#queue ⨠ may the bridges I burn light the way

[findsghosts]

starter   call   ☆   @paperxdollhouse​

"   everything   okay   over   there  ?   ”   head   tilts   a   fraction,   gaze   moving   over   the   stranger   who   appeared   to   be   talking   to   herself.

#paperxdollhouse #* ( v: main ) - may the bridges i burn light the way. #* ( queue ) #for the thing we talked about!

[angryschnauzer]

Superior Specimen - Chapter 8

Summary: One night when you are following the Archaeology tag on instagram you stumbled across a fun looking dig… and an even more interesting Paleontologist who soon follows you back. Over the following weeks you start chatting and a friendship soon grows.

Relationship: AU Henry Cavill x Female Reader (No race or body shape mentioned)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Warnings: Slow Burn, NSFW, 18+, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Drunken Piggy Back Rides, Oral Sex (Female Recieving), Drama, Theft, Amateur Heroics, Hospital Visit, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Blow Job, Fingering, Lavish lifestyle, Henry is loaded, The Shard, Expensive Gifts, Sixty nine, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Angst, Argument, Jealousy, Talk of car crashes, heroics, rough sex, use of safe words, Anal play,

I do not operate a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified whenever i post something new.

I don’t have a masterlist, but all my works are on AO3, link here. Usually i post oneshots to Tumblr and AO3, and multichapters exclusively to AO3, but as this is my first henry story and its going to be a short series, i’ll post to both places.

Chapter 8

 On the tube an old woman had offered you a tissue and had whispered quietly;

 “He’s not worth crying over my dear”

 You swallowed and smiled weakly at her;

 “Unfortunately he was… he was just an idiot too”

 “They all are my dear, they all are”

 She got off at the next stop, giving you a pat on the arm before leaving the carriage, leaving you ride the rest of the way to Fulham Broadway on your own.

 You were on autopilot when you arrived, walking through the small shopping mall that had grown around the tube station, grabbing a pair of overpriced knock-off designer sunglasses from the concession stand to hide your puffy and red eyes, swollen from crying. As you stood in the crowd at the lights to cross the road, a stream of Ambulances and Police cars screamed past, lights and sirens blasting, but it was London, every day there was a crisis or accident and you were used to them. 

 The walk to your flat was quick, just a few roads from the tube, and you were thankful you’d brought your small clutch bag from the hotel room that had your phone, wallet, and keys in. Once inside you pulled off your clothing, everything Henry had bought for you, tossing it into a heap on the floor before you climbed into bed and curled into a ball, sobbing into the pillow.

 -

 You woke to the sound of a metal on plastic crunch from the street outside, familiar with the sound and you knew it was vehicle vs wheelie bin, an all too familiar occurrence when collection day was on a Friday and people went out that night, so the street would still be littered with bins the following day. Staring up at the ceiling you heard the doorbell ring, glaring at the ceiling but refusing to move. You didn’t care if your bin that had ended up a casualty of a car not looking where it was going, so when the bell finally timed out you closed your eyes… only to be rudely disturbed by a loud knocking on the door a minute later, a muffled voice from the other side;

 “Princess… it’s me; Henry… please, just tell me you’re ok… I’ve got to know you’re ok…”

 You could feel your emotions rising within you; a heat, an anger, and as the knocking continued you grabbed the dressing gown hanging on the back of the door and was still tying it as you pulled the door open, but surprised to see state of Henry, his clothes a mess and his face blotchy;

 “What the hell happe…”

 Your words were cut short as he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight;

 “You’re alright… my god, you’re ok…”

 “Henry, what is going on?”

 He let you go and started pacing;

 “I was an ass, I didn’t follow you, I was stupid… I tried calling you but you never picked up…”

 “I had it on silent… I didn’t want anyone to disturb our date”

 “And then the accident, I’d gone back to the hotel, I knew it was the closest tube to where we were...”

 “Accident?”

 “There was an accident, on the road outside the London Bridge Tube, a bus and council truck collided and ran into the queue… I stayed and helped the emergency services; I was trying to find you… but you weren’t there…”

 Your hand was over your mouth, tears pooling on your lashes as you looked at him, and realised he cared so much for you that he had literally pulled people out of the wreckage of an major accident because he thought he had lost you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you cradled the back of his head as he slumped to the floor, sobbing into your shoulder and the softness of your dressing gown. 

 Finally he pulled his head back, a weak smile on his face as he looked into your eyes, and you saw a different Henry, one that was fragile, one that needed you as much as you needed him.

 “C’mon, let me put the kettle on”

 -

 Sipping on sweet tea as you both sat at the kitchen table, dunking Digestive biscuits in the deep brown steaming mugs, you looked him up and down;

 “You are a mess”

 He glanced down and realised his shirt and jeans were covered in dirt, grime, and in some places blood;

 “You’re right” he paused before looking back to you; “Look, I’ve got a suggestion… pack a bag. Comfy clothing, overnight things. We’ll head back to the hotel and collect our things, then head back to my place. I’ll cook dinner and we can talk… ask all those things we’ve both wanted to ask since we met, yeah?”

 He looked at you like a hopeful puppy, his deep blue eyes watery where he feared you would say no, but as you nodded he let out the breath he had been holding, and a genuine smile spread over his face.

 -

 Henry opened the door to his place and stepped aside, letting you enter and look around as he shut the door, resting all the bags from the hotel room on the shiny white tiles that covered the floor. 

 “This is your place?”

 “It’s home for the next few months” he shut the door and wrapped his arm around you; “I gave up on having a permanent place about five years ago. I would always come back to a dust filled nightmare and a fridge that was a biohazard. I keep a PO box for any mail and a storage unit for my things that I don’t need when I’m away”

 You looked at him;

 “It sounds very… lonely…”

 He paused, considering your words;

 “I’ve never thought about it that way… but, you’re right” he wrapped his arms around you, his gaze intense; “I’m sorry I over-reacted earlier… about your flatmate. I was just… I don’t know, so focused I guess on this amazing thing we have now, and what we were talking about last night… how those I fall for push me away when I have to leave… I could only think ‘this guy will be around when I’m not’...”

 You reached up and cupped his cheek with your hand, realising in that moment that for all the bravado and confidence, beneath that Henry was just like you, like anyone else, and feared losing those he cared for;

 “I would wait… I will wait…”

 You pressed a kiss to his lips, and the pair of you just held each other for the longest time, before he pulled away;

 “What kind of host am I? I haven’t even offered you a cup of tea!”

 Laughing you followed him into the kitchen, looking around at the sparse worktops, all the cupboards pristine white. Even the appliances were just plain brushed aluminium. As the kettle bubbled away you pushed yourself up onto the central island, sitting on the marble countertop as you watched Henry move around the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of milk, sniffing it and cringing;

 “Okay, tea may be off the menu… the milk’s off”

 Pausing he opened the cupboard, shoulders slumping when he saw the empty tea caddy;

 “No tea either…”

 Leaning back you pulled your phone from your pocket and opened google maps;

 “This is Warwick Square, right?”

 “Yes”

 You pinched the screen and zoomed out, jumping off the counter;

 “C’mon, there’s a Tesco Express just around the corner”

 -

 Walking hand in hand around Pimlico with Henry, it dawned on you that you had never visited this part of London, the sights and sounds much like most of the city, but where each little borough had its own character. Once you reached the supermarket he grabbed a basket and picked up the few things he needed, before his hand hovered over the selection of biscuits;

 “Ok, make or break time to find out if we are truly compatible” his voice had an element of mischief in it as he spoke; “Milk or Dark Chocolate Digestives?”

 You looked at the selection before you set your hand down on the bright blue packet;

 “Trick question, we both know the true answer is Milk Chocolate Hobnobs”

 He laughed as you dropped the packet into the basket, wrapping his massive arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest;

 “I knew there was a reason I loved you” he turned to the row of refrigerators on the other side of the isle, unaware of what he’d said, and how your eyes were a little wider as you took in his admission; “Shall I make some burnt offerings for you tonight? I have somewhat limited culinary skills, but I can rustle up something with meat or fish…”

 Nodding you were still a little stunned, finally finding your voice;

 “Yeah, I’ll eat anything”

 He cocked an eyebrow and you playfully batted at his arm;

 “Oh shut up” you laughed

-

 Dinner had been nice. An easy dish of roasted pork, Henry had thrown in some potatoes and had let them roast with alongside, and a simple salad. The one thing he did have readily stocked in his place was alcohol, and between the two of you an entire bottle of vintage Pinot Noir had been sunk over the course of dinner, and as you watched him stack the dishwasher you spread out on the massive white sofa that dominated the open plan space. You couldn’t help yourself but you popped the button of your jeans, letting out a sigh of relief. 

 Checking your phone you reopened your roommates’ email and read it again, before hitting reply. You knew deep down you wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage, but asked that you be kept in the loop and would start looking for another place come Monday. Having hit send you saw another email, this time from your Manager, requesting that you attend a review on Monday morning;

 “Huh, so much for giving me a week off” you muttered to yourself, before looking up and seeing Henry approaching you, two full glasses of red wind in hand.

 “Everything ok?”

 Taking the glass you smiled;

 “Yeah, work want me to go in for a review on Monday morning”

 “Did they say what it was about?”

 “No, but I’m guessing ‘playing heroics and injuring yourself on the job isn’t in your job description, please don’t sue us’ is probably on the agenda”

 Settling next to you he rested a hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze;

 “I’m sure you’re right” he sipped at the wine before setting it on the small table at the side; “Hey I meant to ask, does your roommate have an Instagram account or Facebook page?”

 “Yeah, I’ll pull it up. Its where he’s trying to do more serious photography”

 He nodded and tapped at his phone for a few seconds before setting it aside, raising his glass again and clinking it against yours;

 “Cheers”

 -

 By the time the last dregs of the 2nd bottle of wine were drained from your glasses you were drunk as skunks and just an amorous. You were draped over Henry’s lap, his hand was attempting to sneak under your t-shirt as you curled one hand in his hair, wrapping a deep brown strand around your finger as you kissed him lazily. When his hand finally found your breast you moaned at his touch, his lips brushing against your neck;

 “I think we should take this to the bedroom”

 You giggled;

 “With the amount of wine we’ve had? Can you still get it up?”

 He pushed his crotch up against you;

 “Princess I’m already ‘up’, now I need to be in, and I don’t care which hole, I just want to feel you around my dick as we have some nasty drunk sex”

 You attempted to slide off his lap and land on your feet, but what really happened was you tumbled into a heap on the soft white rug, one leg still on the sofa as the other hit the coffee table and your ass in the air;

 “Help!” you cried out, giggling as Henry stood and swayed, before wrapping his arm around your waist and carrying you under his arm to the bedroom like a misbehaving poodle in Harrods.

 He dropped you onto the bed and in the light from the lounge you watched as he yanked his t-shirt over his head, and started to unfasten his jeans, letting out a sigh of relief when the massive bulge in his boxers was allowed more room to grow. With a growl be bent over you and pulled your jeans down your legs, your panties following suit, before flipping you over so you were on your front. He went to reach for your ass but had forgotten his jeans were still around his thighs, and he proceeded to trip-tumble onto the bed beside you. You couldn’t help but to giggle into the soft duvet, and it earned you a single spank on your ass that make you squeal.

