher every moon cycle. It’s an absolute horror. He tries so hard to be nonlethal as possible. He’s studied so much how to avoid vital organs, how to down someone without hurting them badly, but no matter what there is always the chance of there being a prior injury he didn’t know about, or a undiagnosed medical problem that was just activated by the smallest knock.. That isn’t even to mention the people who have been hurt because the people he talked down didn’t keep their word or stood back up when he thought they’d stay asleep. No matter what, he just isn’t enough to save everyone. Why is it that no matter how hard he works to have this ideal of pacifism, it never works completely? Why is it never enough?

What is their perception of redemption? That the unwavering truth of this world is that people are fundamentally capable of change. He refuses to believe otherwise, no matter what. Perhaps it is an active choice instead of an instinctual one, nobody is certain for Alus’ mindful case. He believes the expectation for lifelong punishment for a past crime is petty and cruel, and in itself deters people from switching sides for the better. He believes anyone and everyone deserves the right to have the choice to right their wrongs at any time. Don’t misunderstand though - He understands sometimes people are far too gone for simply dropping everything they’ve done and that’s enough to erase their mistakes - he knows that some people can only find rightful redemption in the afterlife after execution, even if execution is not an ideal solution to stopping them in his eyes. But he prays for them. He’ll never give up on anyone.

What would they do if they won the lottery? Back into investments or savings to get an even bigger profit later. Alus knows how to play the smart long game. But uh... If the fates play a trick and he sees a beautiful fashion piece in a shop window, maybe that won’t last too long. He’s also notoriously overly generous with money to the needy, he spends money on service tips like pouring water out of a glass. Money is always moving, and if he starts to run low, he just works a little harder to get back to the comfort zone. He’s in a pretty good place in his life monetarily wise atm already.

What is their favourite fairytale? It’s difficult to answer this because I don’t know what sorts of stories exist in Eorzean canon! But I can say that the real-world 1986 manga “The Sword of Paros” is a huge inspiration to Alus’ character. It’s about a person born with the title of ‘Princess’ who believes to have been born the wrong gender, and does everything in their power to prove themselves worthy of the title of ‘Prince’ despite immeasurable odds against them from their family and their country. The hero also falls in love with a commoner woman who wishes nothing more to be loved by the idyllic image of a charming knight in shining armor that comes and rescues her, and their love is ultimately tragic as it’s also not recognized as valid.. but the prince never stops fighting for his title and the right of his love, and the ability for them both to be happy. Though the story ends without the ideal conclusion, the very concept of these characters fighting against all odds for something genuinely better for the whole world is something Alus is really all about. (Also, seriously, read this manga. It’s groundbreaking. It’s Utena done right.)

What fairytale do they hate? Any faerietales that have unhappy endings, or seem to focus strongly on tragedy or pessimistic ideas of realism in the world. That tends to fall into the category of ‘cautionary tales’ most the time. He’s also really not a fan of stories with body horror or gore.

Do they believe in happy endings? I think he believes that happy endings should always be the goal, but I don’t think he truly accepts that they actually exist. He understands that happiness and safety is always temporary, and this is why he should always strive to make the world a better place. If he helps someone get to a point that they’re happy, healthy, and safe - he’ll just move on to the next person who needs his help. A happy ending for himself though? I think he’s not confident in it, but he wants to live every day to the fullest as he can before he dies. He accepts this as part of his duty - he knows he’s living on ultimately borrowed time.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? Being in love, being surrounded by people you love, having the support of others you trust and having the ability to spoil the people you care about. Having a home you’ll never be kicked out of.. And no war that you have to leave to. No people you have to harm. Just the peace to drink tea with your former enemies as you gaze out onto flowers on a warm day... That’s all he ever wants.

What would they ask a fortune teller? I think he’s concerned if he’ll ever someone to truly share his life with besides his brother. He just really wants a good friend.. Ideally, someone attractive he can hold the hand of!

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Before the Calamity. He’d just want to listen to his father tell him a few more stories again. He misses the peacefulness of his childhood, the certainty that someone out there stronger than him loved him and wanted to keep him safe, the ability to ignore his own call to war... He wouldn’t so selfish to want to try and bend fate enough to save his father, though he would if he had the chance.. But he knows it’s impossible.

What sport do they excel at? (Modern AU) He was definitely a cheerleader in highschool and/or college, I feel like. Probably into dancing! And ofc a dedicated martial artist. I feel like he’d be pretty good at football and wrestling too - games that require a bulky build to be great at - but he just doesn’t have a particular interest in either of those.

What sport do they suck at? (Modern AU) Probably stuff like archery and tennis - not only would he’d thrive better in big team sports, he’s just not much for long-range dexterity. He’d also be absolutely incompetent as an esports competitor lmfao.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Anything that was especially effective at saving peoples’ lives. Time travel to stop mistakes before they happen or say the right thing before a war breaks out, super effective healing powers... anything. Just to stop suffering and death.

#meme #alus beauregard #ffxiv rp #this literally took me like 4 months to complete fuck

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lorei-writes · 4 years

Text

Masamune x Polish!MC

Thanks a lot to @datenoriko for suggesting this and for @nad-zeta for writing hers (VERY INSPIRING, SERIOUSLY, GO CHECK THOSE OUT) headcanons :D Here’s my version. I wrote for Polish MC in particular, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful and there’s a lot of historical nuance that I could butcher otherwise.

[Note from future Lorei: This is honestly very stupid and I cannot believe I didn’t write it when I was 15, geez.]

Content Warnings: profanities, kidnapping, pain, injuries

Background information & notes:

Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth was partitioned by Habsburg Austria, Kingdom of Prussia and Russian Empire. As the result of annexations, the country disappeared from the world maps for 123 years. I will not go into detail about how the situation of Polish people was different in each of the parts, since that’s besides the point, but well - keep in mind that it did differ greatly. One can argue that the marks of it are still visible today, both in infrastructure, architecture and language.

I was born in the South-Eastern region of Poland and as such, that’s where I’d like my MC to be brought up.

MC is in no way representative of how each and every woman from Poland is. I tried to write her based on the women of my family, my friends, classmates, basically - the people I’ve seen and spent my time with.

I will not include anything religion-related, although it is a thing that’s present in lives of everybody (even atheists) here (to be more precise, Catholicism). Why? Because it is a very controversial topic, one of huge complexity.

... There will be profanities, because I love my Polish swearwords - and CURSE YOU ENGLISH. WHEN I YELL THE CURSE I WANT TO SOUND LIKE A FREAKING FERAL ANIMAL

Broken English in italics = broken Japanese.

There will be a dictionary at the end, so don’t worry.

Masamune

Upon meeting her, he did not understand anything she said - well, none of them did. However, she did rescue lord Nobunaga - a funnily dressed foreigner that seemingly didn’t speak Japanese couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Yet she still was thrown into the dungeon. In his mind, that was the perfect opportunity to investigate on his own.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Masamune sneaked into her cell. Soon, his blade was on her throat. “ Who are...?” he started, but was instantly cut off by her yelling: “ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” He stood there, staring at her. Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face.

Was she suggesting that he was insane? Hah, that certainly was some lass. He laughed loudly and gestured for her to follow him.

Well, it certainly took some explaining, but in the end, she got a job as one of the maids. After all, you hardly need to understand language to sweep the floors and do the cleaning.

However, she... Didn’t exactly fit in. Not just because of her weird mother tongue - she was taller than most women and not exactly petite. Appearance wise, she resembled the Portuguese missionaries, but that wasn’t exactly this either.

Masamune came around to “bother” her at times. To his surprise, she started to picking up the basic words by herself. Sometimes, she’d point an object, say something (presumably the name of it in her language) and wait for him to do so as well.

One day, she did just that while cleaning the floor of a veranda. “ Chrząszcz.” It took a second to register. Was that really a word? “ Chrząszcz,” she repeated, staring at him. Right, he had to reply, otherwise she’d never stop. “ A beetle.”

Later that day, he tried to pronounce the word. He couldn’t do it. Actually, he started thinking that she was making it all up.

That, however, changed once he heard her sing. Unaware of his presence, she continued working, the song filling the air: “Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem Wielki żal ogarnął mnie Po policzkach łzy spłynęły Zrozumiałem wtedy, że Czarny chleb i czarna kawa Opętani samotnością Myślą swą szukają szczęścia Które zwie się wolnością”

To his delight, she started speaking broken Japanese within a couple of months of her stay at Azuchi. Finally, he could satiate his curiosity - or at least he planned to.

She went out to do the shopping in the afternoon, but didn’t return after the dusk. Thinking something bad must have happened to her, Nobunaga issued a search. Masamune volunteered to lead it.

She woke up with a start, her head throbbing. She looked around - where was she? It seemed to be a tiny hut of sorts. She got up, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside through the crack in the door. A man was guarding it. Did she hear a river? Whinny of horses? She had to escape - she search for cracks in the walls, until she found one. She recognized that armour. They were looking for her! She had to make some noise!

She yanked at the door, but it didn’t want to give out. She banged at it with her fists, yelling: “ Tutaj! Ratunku!”

The kidnapper didn’t understand the weird language, so he didn’t react at first. However, once the heard the approaching horses, he decided he had to silence her. He got inside the hut and gripped her by the wrists, telling her to shut up.

To his surprise, she struggled against him, breaking free of his hold on her.

He pinned her arms to the wall of the hut, threatening to hurt her if she even squeaked. “ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” she yelled, before headbutting him.

Surprised, the man didn’t react instantly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she kicked him hard.

It didn’t exactly work, though. Infuriated, the man wanted to punch her - yet, he didn’t notice the rescue that had just arrived. Masamune stopped his fist in the air.

Masamune didn’t see her in the couple of the following days, as they all worked to find out who was the person behind her kidnapping - and why was she even considered a target in the first place.

When he finally met her, he was stunned. Her entire forearms were covered in bruises in the shade of deep purple, almost black. He lifted her hands up, saying: “ I’ll check you up for wounds. Wounds. Check. You.” To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled brightly. “ Boli, znaczy że żyje. Hurt mean alive.”

It dawned on him then - he never really saw her smile before. They were complete strangers, but he wanted to know more.

With the language barier in place, it wasn’t exactly an easy task. Granted, she could understand simple sentences - yet, it wasn’t enough. Masamune was up to the challenge and so, he asked her to teach him her language.

Given the grammatical cases that influenced form of both nouns, adjectives and numerals, he soon started regretting his choice. The nouns had gender? Two future tenses? And what was up with all those ch-h, rz-ż, u-ó pairs that sounded exactly the same, but somehow weren’t interchangeable? Not to mention how some words seemed to consists exclusively of consonants. Rybołówstwo? -wstwo?

“ Okay. Your turn. Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć.” Masamune blinked fast. “ It was the same word over and over again, right?” “ Nope. Maybe w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie?”

It seemed she tried to torture him. Though, having her laugh, even if at him, made him feel warm.

One day, he was taking a stroll and heard her voice. This time, however, he understood the words she hummed to herself. “ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, Dziwne ona ma maniery. Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “

“Where do you come from, if you sign about war like that?” he asked. “ Can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m mad.” “ Try it either way.” “ You see, future. But I can’t say wars aren’t a thing anymore. Sadly.”

After that, they spoke for a while. Apparently, her grandparents were both in partisan army. She grew up hearing their stories - or much rather, what little was said about the horrors of the war. What surprised him, though, was her request.

“ Will you teach me how to use a sword?” “ A sword? Why?” “ I can’t be helpless. I have to adapt.” “ That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

She certainly was a curious creature, one with a will to survive. She was amusing... Although sometimes she did find a way to get on his nerves.

“ I am NOT cute.” “ You are. You have lisp and can’t say “r” like little child that can’t speak good yet.”

Dictionary & Notes:

“ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” - “Are you all fucked in the damn head here?”, although not exactly. The Polish version doesn’t entail anything that could indicate any connection to psychological disorder or madness. Both “kurwa” and “pojebało”(pojebać) are swear words that would be translated to “fuck”. Recently those words lost a bit of their shocking effect, but if you ask me - you still don’t want your mother to hear you saying those. Under any circumstances. Direct translation would be “Are you all fucking fucked up here?”

“Chrząszcz” - a beetle. However, can we appreciate the nasal “ą” sound and the fact that it’s the only vowel in the entire word? Apparently, it’s hard to pronounce for foreigners :D

“Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem /Wielki żal ogarnął mnie /Po policzkach łzy spłynęły /Zrozumiałem wtedy, że //Czarny chleb i czarna kawa /Opętani samotnością / Myślą swą szukają szczęścia /Które zwie się wolnością” - lyrics from song, you can listen to it here. “ When I opened my eyes/ a grief overwhelmed me /Tears run down my cheeks/ Then I understood that // Black bread and black coffee / Possessed by loneliness / Keep searching with their thoughts for happiness/ name of which is freedom” (excuse the translation, I wrote it myself). I don’t listen much to Polish music, but this was somewhere around ever since I remember - I think many people would recognize it? Plus, the theme of freedom seems to be rather common one.

“ Tutaj! Ratunku!” - “Here! Rescue me!”

“ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” - “ Fuck, kiss my nose.”; There’s another version of with, “pocałuj mnie w dupę” (kiss my ass). This one is more polite? Less crude? Either way, it means “I’m fed up with your bullshit.” Note: weźże is an verb derived from “weź” (to take) by adding a particle “że” at the end. Said particle indicated irritation and frustration. Construction weź + do something (weź idź na spacer - go on a walk!) is basically an order/ a request said with some level of irritation.

“ Boli, znaczy że żyje. “ - “If it hurts, it’s alive.”/ “If you’re hurting, you’re alive.” ; that one isn’t exactly universal, but it was a huge one for me. I always heard it from my grandparents and aunts.

Rybołówstwo - ... Fishing. When pronounced, it’s “rybołóstwo” - we still have a cluster of consonants here, but it’s easier to deal with.

“ Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć. “ - “During the racing event the racing car got ahead of the racing car number six.”; tongue-twister If you were wondering,the adjectives are in bold. The crossed out word is the predicate of the sentence (the verb).

w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie - in Szczebrzeszyn a beetle can be heard from the reed; tongue-twister.

“ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, /Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. /Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, /Dziwne ona ma maniery. /Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, /Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. /Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, /Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “ - song lyrics you can listen to here. Lao Che is a band that I think plenty of younger people interested in rock music will know. “One and two, one and two / The girls is named little war / Three and four, three and four / Strange are her manners / Five and six, five and six / She doesn’t want to eat ice-cream at all / Seven, eight, seven, eight/ She just keeps begging for bones.” ; All the songs from this particular album (Dzieciom - For Children; yes, it’s for adults that used to be children) are stylized to resemble a rhyme for children - at least in the lyrics and at first glance.

A note: Japanese and Polish “r” are extremely different. Japanese “r” resembles Polish “l” sound a lot - and many children can’t pronounce “r” at first, exchanging it for the “l” sound. In other words, Masamune speaking Polish would have a really hard time due to his slight lisp... And he’d sound like a little child that tries, but fails. :) IT WOULD BE SO CUTE!

When MC says her grandparents were in partisan army, she means they were part of AK - Armia Krajowa, during WWII. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I’ll let you decide for yourself. I don’t want to make this post any longer.

“ Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. “ - That’s basically how I’d show somebody another Polish saying “A puknij się w głowę” (Tap yourself on the head), which means “are you nuts”.

O, yeah. I don’t know if you can find the translation of the entire lyrics online, but if you were curious... You know, hit me up. I can translate them.

... I got too excited. Would you be mad if I wrote another one of those? I kinda want to...

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my hc #im soo nervous all of the sudden #please dont hate those #and listen to those songs #they're good i swear

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exmateriadead · 3 years

Text

THE BILLBOARDS.

I want you to imagine a sign, and on that sign is a name in black text sitting on a white background. The sign is in Georgia, in the United States of course. Not the country because who looks at Georgia the country when it isn't on fire. There are no signs there.

In Georgia, somewhere off the beat road of the highway is a sign with a name on it. Victor Young.

A name as plain as ever, susceptible to be one of those fluky ads. They're effective but cliché in taste because then the onlooker fights with themselves whether to Google the name or not and when they do they'll usually get into a wormhole that leads to an ad for a personal injury lawyer or something to do with the church of Jehovah Witnesses and then they had spent all that time wondering who is Victor Young and why is he so important that his name stands 120-feet on a white sign with black text so simple and so fixed on a bush trotted highway.

Victor Young.

Victor Young, past the 145 plus profiles on Facebook and the 87 profiles on LinkedIn. Victor Young, the name on the sign in black text and a white background doesn't lead to a personal injury law firm website or a cheap ploy by the consistent Jehovah Witnesses.

It belongs to me. I put his name up there or rather bought 25 billboard signs down the Georgia-Florida Parkway. All appraised from the alimony money, it wasn't hard to get these signs but it wasn't cheap either. The upkeep and payments ate up through my allowance and I just started driving trucks so, the money that I did have wasn't much. Buying a billboard is not cheap--makes you think about the ones out here living alone in forlorn roads and tired driveways, who pays for those? Who pays for any of it?

I didn't want to use the money at all, but after Victor... I had to. I had no other choice. So, the signs were made and put up, just Victors name at first to tell who ever would be reading it that he exists. To tell Victor if he saw it that he exists.

There are a lot of things found in the Georgia-Florida Parkway, the carcasses of animals, dead or alive, people--mostly dead. If Victor couldn't be found any where in the United States--anywhere in the world, perhaps here was the only place that made any sense to me. In this long scar of road between nowhere and somewhere, someone's wandering eyes would look upon an upcoming sign to their left fifty miles in and then again when they turn out another fifty, Victor Young, over and over and over so they don't forget. Repetition is key love, repetition is key.

Victor.... my son, the one that no one looked for.

In May of 2008 two days after Victors high school graduation, it was his birthday. He wanted something quaint and at home, I asked if maybe he wanted to invite a few friends of his to come over but he said no. Just the family just a cake, maybe a pizza or two. So I did what I could and then some, not because he asked me to no, God... he hated when I did more than what was asked for. He'd always say, 'you do so much Ma, so much.' And I took offense of course because what else do mothers do when their hard work goes unappreciated constantly and they're misunderstood and they're overworked because it’s innate, because even if the child doesn't know it, what we do as mothers is never enough, you could always do more, so much more. Least for some mothers not all. Not every mother wants to give and that is what it is can't change that. I sometimes envy that.

What parts of myself have I not given away when I became a mother?

+++

Driving down the Georgia-Florida Parkway at night I think, we as a collective are particularly good at doing nothing as we are at doing something. There should be in school history books at least a section or a chapter dedicated to humans throughout the years doing nothing. Years of nothing have passed by while we humans have been on this earth where no significant matter happened but also years of significant matter happening and us humans doing nothing about it. Maybe that's not history, that's an arguable point, maybe that's just the truth. And help us all, if any history book is filled with truth. Real truth, not some white mans version of it.

The truth is....

On Victors eighteenth birthday I lied, I told him I wouldn't do too much but I did. I invited some of his friends and some of our extended family. I wanted him to feel seen and loved and maybe I wanted him to talk a little more. It didn't have to be with me but, I knew why he was so quiet sometimes, not the usual observing quiet he had as the awkward middle child but the quiet where children think their parents can't possibly hear. But, we do, even if we don't want to admit it to our selves. And the truth is, the real truth is that we do. We just do nothing about it.

+++

I'm fifty miles in now, I drive my truck off the road and into the dirt and grass of the Georgia-Florida Parkway, I get out my truck red fuel container in hand and walk several feet until I reach the foot of a pole. All around I douse it with all with gone pole after the next. Then there's a ladder I climb, how I climbed it is another story but I get up there. Billboards are always bigger than you'd think even the smaller ones. I throw the fuel on the white sign with black text, my eyes are crying to be saved. The smell is so strong I could almost get used to it. I get down and don't hesitate to light a match, I look up and see the black text on the sign is already deteriorating, like sledge it slowly melts from the liquid and the poor uptake from the long years it's been up standing alone holding up the name of a boy who is no longer being looked for. I throw the match into the ground as I did the last twenty times tonight. I watch for a moment as I turn from the cabin of my truck and see the white sign turn from a hungry egg yolk yellow to a fiery red and I watch it from my rear view mirror as I drive away. And who ever is on this highway tonight will watch sign after sign after sign engulfed in flames

Who looks at Georgia when it isn't on fire.

And yes, I could of just requested for the signs to be taken down and I did that, believe you me I did and yet seven years later these signs have been dotted throughout the highway again, they are never ending with my dead sons name. The thing is I stopped looking for Victor awhile ago, but someone else hasn't. Or, someone for a very long time wanted me to look upwards read his name so I never forget or so I do something or nothing about it. I did nothing for a while, I won’t lie.

I did too much on his eighteenth birthday, flared his anxiety even though he was trying to hide it for my sake, I see it now. I get anxiety now, I get why his generation is so littered with it like an infection. We as older parents thought we were passing over as caution. Perhaps not, and perhaps it was better to listen to him that night but I'm not one to live with regrets but, I am one to live with memories. I remember him fidgeting a lot, even when it was over. Him going quiet, that type of quiet I didn't know what to do with but try to knock it down with words but that didn't work. I remember faintly, when I woke up in the middle of the night to check up on the kids, the smell of earth, not bad but like a basket of apples with one of them rotten to the core.

I remember Victor not in his bed. I remember the open front door of our house and blood on our floors. His back to me as he stood in the archway of our front porch. I don't remember much of anything else-- I mean I remember holding my child and then not holding him, how the screams from my throat stopped being voluntary that they felt like a swarm of bee stings pouring out of my throat. I felt, inhuman. I felt like a long stretch of fire that you could only watch. On and on I went, on and on I burned.

+++

I'm in Florida now, somewhere that isn't Tallahassee and isn't Pensacola, somewhere between and off kilter. I'm turning down from the main highway to get on normal roads that'll lead me to this warehouse I'm picking inventory from and guess what I see near the obnoxious Carl's Junior sign with some skinny white girl holding a burger in her hands and a purple sign advertising a trade school? Nestled between burgers, a two year nursing school and a hospital near by I see; Victor Young. A white sign with black text is the half blur I see when I drive past it.

Okay, I'll play your game.

When I'm driving south in Florida not going to Clearwater or Miami. I'm going down to the tip of Florida's boot, down by the sea is a factory. When I get there I am in a hurry, I need to get back down on the roads, this time I won't burn the signs I tell myself. I wasn't sure what I would do, but I would do something. Then, a young boy approached me. He was so young eighteen or a little younger, such faces you don't see on the roads often. I turn and see Victor wearing a grey uniform. "Hey Ma." He says, "you made it." My skin feels so tight, something embers inside of me, it isn't a scream. It doesn't have a sound.

The billboards weren't telling me something, they were leading me here. And here for what happens next shouldn't have happened but it does. And I won't forget it all my life, I can't.

#m.bishop young #character study #this was really fun and lethargic at the same time to write when i could find time.#this is more like a monologue to be acted out loud so yeah #also note this is al/ice isn't dead inspired/au #because I say so #yes i will try to post more biweekly?#tw;mentions of death #if i ever had a tag for drabbles i don't remember it

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florenstry · 4 years

Text

Wild Birds Fly (Bastion)

Word Count: 4.5k+ Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, (minor) canon-typical violence Crossposted on: (n/a)

Just a little background fic about my Bastion OC Lanius, with some world building about the Wilds because that area and its fauna has always interested me when I played the game! I haven’t written something this long in a while, but I enjoyed it.

- - - - -

A wild bird’s gotta have a few nests to keep. For Lanius, Caelondia was a first, but after the Calamity he knew everything that had been built was gone. The Tazal Terminals could count as a second, but could you really call it a home if you’ve never been to the place?

Maybe in spirit it could be considered. The Wilds was where he was now, and as much as it was the “home” it just seemed to tolerate his presence, treating him just like any other fauna living off of it. So what was home for a lost bird? Well, a long day of work always had him coming back to an old distillery just between Caelondia and the Wilds; it was abandoned enough for him to call it his own, but intact enough for him to use. It was better than being out in the open under a tent that could be attacked at any given moment.

Lanius sat with a bottle of Werewhiskey in his hand. It was close to midnight, and a yawn escaped him. Thistle, his Fledgling with a purple crest, flew into the room where he sat tending to a small fire. In her beak was part of a Lunkhead’s stony eggshell, and she dropped it beside him as if to give a “gift”. Thistle was one to collect shiny objects and stones, which ended up being kept for her to play with when she was bored.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, petting her head as she relaxed by his side. They heard a Pecker’s call from afar.

Another Fledging arrived—it’s Thorn, Thistle’s brother but with an orange crest. He had a dead Stinkeye in his talons, and he dropped it in front of them. The Stinkeye writhed for a moment, before the Pecker pierced through it with its beak for final measure. Lanius felt somewhat sorry for the green eye; Thistle liked to hunt for food and always seemed to be hungry, and that little guy just so happened to be caught by the bird.

Thistle waddled over to her brother for the both of them to eat. Lanius watched as the birds pecked away at their food for the night. He was planning to eat some fruit before bed, but decided that he’s lost his appetite at the sight of his birds going at their own dinner. He took a long swig from the bottle, sighing as he finished the remainder of it. The alcohol kicked in slowly, and his eyes wandered lazily to the two other bottles he had finished before Werewhiskey. He’ll make some more in the morning with what he collected from the day’s hunt.

As his mind wandered, memories of the Calamity came back to him. Lanius would never forget the day that the Old World crumbled around him. One moment Lanius was pouring himself a shot of cider for a long day ahead, and the next he’s sprinting out of the Misty Cenote Distillery for his parents. It wasn’t like anything he had seen in the Wilds, and he’s seen a lot of things given the dangers living in a place where you are the hunter… or the hunted. The vivid pictures of the world falling shifted to his parents, both of them smiling down at him. He smiled to himself, succumbing to the effect of his drunken stupor. The sounds of the Wilds faded around him, and the last thing Lanius saw was his Fledglings hopping over to his side to watch over as he drifted to sleep.

<<<

“Hey, Lan.”

The 13-year-old boy looked up just as he was about to stab a fish out of the water. He watched as his father Hirun, a Caelondian man in his late 40s, walked over to him with something in his hands. Lanius rushed over to him as Hirun knelt down, showing a small purple Pincushion. It was still growing, about a few weeks old based on the grey spikes that barely grew from within.

“You can tame a Pincushion, y’know?” Hirun said. Lanius looked up at him in confusion.

“Th’ only taming I can do is by killin’ it, Pa,” Lanius huffed, remembering the time that he fell into a grey Pincushion and had to have his mother take the small pins out of him for hours.

Hirun laughed, “You can tame anything from th’ Wilds if you get it to trust you.”