 Rolling onto your back you looked at Henry as he huffed and puffed to take his jeans and boxers off, and you spread your legs as your hands strayed to your pussy;

 “Are you doing to fuck me, or shall I just get myself started?” you said with more sass than needed, but it earned you a low groan and you could have sworn you heard seams ripping as he finally rid himself of his clothes.

 “Cheeky wench!” Henry pounced on you, pulling your top over your head before fumbling with your bra, finally getting you out of it as he flung it across the room and you heard it hit something in the darkness; “I’ll show you, gonna fuck you so good you’ll have to sit on a cushion when you go into work on Monday”

 He flipped you over and pulled your ass up, and you instinctively arched your back and bared yourself to him, prone and ready, begging for attention. You felt his hands smooth over your ass before dipping between your legs;

 “Already so wet for me, you need me to fuck this cunt Princess? Fill you up with my cum? Or should I cum over your beautiful tits, so you can watch me as I spray my load on you, huh?”

 He slid two fingers into your soaked hole, stretching you as his thumb found your clit and he rubbed harshly at it, the wine making him lose his finesse but up his pressure. When he pulled his fingers out you let out a needy whine, only to feel him press his dick against you, rutting into your crease and smearing your juices over himself. 

 The friction was delicious, and you found yourself pressing back and eager for more, earning a low chuckle to rumble up from Henry’s chest;

 “You like that Princess? Like me rubbing my dick against your asshole?”

 “Oh fuck… fuck… more…”

 You felt him spit on your ass as he lowered his dick and slowly but firmly filled your pussy. As you were getting used to be filled so deep you felt his thumb press against your asshole;

 “NERD!”

 Suddenly Henry stopped;

 “Princess?”

 You turned, looking over your shoulder;

 “Look Hen, I may be up for some anal play, but lube… you gotta use lube…”

 You saw him look back and forth between your ass and his bedside drawers, as if trying to work out whether to forget the ass play and just fuck your pussy, or to give up your pussy for just a few seconds and get the lube. In the end the lube won, and he quickly slid out of you, leaning across the bed and yanking the drawer open, before pulling out a small bottle of Durex Lube. You saw it and grinned;

 “Ooh nice one. Make sure there’s enough for a tit-wank in the morning”

 Henry paused and looked at you, and you could almost see his brain short circuiting at what you’d said as it fought through the wine haze;

 “Fuck, if I didn’t want to fuck you doggy style quite so much I’d say let’s do that now…”

 He settled behind you and rammed his dick straight back into you, making you squeal as he filled you. You heard the quiet squeeze of the pump on the bottle before the cool gel fell on the crease of your ass and his fingers started to massage against your back door. He ran his finger around and around your brown rose, and you could feel yourself relaxing and trying to push back to get him to go further, making you whine;

 “Please Hen… do something…”

 He ran his thumb over your asshole and rested it on it before finally pushing in, holding the digit inside just up to the first knuckle, and that’s when he started to move in your pussy.

 “So. Fucking. Good. My dirty little Princess…”

 You whined for more, for him to go harder, deeper, and he did so with glee;

 “You want more? Fuck yes, take my dick, can feel your insides parting for me, you like my thumb in your ass? Like being double stuffed?”

 “Fuck…” your head was swimming, your chest resting against the bed as you snuck your hand between your legs and started to strum at your clit, urging your orgasm on as Henry turned into a feral beast behind you, fucking you raw and dirty, you pushing back for each thrust to feel him deeper and split you wider.

 Your orgasm happened without warning, screaming out his name as you came so hard he was sure if he hadn’t pulled his thumb out your muscles would have broken the bones in it. Your knees gave way and you slumped down onto the bed, Henry still deep inside you, fucking you as you lay spent on the bed;

 “So close… almost there…

 “Cum on my ass Hen…” you muttered as he railed into you, and you heard a groan as he pulled out of you, seconds later the splash of his hot seed landing on your naked ass, back and thighs.

 For a moment everything went quiet before you felt him wiping his cum from you, and he moved you in the bed until you were curled up in his arms, the little spoon to his big;

 “You’re fucking amazing Princess, I fucking love you so much” he slurred, before the two of you feel asleep in drunken stupors.

Chapter 9 >>>

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill au

[rebel-without-cause-x]

Lights Of My Hometown

Bishop Losa x Reader 

Just an idea I had for the song “Lights of my hometown - Brantley Gilbert” Also the first time I have written for Bishop but my requests are now open for him. Also made myself writing this, still not over the death of my baby 

Mayans Taglist:  @chibsytelford​ @briannab1234​ @starrynite7114​ @minnicelli​ @woahitslucyylu​ @whyisgmora​ @talicat713​ @trulysuccubus​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @abbiesthings​ @gemini0410​ @angelreyesgirl​ @destynelseclipsa​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jadesamhart​ @hermankopusortizorsumshite​​ @lady-pswrld​ @ly--canthrope​ @hennessyauntie​ @trhett21​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @corebore123​ @mystic-shadows42​  

If you would like adding to the tag list send me a ask or a message 💕

“Mi Reina” your boyfriend smiled sadly at you as he walked into your shared bedroom, finding you sat crossed legged in the middle of the bed staring down at a navy blue hoodie.

“Hey” you sighed looking up with tears in your eyes “it doesn’t smell of him anymore Bish”

“Come here” he sighed sitting behind you pulling you into his body, passing you a box “I may have spoke to Chibs to find out what aftershave he used”

Slowly opening the box, to find a brand new bottle of bleu de Chanel.

“I know how much he meant to you Querida” Bishop whispered, kissing your head.

This was what you loved about this man, he didn’t get pissy when you wore the samcro hoodie laid in front of you, he didn’t get pissy that your home screen in your phone wasn’t of you and him but of you and your best friend. He didn’t get pissy at the fact you had your best friend's name tattooed in the wings of an Angel on your forearm. He supported you and understood your pain. As you leant against him your phone went off

📱from “Chibby”

ye still coming tonight lass, miss ya

📱to “chibby”

yeah all of us are, will be there tonight

“Come on then, lets go spend the weekend with your family” Bishop whispered kissing your head as you sprayed the hoodie in the aftershave.

Walking outside you saw the other side of your family parked in your driveway, smiling softly at you.

“Do we all have to go to Charming? I mean it’s a trek, and sporting the wrong emblem there kiddo” Coco moaned causing you to shoot him a death glare as you pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands. You just wanted to punch him in the face but Angel beat you to it.

“Have so fucking respect pendejo” Angel snapped as he hit Coco round the back of the head before pulling you into a hug “I got your back mami”

Not saying anything as you climbed into the recaro seats of you car, gripping the steering wheel, taking a deep breath, your heart felt heavy, how had it only been a year.

“I can drive if you want querida?” Bishop whispered, taking your hand kissing your knuckles.

“I’m good” You mumbled shaking you head “I need to drive”

You and Bishop had been together for 2 years now, but the first year of the relationship was long distance, due to you essentially being an honorary member of the sons, helping out when needed and going on runs. But ever since that day a year ago, things changed you moved out of Charming and moved to Santo Padre, it was basically a fresh start, but you still made the drive to Charming once a month and it was because of your relationship with Bishop that Jax made it his mission to rebuild the bridges with the Mayans.

The only sound in the car was Bishop calling the other MCs that you had to drive through letting them know you were all passing through, his hand planted on your thigh, he would have held your hand the whole way but you drove a manual.

The drive went smoothly and a small smile appeared on your face as you parked up in the field, memories flooding your head, as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You had never shown Bishop this, this was what you came back to Charming for every month, and you would continue until the day you died.

Got the summer stars out in the backwoods

Got the windows down, make you feel so good

To lock your high beams in on a mud hole

If you're where I'm from, then you damn sure know

About the lights of my hometown

Yeah, they come alive when the sun goes down

Climbing out the car, standing in front of your Mayan family, Bishop wrapped his arm’s around your waist.

“So I know you all ask me what I do when I come back here once a month” you said leaning against Bishop’s chest and you pulled out your phone you called Juice so he knew when to go “well this is it. The lights of my hometown”

And on the queue everyone’s main beams went on lighting up the field.

“Just tonight has more meaning” you mumbled “so thank you for being here”

Within seconds they all engulfed you in a massive group hug, putting a smile back on your face before you all headed over to the sons.

We got the moonshine, I'm talkin' both kinds

Have you seen baby staring at them tanlines

Yeah, we're throwin' down until the cops come

When the blue lights flash, boys it's time to run

“So how does this work” Bishop smiled, pulling you down into his lap.

Your mood had lifted a bit, being around your whole family, everyone was having a good time but there was sadness in the air tonight.

“Well we just party” you nodded sipping your whiskey “we party until the cops come and break it up”

“Any particular reason Querida?” Bishop asked as he traced your tattoo on your lower arm with his fingers.

“It’s a celebration of life, of the ones we love and the ones we have lost along the way” you smiled

“I think it’s perfect and an amazing thing to do mi dulce”

It was so nice to see both MCs getting along, there was no more beef, no hatred.

Light a flashlight on a gravestone

Let your best friend know that he ain't alone

Go on and pop a top, pour a little out

Just to let him know we're still thinkin' about him

You were still sitting on Bishop’s knees when Chibs and Tig strolled over to you, leaning down placing a kiss on your head.

“It’s time kiddo” Tig nodded.

“I want you all with us” you whispered turning to Bishop placing a loving kiss against his lips.

“Always mi Reina” he whispered.

Soon enough you were all standing around Jax’s headstone, a bottle of whiskey in your grasp as silent tears ran down your cheeks whilst Bishop held your in his arms.

Unscrewing the cap off the bottle you passed it around telling them all to take a sip, as soon as the bottle reached Chibs he took a long gulp, mumbled something as he looked up at the sky with tears in his eyes before passing the bottle to you.

All eyes were on you and you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a long gulp, feeling that familiar burn in your throat, you wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand before wiggling of your Bishop’s arms, taking a few steps forward to the grave.

Crouching down you placed on hand on the headstone. Before pouring a decent amount of whiskey on the grass, leaning over you kissed the marble stone before looking up at the sky.

“I miss you, you annoying little shit” you mumbled.

Bishop saw the tears running down your cheeks, instantly crouching by your side pulling you close to him.

“thank you for being here, thank you for everything” you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek.

“Anything for you Querida” he whispered “he would be so proud of you”

#bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa oneshot #mayans mc #mayans imagine #mayans x reader #mayans fanfic #mayans oneshot #bishop losa

[sambinnie]

1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit? 

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like. 

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really. 

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running. 

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups. 

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently. 

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t. 

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation. 

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that? 

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things  — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack. 

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted. 

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous. 

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias. 

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good. 

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February. 

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please. 

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved. 

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards. 

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful. 