His father instructed him to put his palms out. Lanius held his breath as the Pincushion was put into his palm. He fully expected to be pricked, but instead was disoriented by the soft, pillow-like texture of the plant. Hirun laughed at his expression, watching as his son’s confused face turned to one of excitement as the boy poked at the baby Pincushion.

“Pincushions are just plant pillows without their spikes,” Hirun explained.

“Even th’ growing spikes are duller than a used-up pike.”

Lanius tested it, and it was true; the greyish spikes were dull, almost bendable, but decided against hurting the growing plant. Pulling one spike from a Pincushion caused it to bleed, as its internal makeup only allowed for the spikes to be released by their own pressure. Plus, a Pincushion’s blood was toxic, and Lanius didn’t want to deal with that at the moment.

“I knew a man who got Pincushions to shoot by command,” Hirun said, motioning for his son to follow him back to the campsite. Lanius placed the baby Pincushion on one hand while he carried his pike in the other, trailing behind Hirun as they walked back to their camp.

“How’d he do it? Lanius asked, still poking at the Pincushion. The spikes protruded slightly whenever it was poked, but not enough to be shot out.

“He grew his own,” Hirun laughed fondly.

“Th’ man was crazy, but no one could get past his barrier once all those little spikes had grown. It was as if Hense smiled down on that man to have th’ Pincushions under his command.”

“Do you think I can tame one?”

Hirun didn’t turn back, but Lanius could hear the smile in his father’s voice.

“You got a big heart, and an even bigger bite, son,” he said.

“I know you can tame th’ Wilds better than your mother and I have.”

Lanius beamed, looking back to the baby Pincushion on his hand as they continued walking back.

They had set up camp in a clearing a few meters away from a lake. As they got closer, the faint sound of strumming filled the air. Lanius’s mother Lusci, an Ura woman also in her late-30s, was playing her lute with her eyes fixed on the instrument. The fire that she sat by had a small metal cauldron hanging above it and a spicy fragrance wafed from it. Hirun walked over to the cauldron to give it a quick stir, a small sip, and a few spices from his pack. Lanius skipped over to his mother who gave him a smile but still continued to play a slow and graceful tune.

“A new friend, hm?” she asked. Lanius presented it to her, and with a giggle Lusci poked at it gently before telling him to put it down.

“If you press right in the middle, all the spikes will come out, but won’t fire. Think of it like a button for a trap.”

The boy did as she said. After putting the plant on the mat they sat on, he pressed the top of the Pincushion. The rounded thorns of the Pincushions protruded out like a trap. Lanius clapped in delight, eyes with excitement as the Pincushion’s spikes retracted after sensing no danger.

Hirun sat beside Lusci, giving her a quick peck on the lips. Lanius stuck his tongue out at them in playful disgust at their display of affection but gave into a family hug. When the son pulled himself away, he got a good look at both of his parents. Being frontliners of the war made them look older than they were, but both were still young and curious at heart. Lanius had the Caelondian complexion, but had his father’s platinum hair with streaks of black from his mother. This look didn’t help with fitting in. All the other children his age would spread rumors about him and his family, all of which fell into deaf ears because of his parents’ positions in the army. He didn’t see the need to fit in with the rest though—was more than happy with his family who, even as a Brusher and a Trapper, always made time to spend together.

“Lanius?”

He snapped out of his thoughts with a blink, and Lanius realized he was crying.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Lusci said worriedly. The boy wiped his tears, laughing weakly as he tackled his mother into a hug. His father patted Lanius’s back comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Ma...” he choked out.

“…I’m just really happy.”

“And we’re happy too,” Hirun said, ruffling his hair. Lanius whined about his hair, to which his mother swatted her husband’s hand away to “protect” her son from his grubby hands.

They laughed in the end, the night filling with their voices as they passed their time with a hearty soup and cheerful music. Hirun played his guitar, Lusci played her flute, and Lanius played his panpipe; the mix of strings and winds collectively merged into the calls and sounds of the Wilds around them.

It was midnight by the time Lanius was tucked into bed by his mother as Hirun was outside putting out the fire. Lusci kissed her son’s forehead with a goodnight, but before she could leave he was called back.

“Ma… could ya tell me more about th’ Gods?”

Lusci paused for a moment before shaking her head with a smile. She sat cross legged beside her son, the only lightsource in the tent being an oil lamp on the corner of the tent.

“I’ll tell you about Olak, the God of Chance and Whim,” she started, resting her chin on her palm as Lanius listened.

“He was called ‘The Carefree Son’, kinda like you, don’cha think?”

“Maybe,” Lanius yawned.

“When he saw an opportunity, he took it without a second thought. If you were in a situation that needed a good outcome, he was the one to turn to. Only the ones with fearless, wild hearts were blessed with the luck of the young god. Wherever the wind blew, Olak followed with it.”

“Is that why th’ pinwheel is his symbol?”

“That’s what my father told me, but a couple of other folks may tell you otherwise.”

Lanius rubbed his eyes, feeling the drowsiness kick in, “I wanna follow th’ wind wherever it goes, Ma.”

By this time, Hirun quietly entered the tent. Before he could speak Lusci held a finger to her lips before pointing a thumb to their sleepy son. He smiled before going over to the side of the tent to fix their bedrolls.

“You wanna follow the wind?” Lanius’s mother said amusedly.

“How’re you gonna do that, son?”

“Dunno. I’ll just fly and let th’ wind take to wherever it thinks is best.”

“And what if it ain’t pretty?”

“Just ‘cause it ain’t pretty doesn’t mean we can’t get somethin’ outta it.”

There’s another big yawn, and Lanius snuggled into his bedroll.

“I’ll… I’ll make th’ most outta it. ”

Lusci watched as his son’s eyes closed, and she smiled to herself as he fell asleep.

“That’s my boy,” she giggled, getting up and walking to her bedroll to rest for the night as well.

>>>

The morning came harsher than expected. Lanius was awoken with the loud screeches of Peckers, and his instincts got him reaching for his weapons before he realized both Thorn and Thistle were gone from his side. The sun was barely peeking out of the horizon as he kicked himself off the floor and out of the distillery. From there, he saw his two Fledglings fighting off a figure with a… Cael Hammer?

Lanius doesn’t have time to take it in as Thorn was hit with the brunt force of the hammer. Panic coursed through his veins as he ran over to the bird in a dash. The attacker paused, not expecting another human in the Wilds as he watched Lanius crouch down and cradle the Fledgling protectively, carbine out and loaded.

He had the gun pointed with only a few feet of distance between the boy and the barrel. Lanius gave a shrill whistle, to which Thistle followed by whizzing over to sit on the man’s shoulder. The purple-crowned Fledgling cawed menacingly at the boy. With a standstill, Lanius had time to get a good look at the attacker.

It didn’t take a genius to see that the boy was a Caelondian. With white hair and tanned skin, the built figure, numerous scars, and worn-down armor was enough to tell Lanius that the kid could put up a serious fight. He had a firm grip on his hammer, and it looked like he wasn’t going to put it down anytime soon.

“I’ll drop my gun if ya put down th’ hammer,” Lanius suggested, lowering his carbine. There was hesitation, but the boy’s hammer was lowered from a readied attack. Lanius cussed in Ura, looking down at Thorn who was chirping weakly at the man.

“You pack quite a hit with that thing, huh,” Lanius muttered, carrying Thorn in his arms as Thistle chirped worriedly. The boy didn’t reply; he didn’t look like the talking type. He also looked worse for wear, with his clothes and bandages cut in several places as caused by his Fledglings. With a sigh, he gestured to the distillery.

“Come in. I’ll treat you to some tonics to get you patched up.”

Lanius didn’t wait for the stranger to answer. He headed straight for the bar and behind it, opening some of the shelves to reveal supplies and drinks. Thistle landed on the bar table as the stranger took a seat, and began to peck at the boy in anger for attacking her brother. Lanius silenced her with a quick whistle, and the Fledgling deflated in defeat.

“Here,” he said, passing over a shot of Bastion Bourbon and a full Health Tonic.

“I made ‘em myself,” he explained, putting Thorn down on the table. Thistle immediately hopped over to her brother, pressing her head against him in worry.

“They got more of a kick than what most distilleries have, and I assume you can taste th’ difference. You look like you take tonics on a daily basis.”

When Lanius collected a few medicines for his bird, he turned back to the stranger to see him examining the bottles with uncertainty. He couldn’t blame him honestly, maybe the boy thought he would get poisoned from them.

“C’mon now, I don’t spike my drinks with anythin’,” Lanius pouted, walking over to where he laid Thorn to work on the bird’s wounds. The stranger was still cautious, and Lanius chuckled to himself before pouring a shot of bourbon from the same bottle.

“Cheers.”

A moment passed, but the boy picked up his shot and clinked it against the man’s glass. They both downed it quickly. He isn’t one for drinks so early in the morning, but you couldn’t go wrong with Bastion Bourbon. The distiller watched as the boy popped open the tonic and drank half of it in one go. Lanius could figure out a person by the way they drank, and this one was clearly a fighter with nothing to lose.

“Th’ name’s Lanius,” he started as he began checking over Thorn’s wounds. Other than some missing feathers, nothing was broken.

“Yours?”

The stranger told him to call him Kid. It probably wasn’t his real name, but it would have to do.

“What brings you this side of the Wilds?”

He shrugged and gestured to Lanius as a way to deflect the question.

“I live here,” he stated as a matter-of-fact. Lanius paused as Thorn started to thrash in pain at the salve on an open wound. He heard a quiet sorry coming from the Kid, to which he waved his free hand to dismiss him.

“I don’t blame ya for attacking them, I would’ve done the same if they were wild Peckers,” Lanius said.

Once the salve was applied and wrapped over, Thorn pushed himself out of his prone position before jumping down to the floor. He chirped for his sister, and Thistle hopped down in suit as the both of them began to play with one another. Lanius glanced over to the Kid. He had an expression of curiosity.

“Purple one’s Thistle, the orange one is Thorn,” Lanius said, resting his chin on his palm as they watched the birds play.

“I rescued them just before an Anklegator could get to the abandoned nest. The mother left them there to die after seeing a big threat.”

The Kid grunted in affirmation.

Lanius took it as a sign of warming up.

“Sorry to be a bit forward with you, but are there other survivors?”

The Kid turned to him and nodded. Lanius thought he would be ecstatic about more people who were alive, but why did he just feel pain?

“How many people reached the Bastion?”

Four fingers. Lanius assumed the Kid was a part of that four.

“Are two of those survivors... a couple? About 50 years old by now, a Cael and an Ura?”

The answer was a no, and Lanius slouched unto the table. He knew it was too good to be true if his parents had reached the Bastion. On the day of the Calamity, they were gone without a trace. If they had to fight something or someone they wouldn’t go down without bloodshed, and if they turned into stone then he would’ve found their statues (or ashes) by now. Lanius held his hair in frustration at the thought, before something was pressed against his arm.

Lanius looked up to see the Kid pushing a City Crest to him. His eyes widened, and memories of his time in Caelondia flooded back to him. He picked up the cog carefully, examining it. It was a genuine Caelondian City Crest, and despite being worn down the Kid definitely held it in high regard.

“What’d you do to get this?” Lanius asked.

The Kid took a swig of the Health Tonic before answering it was earned from two shifts on the Rippling Walls.

Immediately, Lanius slammed his free hand on the bar (he was conscious enough to not slam on the crest). The impact wasn’t enough to topple anything, but it was enough to shock the Kid. Thistle and Thorn squawked in surprise, their feathers ruffled by the way their keeper raised his voice.

“So you’re th’ one who took two terms!” Lanius gasped. The Kid simply blinked at him.

“By Pyth—that’s insane! Why?”

The Kid’s eyes looked down to his glass. He doesn’t say anything, but it was clear it was a sore subject.

“I... I apologize,” he apologized quietly, feeling a familiar sting in his chest at the thought of it.

The Kid shrugged, not to brush it off completely but to assure Lanius.

He picked up his empty shot glass and gestured it towards the distiller. He commended Lanius’s craftsmanship in his spirits.

Lanius chuckled, “I was trained by th’ best.”

Wherever the “best” was anyway. Lanius didn’t know where Griffin, the old man who ran the distillery he worked in, ended up in. If he ended up in ashes, they were probably blown unto the oblivion caused by the Calamity. If he was alive, then chances were slim for a man of his age and physicality to reach the Bastion. Griffin would’ve probably been in his 60s if he was still kicking.

He stood up straight before going over to the shelves. The distiller opened a cabinet to reveal a selection of several spirits, and even some that the Kid didn’t recognize.

“Anything that catches your fancy?” he asked.

The Kid asked for the best. Lanius caught a small crack of a smile, and in his mind he wondered if they both of them would’ve gotten along back in the days before the Calamity. They seemed more similar then one would think.

“I make a great Stabsinthe. Only with th’ meanest Stabweeds around.”

He took a half-full bottle from the shelf and placed it on the table. Unlike the usual bottles that were given in most distilleries, the neck of the lid was colored pink that faded into green and then black. Lanius popped the bottle open and poured its contents into both of their glasses, showing a transparent lime liquid with a strong floral and citrus scent.

“Im’ma let you in on a secret,” Lanius said as he finished pouring. The Kid tilted his head at him.

“Most distillers just take th’ thorns, which is understandable, that's how everyone makes ‘em… but what they don’t know is that th’ rest of th’ plant brings it all together.”

Lanius took his glass and swirled it in his hand. The Kid followed.

“If you look real close, the drink’s got some pink sparkle within all that green. That’s thanks to Stabweed flowers--in the base of the lil’ thing contains some nectar, which most distilleries end up selling to flower shops and the like. Have at it, but be careful,”

Their glasses clinked.

“It’s sharp.”

They downed their drinks. Lanius finished with a content sigh, feeling the slight burn of alcohol and citrus fade into a sweet drink. He watched as the Kid took a moment to settle, and the only response he got from the silent stranger was a strong huff. Lanius laughed as he let the Kid spit some small thorns off to the side. The man does the same, turning away as he spat the thorns to the floor.

“Probably hadn’t had a drink that good before, huh?” Lanius chuckled.

Before the Kid could answer, he’s cut off by Thorn and Thistle who land on his shoulders. Both birds were curious about a newcomer who kept their keeper in a good mood. The Kid shuffled through a side pouch on his bet before taking out a couple of seeds. Both Fledglings immediately puffed their feathers as they jumped on the table, excitedly waiting for a snack. Lanius watched quietly as the stranger and his birds played around.

The Kid was younger than him definitely, possibly by a decade. His white hair probably didn’t do him any favors, just as Lanius’s blonde and black hair did. His eyes are strong and determined, but hold deep scars and sadness from the Calamity. Whatever made him take two shifts on the Rippling Walls, travel as far into the Wilds as he is now, and open up to a stranger like Lanius was beyond him. The Kid’s probably seen a lot more than Lanius, and that was saying a lot. At least his birds liked him; the instincts of an animal were better than a human, and if they didn’t see him as a threat anymore then that was a good sign.

Once the birds were satisfied, they wandered off to play again. Lanius went to pour another shot of Stabinsthe for the both of them, but stopped short of the Kid’s glass when he placed his hand over it. The distiller looked at him puzzled.

The Kid shook his head and asked if Lanius wanted to return to the Bastion with him.

“I never considered the Bastion to be true,” Lanius answered, capping the bottle.

“I assumed that it fell along with th’ rest of Caelondia.”

The Kid thought the same thing, but now it was airborne, with three other survivors with space to spare for more. Lanius thought the airborne part was a joke, but the Kid didn’t look like the type to joke around on matters such as this. He asked once more if Lanius wanted to join them.

“Not sure ‘bout that, Kid,” Lanius said honestly.

“I’ve been livin’ off the Wilds ever since the start of the Calamity. Call me crazy, but it’s a home.”

Lanius was questioned on whether or not he wanted to explore more than just the Wilds. The man considered it for a moment.

“I’ve always wanted to fly, I guess... past th’ winds of the Skyway.”

The Kid offered the chance at flight then. He didn’t need to stay if he didn’t want to, but his chances at surviving at the rate of the Calamity was slimmer if he stayed on falling ground. Lanius commended the Kid for being rather convincing, and the reply was a shrug.

Lanius sighed, walking over to the side of the bar to pick up some things.

“Thorn. Thistle.”

Both birds perked up at the call. They flew over the counter on either side of the Kid and waited patiently as Lanius placed two small satchels. The bags seemed to be modified so as to not deter their flight.

“We’re moving out again.”

They chirped affirmatively.

“But not to the Wilds.”

Thorn was silent, and Thistle chirped in protest. They immediately turned to the Kid, who raised both his hands in defense. Lanius chuckled to himself, lugging a pack over his shoulder with his pike and carbine with him. The Kid asked what he would do with all of his drinks, and Lanius glanced to the shelf.

“Might as well leave these here for any passin’ soul,” he said, checking inventory. There were about one of each drink, and a couple of tonics. It wasn’t a problem; Lanius always left the extra he made. Maybe the Kid had put them to good use when he traveled the Wilds.

“You better have a Distillery back at th’ Bastion, or I’m leavin’.”

The Kid nodded.

From there, they headed out. Lanius directed the Kid to the safest and fastest path to a Skyway, in which he thanked him for. As a Trigger he stayed behind the Kid with his hammer, with one bird flying just to their left and right. It was somewhat nostalgic, to go through the Wilds with someone—it reminded him of his days before the Calamity. Lanius looked back at the distillery he was leaving behind; the one home he had after everything went down, and he was now moving off to somewhere permanent.

Just as they reached the Skyway, the Kid pointed up. There, Lanius gaped at the looming shape of an airborne Bastion. From atop, he could see three figures waving down at them. They were too far to be recognizable, but their friendly gesture was enough to bring a smile.

Lanius watched as the Kid took off, carried off by the winds and up to the Bastion. His fledglings followed after without question. Lanius stood just a step away. The breeze blew over him, its whispers speaking to him. One side of it telling him to turn back to the Wilds, and the other beckoning a new wind.

The wild bird has had a few old nests in the past, but he figured it was about time to settle for something new. Lanius imagined that the God of Chance and Whim was smiling down at him at this very moment, and who was he to defy Olak’s blessing in the form of a chance?

He was always one to follow the winds, and with a smile he did.

#bastion (game)#supergiant games #the kid #bastion oc #writing #i wasn't gonna post this at first #but then i went: fuck it #cuz i already posted art of lanius anyway #i honestly wanna write ALL ABOUT THE WILDS #i have so many headcanons for everything in it #i also didn't expect the word count to reach 4k..... writing this was kinda fast ngl #oc: inks on tealeaf #writing: inks on tealeaf

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stregacorvina · 4 years

Text

Midnight Queen <3

Welcome back! A little change of plans again as you can see, I didn’t finish all the stuff to upload the She-ra Part 2 entry today so I had to switch with the entry already planned for Tuesday (luckly I have already finish that) (Also I put the English on top because almost all the italians can read English but a few can read Italian so... XD)

The set I present you today is the Midnight Queen! (That you can find in my Etsy shop as usual)

I really like this set, I hope to do it again in other colors too, I didn’t have the goth wig and the boots when I did it unfortunately so she’s barefoot XD

As almost every bjd’s dress, this one also is born after some scraps from previous projects, this time the starting point was a “almost-circle skirt” (asymettric as it’s shorter in the front) in light purple satin. (coming from I do not know what circle skirt for human XD)

This set is not born after a project but I made it as I went on, it gave life to a new pattern for the bodice and I used it a lot for other collections... You can find this pattern in my Etsy Shop as well as the whole set. I drafted the pattern directly on my 54 cm doll shown in the pictures, that’s why it suits only this doll and not the other two as they have bigger breast (but the pattern is available in any size)

First of all I made a tiny tiny rolled hem on the purple skirt making it very wavy, then I started to think how to coordinate this fabric. I decidet to match purple and black, one of my favourite combinations, so I made another circle skirt from heavy black satin (even this one is a scap from somthing else, that’s why it is shorter than the doll and has the center front seam)

I want to add some movement in the top part of the bodice that’s why I made the new pattern: starting from the sheath dress base I separated the top part of the bodice creating two “cups”. On the front I dediced to add some volume to make a gathered cup, I left the back as it was because it will be covered with hair for the most part. I still had some purple satin to do the lower part of the bodice so I made the cups in black and the bodice in purple, I am “almost” happy with the results, as i should have make the bodice shorter, I am not really satisfied with the lenght actually...

The dress was completed but it still was missing something...decorations! I went through my decorations stash and find a cute trim made with pleated organdy, the color was perfect! I use it on the underbust and low-waist seams, as well as to make some cute accessories with black satin ribbon: a chocker and two cuffs!

(I don’t know why I didn’t use elastic bands intead of three tiny tiny snaps buttons!)

The skirt needed some decorations too! So I came back to my stash and find a medium-high black polyester lace I bought from Aliexpress some time ago (I never use it because looks to cheap to me, but I bought 5 meters for 1€...so it was ok!) I gathered it with the gathering foot of my sewing machine (since I discovered it I can’t live without!) and sewn it on the hem of the black skirt.

I really like this “improvised” project, I have to say that even without all my planning in advance it turns out very balanced and cohesive!

I will leave you with some of the (disastrous) shoots I made for this set before I realize that I really needed a stand to take good pictures!

Attempt nr 1: Couch (I needed to cut away almost half of the background every time, also I didn’t like how the doll sits...so, nope!)

Attempt nr. 2: Chair (Almost acceptable, best for smaller dolls/clothes or else tons of background editing again...)

At the end I decided to shoot helding the doll against a plain wall and I used this method for almost all the pictures. I will definitely need my boyfriend to hold the doll for me (because I cannot shot with one hand XD) so I just need to photoshop his arm out of the picture.

I hope you like her! See you on Tuesday with She-ra Part 2 (I still need to finish accessories!!) and then again Thursday with the entry about a new collection (well, this time is more about some “accessories”)

Chiara (StregaCorvina)

Bentornati! Piccolo cambio di programma di nuovo, come potete vedere XD Non sono riuscita a finire tutto quello che dovevo fare per mettere on line la seconda parte del post su She-ra perciò... per fortuna avevo già programmato il nuovo set del Martedi perciò ho invertito questo con She-ra. (E inoltre ho deciso di spostare l’italiano in basso perchè alla fine anche gli italiani sanno l’inglese, mentre ben pochi stranieri sanno l’italiano XD)

Il set che vi presento oggi è quello che ho chiamato Midnight Queen! (Che come sempre trovate in vendita nel mio negozio Etsy)

Mi piace davvero tanto questo set, spero di riuscire a farlo di nuovo in altri colori prima o poi. Purtroppo non avevo ancora la parrucca più gotica e gli stivaloni alti quando ho fatto le foto perciò alla fine l’ho lasciata scalza XD

Come la maggior parte degli abiti per le bambole, anche questo nasce da avanzi di stoffe o da recuperi vari, in questo caso l’origine dell’abito è stata la “sopragonna” di raso leggero viola, avanzo di non so bene quale gonna a ruota XD (in realtà è più una ruota asimmetrica visto che davanti è molto corta...)

Questo abito non è partito da un vero e proprio progetto ma è stato creato man mano, e anche in questo caso ha portato alla realizzazione di un nuovo cartamodello che poi ho usato per tantissimi abiti successivi... Potete trovare anche il cartamodello nel mio negozio su Etsy. L’ho modellato direttamente sulla bambola da 54 cm che vedete in foto per questo motivo è leggermente più piccolo della base standard e puo essere usato solo per la bambola più piccola delle tre che ha meno seno.

Per prima cosa ho bordato con un orlino stretto stretto la sopragonna viola creando un bell’effetto ondulato, poi ho pensato a come poterla sfruttare a pieno. Per far risaltare il viola ho quasi subito deciso di abbinarle il nero e perciò ho realizzato un’altra gonna a ruota con un avanzo di raso nero (anche questa volta il pezzo non era grandissimo, ecco perchè non arriva fino ai piedi ma si ferma prima)

Poi volevo creare un po di movimento nella parte alta e sfruttare entrambi i tessuti perciò ho creato da zero il top partendo da una base a tubino e separando la parte sopra delle coppe. Ho fatto un taglio sotto il seno e ho deciso di svasare un po la parte davanti in modo da creare una coppa arricciata, mentre ho lasciato liscio il dietro, tanto la maggior parte delle bambole hanno i capelli lunghi e non si sarebbe notato troppo XD Per fortuna avevo ancora abbastanza raso viola per creare il resto del corpino dell’abito e cosi ho usato la parte sotto della base appena tagliata...anche se per il futuro ho deciso di farla leggermente più corta perchè non sono soddisfata all 100% dell’altezza della vita.

La base dell’abito era completa ma mancava ancora qualcosa...perciò sono andata a vedere nel mio sacchetto delle decorazioni e ho trovato questa passamaneria di organza plissettata che era assolutamente perfetta! L’ho usata subito per sottolineare il taglio sottoseno e sulla vita bassa e poi visto che me ne era rimasta ancora un pochina usando un nastro di raso nero basso ho creato anche gli accessori: un collarino e due polsini/braccialetti.

(Non so perchè non mi è venuto in mente di montarli su un elastico invece di cucire tre minuscoli automatici neri sul resto del nastro XD)

Anche la gonna però aveva bisogno di un pò di decorazioni, perciò sempre dal mio sacchetto delle decorazioni ho tirato fuori un pizzo nero medio/alto che avevo comprato su Aliexpress tantissimo tempo prima e non avevo mai utilizzato (perche mi sembrava un po troppo sintetico, ma del resto ho pagato tipo 1€ per 5 metri!). L’ho arricciato con l’apposito piedino per la macchina da cucire (da quando ho iniziato ad usarlo non riesco più a farne a meno!!) e l’ho applicato sull’orlo a ruota della gonna.

Mi piace tantissimo questo progetto “improvvisato”, devo dire che nonostante non avessi pianificato in anticipo i materiali e le decorazini da usare come faccio di solito, è venuto fuori un risultato molto armonioso e coeso!

Vi lascio qualche foto del primo (fallimentare) “servizio fotografico” che ho fatto per questo set, che mi ha fatto realizzare definitivamente di avere bisogno di un piedistallo XD

Tentativo fallimentare 1: Divano (avrei dovuto scontornare ogni volta tutta la parte alta e quando la mettevo seduta era troppo all’indietro, perciò...location bocciata!)

Tentativo (semi) fallimentare 2: Sedia (anche qui avrei dovuto scontornare parecchio ogni volta ma magari per abiti più piccoli può andare bene...)