[flora-jimin]

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 (𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

AO3 Link

Relationships: Namjoon x Hoseok x Yoongi x Reader

Genre(s): Smut, PWP

Written for @btspolyshipbingo

Square Filled: Bed Sharing

Rating: 18+

Tags: Smut, Pwp, Previous poly triad (rapline), Endgame poly relationship (mmmf), Dirty Talk, Cum Sharing, Spanking, 69, Oral

Summary: You’re invited to spend the last week with Bangtan before vacation is over. Of course, a certian someone didn’t get the house with enough rooms, and now it seems you’ll have to share. Sharing is caring, after all. 

Word count: 8.1k Im so sorry

A/n: This is my first ‘y/n’ fic and of course its long as hell omg.

Tag List: @jungkook-me-down, @jinie, @mapofmarisoul, @vallkyr, @canyoucallthiswriting, @hobisbapsae

-x-

“Wait, you invited Y/n over to stay with us and didn’t even make sure there were enough rooms?” Jin inquired, brows furrowed as he watched Namjoon run a hand through his hair. You were seated between Yoongi and Hoseok while the other band members spoke, brows furrowed. 

The vacation for Bangtan was winding down to a close and the boys had all decided to go out together with you before they were back to their hectic lives. The trip to Jeju Island was last minute and impromptu, hence why they could only snag a vacation home with a few rooms too less than they needed. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m just happy to be here. We can always just blind pick the rooms like you all did for the Run that one time.” You offered, blinking when a collective lightbulb went off over their heads. 

“Did…did none of you think of that?” You slowly questioned, snickering at the way some of them flushed. You nod in approval, catching Namjoon’s eye as the other boys scurried around, positioning themselves in a circle. 

The dimpled rapper had been your boyfriend for a few months now, and if the blind pick went well, you’d be sharing a room with him alone for the next week. 

“Okay. So, there are eight of us. There are three rooms. If you choose a room, you have to honor however many people pick the room to share afterwards, got it? Once you’re done, write the position of the room on your palm with a marker.” Jimin ran the rules by everyone, bouncing excitedly. You and the others nod, and Jungkook motions for you to go first. 

“M-Me?” 

“Ladie’s first, Y/n. Choose well!” He beamed. You nodded and sent a small look over your shoulder at Namjoon before disappearing down the hall once the others turned their backs so they couldn’t see which direction you turned in. 

The first room was on the smaller side, with windows facing towards the ocean. You wandered in, slightly in awe as you took in the view. There was a TV set up that took up most of the wall space and though you’d love the ocean view, you figured Namjoon would pick a room with more space for him to set up his laptop or work. 

Turning, you moved to the next room, immediately taken by the scent of flowers. This room was definitely the master bedroom of sorts, with the bed being larger and facing the mountain side of the house. You could see it had a good view of the garden in the backyard and without hesitation you knew this would be the one. 

Without needing to see the third room, you hastily wrote ‘middle room’ on your palm before heading back to the living room. You plopped down on the couch, hugging the Mang plushie Hoseok had left behind on the couch as he stood to pick his room. 

One by one, everyone chose their desired rooms. 

“Okay. On the count of three, everyone open their palms, okay?” Tae instructed, clearly excited. You and the others nodded. 

“One, two, three!” 

In union, all of you threw your hands out, opening your palms facing upwards. 

“Hey! We got the same room!” Jungkook cheered, throwing his arms over Jimin and Taehyung. It seemed like the three chose the room facing the ocean, bounding eagerly down the hall after they scrambled to grab their bags from the living room. 

“I brought my PS4!” Jungkook cheered, all but sliding into the room with the other two in tow. 

Jin looked down at his hand, grinning wildly when he found he had a room all to himself. 

“Handsome and lucky~” He whistled, blowing the remaining four a kiss before he strolled down the hall. 

You blinked slowly, looking at the hands around you to find that Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok had all written down ‘middle room’ on your palms. 

“Well that happened.” Hoseok exhaled, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out of his chest. Namjoon gently rubbed your back as he stood beside you. 

“It may be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make do.” He offered a little bit of positivity as you moved to grab your suitcase. Yoongi and Hoseok nodded, walking ahead as Namjoon gently took your bag. You pouted, tugging on his sleeve. 

“Joon-”

“It’s okay, Y/n. Yoongs and Hobi already know about us, we can relax.” He whispered. You blinked in surprise, lips parting. 

“You told them?”

“Had a late night session with them in Rkive and I mentioned missing my girlfriend.” He admitted, laughing gently as he started carrying both of your luggage. You watched his back for a few moments, feeling your heart flutter for a moment before you hid a smile, shuffling after him. 

In the room, Hoseok was sitting by the window, his leg pulled in close to his chest as he stared out at the sunset. You perk, darting past Yoongi and Namjoon to admire the way the sky and the clouds were bathed in a stunning mixture of oranges and pinks.

“Woah…the sky is so pretty.” You muse, unable to keep the smile off your face. 

Hoseok watched the side of your face out of the corner of his eye before he hummed in agreement, muttering a quiet ‘she sure is’ under his breath undetected. 

-Later-

“Don’t eat so fast, you’re going to get sick!” You scolded as you watched Jungkook and Jin shovel food down their mouths. Yoongi’s lip curled slightly at the sight, moving his plate away when Jin nearly toppled over the sauce bottle reaching for more meat from the pot simmering between the group. 

“She’s right. You’re going to choke or burn your tongue if you keep eating like a bunch of coyotes. No one’s gonna take the damn pot from you.” He added, rolling his eyes as Namjoon leaned down to add more meat and vegetables to the pot once the two ate the last fully cooked piece of meat. 

“We have to hurry! The game DLC drops in 20 minutes!” Jungkook huffed, pointing his chopsticks over in you and Yoongi’s direction. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in mild disbelief while Yoongi leveled him with an unimpressed stare. 

“So you’re telling me you two are trying to gobble down a whole pot of meat and veggies meant for eight people so you can stay up playing video games?” He inquired. Jin nodded from beside Kook, unable to talk as he drank his soju. 

Jimin watched them in amusement while Tae eyed the grilled meat, clearly excited about the second round. Hoseok cracked open a can of sprite, pouring it into one of his glasses before he spoke up. 

“We bought extra meat but you two are going to eat it all before Y/n even gets her share.” He scolded. The two vocalists exchanged a look with one another, frowning when they realized that not many of the others had gotten to eat much. Noticing the immediate guilt that crossed their face, you waved your hands. 

“I-It’s okay, you guys are hungry-” the sound of your stomach cut you off and everyone frowned. 

“Okay, that’s enough meat hogging for you two.” Namjoon declared, grabbing some lettuce and packing some rice in the bottom of it. Before you could protest and say it was okay, Namjon plucked some of the thicker slices of meat off the grill before holding it up to you. You blushed, slightly shy as you leaned closer to him, taking a bite of the wrap to test and see if the meat was too hot. Once you found it was the perfect temperature, you took the rest in one bite, your plump lips brushing against Namjoon’s fingers at the end. 

He must have noticed your subtle flirting, if the blush on his face was anything to go by. 

“You two would make a cute couple.” Yoongi mused idly, making his own lettuce wrap. Namjoon, now flustered, moved to take the meat off the grill, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. You only smiled as you reached for more of the grilled food. 

Later that night, you stood in front of the bed, tapping your foot as you tried to figure out how this was going to work with four of you in one bed. Namjoon wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing light kisses to the side of your neck. Part of you melted immediately, pressing back against him before remembering that Hoseok and Yoongi were in the room, too. 

“J-Joon!” 

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna watch you. Unless you’re into that kind of thing.” Yoongi mused, cursing when Hoseok elbowed his side. 

“What, you gonna suggest we join, too?” 

“Again, if she’s into that, why not? We already know Joon-” Whatever he had to say to end that sentence was cut off by Namjoon hurling a pillow in his direction.

“Yah! Quit it, you’re going to make Y/n uncomfortable!” He scolded, pivoting on his heel to get in bed, clearly flustered. You blinked for a moment or two, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened in such a small time frame. 

What was Yoongi going to say? Joon was into…what?

You glanced back at the bed, finding Joon furiously scrolling through his phone, probably looking through his queue of webtoons to catch up on. Shaking off the small curious need you had to press this further, you crawled into bed beside him, scooting so your head was on his chest. Joon smiled, pulling you closer into him as he continued his scrolling. 

You were already drifting to sleep by time Hoseok and Yoongi got up to turn it in for bed. Namjoon said something above you, but it melted into the sound of his heartbeat as you let sleep finally take over.

-2 am-

You tossed and turned, groaning in annoyance as a sudden wave of thirst arose you from a particularly cute dream. Rubbing your eye, you noticed Namjoon absent from your side, and your brows furrowed in confusion, noticing Hoseok was also missing from the bed. 

After rolling out of bed, you slide on Namjoon’s oversized Koya slippers, shuffling your way out into the hall. Namjoon and Hobi could be out for a late night stroll or something of the sort. You just hoped they were being careful out so late.

Idly as you made your way to the kitchen, you wondered if you should slice some apples and wait for them to get back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone chattering in the kitchen. You slowed your steps, slowly peeking around the corner. 

You found the two men in question, standing near each other as they talked. Normally you’d stroll up and teasingly ask why they were up so late as well, but the intimate closeness and the looks on their faces made you hesitate. Instead you hung back, listening to them.

“You still haven’t asked her?” Hoseok inquired. Namjoon rubbed his neck, looking down at the ground. 

“Things have been so hectic lately and I haven’t gotten to sit down and talk with her.” He answered, his tone clearly disappointed. Your heart sank. 

Was something wrong? 

“Not everyone is down for a poly relationship, Hobi.” He added after a beat of silence. You stared at the two, lips parting as the fractured context of the late night convo started piecing themselves together. Hoseok nodded, reaching out to gently squeeze Namjoon’s arm.

“I know. Yoongs and I aren’t gonna push things if she’s not okay with it. We miss you, though, Joon. And honestly? Y/n is a beautiful woman with an amazing personality. I’d be lying if I said Yoongs and I haven’t talked about it more than once.” He chucked. Namjoon cocked a brow, lifting his head.

“You two were talking about my girlfriend?”

“We’re trying to get you to quit being such a coward and tell her you’re poly. Maybe she’d be our girlfriend.” Hobi fired back, teasingly. Namjoon, seemingly flustered, didn’t seem opposed to the notion.

Your heart skipped a beat and you stepped back, eyes wide.

Yoongi and Hobi? They had been thinking of you in a romantic manner? Since when? And what was all of this about them missing Joon? Had the three of them…?

As you were turning to leave, you ran right into Yoongi’s chest. You almost let out a startled yell, had he not have gently put a hand over your mouth. You stared up at the sleepy eyed rapper and he shook his head. 

“These two really have no hindsight, having this kind of conversation out in the open.” He nodded towards the bedroom. “C'mon, it’ll be a whole mess if they find out we’re here.” He moved his hand from your lips, gently taking your wrist to tug you silently along to bed. 

Once there, he let you go, crawling into bed and giving you a small hum when you hesitated. 