Alla fine ho fatto un paio di prove tendendola dritta con il muro bianco di sfondo e ho optato per questa soluzione per tutte le foto future (facendo tenere la bambola al mio ragazzo per poter scattare in più libertà)

Spero vi piaccia! Ci vediamo Martedi con la Parte 2 di She-ra e poi Giovedi per il solito post sulla genesi di una nuova collezione! (anche se questa settimana più che una collezione si tratta di “complementi”)

Alla prossima

Chiara (StregaCorvina)

#bjd #bjddoll #bjdclothes #gothicbjd #midnightqueen #midnightqueenbjd #custombjd #bjdset #bjddress #handmade #handmadebjdclothes #sewing #seamstress #handmadesewing #handmadeclothing #stregacorvina

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serpienten · 5 years

Text

something sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky can’t stop thinking about the cute nurse in the Tower. She, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be that into him.

Warning: reader being under a lot of pressure, some language perhaps

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Well, fuck me this is long. I’m actually scared it’s gonna be boring but I genuinely hope it’s not. Some of this dialog was pretty therapeutic for me to write actually so this fic is a tad close to ma black empty heart. This was for @sgtjbuccky ‘s End of Year writing challenge and I hope I’ve done the prompt justice, Salina. Thank’s for letting me participate :D Please leave some feedback if you like what you read!

* italicized parts are flashbacks

“You’re a punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one out here whining like a baby, maybe you should shut up.”

“Do you need reminding why I’m ‘whining like a baby’? I didn’t shoot myself, that’s for sure.”

Steve rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I had it under control. No need for you to play the hero.”

“Yeah, right.” Buchy scoffs. The movement makes the wound on his bicep - no, correction, it makes his whole damn body sting like a bitch. He winces slightly and a groan rumbles up his throat. “It sure didn’t look like it. Forgive me for trying to save your life.”

"I don't need you to save my life."

“Don’t play the hero, Steve.”

“I’m serious. Thank you, but no thank you."

Bucky sighs. Bruises, black and purple blotches, scrapes and gashes litter his body and if he weren’t in so much pain, and under the influence of the strongest, most useless painkillers in Bruce’s possession, he’d deck his stubborn as fuck friend in the face. The only thing giving the brunette some sort of satisfaction is that Steve doesn’t look much better than him. Just with one bullethole less.

Bucky doesn’t mind being injured.

In a twisted kind of way, every hit he takes in the field frees him more than it weighs him down. He takes every cut, each drop of blood, every twinge of pain, the ripped skin and the scars and he tries to get better because, at this point, it’s all he can do.

But that still doesn’t mean he opens his arms like Jesus and welcomes rains of bullets or a storm of flying knives to hit him full force. He doesn’t have a death wish. Anymore, at least.

But this time, this injury, is Steve’s fault. And Bucky’d rather die than not take the chance of annoying the righteous, golden boy, I’m-the-standard-come-try-getting-on-my-level Captain America.

“Aren’t you at all worried about me? I could be dying. I could be dying and it would be your fault.”

“You can call it payback for Coney Island if you want.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky huffs indignantly, “It’s been seventy fucking years. I lost an arm and am about to lose my life, I think that’s enough.”

“Of course I’m kidding.” With a sigh that revealed nothing but exhausted irritatioin, Steve fell down next to him on the bed. “Stop being such a diva about it, you’ve been through worse.”

“You li-”

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Bucky’s head whips to the side and instantly, he grimaces again. Eyes flying shut, he gently re-adjusts the ice pack on his right thigh. He hears footsteps coming closer and his posture straightens a little.

“You two look like you got hit by a plane.”

He opens his eyes to see a woman wearing a white, light coat looking down at a clipboard in her hands. A lovely shade of lipstick colors her lips, which are curled up in a teasing smile, in a beautiful tint of rose. The woman’s eyes flicker over what’s in front of her quickly and even the stupidest person in the universe could tell that she seemed to be more than just an expert in her field. Her legs are spread slightly in a confident, stable stance, soft locks of hair framing her face which - Jesus Mary and Joseph - gives him a whole new reason to feel weak in the knees.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve lifts his hand and gives her a little wave, as much as the gash on his forearm allows.

The woman, Y/N, looks up from the clipboard and grins. Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest. “’Sup Steve.”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Bucky looks to his side and furrows his brows at the lopsided grin on his blond friend’s face. How on earth does Steve know her and Bucky doesn’t? He gets injured tons of times more often than the man jumping out of airplanes without a parachute (a fact that, in retrospect, should definitely worry him more) and he’s never met her. Bucky’s eyes narrow and the mechanics in his left arm whir slightly as he clenches his fingers to a fist.

“Sergeant?”

“What?”

They’re both looking at him now, with equally anticipating expressions. Y/N must’ve said something because she re-adjusts to clutch the clipboard to her chest and clears her throat.

“I was asking if you’ve obtained any other serious injuries aside from the bullet wound on your bicep. I’ve seen a few cuts and scrapes, do you need me to take care of them right now or do you want to wait for Doctor Cho?”

“You- You want to look at my wounds?”

“Oh, uh, is there an issue?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised as she looks at him, taken aback.

“Wha- oh, no that’s not- I didn’t mean it to sound like that. There’s no issue. I...” he quickly explains, yet again reminded of his injuries when pain shoots through the backs of his thighs as he hastily scoots forward a little.

Y/N’s confused frown morphs back into genuine concern when he flinches. Something inside Bucky cramped painfully at the urge to make that expression disappear. She of all people, someone as breathtaking as her, shouldn’t be concerned about someone like him.

And then, she takes a step closer.

Bucky’s eyes widen. Simultaneously, he leans back. She notices it instantly and stops in her tracks, a helplessly puzzled expression on her face. “Don’t you want me to take a look?”

His breath hitches in his throat imperceptibly at her proximity. Bucky’s quick to realize that having her touch him when he’s already making a fool of himself without her hands on him wouldn’t be the best idea. He feels his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he shakes his head slowly.

“No, no it’s fine. I’m fine. Peachy. Perfect.” Internally, Bucky cringes hard.

Get your shit together, fuck’s sake.

The image of that white, fluffy cat thingy spreading its arms in a ‘What the fuck are you doing’ kind of way flashes through his mind and for a split second he clenches his jaw.

Steve next to him almost successfully stifles a laugh.

Y/N takes a quick step back and nods. “Okay, I’ll... I’ll tell Helen to hurry.”

She shoots Steve a look of complete and utter confusion, who in return replicates the exact pose of that damned cat Bucky’d just been thinking about, before turning around and leaving the room.

Bucky sharply lets out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in the first place, deflating like a balloon filled with too much air. “Oh my god...” he mutters under his breath, over and over again, voice tainted with disbelief.

“What on earth was that?” Steve regards his friend with raised eyebrows. Bucky’s slumps forward, the ice-pack scrunching weakly, wedged between his abdomen and his upper legs, and both of his hands, one silvery metal and the other tanned flesh obscuring the view of his face.

“That was me being you.” His reply is muffled, just like the low whine he lets out right after.

Bucky’s eyes are focused on the long glass wall separating the kitchen from the living room. It’s only Steve and him sitting on one of the grey, soft couches, the former flipping through a book, glasses perched on his nose.

The blond glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Quit it, will you?”

“Quit what?”

“You know what I mean. Quit it. It’s creepy.” Steve focuses his attention back to the black ink on the book’s pages.

“Fuck you, you’re creepy.”

His friend lets out a breath. “She’s not interested. Quit it.”

“Maybe you should change the record, I think it’s broken,” Bucky says dryly, flopping down on his back, flinging one leg over the backrest of the couch. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the glass wall, or rather, what’s behind it.

Steve doesn’t deign to look at him. Instead, he simply pushes the glasses, as useless and unnecessary they may be, up his nose and continues reading.

Some of the team members are sitting around the dining table, chattering and laughing faintly. There’s Natalia. Wanda, Sam, Tony. And Y/N.

To Bucky’s chagrin, Steve had told Sam about what had happened that day he first saw her. Ever since then, there isn’t a day Bucky doesn’t see Y/N around somewhere.

And it’s torture.

He can’t seem to be in the same room as her without embarrassing the fuck out of himself and quite frankly, it’s annoying. Steve’s and Sam’s giggles in the background don’t help at all. He constantly fumbles for words, acts insanely clumsy and, according to Tony, looks at her ‘with hearts flying out of his stupid eyes’. In his defense, he can’t exactly help it though. Her presence is addicting. She’s smart, makes him laugh (which isn’t an easy feat to achieve), smells like heaven and has a smile and laugh that threaten to make his knees buckle over every single time.

Bucky’s so into her, Steve’s started to call Wednesdays ‘Whinedays’ because Bucky has been using the blond’s free day to his whiny advantage.

Of course, all of this would be a hell of a lot easier if she were into him too.

The only issue: She isn’t.

At least that’s what he thinks.

Y/N never fails to amaze and confuse the crap out of him. She flirts with him and shoots him down the second it looks like he might make a move. She touches him sometimes, gentle brushes of knuckles against knuckles or a soft squeeze to his bicep, but as soon as he steps a little closer, she’s jumps back like he just attempted to slap her. It sort of puts a damper on the rapid beating of his heart.

Bucky heaves out a sigh and closes his eyes, raising his hands to rub them over his face.

”Are you coming tonight?”

“To Tony’s rooftop soiree? No, thank you.” Bucky tilts his head to look at his friend.

“You might enjoy yourself. Once in a while, you really should show up.” Steve says it so nonchalantly and so smoothly Bucky has to furrow his brows. Ever since the brunet had joined the team, he’d been largely given the control over when and where he wanted to go. It was a well-known fact that the former Winter Soldier disliked parties for many reasons and most people had accepted that not ten horses could drag him near big crowds. And Stark’s parties were infamous for their loudness and for being on a whole other level of anxiety-inducing. Almost everyone had accepted his wish to not be forced to attend events like that, except for the Captain.

“No,” Bucky replies, a finality in his voice that would’ve put an end to most conversations. Most.

There’s a pause. Then, Steve pushes out a sigh and puts a colorful, completely scribbled over piece of paper to mark the page in his book, setting it down on the table. He shifts his sitting position so that his whole body is now turned into the direction of his sprawled out friend.

“I know you’re strictly against parties. And I respect that- I do.” Steve says with more urgency when Bucky snorts. “But this time, it’s not that big of a deal. There aren’t many people invited, just some field agents, the team and a few others. It’s a small event. I know you can handle that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Y/N leaving. Sam waves at her just before she exits the room. His mood instantly darkens a little. With one smooth movement, both of Bucky’s feet are planted on the ground and he sits in an upright position. “Quit it, Steve. I’m not interested.”

“Go out with me. Just once. One time‘s all. Whaddaya say, doll?”

“Bucky, I...”

Serenity settles in the tower the second the little party on the rooftop starts.

It’s how Bucky likes it.

Calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

All the commotion he dislikes with a passion is safely up on the roof, far away from the living quarters and anywhere Bucky wants to be at anyways. He likes being by himself. Alone but not so lonely, wandering the seemingly never-ending hallways of the more than large building absentmindedly, until the never-ending hallways end and his absent mind decides whether to go left or right or straight ahead. Bucky’s discovered many things about the tower that way. Empty rooms that might’ve been discarded since the day the structure had been built, storage spaces, rooms with unused training machines and high windows that give a breathtaking view of the city Bucky calls home and also not.

He’s discovered many things on walks like these but, still, he’s nowhere near having discovered everything.

Tonight, he’s somewhere on the seventh floor.

He walks with the shadows dancing around him and tranquility following wherever he goes. Gaze lowered, his footfall is silent as a cat’s. Bucky knows his way around darkness like the back of his hand. After all, it’s where he’s spent most of his life. Out of sight. Surrounded by cold, calculated silence and darkness.

Left. Straightforward. Right. Right. Left.

The only source of light is the low gleaming neon emergency exit sign at the end of the hallway.

Right. Straightforward. Straightforward. Left.

That’s when he hears it.

Bucky stops in his tracks.

Furrowing his brows, he strains his ears, listens into the darkness. There’s nothing at first but then the sound’s back. It’s far away but if there’s one thing Bucky can rely on, it’s his hearing.

The brunet follows the sound, hearing it rise in volume with every step he takes and every corner he rounds. Delicate notes conjoined in a gentle melody wrap around him the closer he gets until they’re all he can hear and all he can feel, and he stands in front of a door that’s slightly ajar. There’s no light peaking through the slight crack.

Who on earth plays a piano without any light?

The melody still floats around his head and curiosity takes the better of him, prompting him to quietly push open the door.

Like countless other rooms in the building, this one has floor to ceiling windows. The city lights illuminate the room eerily and throw long shadows across the floor, but the view is something to die for.

Just like the person Bucky notices in the room next.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can...”

“No, don’t apologize, I shouldn’t even have...”

His breath hitches in his throat when he recognizes her and he’d very much like to hit himself for the stupid, loud gasp that leaves him because it startles her and cuts of the beautiful melody. Y/N whirls around and looks at him with wide eyes while Bucky takes a step forward and raises his hands reassuringly. As soon as she recognizes him, she lets out a deep breath.

“Jesus, Buck, you almost just gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Sorry, doll,” he smiles, sheepishly. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“What was your intention then?” she sounds amused and her heartbeat is still going a little too fast and Bucky’s thankful she doesn’t seem to think he was creeping on her or anything.

“Definitely not scaring you,” he grins and takes a few tentative steps closer to where she sits at the piano. It’s the only thing in the room and for a split second, Bucky makes a mental note to ask Tony if he even knows that this room exists. “Did you walk here in the dark?”