“Before they come back, I’ll fill in the blanks. Hoseok, Namjoon, and I were in a poly relationship. Joon met you and we all decided he could take a break from us and see how things went with you. He wants to tell you he’s poly and see if you’d like to try a relationship with us as a quartet. It’s a lot to take in, but you can rest easy, Hobi and I will respect your decision. Joon cherishes you and your relationship, too. He’s never snuck around or anything behind your back. All of us have respected you, as well as Joon’s wish to take a break from our relationship while he worked this out. Plus we’re not gonna like, push up on you or anything. Unless you’re into that.” He yawned, echoing the same words he said earlier.

They suddenly held a lot more weight.

You heard the other two rappers heading back down the hall and all but dove into bed, eyes closing just enough for you to peek in the darkness as Namjoon and Hoseok walked in. Yoongi bit back the urge to chuckle, humming in faux sleepiness when Hoseok settled in behind him, kissing the nape of his neck. Joon mirrored him, wrapping his hands around your waist as he pulled your back flush against his chest.

You hoped Namjoon couldn’t tell how much your heart was racing as you did your best to go back to sleep.

-Next Day-

After yesterday’s revelation, you began to notice things here and there that had previously went over your head. 

The way Yoongi felt at home borrowing Namjoon’s clothes, giving himself sweater paws with one of Joon’s Fear of God sweaters as he settled on the couch, immersed in a book as Hoseok rubbed his calves idly, quietly complimenting Yoongi on the muscles that were there. 

Namjoon wasn’t too far behind, squeezed into the end of the couch with Hobi, sharing his phone screen so they could also watch some videos of other bands. Hoseok shifted his attention quickly, his head on Namjoon’s shoulder as they watched. 

They all looked so comfortable.

Biting your lip, you walked over, standing in front of them. 

“I wanna watch, too. That sounds like Dreamcatcher, I love them.” 

“I can lift my legs, Y/n.” Yoongi offered, moving to move his curled legs from beside Hoseok’s hip.

“That’s alright.” You swallow down the butterflies and nervousness, moving to sit down, your bottom on both Namjoon and Hoseok’s thigh, gently taking the phone from Namjoon and holding it between you three. Yoongi watched you in interest, the corner of his lips curling up.

“C-can you see?” You inquired, glancing over your shoulder to look at both Namjoon and Hoseok, biting your lip when you saw how close they were. 

“Not quite. Scoot back a little.” Namjoon instructed, gently pulling your hips back until your back was flush against both of them. You squirmed slightly, heart hammering as both of them settled their chins on your shoulder, breaths ghosting your neck as you shakily resumed the video.

The four of you sat like that for at least an hour or so, enjoying the proximity of one another. With every creeping minute, you found it more apparent that you weren’t really bothered by the idea of Namjoon’s previous relationship with the other two rappers. 

If the thunder of your heart was anything to go by, you were more than comfortable with also getting the same attention.

Before the gravity of that realization could hit you, Jimin came bounding into the living room, startling you all. 

“Hyungs! Y/n! We should do karaoke!” He cheered, seemingly unbothered by the closeness of the four of you. You lowered the phone, tilting your head.

“Karaoke? Where did that come from?” 

“I had to sit up all night while Jungkook played with Jin-hyung and Tae can sleep through a hurricane, I can’t. So tonight, before that happens, I want us all to do some karaoke!” He cheered. You smiled at his energy, sliding out of Hoseok and Namjoon’s lap as you helped Jimin set up the TV and the machine that Jimin had found in one of the closets in the home. 

Namjoon rubbed his neck as he watched you, eyeing the curve of your ass while you bent over to see where the HDMI cable port was located. 

“I didn’t expect her to sit in our lap. She’s making it hard for me to figure out an approach on asking.” He muttered. Yoongi hummed, sitting up to slide nimble fingers over Hoseok’s sweatpants clad leg, giving the outline of his cock a subtle, sneaky squeeze, purring when the younger rapper bit back a groan, sucking in a quick breath through his teeth. 

“I’d say she’s making something hard, alright.” He added, casually taking his hand away from Hoseok’s now throbbing cock when he heard Tae, Jin, and Jungkook loudly making their way over to the living room. 

“Yoongi, that’s just evil.” Hoseok spat, adjusting himself as inconspicuously as he could. Yoongi only hummed coyly, head tilting to the left as you leaned back further, cheering in success when you finally plugged in the machine. 

“It’s in! We can start!” Jimin beamed, clapping eagerly. 

“I wanna go first!”

“Is there Charlie Puth in the bank?”

“Can we sing songs in English and Japanese too?”

You and the vocal line began chattering at once, looking through the list of songs. 

“How about we make it interesting. Whoever gives the worst performance has to do dinner dishes.” Jin offered, a spark in his eye. You immediately frowned, squinting. 

“Isn’t that unfair? Did you forget who you are? How am I supposed to beat the seven of you?” You hissed in clear disapproval. 

“Well you won’t win with that attitude, Y/n. Plus, as long as you have fun, that’s what matters!” Tae cooed, a boxy grin on his face. Your eyes narrowed even more and Namjoon raised his hand. 

“If you do lose, I’ll help with the dishes. Though I doubt you will.” He offered. You smiled softly, feeling at ease once again. 

“Fine. Let’s do it, then.” 

Everyone eagerly looked through the songs after that, with Jungkook and Jimin teaming up to duet one of Khalid’s songs, having the time of their lives. Tae followed close behind them, singing one of Halsey’s songs. From the way he moved his body, you can tell he’d probably listened to it often, coming up with his own choreo for it as he sang. He nearly slipped a few times, leaving you wondering why he tried to dance on a tile floor with socks on. Jin got more than a few laughs as he chose Gain’s Paradise Lost, copying the choreo nearly perfectly. 

“Hyung, how many times have you done this?” Hoseok inquired, clearly impressed by the look on his face. Jin only winked and blew him a kiss in his usual manner. 

“Enough to not have to do dishes. Y/n, you’re up!” He grinned, passing the mic to you.

You shuffled forward, shyly clutching the mic as the familiar sound of Ddaeng filled the living room.

“She’s pandering!” Jimin gasped playfully, unable to move fast enough to dodge the pillow Tae threw his way as he shushed him. 

“Shh! Let her rap!” 

You stuck your tongue out, doing your best to copy the Rap Line as closely as you could, unable to keep yourself from breaking character and laughing when Tae started dancing and rapping along in the background.

Out of the corner of your vision, you could see Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok mouthing along, and you’d be lying if you said the subtle intensity in their eyes as they watched you wasn’t as terrifying as it was arousing. 

You took a seat once the song ended, smiling and taking the water bottle Jimin offered you as you watched all three of the rappers get up from the couch. 

“The three of you are going to do a song together?” You asked without hesitation. They nodded. 

“We figured we’d wrap this up so we can actually start cooking.” Yoongi mused, checking the time. You glanced at your phone, nodding in agreement when you saw it was already close to seven at night. 

You settled down on the floor with the Vocal Line, knees pulled up to your chest as you waited. Hoseok scrolled down the list of songs in their playlist, eyes sparkling when he found one, pointing at it as he whispered to Namjoon and Yoongi. Namjoon was blushing, but he didn’t look opposed to the idea, while Yoongi only sent him a knowing quirk of the brow. 

“Subtle.” He hummed under his breath as the first notes of the song started. 

You felt your throat run dry, immediately recognizing the song. 

Girl, change into that Victoria’s Secret thing that I like

Alright, okay

Tonight you’re having me your way

Perfume, spray it there

Put our love in the air

Now put me right next to you

Fittin’ to raise the temp in the room

First rub my back like you do

Right there, uh-uh, right there

Uh you touch me like you care

Now stop and let me repay you for the week that you’ve been through

Working that 9-5 and staying cute, like you do oh, oh, oh

You watched, lips parted as Namjoon started singing, his eyes on you as he did so. Hoseok and Yoongi weren’t far behind, improvising a dance with one another as Bangtan’s leader practically serenaded you in front of everyone. Yoongi reached around Joon in a manner way too intimate for a mic pass, his fingers wrapped around Joon’s as he pulled the mic over to his lips, singing the chorus.

I love it, I love it, you love it, you love it

Every time, every time, we touchin’, we touchin’

I want it, I want it, you want it, you want it

I’ll see you, see you, in the morning, in the morning

I wanna put my fingers through your hair

Wrap me up in your legs

And love you till your eyes roll back

I’m tryin’ to put you to bed, bed, bed

I'mma put you to bed, bed, bed

Then I'ma rock your body

Turn you over, love is war, I’m your soldier

Touching you like it’s our first time

Imma put you to bed, bed, bed

Imma put you to bed, bed, bed

Did no one else in the room notice how this was all directed at you? One glance at the others showed they were entertained and immersed in the performance, and not their best friends currently giving you fuck me eyes while singing a song about fucking.

Hoseok, ever the dangerous one, casually took the mic, a far too sweet dimpled smile on his face as he sang. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was singing to you, motioning to you in gentle sweeping motions as he did so.

I’m staring at you while you sleep

You replaced, it for beauty

Put my face up in your neck and breathe (ah breathe)

Take you into my senses

Wake up, it’s time to finish

Round two, It’s round two

Matter of fact, it’s closer to three

D-did he have to motion to the three off them during that last part? You swallowed thickly, unable to decide which one of them to focus on. To be honest, it didn’t matter. At this point, there was an ache between your legs and a flush on your cheeks you were sure people could see a mile away.

The boys continued like this for the entire song, body roles, grinding, and eye contact relentless as they sung, and part of you honestly forgot there were others around. Your mind wandered the longer the song went on. 

Yoongi’s fingers deep inside of you, his lips against your ear, his low voice purring pure filth as he made you fall apart from his hands. Namjoon’s large body pressed against yours, your lips crashed together as he rocked into you, your fingers laced together. Hoseok’s head between your thighs, squeezing your ass and pulling you flush against his lips as he greedily ate you out, dark eyes trained on every twitch of pleasure from your face. All of it rattled through your head along with images of the boys tangled up with one another. Soon, you couldn’t hear the music over the sound of daydream Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi panting and groaning in your ear, accompanied by your own desperate cries and mewls for more-

God, what is happening?!

The sound of clapping cut you out of your daze, and you blinked back to reality as the three Rap Line members set the mic down, only slightly out of breath.

“Okay, so we know who won.” Tae whistled. Everyone nodded in agreement while you gulped down as much water as you could, trying your best not to choke in the process. 

“So as for voting-”

“I’ll just do the dishes.” You said hurriedly, standing up like a shot. All eyes were on you in an instant and you bit back a curse at how obvious you were making it apparent that something was wrong with you. 

“Woah, Y/n…I can see your cheeks all flushed from here. Are you okay? I can do the dishes if you’ve got a fever. Do you want to hold my RJ?” Jin offered, frowning. You waved your hands at him, shooting them all an unconvincing disarming smile.

“I-I’m just a little hot. Go ahead and start dinner, I’m gonna wash my face.” You stuttered though the sentence before darting down the hall, muttering a few curses in your native tongue before you ducked in the bathroom. 

“Get it together, Y/n! What are you doing, girl?” You scold yourself, splashing water on your face. You grip the counter, bowing your head down as you collect yourself. There was a gentle knock that interrupted you, followed by a concerned voice.

“Y/n, are you alright? Do you want me to run to the store and grab some medicine?”

You swung the door open, looking up at Namjoon’s concerned face before you pulled him inside with you closing it back with a little more force than you’d meant to. This did nothing to calm the fears no doubt racing through Namjoon’s head. 

“What-”

“I know about you, Yoongi, and Hobi.” You blurted. Namjoon blinked, brows furrowing for a moment before realization dawned on him moments later. 

“Wait-”

“I overheard last night.” You explained, smoothing your hands down on your pants as you held Joon’s gaze.

“I…I was going to tell you, I swear I’ve never cheated or anything, I would never-”

“I know. Yoongi also woke up last night. He told me everything. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, Joon.” You stepped closer to him, never breaking eye contact. 

“I never expected something like this, but I’m not opposed to it.” You finally tell him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Namjoon’s hands gravitated towards your hips instantly, surprise clear on his face. 

“Are you serious?”

“I am. I wish you would’ve told me sooner, though. Instead of triple teaming me by singing sexy songs in front of all our best friends.” You teased. Namjoon hummed, a smile finally cracking onto his face. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” He quipped, leaning down for a kiss. You happily kissed him back, giggling against his lips as he pulled you flush against him by your hips. You ran your fingers through his hair, licking at his bottom lip. Namjoon picked you up without warning, drawing a yelp from you as your legs wrapped around his waist. He set you on the counter of the sink, palms at either side of your thighs as he deepened the kiss, a low groan leaving his lips when you teasingly sucked on his tongue. 

You two broke apart after a minute or so of the sloppy kiss, slightly out of breath as you looked into each other’s eyes. 

“We’ll talk to Hobi and Yoongs about all of this in the morning, right?” You inquired. Namjoon nodded, kissing your head before the two of you quickly made your way out into the kitchen. 

“Y/n, are you feeling better?” 

Jimin was the first to notice you one you returned. You cleared your throat, nodding once. 

“Sorry about that. Just got a bit light headed from the summer heat, it seems.” You lied, shuffling into the kitchen further to see what everyone was doing.

Jimin was slicing some strawberries and mangoes, gently dropping them in a bowl while Jungkook and Jin argued over whether the lamb or lobster should be cooked first. Tae was close to Yoongi, reading off the instructions of the pudding mix they bought while Hoseok washed off a rather large radish.  

“Is that for some dongchimi?” You question, smiling when Hoseok nodded.

“I wanted to make something with a warm broth, so you’d feel better if you’re sick.” He grinned, rolling up his sleeves with a tender, yet determined look on his face. You felt your heart flutter for a moment, missing the proud smile on Namjoon’s face as he walked past you to take the spicy squid and pork out of the fridge.

“Can I help? I don’t want to stand around doing nothing.” You said, moving towards Hoseok. He frowned. 

“But…you’re not feeling well.”

“I’d feel better if I was helping.” You countered. 

Hoseok considered contesting the sentiment before he stepped aside, handing the radish to you. You took his place, getting to work cutting while Hoseok moved to dice some scallions. At some point, Jimin peeked over your shoulder, tilting his head. 

“Hey, Y/n? Aren’t they a bit…big? The slices of radish are gonna take up the entire bowl.” He mused. You blinked and looked at the parts you cut, flustered when you realized they were, in fact, much too large for the banchan bowls. Hoseok brushed the sliced scallions into a mixing bowl before he looked over your shoulder, as well. 

“That’s not too bad. Let’s doctor it up.” He hummed, walking behind you. 

“Just relax, if you’re stiff, it’s gonna come out all chunky.” He told you, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he put his hands over yours, guiding you as you both sliced the radish.

You could feel the blush creeping up to your ears at the close proximity and intimacy. Yoongi watched you both out of the corner of his eye, a satisfied look on his face.

You swallowed thickly, noticing every fine detail now that you were so close to Hoseok.

The way his chin brushed against the top of your head as he helped you slice, the light scent of his cologne flooding your senses, the comforting warmth radiating off of his body. 

Were Hobi’s hands always this soft?

“Oooh, are you flirting with Y/n, hyung?” Tae teased, dramatically popping a mango chunk into his mouth as he pointed in your direction. You bolted, nearly cutting your finger, had Hoseok not have tightened his grip on your hand. 

“Keep teasing Y/n and I’ll tell Joon to cut down on how much meat you get today.” Hoseok scolded. Tae gasped, scandalized while Namjoon nodded from the grill he was setting up in the center of the dining room.

“I guess I’ll give all of your pieces to Y/n.“ He sighed, clearly kidding with the threat of less food. Tae still bowed in your direction like a child being scolded. 

“Sorry, Y/n…”

You smiled.

“It’s alright, Taetae. Let’s get back to cooking, I know I’m starving.“ 

Tae agreed, maneuvering around the kitchen to grab everything he needed for the pudding.

Hobi smiled and nodded towards the cutting board. 

“Let’s finish up, then. We have other things to slice.”

-x-

It took around an hour of shuffling around in the kitchen, hands brushing against your waist, Namjoon scolding the other boys for stealing food, and the usual chaos that came with cooking with Bangtan before dinner was done. 

You squeezed yourself into a seat between Namjoon and Hoseok, digging in with the members cheerfully. It didn’t escape you how the boys had tactfully given you more food during dinner. You even took some initiative, reaching over the table to feed Yoongi a lettuce wrap.

You definitely noticed the way his tongue ran over the tips of your fingers as he took his bite, and part of you wondered if this was how flustered Namjoon was when you did the same to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a small rose made out of sliced radish that seemingly appeared after Hoseok sat beside you. With a small smile, you admired it as you ate dinner.

Once everyone was full and satisfied, Namjoon hung back, as promised, to help you with dishes. He playfully bumped your arm with his a few times as you worked side by side. You sent him a playful glare, hip checking him while you put the plates away. 

Together, you finished them in no time, sharing a few kisses like two reckless teens before heading back to the room to watch some movies before bed. Tomorrow, you’d definitely talk with Hoseok and Yoongi about this relationship and where it was headed. 

-x-

Something shuffling beside you woke you up in the early hours of the morning, and part of you wondered why you couldn’t just a good night’s sleep without waking up mid way. The shuffling continued, followed by a sharp inhale and the telltale sound of kissing. 

Curious, you cracked your eyes open, squinting in the darkness to figure out what all that movement was. 

You got your answer when you heard the undeniable sound of a muffled moan. You could see Yoongi kissing and nibbling up the side of Hoseok’s neck, whispering something to him in a low, hushed tone. Hoseok shuddered, gripping Yoongi’s arm, and it was then that you noticed the fuller picture. 

Yoongi had pressed himself close to Hoseok’s back, a small, devious smile playing at the corner of his lips as he lazily stroked Hoseok’s cock through the loose sweatpants he was wearing earlier.

“You gotta keep quiet, Hobi. You’re gonna wake up Y/n and Namjoon.” Yoongi purred, though he didn’t seem even remotely close to stopping. Hoseok bit back a curse, blunt nails raking down Yoongi’s arm as he thrusted into his hand. 

“N-no one told you to start jacking me off, Yoongi.” He growled out, huffing out a low growl when Yoongi responded by rolling his thumb over the head of his cock, enjoying the opportunity to further tease him.

You bit your lip, squirming as you watched the subtle way Hoseok’s scolding melted away until he was gasping and whining in Yoongi’s ear, pleading for him to keep going. As your body heated up, you felt something firm nudging your ass, making your face ignite more when a low, groggy growl sounded off from above your head. 

“You’re gonna wake Y/n.” He scolded, but you could tell he was more than enjoying the show. 

“I…I’ve been awake.” Your voice cut through the sound of Hoseok’s moans and Yoongi muttered a startled ‘fuck’, stilling completely. 

“Oh my god. Y/n, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-” Yoongi pulled back, and you could see the embarrassed flush on his face. Hoseok sent him a pointed look, clearly frustrated his release was yanked away so suddenly. 

“It’s okay.” You cut off his rambling, looking back at Namjoon. He noticed the way your eyes darkened in the moonlight streaming in through the window and only quirked his lips, nodding in their direction. 

“We did say we’d work things out in the morning. It is technically morning.” He mused. 

Smiling deviously, you turned your attention back to the other two confused rappers. You got on your hands and knees, moving to straddle Hoseok, unable to hold back the laugh that left your lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes. 

“What’s wrong? You woke me up, aren’t you gonna put me back to bed? Isn’t that what you sang to me earlier?” You teased, rolling your hips down. Hoseok grunted, his hands immediately moving to your hips as you continued grinding on him, sighing at the slight relief you got when you felt the thick outline of his cock rubbing against you with every grind. 

“F-fuck…are we dreaming, Yoongs?” Hoseok shuddered, sitting up so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. Yoongi having crawled behind you, leaned down to nip at the free side of your neck, drawing a gasp and a whimper from you. 

“Don’t think so.” Was the low growl of a response. You cupped Hoseok’s cheeks, leaning down to kiss him. Normally you would be tentative and shy, especially kissing someone who was just a close friend less than 24 hours ago, but the ache between your legs and the sound of Yoongi and Namjoon kissing behind you was enough for you to throw whatever hesitation you had away instantly. 

Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, his large hands dipping into your pj shorts, squeezing your ass firmly as he rolled his hips up. You whimpered against his lips, rubbing your breasts against his chest as he moved your hips. Your clothes were getting much too stuffy too fast, and Hoseok must have agreed, if the subtle tug at your shorts was anything to go by. 

“Are you okay with going further?” He questioned once he broke your kiss, his lips damp. You nodded, glancing over your shoulder when you heard Namjoon cursing. Yoongi’s head had disappeared between his thighs, and you couldn’t help the pout and challenging sway of your hips as you looked back at Hoseok. 

“We should have more fun, too.” 

Satisfied with your eager response, Hoseok ran his hands up your shirt, tossing it to the side once you lifted your arms. You did the same with him, gasping in surprise when he lifted your lower body with one arm, sliding your shorts and panties down past your ass in one fluid motion. You wiggled your hips, discarding them in the same manner. 

It surely would be interesting finding all your scattered clothes in the morning. 

You pulled Hoseok’s sweatpants down, nearly salivating at how thick he was. Without thinking twice, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly as your tongue flicked out, catching the bead of precum that nearly rolled down his head. Hoseok growled in response, his dark eyes holding your gaze as you made a show out of kissing the tip of his cock, with each kiss lingering longer until you have him a teasing suck, rolling your tongue over one of the veins you noticed. He shuddered, hips tensing before he bit his lip. 

“You wanna suck my cock?”

“I am down here, sucking your cock, am I not?” You shot back sassily, a jolt of electricity running through you when you saw the way his jaw clenched. 

“Turn around. If you’re gonna gag on my cock, I should at least be able to taste that pussy while you do, right? C’mon, move that ass for me baby girl.” Hoseok ordered. The authoritative tone in his voice and the low drip of lust in his tone made you move much quicker, turning eagerly for him. 