She shakes her head and points at a flashlight lying next to her on the floor.

“Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she says, “Usually, people don’t have an easy time sneaking up on me.”

“Jumpy?”

“Just very attentive. You wouldn’t stand a chance when my guard is up, Barnes.” Y/N looks up at him teasingly when he’s next to her and scoots a little to the side, making space for him on the piano stool. Bucky sits down and the stool creaks precariously under his weight. Y/N giggles softly at the skeptical look on his face. Bucky’s heart shoots to his throat at the sound.

“If it breaks, you’re buying a new one, beefy man.” She snakes her arm through his and pulls him a little closer. It’s a close fit, Bucky’s ass is half on the stool and half off but he can’t and would never want to complain about being so close to her.

“Did you just call me fat?” He feigns offense and feels his heart jump in his chest when she giggles again.

“No no no, you’re all muscle, sweetheart.” She says, a wide grin on her face as she squeezes his bicep teasingly. “I like it.”

“Really.” Bucky looks at her with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided, silly smirk on his face. “Well, aren’t you something sweet.”

On the outside, Bucky’s surprisingly calm. On the inside, however, he’s freaking out. Y/N’s so close and she’s calling him sweetheart and giggling like a literal angel and if Bucky doesn’t get up and run away right now, he’ll probably be stuck on her for all eternity. Not that he’d mind, but his heart can only take so many rejections.

Y/N’s only reply is a soft smile and she rests her head on his shoulder as silence settles once more. Bucky lets his eyes wander over the piano. She’s been playing mere seconds ago but what’s notably missing are the notes.

“How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was a child,” she replies, gently pressing down the keys while she talks. “I used to practice every day but now I only do it once in a while.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m just too busy now. Being a nurse is more stressful than one would think.” She pauses for a moment and Bucky thinks she hesitates before continuing. “It’s not just physically, you know? Mentally, it’s no walk in the park either.”

She’s not looking at him, instead, she’s fixing her gaze on the black and white keys of the piano.

“I think you’re handling it amazingly,” he confesses, looking down at her.

Y/N chances a glance up at him, seemingly searching for something in his eyes. Perhaps she’s looking for a glint that reveals dishonesty, something that signals her that he’s making fun of her for being so weak. When she finds nothing, though, because why would Bucky be dishonest to her of all people, another sigh leaves her.

“Thanks.” Her reply is a faint whisper that he surely would’ve missed if his hearing wasn’t so advanced.

“You know,” he lifts his right hand to touch her arm that is linked with his left, “if you need someone to talk to... I just- I- I’m here if you need anything. I just want you to know that.”

All of a sudden, tears well up in her eyes. It catches Bucky off guard. It was supposed to be sweet but apparently, he’d said something wrong. He’s about to apologize but she cuts him off.

“God, Bucky, I know. I know... Thank you so much.” She buries her face in the crook of his neck and Bucky can feel her tears dripping hotly onto his skin. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t even be crying right now. It’s so stupid.”

Her sniffling and stifled sobs break his heart into millions of pieces. “It’s not stupid, Y/N.” He disentangles his arm from her to wrap it around her shoulders, voice urgent and leaving no room for protest. “It’s natural. Besides, I’m no one to judge, you know that. I’m a mess.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know, Buck. If anyone’s a mess here, it’s me,” she says. “I mean, I feel guilty even being around you sometimes because all I want is to talk to you because I know you’d understand but it’d make me feel so fucking guilty. Unloading all that crap on you that literally sounds like a luxurious vacation compared to what you’ve been through.”

Y/N lifts her head to look at him and Bucky sees the streaks of tears on her cheeks. He can’t help but reach up and cup her face in his flesh palm, softly brushing over the skin of her cheek with his thumb. “Stop. You hear me? What happened in my past is the past. I’m not suffering anymore, thanks to everyone around here. You’re suffering right now. And I’ll be damned if I let my past stand in my way of helping you. Do you understand?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and Bucky feels her leaning into his touch. His heart skips another beat. “You know what else?” he says after a short pause. Y/N hums, opening her eyes to look at him questioningly. “You help me too,” he murmurs. “Just... you. I feel better when you’re around. You help a lot.”

A wet chuckle bubbles up Y/N’s throat and she lets her head fall forward, a wall of hair shielding her beautiful face from his eyes. She wraps her fingers around his right wrist and Bucky swears to all the Gods and the devil down below that he feels her lips pressing to the palm of his hand. “Charmer.”

“Nah, darlin’. Just bein’ honest.”

It’s in another moment of silence they spend in each other’s arms that he realizes something. “Hold on, is that why you said no to going out with me?” he asks tentatively, because it’s such a stupid thing to ask in a situation like this. Y/N’s cheeks blush in an adorable rosy color.

“I’m just not really doing this stuff right now. It’s not you, please believe me.”

Instead of answering, she shrugs in embarrassment. “Maybe.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief. “Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge for thinking I wouldn’t want to listen to you.”

“Can I pick?”

Quickly, he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, before pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

Y/N squeals in surprise at both actions and laughs while wrapping her arms around his torso.

The city lights give the room and eery glow and large shadows wrap around them like a blanket. They’re in a room on the seventh floor in the Avengers Tower while everyone else is up on the roof partying but Bucky’s never been happier than with her in his arms.

And he doesn’t think that’ll change anytime soon.

852 notes · View notes

courage-a-word-of-justice · 4 years

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Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream | Fugou Keiji 2 | Kitsutsuki 2 - 4 | Arte 3 - 12 (FINAL) | Fruits Basket 27 - 32

During the Millionaire Detective: Unmissable livestream (part of FunimationCon and Aniplex Online Fest), I watched and took notes, so you might find these handy upon retrospect. To be honest, this is how I do the posts for magicalgirlsandcerulean’s livestreams as well, but there hasn’t been one of those in a while...

Otherwise, these are all normal notes.

Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream

Look out for the dancer from the OP

Onuki was the model for the dancing for the anime – he was told to do it out of the blue

Episode 11 might have one of these^ be relevant

Daisuke’s cup ramen has shark fin in it and he made the packaging from scratch – that’s why it’s so expensive!

The director Tomohiko Ito omits important information, allowing people to decide for themselves what happened. (Miyano) – This might be why the series is stylish. (MC)

Attractiveness of character design is important! (for adapting Fugou Keiji to modern day)

I’ve never watched a livestream where the stars were so conscious of their English and Chinese audiences! This was interesting, especially because Onuki is not normally known as a VA!

“We still have a little bit of recording to do.”

Fugou Keiji 2

I keep misunderstanding my own instructions…this starts again in July after ep 2.

Todai = Tokyo Daigaku (Uni).

I believe this is the 2nd time I’ve seen a rich person like commoner’s instant noodles, although I forget where I saw the 1stinstance.

Kambe switched to the back seat now, huh?

Ah! Now I remember! The first time was seeing spoilers for this episode on Twitter! (LOL)

I see Suzue has a sensible naming scheme for her data.

Hmm…judging by the Google hits, the name visible in the background (Betbeto bin Abura) is the Arabic prince from last time.

SYN-ACK. I see these guys did their work – that’s the final stage of the 3 stage handshake required for things like internet sockets (used to send “packets” of data).

Way to crash a party, Kambe siblings…(LOL)

I really wanna see someone draw Kato slapping (Daisuke) Kambe in the face with a wad of cash…or a “shut up and take my money” meme with Kambe in it.

I like how “special cup ramen” is on the purchases list and it costs 100000 yen. I also like how the reporter Mita was bought out for 5000000 yen (bigger than all the other individual costs except for buying out the Tower)…that’s how he showed up.

Kitsutsuki 2

I gotta finish this show and then pause it…3 shows in my normal lineup are safe.

Did Kindaichi take the bones of the fish out for Ishikawa…? Like a child would have had done for them?

Why is Ishikawa being referred to as “Hajime”…?

Draw this prostitute like one of your French girls…(LOL?)

Ishikawa clearly dropped those coins into that book earlier.

Way to diss the potential asexuality/celibacy in the house. I mean, it’s the 1800s – early 1900s, so there was less LGBTIQ+ stuff then and certainly the further back you go, the more sexual prowess becomes a sign of masculinity, but still, if the guy doesn’t want to go through with it, don’t force him.

Notice how the borders were pink for Ishikawa’s version and blue for Kindaichi’s.

Notably, Otaki didn’t seem to have that hairpin…but maybe that’s because we saw things from Ishikawa’s perspective.

Ooh…who are these bois? Also, crab.

Kitsutsuki 3

…cat? Now there’s a new perspective. That’s like saying the butler did it.

Yay! Hagiwara is Ume!

Notice Hagiwara’s version has a purple frame, while Yoshii (?) has yellow and another person has dark blue.

I think “consumption” was tuberculosis, once upon a time.

I love how the crowd is fed up with Ishikawa’s bulls***.

Ooh, chuuni Akutagawa…

In a Grove is the Rashomon story.

Tarou Hirai = Rampo Edogawa.

You stalker, future Rampo!

I kinda suspected Otaki when I thought through the possibilities…Ishikawa, Kindaichi, an outsider, Otaki (and as of this ep, Rampo too).

Gaiheikan? Is that Ishikawa and co.’s lodging?

Did they have pencils back in that day?

Kitsutsuki 4

Humouresques.

Kabayaki.

I think it was in Detective Conan that I learnt (one of) the only way(s) a man can get his nails done is by his wife doing it for him, possibly as a prank or to indicate he’s “taken”. Note this was early Detective Conan, so it’s very much a 90s attitude…considering the widespread acceptance of drag queens and the LGBTIQ+ movement these days.

Kozukata.

Lace flower.

Maichou seems to be a hybrid of Asahi Shinbun and Mainichi Shinbun.

[Monkfish/dictionary/going home] - Is this how Ishikawa shows consideration…?

The purple letterrboxing is back but this time with Ishikawa…meaning that’s just an aesthetic thing for all flashbacks after all.

Just from vaguely hearing it (I’ve got the volume on low), the words are nodo tsuki/nodo zuki. “Throat moon/throat wound” works just as well, if not better.

Balsam flower.

Update: Since enough anime fulfilled the special COVID-19 criteria, Kitsutsuki was put on hold after this.

Fruits Basket 2 2 (27)

I’ve read Another, remember?…so I kind of know what happens.

Uo’s got purple nails…that’s surprisingly cute of her.

Aw, Kureno! Another Ume role!

Why is “shisho” (master) not translated…? A weird Tokyopop-era translation quirk?

Aw, Shisho cut his hair…? Bummer.

Who was that? Shigure…?(!) Update: We find out his name later in this ep.

“If you continue to change, I’ll continue to protect you.” – Another quote for the archive.

Great…I feel personally called out by this ep.

Fruits Basket 2 3 (28)

It seems all male designers wear their designs if they have no one else to wear them…at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from Hajime (Runway de Waratte) and Ayame.

I remember Ayame stood in for Yuki’s parents in the manga at one point. This must be it.

(Spoilers for later!) I also remember Mine and Ayame get married at the end…This is the prelude to that.

Dang, Ayame, you moment-ruiner!

Fruits Basket 2 4 (29)

Did anyone in the doorway hear about Hatsuharu turning into an ox?

To quote Sailor Mercury, “Douse yourself in water and repent!”

Ooh, window splitting Yuki and Haru. Nice cinematography going on here.

I bet all people think they only think about themselves, in one way or another.

Arashiyama tofu.

Yatsuhashi are great. They’re these sweet triangle things like samosas that come in various flavours. Mitarashi dango are sticky brown skewered balls of glutinous rice…which I’ve never had, but I’ve seen them in enough anime to know what they are.

I only just realised this, but Yuki’s hairstyle isn’t even on both sides, like Atsushi from BSD’s.

Huh…you can see a copy of Mogeta and Ari (as it turns out, “Ari” is the name of a character and not “ant” at all in this case) on Haru’s bed. There’s also an article in one of the magazines discussing how denim is the popular thing now and which types are in right now.

Fruits Basket 2 5 (30)

I realised Yuki isn’t calling Tohru by her first name – he’s going against Haru’s advice.

Hmm? Why should anyone ask a rabbit to hold their horses…? (LOL)

CGI cars…*sigh*

Tororo is grated yam, IIRC.

I learnt recently that nanban means “savage” or “uncivilised”…for a potato and chicken dish, the name and the contents don’t really match…Update: Nanban means “savage” (noun) or “barbarian”. Close enough.

17-26…age gap 9 years…yikes…

The words “(a happy, yet) caged bird” come to mind when Kureno describes himself. Also, Kureno is an Ume role! Yippee!

Ahh…young love…even if it has a bit of an awkward edge to it. Mind the (age) gap!

Me being the Ume stan, of course I want to hear those sweet nothings in his voice, even if it has to be via a proxy like Uotani…I wouldn’t be an Ume stan if I didn’t.

…Ah, I see. Uotani reminds me of Minare from Wave and vice versa.

Oh, I just remembered Akito is 20 or thereabouts. Kureno/Akito is only a bit more legal than Uotani and Kureno.

Arte 3

Notice Leo never once uses Arte’s name in the lady’s presence. Her name does have some infamy to it, after all.

“She’s got some guts.” – You say that at a live dissection…LOL.

Is this love~? What’s the age gap between Leo and Arte, anyway? Update: We know for sure Arte is older than 13…that’s it.