You hardly had any time to get your mouth back on Hoseok’s cock before he grabbed your ass again, pulling you down until your pussy was right in his face, his tongue flicking out to give you long licks. You gasped, gripping his thighs, hips involuntarily rolling down for more. Hoseok chuckled, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass even more. 

“Almost creamed your panties from grinding on me and now you wanna ride my face, baby girl? Do you want it that bad?”

“H-Hoseok, ah…stop teasing her and eat her out already.” Yoongi scolded, drawing your attention back to him and Namjoon. Joon had sat Yoongi in his lap, spreading the pale rapper’s legs as he stretched him open with his long fingers, a bottle of lube off to the side of Namjoon’s hip. He was sucking hickies into Yoongi’s shoulder, watching you and Hoseok with such an intense look, it made you sudder in Hoseok’s grip. 

Hoseok obliged, his tongue rolling over your clit a few times before drifting lower, curling as it slid into your pussy. You mewled, taking hold of Hoseok’s girthy cock once more, deciding to forgo the teasing from before as you tested to see how far you could take him. 

Your lips stretched around him, stroking whatever you couldn’t comfortably fit. Hoseok groaned against your pussy, slapping your ass once you started bobbing your head. You whimpered, clenching slightly around his tongue. Namjoon perked from his spot near Yoongi, grinning devilishly. 

“Spank her, Hoseok. She loves it.” He instructed. You looked over at him, drool running down your chin once Hoseok started thrusting up into your mouth. Almost as soon as Namjoon told him, Hoseok’s large palm cracked against your ass, drawing a whine and a gasp as the sting sent a pleasurable shock throughout your body. Namjoon, satisfied after pulling his fingers from Yoongi’s slicked hole, lifted his hips, kissing the back of his neck as the Daegu rapper eased down on his cock. 

Yoongi groaned, fists clenching as he stretched around him. 

“G-god damn, it’s been a while, Joon.” Yoongi sighed, rolling his hips to adjust to the stretch. You moaned around Hobi’s cock, your free hand cupping his balls, rolling them in your palm as you eased more of his cock down your throat. 

“H-Holy fuck, Y/n.” Hoseok hissed, running his nails down your ass, leaving you with a pleasurable burn. You shuddered, feeling close to cumming. From the way Hoseok’s balls drew up in your palm, you could tell he was close, too.

A few more minutes of you drooling over his cock while riding his face and Hoseok was growling against you once more, squeezing your ass hard as he raised his hips, cumming with a low, drawn out groan. You mewled against his cock, feeling him fill your mouth. You whimpered, thighs slightly clenching around Hoseok’s head as you came yourself, literally riding your orgasm out as you rutted against his lips. Hoseok shuddered, giving your ass soothing caresses as you eased off of his cock. 

Eyes half lidded, you crawled over to Yoongi, who was nearly incomprehensible as he rode Namjoon, his eyes closed as his head rolled back onto Joon’s shoulder. While on your knees, you shuffled over to him, cupping his cheeks and waiting until he cracked open his lust blown eyes to look at you. You stuck your tongue out, showing him how you still had Hoseok’s cum in your mouth and he instantly knew what you were prompting him to do, leaning down to mold your lips together. His tongue instantly slid into your mouth, greedily sharing Hoseok’s cum as he dominated your mouth. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Namjoon growled, snapping his hips up harder at the sight. Yoongi’s voice cracked against your lips and you took over the kiss, running your fingers through his silky, slightly damp hair. Yoongi reached around, spreading your cheeks, and the warmth behind you was a pleasant reminder that Hoseok still had more energy. He slid his cock between your legs, kissing the top of your head as he pushed into your tight pussy slowly. 

“O-Oh my fucking god” You gasped, nearly biting Yoongi’s lip as Hoseok’s girth pushed into you. Hoseok kissed your head once more, holding your wrists back as he pushed in until his hips were flush against your ass. 

“He feel good baby girl? You excited to be stuffed?” Namjoon purred, reaching around to stroke Yoongi’s cock as he watched the way your face changed once Hoseok started moving. It made his cock throb harder while inside of Yoongi. 

“Y-Yes, oh my god yes!” You cried out, eyes rolling slightly as Hoseok started rocking into you with deep, hard thrusts. The only thing keeping you up was Hobi’s grip on your wrists. Your moans were shaky and loud, and the only thing that brought your volume down was Yoongi lacing his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a hard kiss. Whether it was to keep you from waking the others, or just because he wanted to claim your lips again didn’t matter.

The bed creaked in protest as the four of you fucked. At some point, Hoseok let your wrists go, chuckling darkly when your upper body slumped into the sheets, literally face down, ass up as he fucked you. 

“God, your pussy is just swallowing my cock, baby.” Hoseok growled, giving your ass another firm slap. You whined, looking up and biting your lip when you saw Yoongi’s cock bobbing in your face as Namjoon fucked him. 

You pushed yourself up to your elbows, leaning over to take Yoongi in your mouth, tilting your head and looking up at him through your lashes when his wide-eyed gaze flew down to you. 

“Fuck, no no, I’m gonna cum if you-”

You slid further on his cock, shaking your hips for Hoseok as his thrusts curled up just right. You ignored Yoongi’s breathless pleas, the sound of Namjoon and Hobi’s voice encouraging you as you bobbed your head. You moaned and mewled with every thrust, the pleasure running through every inch of your body like electricity as you edged closer and closer to the edge. 

“C’mon, throw that ass back for him baby, I can tell you’re close.” Namjoon instructed. You mewled, obediently spreading your legs further to move back, fucking yourself on Hoseok’s cock as you rolled your tongue along the underside of Yoongi’s cock. 

Namjoon was the first to cum minutes after that, his grip on Yoongi’s hips near bruising as he held him in place. A long, shuddering growl left his lips. You came not to far after him, nearly at the same time as Yoongi as thick ropes of cum landed on your tongue. You swallowed every drop, still teasingly sucking him after he had finished to make sure he was fully satiated. His hand in your hair was enough to draw you off of him. Hoseok came last, pulling out and groaning as he came over the curve of your ass. 

“Hoseok, did you just cum on her ass?” Yoongi inquired, arching a brow.

“I didn’t wanna be rude and cum inside of her!” Hoseok snipped back. You smiled lazily, shaking your ass. 

“It’s fine. Maybe next time Joonie can show you two how much I enjoy being stuffed.” You tease. The three stare at you for a moment before Namjoon shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. 

“God, I love her.” 

You all exchange smiles and small pecks, taking turns showering off. Namjoon took the liberty of changing the sheets, beckoning you over once you all were showered and dried off. You crawled back into bed, kissing his cheek while Yoongi slid in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You figured Hoseok was somewhere behind you and you smiled, settling in with a smile on your face, the pull of sleep taking you not too long afterwards. 

#fie writes #btspolyshipbingo #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #bts smut #rapline x reader #poly relationship #bangtan fic #bts smut fic #kim namjoon smut #jung hoseok smut #min yoongi smut #mmmf relationship #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #sope #namseok #yoonjoon #bangtanhq

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part IV

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Selling his vods is looking like a really good idea at this point.

Previous Parts and Interludes can be found on my Masterlist HERE

From: Tech-Vod

To: Grutababy

I'm going to say this one time only. 

You are not a bad friend. 

You may be one of my only friends. I have my brothers but you are different. You chose to talk to me and each time you do it is a bright point in my day. You are important to me. 

 I imagine your job is stressful. Is there anyone you can talk to? A co-worker maybe. If not, have you thought about finding someone to talk to in addition to me? Find someone who looks friendly. Maybe a stranger in the lunch room. Walk up and say 'hello'. I can't imagine someone would ever turn down a chance at your company.    

Bear with me? Work is crazy. Big assignments coming up. Killer deadlines. I am going to try my to write back as soon as I can. If you do not hear from me for a time, know that it is not you. Work just has me a system away. I want to share with you. Please believe me. I will start sharing things with you. What I do is... hard to explain.  

------

“Tech. finish up the love letter. We've got work to do" Hunter growls. Tech quickly hits send as the ship enter atmo. He maneuvers through noxious black clouds, the Marauder jostling with the occasional updraft of superheated air. Tech lets his focus shift from Y/N to the task at hand.

“Will your lady love be waiting on the tarmac when we get home.” Crosshair’s voice echos through the comms. Tech taps the controls and the ship banks left, hard and fast. The sniper tumbles into Wrecker's gonk. 

“I think It’s gonna be a rough landing.” Tech quips grinning “It seems now would be a good time to buckle in.”

Wrecker laughs.

Crosshair runs a hand over his helmet as he unfolds himself. “You don't say?” 

“Enough fellas” Hunter eyes shift from Tech to Crosshair. The sniper is slowly climbing to his feet, adjusting his armor. Wrecker holds his hands up.

“I didn’t say anything, Sarge .”

With a deep breath Hunter brings himself back to center. Sometimes, it was like dealing with younglings.

The Marauder drips suddenly finding a pocket of dead air. They lose 15ft of altitude in a matter of seconds before its decent stops. In unspoken synchronization, each clone tightens their safety belts. The smell of the rotten sulfuric smoke that hung in the air was already permeating the ship and they hadn’t even popped the doors yet.

“Remember” Hunter begins “This is recon only. We are NOT to initiate contact. Do you hear me Wrecker.” The big man rolls his shoulders and grumbles lowly.

“I got you Sarge.”

“Good. I need you on point. Cross?” The sniper looks up from last minute check of his rifle. The ship lands with a soft jostle, the heat already rising as its switches into standby. “I want you up top somewhere. Eyes in the sky.”

“Roger that Sarge”

“Tech you’re with me, need you to do a little slicing”

Techs eyes wrinkle in delight before he flips his visor down, “As always, you speak my language.”

“Alright boys, easy does it” the four clones queue up at the door “following Wrecker in three... two... one...”

The mission goes belly up in under an hour, less than two klicks from the ship they run into Seperatist forces.

———

“Y/N!”

“Sir?” You look up from where you’ve been tasked with counting supplies. Boxes of bacta and dressings lay scattered at your feet. You haven't gotten nearly as much done as you'd hoped. I message from you Galaxymance match has had you distracted all day.

 Kix motions for you. You drop everything and jog over.

“I've got the Bad Batch coming in hot” he begins before you've even come to a stop at his side “their birds banged up and they’ve been through the ringer”. You nod as the clone continues to explain the situation. “I need you to lead up the exam. They did well with you last time.”

“Sir?” You question. Though you’d worked with the Batch one other time  a week back you weren’t sure you were the right one to take over their rotation. 

“That’s an order.” He clarifies “if it looks like it more than you can handle or anyone comes off that ship missing a limb you call in back up. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” You needed to clear a bay and find a med droid ASAP.

You’ve only just got everything ready when your patients all stumble into the room. Crossfire is propped between Wrecker and Hunter. Tech hobbles in behind. The Med droid, 2-1B, hums to life as you point to the table.

“I need him there.”

“I’m fine” the sniper grumbles as Wrecker unceremoniously dumps him onto the table. His skin looks paler than the last time you’d seen him and his eyes struggle to focus as you flash each with a light. He looks like shit.

“Try that one again later. Ok?” You glance around to the teams engineer still standing near the door and point to another exam table. “You. There. Helmet off.” He stares in your direction, stupid visor still flipped down obscuring whatever look he was giving you. “I said now, Trooper” irritation flares in your chest as he hesitates. 

Wrecker laughs as he leans up against the wall, you glance his way as 2-1B begins scanning Crosshair.

“Easy Ik’aad. He took back to back blasts. It might take him a minute”

“Ik’aad?” You hear Tech make a noise across the room and Crossfire, still dazed, barks out a weak laugh.

“Just a term of endearment for our favorite medic, Ik’aad” the sniper warbles.

“Would you children let her work” Hunter interrupts, voice like gravel. You nod thankfully. Tech is pulling his helmet off as you round on him. He pushes back on to the exam table, sitting straight up as you begin your once over.

“That’s better. Now let me get a good look at you.” You start with a simple scan, no internal injuries. Vital signs are satisfactory even if his heart rate is up a little bit.

“Easy Tech. I’m not gonna hurt you.” You try to soothe quietly. He doesn’t move as you reach up and slip his goggles off his face. He’s so stiff sitting there in front of you so you try to lighten the mood as you check his pupillary response. His skin is cool as you cup his cheek to hold him still. “Anyone ever told you, you’ve got pretty eyes?”

Crosshair makes a choking sound and you round on him only to see the Loth cat-like grin crossing his face. “We’ve all got the same eyes. Clones remember?”

“Well maybe you’ve all got pretty eyes than?”

Wrecker laughs. “I like you.”

“I can die happy now” you grumble. Hunter bites back what sounds to be a chuckle. You switch spots with 2-1B.

“The clone’s scan has shown no injuries requiring further treatment at this time, though a concussion can not be ruled out without further medical studies.”

“Thanks Too-Bee.” You give Hunter a questioning look and he seems to read your mind. What the kriff happened?

“The Seps got the jump on us, they laid out two concussives before we were able to do anything about it. Cross took the worst of it. Tech got part of the second one going to give him back up.”

“It’s ok, Ik'aad" That name again, coming from Wrecker “Got rid of every last clanker I could get my hands on." His chest puffs up proudly and you reach up to pat it as you skirt by.

Grabbing the holopad off the wall you begin charting your findings and filing the medical report. The sniper had a concussion, you didn’t need “further studies” to tell you that and the way Tech was moving he likely had a sprained ankle-

“This Clone appears to have torn a peroneal tendon” 2-1B drones

So a torn tendon it was. You glance up at Tech and catch him watching you. The soft way his eyes follow your movements makes your heart flutter and than the look is gone and he’s tapping away at the pad in his vambrace leaving you confused at the momentary feeling. Moving around the room you search a pair of drawers, finally pulling out what you were looking for.

“Looks like you boys have earned some bacta shots and a few days rest.”

———

“Ik’aad? Ik’aad?!” Tech is seething, voice coming out in a hiss as he glares ahead of him. Crosshair chuckles tiredly at his side.

He adjusts his goggles, taking a moment to squeeze the bridge of his nose between two fingers. The sensation of your skin, warm and alive against his is burned into his memory. The way you’d tried to soothe him when you thought he was scared was sweet. If only you’d known the truth. This was getting out of hand fast. The warning look Hunter had given him before he and Wrecker had excused themselves let him know, the Sargent agreed.

The pair continues to shuffle slowly down the empty corridor towards the barracks. Tech’s got a headache rapidly growing and his ankle hurts like hell. He leans into his vod for support, refusing to look his way as he continues to grumble in disgust. The sniper can’t leave well enough alone.

“Should we have called her Grutababy?”

Tech wonders if Hunter would care if his sniper turned up dead.

Taglist: @skdubbs @pastelbunny1501​

If you'd like to be added to the TagList drop me a line and let me know.

#star wars #clone trooper tech x reader #tech/reader #tcw #the bad batch #crossed connections

[monstersandmaw]

Hello folks! Welcome to June! And on the very first day of the month, I bring you this offering. You said in a poll that you were interested in the vampire WIP, so here it is. Although it says WIP, each part has been extensively edited. The story as a whole is a work in progress though, and some elements may change as it develops, although it's all mapped out and I know where it's going. It's written up to Chapter Six, and is sitting at a total of 23,000 words, so it's not going to be a small project!  You said you wanted more multi-chapters, so here it is! (I won't neglect the other ones though, I promise! Winter Solstice's next chapter is also ready to go, and is in the posting queue too!)

Now, this one is set in Skyrim - but wait! Don't stop reading now if you're not a Skyrim person!!! It's not following the events of the game, and only features a few characters from the vampire-themed DLC, Dawnguard. You don't need to know about Skyrim to enjoy it, I hope.

It centres on Kjartan, a pureblood vampire (rare) who has lived a cloistered life at the dour Castle Volkihar, located on a remote island in the northern sea of Skryim. His father, Lord Harkon, is a sadistic and obsessive vampire lord, who until just before the start of this story, had been hell-bent on bringing an ancient prophecy to pass that would darken the sun, and therefore increase his vampiric powers. In the game, I think he wants to wipe out the sun entirely, which is stupid because the humans couldn't grow crops, and the vampires would also starve without humans. I removed that element from this story becaues it's dumb af. Without spoiling what's to come, Kjartan was not treated well at the castle, and after his much older sister, Serana, returned to stop Lord Harkon's dumb plan (accompanied by the dragonborn and the anti-vampire faction, the Dawnguard), he left with her to travel Skyrim and learn how to stand on his own two feet a bit better.

Serana took him to various locations in the north of Skyrim, and discovered that he has some magical talents other than his innate vampire abilities, though he's not particularly strong. She suggested he go to the College of Winterhold, an ancient bastion of learning and scholarship, as much to socialise him as to teach him to use his magic, while she continued south to keep working with the Dawnguard.

It is at this point that we pick up Kjartan's story. I am aware that not everyone will be familiar with the lore of Skyrim, so I have tried to weave it into the worldbuilding side of the story without infodumping on you, or making you have to look stuff up.

I really hope you enjoy it - this one has come to be a real favourite of mine, with socially awkward, emotionally repressed Kjartan, and outgoing and outspoken Nora, his first friend at the college...

Any questions, please feel free to ask in the comments or on Tumblr or Discord. Otherwise, here's 3140 words of Kjartan's POV for Chapter One. It will be alternating every chapter between Kjartan and Nora. (Kjartan is pronounced with the 'j' soft, like 'kyar-tan').

Kjartan

“Your talents are… ‘adequate’ enough to gain entry to the college, but you’re hardly the strongest mage we’ve ever considered,” Faralda said condescendingly as his conjured light faded and the residual magicka in the air sputtered out. The high elven gate keeper of the college still looked like she’d swallowed something bitter though, and she continued to stare at him.

“Thank you,” he said, still standing in ankle-deep snow outside the small barbican gate of the College of Winterhold. Beyond, the leaping expanse of the ancient, crumbling stone bridge stretched away into the blizzard, partly masking the millennia-old college building behind, perched on its promontory like the lone survivor of a shipwreck. With half the town of Winterhold now sitting in the sea below the cliffs, it felt somehow apt to think of the venerable old complex of buildings that way. Of course, most of the inhabitants of the town wished the college had gone down to lie with the rest of the rubble, but that wasn’t his concern. He was here for the college, not the town.

“Ordinarily, that rather underwhelming display would have been just about enough to get you admitted to the college,” the mage went on, “But there’s very obviously something else about you which will need discussing with the Master Wizard before I can even let you set foot on the bridge, let alone into the college.”

Meekly, he bowed his head, his long black hair sliding forward to hide a handsome, if extremely pale and drawn face. He’d been waiting for that. “I understand.”

With a soft huff, Faralda nodded and ushered him into a tiny stone chamber in the gatehouse that had room for no more than a fireplace, a battered old table, two chairs, and a round window the size of a porthole. There she left him sitting with his hands in his lap, and his dark gold eyes burning. As she left and slammed the door behind her, he caught her muttering and he held his breath.

The wait for someone to appear was not as long as he’d thought it might be. Apparently it wouldn’t take hours of arguing amongst themselves. The woman who strode into the squat, stone chamber forty minutes later was short but still very much imposing, power washing off her like a font of pure magicka. She wore traditional belted mage robes that crackled with all sorts of enchantments, and her stern expression fixed itself instantly on him the moment she entered the room.  

“Kjartan Volkihar, is it?” she said in a gravelly alto voice as she stood in the open doorway, letting all the snow flurry in from outside. The single candle on the table guttered instantly and left nothing but the soft glow of his eyes and the weak light from the window to his left. It was clear that she was not impressed or even intimidated - if her steady heartbeat was anything to go by - and that she knew of his family’s reputation. “A vampire. And a pureblood, nonetheless.”

There was little point denying it. He couldn’t hide with illusion magic from someone as powerful as Mirabelle Ervine, or change his unnatural eyes with their entirely black sclera and red-gold irises, glowing even in strong sunlight. Illusion spells might work on the everyday peasant, but to those two mages here in the dimly lit room, his eyes must have shone like the recently extinguished candle flame.  

“Well, it’s not entirely without precedent, you’ll be pleased to hear, but I need to know you can control yourself,” she said, and before either Kjartan or Faralda could have prepared for or prevented it, she had drawn a little belt knife from its sheath at her waist and nicked her inner wrist. Blood welled up, bright and hot and ferrous, and his eyes went immediately to it. Thirst clamped at his tongue and throat and his canines throbbed in his gums, but he never moved so much as a muscle in his body.  

The slow drip - loud as hammer blows to the vampire - of falling drops onto the stone was the only sound in the room for almost a minute, time stretching. He wrenched his eyes from the crimson liquid after only a few heartbeats, and fixed her with his careful gaze instead, and all the while she glowered at him, wrist bleeding, daring him to react. Finally with a flick of her other hand, warm, golden light sparkled at the cut, the skin stitching itself back together, and in an instant the damage was healed.  

“Apologies for such theatrics,” she said, voice clipped and professional as she entered the room and closed the door. While she spoke, she began to pace. “I had to make sure of your reactions and control, and warning you would have spoiled the test.”

Read the whole thing right now, as well as all the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork) and a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

#vampire #vampire story #male vampire #vampire x human #male vampire x female character #3rd person narrative #it is set in skyrim #skyrim vampire #volkihar vampire #volkihar

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Survivors of Unfair Choices (16) | FirstOrder!Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 2086

Warning: SW-verse typical violence, minor swearing

A/N: Sorry this was a little late. My mind has been all over the place the past few days and I forgot to queue it. This is the second to the last chapter, guys! As always, I thank you for following along with this series.

Series Masterlist

-

Han steps out of hiding onto the catwalk, approaching his wayward son. His old name echoed off the metal walls as Kylo Ren turned and saw his father. You quickly reach the top near the railings where you could see Finn and Rey stood, watching the scene below.