Make the things you want prominent with perspective and such. I thought that much was obvious, but for someone straightforward like Arte, I guess it ain’t so. (Maybe it’s because I’m self-taught to some degree when it comes to art.)

*sketching by candlelight* - You’re gonna ruin your eyes, Arte!

Arte, ma girl! You’re getting’ a raise! Good job!

Arte 4

Anime makes this courtesan stuff sound like a host club…(?)

I thought Leo was saying “Aria” for a second instead of Arte, LOL. I’m getting too used to that being my alias…

Arte 5

The speech bubble said “so annoying I could die”.

Arte 6

The video’s gone all pixelated…at least, the subs have…

I bet she’s going to fall over…Update: Nup, she didn’t.

Arte 7

I thought Yuri was a Russian name…or a Japanese one.

This is basically Oushitsu Kyoushi Heine all over again! (LOL)

I thought Yuri would be pushy…like, “Here’s an offer you can’t refuse.” That kind of thing. Likewise, I didn’t think Arte would refuse.

Leo? *dun-dun-DUN!*

Siena is apparently in Tuscany. Also, I did see the Silent Manga Audition page had a chapter on a pregnant woman, so this is ch. 17 or thereabouts.

Is Ruthanna not getting the money because she’s pregnant…?

Epidemic? The Black Death?...Speaking of which, Arte is very much of that ganbaru spirit. By being progressive for her time, she becomes ordinary in our time.

Ohhhhhhh! It’s a reverse harem in progress here!...This would be a good otome game, come to think of it. It’s framed the same way.

Leo can be surprisingly childish at times, don’t you think?

Arte 8

…Really? She fell overboard? *raises eyebrow*

Ooh, china (with and without capitalisation).

Is this another sarcastic child…? Oh, bother. Still, I can see why Hamefura crossed over with Arte now…Katarina vs. Catarina!

Arte 9

Bigoli is a type of pasta, as can be guessed from context.

The kanji for the episode title literally translate to “bad child”! Like the Tones and I song, LOL!

Mikata (ally).

Arte 10

This episode is giving off a Katarina x Gimo ship vibe…but with how young they are, I’m not sure I should ship it. They’re 6, aren’t they…?

Oh, you can see Katarina and Sofia’s hug in one of the ED frames.

Arte 11

Arte’s let her hair grow out…

An Italian man…bowed. In Renaissance Italy. Now I understand what all the ANN complaints are for.

What’s up with that kid’s face…? *grumbles*

Leo’s just being Leo, I see.

That’s right, Angelo and Leo never met.

Instead of a father or a brother overly cherishing his daughter, it’s the uncle…I never thought I’d see the day I saw something like that.

Arte 12 (FINAL)

Is this like Orientalism, but with gender…? (What would you call that?)

Lemme guess…Leo is working on the church mural and so he’s away?

Was that Leo, in the middle of the mural somewhere…?

Another Japanese bow in this anime, which is set in Italy.

But where is Arte herself in that mural?

Fine = end.

Fruits Basket 31

The word Momiji is using is “hisso” or something like that. Hissho is secretary, so the translator made it “secret getaway” to make it work.

That hat! *laser stare*

*one of the textbooks has “high school chemistry” on it* Tohru can do chemistry?! I suck at chemistry!

The episode title is translated as “Are you really this stupid?” It seems the real line for that was “Are you an idiot?”

Something about high school girls appeared in my head when Haru mentioned Shigure wanting to see Tohru in her tight swimsuit…*mumbles grumpily about pervs*

Kyo’s not wet, even though he got in the water! Amazing!

I think it’s sad that Tohru responds to “stupid girl” like it’s her own name.

“…that makes you suspect me?” seems better.

The Akito and Shigure age gap is somewhere between 6 and 8 years, IIRC.

Fruits Basket 32

Tohru switched from okaasan (mother) to okattekita (a formal past tense verb meaning either “bought”, “lent” or “won” based on the characters…which I don’t have a reference for). I assume because it was so off the mark, the subbers chose a similarly off the mark word.

“When I was a kid, I thought watermelons would sprout in my stomach if I ate the seeds.”

We only know about Kyo’s dad so far…hmm…what about the mother? Update: (TW: suicide) I think it was at this point we already knew that Kyo’s mother didn’t love him and committed suicide, but it’s not certain until later.

Why do doctors always use scalpels and syringes as weapons…? I mean, even Jakurai’s symbol in ARB is a syringe!

I’ve been wondering…how big is the Sohma family? Is it diluted enough that Haru and Rin can love each other without genetic problems for their child/ren? (From Another, I would say the answer is “yes”, but shoujo normally doesn’t care about this sort of thing, which is why I ask in the first place.)

Shigure seems like the type to say, “U mad, bro?”

The mansion looks like the one in Haruhi Suzumiya, if I remember the appearance of that one correctly.

#simulcast commentary #fugou keiji: balance:unlimited #Millionaire Detective: Balance: Unlimited #Fruits Basket #arte #Kitsutsuki Tantei Dokoro #Woodpecker Detective's Office #Chesarka watches Arte #Chesarka watches Fugou Keiji #Chesarka watches Furuba

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do-not-call-me-meathead · 4 years

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aposiopesis (part 7)

My Orphan Black fic on AO3

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

@agoddamnsupernova

Cosima felt restless at the Rabbit Hole. She received phone call after phone call from Delphine, but she declined every time. She knew that it wasn’t the blonde’s fault that Siobhan was dead, but she couldn’t help but still be furious at the woman. She wondered if there would have been something they could have done if Delphine had just been honest with everyone. She wondered if they could have saved her.

Siobhan.

(Besides, she also felt guilty. About Sarah and her unresolved feelings for the punk. She wondered if this was cheating.)

She wished she could have been at the funeral. She wished she could have been at the wake. She wished she could be holding hands with Sarah and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay. (And deep down, she needed reassurances too).

When she joined a group video call with Sarah, she wasn’t expecting more bad news. She hadn’t expected Helena to have been kidnapped or Gracie somehow being involved. She had hoped that with the release of all the Neolution shit to the public, they would have a chance to breathe. To cope. To heal.

Sarah sounded stressed, alert, and angry. She had already lost her mother. She couldn’t lose her twin too.

............

The plan was almost too insane, even for Cosima. Sarah was a talented con-artist, but Cosima couldn’t imagine that she could convince Mathieson that she was Rachel for that long of a period. She wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay but...

The waiting was the worst part. Her head swarmed with worst-case scenarios. She knew there was nothing she could do, but she felt like she was twiddling her thumbs while Sarah was risking her life. She just needed everyone to come back out alive.

She called Sarah shortly before she had to become Rachel Duncan. She sounded angry and frustrated as she talked about what she would do to John Mathieson if she could. Cosima tried to divert the conversation. She didn’t want that to be their last conversation if… something happened.

"Everyone’s riskin’ their lives for me."

“Actually, it’s technically for Helena, but sure. People love you, Sarah.”

She paused for a second. "I think Beth would do this. I hear her voice when I talk."

Cosima didn’t quite know what she meant by that, but it concerned her. “Sarah, you’re going to be alright. You’re going to grab our Sestra and get the hell out of there.”

"If we don’t get out, save the babies. Come back for them. Don’t let them grow up like we did, yeah?”

Cosima shuddered. This almost felt like a goodbye and she cringed that she moved their conversation to this horrifying point.

“Of course we will, Sarah, but you’ll save them.”

"Take Charlotte in, I dunno. Tell her our stories. Tell Kira--” her voice broke, “tell Kira about survival and love. Don’t let Cal take her away. She needs you all. She has to learn that sometimes, runnin’ ain’t the answer."

“God, please, Sar. Don’t talk like this. It’s going to all be fine.”

She heard Sarah force a chuckle and said, "Cheers, my favorite optimist." She hung up.

Cosima didn’t try to read that far into Sarah’s small speech as she waited for news on the mission with Felix, Delphine, Alison, Kira, Charlotte, and Donnie. They surrounded the phone, hoping for a call from Scott or Art or Sarah to tell them that everything was fine.

Occasionally, Alison would anxiously stand up and offer to get people food and water and would ramble about what it would be like to have two babies in her house. No one told her to stop. Or to continue. Everyone else just sat in silence, clinging near to each other, ready for the news that they could all breathe again.

Donnie kept trying to comfort his wife. She would accept his embrace only to quickly move away so that she could continue to pace and talk. He watched her carefully, ready to help her if she falls apart.

Cosima kept her head rested on Delphine’s shoulder. Delphine was calm in this situation. If she was terrified, she kept it all on the inside so that she could be there for Cosima. The dreaded scientist loved the blonde for that. She even forgot all about her misguided anger toward her. In those long moments, they were in love.

Kira, who knew vaguely about what was going on (Sarah told her about having to save Helena from bad people at Neolution), was sitting on Felix’s lap, her head laying gently on his chest. His legs were moving up and down with anxiety, but Kira didn’t seem to mind.

When they got the call, everyone jumped. It was Felix who answered, and after a few seconds, tears were running down his face ambiguously. Despite all of their angry pleas for him to tell them what was going on, he continued to talk to whoever was on the phone until they hung up.

Cosima felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, barely breathing. She knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe until she knew Sarah was alright.

Felix put his phone down and smiled. “That was Sarah. Everyone’s okay. They’re on the way to the hospital. Helena gave birth to two beautiful boys. They want us to meet them there.”

The cheers only lasted a few seconds; they were itching to see their family. They all ran to Alison’s minivan and chatted almost excitedly about what Helena’s sons would look like and act like and become.

Art, Scott, and Hell Wizard were there in the waiting room when they arrived, buzzing with cheer and hope. After hugs were spread around by all, Art tried to explain what happened. Helena killing Coady. Surviving guards and Enger. Sarah killing John Mathieson. Helena giving birth.

“The doctors tried to check Sarah out, but she didn’t let them, of course. Had to make sure that Helena and the babies were alright.” Art chuckled and added, “I can’t even tell the babies apart and I helped deliver them.”

One by one, they visited the two sets of twins. Both Helena and Sarah looked exhausted, but they couldn’t stop talking to each new visitor. Cosima noticed Helena’s motherly glow. But more than that, she noticed the shadow behind Sarah’s smile.

Sarah killed someone.

No one talked about it. Referenced it. Maybe even thought about it besides Cosima. She knew it was out of self defense, but she couldn’t imagine doing the act. Ever. She couldn’t imagine how the punk was feeling. She wanted to hold her until she felt alright.

“Sestra crazy-hairs, want to hold my baby?” Helena asked the scientist as she held out one of the sleeping babies as Alison and Sarah ogled the other baby.

“Oh, um,” Cosima was never really that comfortable with babies. Kira and Charlotte were about her maximum threshold. “I don’t--”

“Please,” Helena muttered with a tired smile. “I would like my babies to know all my sestras. They will not make same mistakes I did.”

“That won’t happen, meathead. Cos, I can help you if you’d like.”

Cosima nodded vehemently and Sarah grinned. She gently picked up the baby (as Helena stated, “do not call me this,”) with the orange booties and held him as she walked over to Cosima. It all looked so natural to Sarah as she held the baby in her arms. Like he belonged there.

“Look, he’s sleepin’. Not so scary, yeah?”

Cosima blushed slightly. “Obvs. I’m not scared, it's just like... memento mori, I guess.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “No more bloody science.”

“No, not science, Sarah. Not really. It’s a latin phrase. But you’re right. It’s not the place.”

“Don’t try to distract me with your brilliance, Cos. C’mon. He won’t bite. Not till he’s teethin’, at least.”

Alison mumbled in the background, “let’s hope they don’t have their mother’s hunger.”

Cosima lowered her voice so only Sarah could listen. “I’m afraid to drop him.”

Sarah moved closer to the scientist and said, “you won’t drop him. He’s your nephew, Niehaus. Precious cargo. You won’t. Hold your hands like this.”

Cosima tried to copy Sarah’s movements. She wasn’t quite comfortable, but Sarah placed the little human in her arms anyway. He weighed less than she had expected a baby to weigh. He barely even moved a muscle in her arms. She thought it was almost like he didn’t mind being there. But still, she didn’t like it.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah reassured her as Cosima passed her the baby back. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Yes, you will love it,” Helena agreed with a stiff head nod. “As much as you love the science.”

Cosima chuckled and looked at her family. Helena might have been right. She already did love them more than science.

.........................

Cosima flopped onto the bed and felt her head spin. The day seemed to ebb and flow with the change of time. Some moments felt excruciatingly slow, others felt like they were the speed of light. She almost jumped into a mind fuck about the non-existence of linear time when she felt a hand on her arm.

“You look happy,” Delphine commented as she laid down next to her and closed the space between them.

“It’s over, you know? Like actually. I mean, we have work to do with getting this cure to the other Ledas, but… I mean we can breathe.”

Delphine hummed in agreement. “End of an era, time to move on. A change of scene, yes?”

“I guess so. It means we can also be a family. Everyone can raise their kids in peace. Also, holy crap Helena’s a mom.”

Laughter flooded out of the blonde’s mouth. “She is. She will be a good one, I think. She has Alison and Sarah as good examples and help. They will be okay.”

“They all seem like natural mothers. And to me… babies are… uncomfortable. They’re so young and innocent. I mean, I can’t even talk about science with them yet.”

“But one day they will be old enough. Hopefully, Orange and Purple will have names by then.”

Cosima grinned. “Don’t you like the names? It’s like, non-traditional.”

Delphine smiled gently and told her, “You do love them. You just don’t like how vulnerable they are. That's what scares you."

Cosima nodded and wondered how Delphine could see straight through her sometimes. “It’s like… there’s no control. Anything can happen.”

“There are things out of your control, ma chérie. Death, life, love. This is something you can’t force. Which is why… I do not push you.”

Cosima inhaled deeply. The last thing she wanted was for this conversation to go this way. She was almost positive that she wanted to be with Delphine, but there was a sliver of doubt. Doubt seeded in the strong and confusing feelings she felt for Sarah.

Cosima kissed her. It felt good. She was used to her lips, her taste, her heat. She didn’t burn like Sarah. It was calm and comforting. Passionate but logical. Nothing like how it was with Sarah.

Holding Sarah. Touching Sarah. Kissing Sarah. It felt like being on fire.

“I love you, Delphine. I do. It’s just… I still need a few things to figure out, alright? In the meantime, can’t we just kiss a little?”

Delphine grinned. “We can always do a little more than a little.”

...................

Helena moved into Alison’s garage (Cosima even thought that Alison and Donnie were secretly thrilled to have her there). She and the babies seemed to fit in with the Hendrix’s. Besides, with all the attention Alison and Donnie gave the twins, it already seemed like raising them would be a joint effort.

Felix went to New York with plenty of success, leaving Sarah and Kira home with the possibility of them selling Siobhan’s house. Sarah had kept away most of the time from the family and clone club. Shortly after the birth of Helena’s twins, it became obvious that Sarah wasn’t okay. The happiness that the war was over quickly ran out and reality stepped in. They had to keep living with all the terrible things that they had gone through. They had to live with what they had to do to survive.

She became touchy at any mention of anyone helping her. Even with trying to get her GED. Those were practically the only moments that Cosima got to spend with her. Through video chat and studying.

Not that Cosima could really blame her. They hadn’t seriously spoken since their strange nights together in Sarah's bed. There was still something there, something unspoken between them, but neither of them talked about it. Especially with Delphine being there in the picture.

When Cosima moved into Delphine’s apartment, Sarah pulled away even farther. Charlotte split her time between Art’s and Cosima’s. The scientist might have not been great with babies, but her bond to her genetic identical was unmistakable. Delphine wasn’t too happy that her tiny apartment was now being shared with more than one person, though she had told Cosima her restlessness resided in the fact that there was not enough room in the apartment. Delphine offered to find a new place to live, but that conversation terrified Cosima.

Felix had called her the day before he was going to return home from New York.

"How’s Sarah?" He asked her as if he thought they were constantly communicating.

“I’m not sure,” Cosima confessed as she headed for a different bedroom so that they could talk privately. “We don't… she’s avoiding me. Avoiding everyone.”

Felix breathed out, sounding stressed. "I’m worried. This is what she’s like before she runs."

“You think she’ll run?”

"I think she wants to. We gotta convince her not to. This is her home."

She said she would try, but to be honest, she was terrified to have a real conversation with her. She was afraid she would just admit something she still didn't understand. She was afraid she would admit that there were some moments where she still just wanted to kiss her.

Felix’s words about her messing with Sarah replayed in her mind. It took everything to not say something. To Sarah or even Delphine. She thought staying away from Sarah would be good for both of them. But she knew she couldn’t avoid her any longer.

Cosima stared at the ‘For Sale’ sign in front of the house that Cosima had loved, even if she hadn’t spent much time there. This is what she’s like before she runs. Cosima shivered. She couldn’t imagine her life without the punk.

It was Kira who opened the door and immediately embraced her. Cosima held her and squeezed her tightly. She felt like she hadn’t seen her in such a long while. It made her feel guilty.

“Hey, monkey. Whatcha up to?”

Kira shrugged with a kind of sadness that Cosima hadn’t been expecting. “Packing mostly. Mum’s in the shower, but she’ll be out in a second. C’mon inside.”

There were boxes everywhere when Cosima entered the house. She gulped. This is what she’s like before she runs.

“Kira, are you excited to see all your cousins at the baby shower tomorrow?” Cosima asked and sat down on the couch with the young girl.

Kira nodded vigorously. “I can’t wait to go to Auntie Alison’s. Mum doesn’t really… go out. Art sometimes brings over Charlotte and sometimes Auntie Alison comes over but… mum’s really lonely.”

Cosima chewed on her lip. She felt like this was her fault. She knew this was her fault. She thought the separation would be good. That they’d be able to one day come together without any feelings.

“Kira, I should have come over more often. I’ll do that now, okay?”

The young girl shrugged and looked down at her feet. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving soon.”

This is what she’s like before she runs.

“How soon?”

“I don’t know. Mum wants to leave.”

“Do you?”

Kira shook her head. “But I want her to be happy. She’s not… I can feel her. Something’s wrong. With you too, Auntie Cosima.”

Cosima tilted her head. “What?”

“There’s something missing,” Kira explained and rested her head on Cosima’s lap. “You miss my mum and she misses you.”

“Cosima?” Sarah called out as she stood on the stairs wearing only a tank top and short shorts, her hair dripping slowly onto the hardwood floors. “What the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

Cosima immediately stood up. Sarah looked pale, skinny, hollow. This wasn’t new for the punk, but it worried the scientist that she was still like this, even after everything was over.

“I wanted to see both of you. I--what are you bringing to Alison’s tomorrow?”

Sarah almost smirked. “She told me to just bring the alcohol. ‘Parently I’m not even allowed near the kitchen.”

“Alison’ll want to do all the cooking anyway,” Cosima chuckled awkwardly. “I one time made a cheese dip and she flipped. But hey, man, at least we don’t have to cook. You won’t have that much time with your test tomorrow anyway. Do you want to study--?”

“Actually, we gotta do some packin’. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh,” Cosima muttered, realizing that Sarah was trying to get her out of the house. “Yeah, of course. Don’t want to distract you. But um, I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah? Maybe Helena’s come up with some names.”

Sarah nodded and then began to walk back upstairs. Obviously, Cosima wasn’t welcome. Which didn’t surprise the scientist since she was the one who abandoned Sarah so that she could continue to love Delphine.

..............

Sarah didn’t smile. There were moments where she tried, when she pretended, but she couldn’t fool Cosima. Actually, she couldn’t fool anyone. It was almost as if everyone had reached their threshold with staying silent about her. There was so much worry, so much concern.

She heard Sarah and Alison talk about Helena and the twins, but Sarah looked lost in the conversation.

Art was probably the brave one. “How are you doing, Sestra?”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

He broke the silence and everyone sighed from relief. Sarah looked frustrated, annoyed, maybe even a little angry.

“Well, what is this we hear about a 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn?” Alison asked her with more guts that Cosima would have expected.

Sarah groaned. “You know that we were thinking about that.”

The soccer mom narrowed her eyes at the punk. “Playdates, the kids. Gemma, Kira, Charlotte, Maya, they’re all bonding. They like each other.” Donnie tried to butt in with saying his wife’s name, but she ignored him. “You know they’re having fun. What? What? This is what we fought for, right? To be sisters? It’s a good thing.”

Cosima knew that was a big deal for Alison to say something like that. She knew that the soccer mom cared about the other sestras, but at the beginning, she knew that Alison didn’t want to be a part of it all. She didn’t want to know her clones. They were all nuisances in her life. But now, she loved them. She wanted to be with them. It broke Cosima’s heart.

Sarah looked torn between emotions. “Yeah, it’s good. We just need a change. Freedom looks different to everyone.”

Alison sighed sympathetically. “Honey, we feel your loss. But Kira has cousins now.”

Rage flooded Sarah’s face and Cosima knew she was going to blow. “She has a stable home in the house where her grandmother was shot dead! Alison, take a bloody cue for once!” Her loud words echoed through the walls and she frowned as she saw Alison’s reaction. She lowered her voice and looked upset with herself. “Sorry.”

She got up and left the room. Alison mouthed that she was sorry to the rest of the group, but no one blamed her. Someone needed to say something. Even if it was kind of harsh.

Cosima barely thought about it. She followed Sarah outside and found her brooding on a chair. She wanted to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight, beg her to stay and believe in herself again. Believe in Cosima.

But she didn’t do any of that.

“Is it cool if I chill with you?”

Sarah barely reacted.

Alison came out, apologetic. Sarah reacted, apologetic. Helena joined them, worried. Sarah reacted, trying to hang on.

“I didn’t go to my test,” Sarah confessed after a few moments. Cosima wanted to tell her that it was alright, that she could try again, but Sarah surprisingly continued. “That’s good, innit? Lyin’ to my own kid. Same shit.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. Cosima wanted to hold her. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I carry around all these mistakes… I don’t know how to be happy.” She was crying and her voice was shaking. Cosima just wanted-- “There’s no one left to fight, and I’m still a shit mum.”

Cosima wanted to argue with her. Tell her that she was wrong. Tell her that she was a good mom and that they’d be there for her. Love her. Help her.

Alison beat her to it. “You know the other day, Gemma was driving me so crazy. I screamed at her, I said, ‘If you don’t clean up your room, I am going to string you up by your thumbs and stuff your dirty damn sock balls in your mouth.’ And I meant it. I scared her.”

And before she knew it, Helena started talking too. “Every time I look, the baby’s eating sand. I turn around, sand. Where does this sand come from? I don’t know. So, I let them eat it.”

“What?” Alison asked as everyone else laughed at Helena’s confession.

Finally, Cosima added, “Did you guys see how panicked I got when Felix handed me the baby earlier? Like, I am just not maternal at all. And that makes me wonder, like, am I selfish or am I scared? You know? We’re all scared, Sarah.”

“Yes, and we all make mistakes.”

Alison muttered, “God, I was a drug dealer, for pete’s sake.”

As they laughed at that horrible memory (Cosima specifically thought about having to pretend to be Alison because she had messed up with her bag of pills), Felix waltzed into the backyard with an unmistakable cheeky grin.

“Don’t you all look cozy. Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I got something for all of you.”

Everyone tried to look at the paper he was holding dramatically to his chest.

“What’s that?”

Felix smirked. “See for yourself.”

Cosima thought that her eyes had suddenly failed her. Or that she was imagining this. She never ever thought she would have this.

“Holy shit, is that a complete list of the Leda sisters?” Cosima asked him.

“Yeah,” Felix told her with confidence.

“Where did you get this?”

“Uh, I’ve got a good guess,” Sarah murmured as the realization hit Cosima. Rachel.

“Oxana Petrov, Colista Popoudokis, this is musical histories, physicians, contacts, addresses. This is everything we need to cure the Ledas.”

Sarah muttered, “Christ, that’s 274 of us.”

They all took a few minutes to let that all sink in. For years they had to battle for their freedom. These hundreds of people would never have any clue what they did for them. What they would do for them.

After a few seconds, Helena pulled out a notebook of some sort. Sarah recognized it as her memoirs.

“I finished my book,” Helena announced with a proud smile. “It’s a story about my sestras. I call it Orphan Black."

No one really knew how to react to that. Cosima shared questioning laughs with Sarah, though she did like the title. They were all orphans, though, not so much anymore.

“We’re not black,” Alison mentioned, causing everyone to laugh even harder and facepalm because of course, Alison would say that.

“Shut up,” Helena eventually commanded, tired of everyone’s shit. “Listen, I will translate from Ukrainian.” She opened the book and began to read. “‘My story is an embroidery with many beginnings and no end. But I will start with the thread of my sestra, Sarah, who stepped off a train one day and met herself…’”

Helena continued into all hours of the night. The sestras all listened intently, laughing, crying, holding each other during reminders of all the terrifying shit they had to go through. Some things even Cosima didn’t know about, especially the moments between Sarah and Helena.

She squeezed Sarah’s hand. She didn’t know when they joined hands or how it occurred, but she refused to let go, even when Helena fell asleep reading and everyone else besides the two of them were snoring.

“There’s no way I’m sleepin’ on a chair outside,” Sarah grumbled as she tried to push her twin off of her legs.

“It’s sweet,” Cosima commented brightly as she looked around at the sestras. “This is peace, Sarah.” She paused as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes as they did months ago on the bed in the Rabbit Hole. “I’m sorry for… abandoning you in the last couple of weeks. It’s like, totally not fair.”

Sarah looked down at Helena’s bushy hair and started playing with it, avoiding the scientist’s stare. “I get it, Cos. You’re busy. And… I’ve made things weird. Kissin’ you and… wantin’..." she trailed off before she continued, “I know you’re with Delphine and I’m happy for you.”

Cosima felt her heart drop. “I want to be completely honest with you, Sarah, because I think we both deserve that. And I know what I’m going to say probably won't make much sense but… I love Delphine, I do. But you? Sarah. The connection, it’s… you’re different to me. I don't know how to explain it.”

Sarah nodded, not looking thrilled or upset. “I get it. M’not lookin’ for anything, yeah? You don’t… I’ll be fine.”

Cosima nodded and tried to believe it. “Look, all I know is that I need you in my life. I need you like… like I need the sun, okay? You are so important to me. I just… need to figure out the rest.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

Cosima’s heart lurched and she almost jumped from her seat with excitement. “So you’re staying?”

Sarah looked all around at her sleeping sestras (and brother) and said, “How could I leave all of this?”

Cosima grinned. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Well, I am fun to have around. Always cheery,” Sarah replied sarcastically.

Cosima snorted. “You’re becoming delirious. Go to sleep.”

“Tell me a story?”

Cosima smiled. “Hmmm. How about the story of Cupid and Psyche?"

-------------

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