“Han Solo. I've been waiting for this day for a long time,” Kylo Ren said calmly through his mask.

You shivered. You remembered being interrogated by that man and it was hard for you to imagine that he was the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo. There was this energy about him, chaotic, unstable, and lost.

“Hey,” you whispered over to the two. They turned and Rey grabbed your arm.

“What’s going on?” Rey asked.

“Han’s… being Han,” you sighed.

“We need to do something. The sun’s almost gone-” Finn started.

You shook your head. “We can’t detonate the explosives until Han and Chewie are out of here,” you said, looking back down at the bridge that bisected the space below. You tried to calm your racing heart so you could hear what they were saying.

Han slowly approached his son who stood still. “Take off that mask. You don't need it,” Han said. Not around your father, was left unsaid.

“What do you think you'll see if I do?” Kylo Ren asked.

“The face of my son.”

Kylo Ren reaches around and lifts the mask up, revealing a pale and exhausted face of what was left of Ben Solo. Han’s eyes widened, seeing his son as a grown man for the first time. He really shouldn’t have sent him away. Maybe none of this would have happened, if he had been there for his own son.

“Your son is gone,” Kylo Ren said firmly, as if reading his thoughts, “He was weak and foolish, like his father. So I destroyed him.”

Han shook his head. “That's what Snoke wants you to believe but it's not true. My son is alive.”

You heard a sound from the other side of the stairs and saw Chewie climbing up to join the group. You reached a hand out and he took it firmly in his large hairy hands. He was Han’s best friend, surely he could think of something… Chewie shook his head, not knowing what to do. You turned back to the scene before you, watching helplessly.

Kylo Ren lifts his chin up. “No. The Supreme Leader is wise.”

Han takes another step towards him. “Snoke is using you for your power,” he said, “When he gets what he wants, he'll crush you… you know it's true.”

There was something that flickered through Kylo Ren’s features. His eyes briefly looked away and deep down he knew it to be true. But it was too late. There were too many acts of darkness that he had done for him to turn back now.

“It’s too late,” Kylo Ren said, his head lowering.

“No it's not. Leave here with me. Come home. We miss you,” Han pleaded, reaching a hand out.

Kylor Ren’s feet shifted. There was finally a hand reaching out to him through the darkness, offering him a way out. A hand that belonged to his father. You gripped the railing hard, a part of you hoping for the improbable, that he would take his hand and become Ben Solo again.

“I'm being torn apart,” he said, almost broken as tears stung his eyes, a flush of emotion on his otherwise stoic face ,”I want to be free of this pain.”

Han takes another step, but stops himself.

“I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it. Will you help me?”

He was vulnerable, of course Han wouldn’t turn him away. Your gut twisted, wanting to scream out, to tell him to stop, but what can you do when there were stormtroopers that outnumbered you? You could even feel Finn and Rey growing restless, wanting to jump into action as well.

“Yes, anything,” Han said.

You see Kylo Ren upholstered his lightsaber and held it in front of Han. You look up at Chewie again before starting over towards the stairs. He grabbed you by the hood of your parka and shook his head again. He knew stepping in would go against Han’s wishes. You shrugged him off and looked back at Kylo Ren. Wishes be damned. You rather have Han angry at you than Han injured or worse. As the light from the dying sun faded, so did the light in his eyes.

“No,” you said hoarsely before the fiery red blade of his lightsaber pierced right through Han’s chest.

“Solo!” Finn screamed.

“No, no,” Rey shook her head, not wanting to believe that her new found mentor was gone, just like that.

Han’s knees buckled and as Kylo Ren extinguishes his weapon, the life in his eyes fades and he slips off the catwalk, down, down, down, to the depths of the oscillator structure. You could see that Kylo Ren was a bit shaken from the act, almost horrified at what he had done. There was too much darkness in him, that turning to the light would turn that darkness against him and swallow him. Maybe, if he continued his training, he could… 

“Han!” you shouted.

Kylo Ren’s eyes snapped up at the railings at you while Chewie cried in anguish as his best friend was lost to him. He shot a bolt out of his bowcaster, hitting the man that he once thought of as his nephew in the side. Kylo Ren stumbles back, stunned at the sudden attack. You push Finn and Rey back as stormtroopers begin to shoot at Chewie. He ducked away and started the detonation. Kylo Ren’s eyes flickered back to you and saw that you were not alone. His eyes widened as he recognized them, taking long strides to reach the railing.

“We need to go!” you shouted, shooting back at the stormtroopers.

You and Rey fire in quick succession, backing away as Finn helped the two of you to retreat out of the structure. Once out of the line of fire, the three of you began to run straight into the forest.

“The Falcon’s this way!” Finn said, pointing in the direction.

You ran as much as you could, the event playing over and over in your mind until you were breathless. You gasped for air, dropping your knees into the crunchy snow. Finn and Rey stopped as well, panting.

“Come on,” Rey said, bending down and offering you a hand. You took it and Rey hoisted you up.

You looked up at the two and they shared the same thought as you. There is no way you could run now. You have to face him, all three of you together.

“He is trained, but he is emotionally compromised,” you said as you regained your bearings. The three of you continued to move deeper in the forest, trying to come up with a plan. “We use that to our advantage and he’ll lose focus. Catch him by surprise, wear him out. Alright?”

Finn and Rey nodded, holding their weapons up and ready. Rey gripped her stolen rifle blaster and Finn held up the lightsaber given to him by Maz. You checked the condition of your blaster before holding it out in the middle. They joined in, sharing a look of determination.

“May the Force be with us,” you said.

“I still don’t know how exactly the Force works,” Finn muttered.

“It’s all around us. You just have to… feel it,” Rey said.

“That’s how you got away, isn’t it?” you asked with a proud smile. Rey nodded.

The moment was short lived as the three of you heard the sound of a lightsaber igniting. You turned and readied your blaster, signalling for Finn and Rey to spread out. There, thirty feet away, stood Kylo Ren in all his rage.

“We’re not done yet,” he said.

“Han trusted you!” you said, tears threatening to fall, “He loved you. Leia loves you. They just wanted you to come home!”

“You’re a monster!” Rey shouted at him.

He tried to keep his face neutral at the mention of his parents before narrowing his eyes. “It’s just us now. Han Solo can’t save you.”

You gave a nod to Rey and she stepped forward, aiming her blaster. Kylo Ren’s hand shoots out, making Rey struggle and unable to shoot him. His face contorts as he puts more power into it and you could see the wound that Chewie inflicted on him was affecting him. He tosses Rey’s blaster to the side, giving you an opening to shoot. You raised your blaster just as he sends Rey flying, hitting a tree thirty feet away with a thud.

“Rey!” Finn shouted, looking back at her dazed, slumped form before muttering to himself. “Rey… Rey… no, no, oh no…”

You inhaled sharply, aiming your blast at Kylo Ren, but for some reason, your stomach didn’t sit well shooting him. He noticed this and chuckled.

“You can’t even shoot me,” he mocked as he stomped closer, his lightsaber buzzing with each movement, “You hung around your precious general too much. Hoping to be like her? You could never achieve anything close.”

“Glad you still think of your mother so highly,” you remarked, your blaster still raised.

“Yet, you had managed to seduce one of my officers to the light, though I believed it was only a matter of time before he cracked. Your general spoke highly of his parents growing up. In the end, he was fated to die just like them-”

You shot, grazing his cheek and burning strands of his dark hair. He slowly raised a hand and touched the wound with the tips of his fingers, pulling back to see blood. He glared back at you and started to stride over. He raised his hand again and easily flew your blaster several feet away before pushing you back until you hit the nearest tree behind you.

“(Y/n), no!” Finn rushed over and stood in front of you.

Kylo Ren paused, narrowing his eyes. “Traitor! You have no idea what you have just done! What you have lost! But you were weak. Traitor!”

Finn’s nose flared as he raised the lightsaber and ignited it. The bright blue light illuminated his face and through your haze, you could even feel an energy swirling around him, standing up against Kylo Ren’s. 

Kylo Ren pointed his lightsaber at him. “That lightsaber, it belongs to me!” he spat.

A flash of a smirk appeared on Finn’s lips. “Come and get it.”

Kylo Ren charged at him with a growl and, while terrified, Finn managed to block the lunge. Your ears were ringing as you tried to move, a throbbing pain erupting at the back of your head. You struggled to right yourself up, using the tree for balance as you slowly made your way over to Rey. Sparks from the battle lit the area red and blue as you knelt down beside her, checking her injuries. She blinks, slowly gaining her focus back. Her eyes drifted over to the battle between Kylo Ren and Finn.

“He has it, too, doesn’t he?” she said, “I knew it.”

You help her up before turning back to the battle again. Finn was holding up fairly and impressively well. You could even see the amazement in Kylo Ren’s face before adding more power to his swings, testing how far he could push Finn. It was then that you connected the dots.

Kylo Ren had known Finn was force-sensitive, wanted to see how and when he awakened his powers, only to be disappointed when he had done nothing on his first mission before defecting. If this was true, then finding Luke became more of a pressing matter than ever before. With him, Finn and Rey could learn to hone their powers and use it for good, giving the Resistance more of a chance against the First Order.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the shouting coming from the fight. Kylo Ren was attacking more viciously than before, a new wound on his arm from one of Finn’s attacks. He began to beat and swing relentlessly, forcing Finn back again and again, until he lost his balance. With fire in his eyes, Kylo Ren raised his lightsaber and slashed Finn’s torso, the blue lightsaber flying out of his hands twenty feet away.

-

Taglist: @megzdoodle @psychoticobsession @thescarletknight2014 @marrypuffsstuff @theoralpha @daniellajocelyn @badwolf-212 @gleigh42 @ella-solei @roserrys @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @juliaguliaa

#survivors of unfair choices #poe dameron x reader #first order!poe dameron x resistance!reader #first order poe dameron #poe dameron #star wars imagine

[doomonfilm]

Thoughts : Tusk (2014)

This one has been in the queue for quite a while.  I’ve been a fan of Kevin Smith since the late 1990s, and it has been a pleasure to watch him grow as a screenwriter and filmmaker.  His brand of humor has always stood out as unique, but the word I was hearing prior to finally seeing Tusk was that it was unlike most any film folks had seen.  

Wallace Bryton (Justin Long) and Teddy Craft (Haley Joel Osmet) are the hosts of The Not-See Party, a popular podcast where the two discuss social media influencers and viral videos before Wallace travels to interview the subjects.  Wallace travels to Canada to meet the Kill Bill Kid (Doug Banks), a young man who accidentally cut off one of his legs with a katana, but Wallace arrives just in time for the Kill Bill Kid’s funeral due to his choice to commit suicide.  Stranded in Canada with no story, Wallace stumbles across a letter on a corkboard from Howard Howe (Michael Parks), an eccentric explorer searching for a lodger who promises endless personal tales of his adventures.  Desperate for an interview, Wallace seeks out Howe, not realizing that he is walking into a trap more bizarre than anything his imagination is capable of creating.

While Tusk is certainly not Kevin Smith’s first foray into the world of high concept contemplation, this is his first true dive into a realm as specific as body horror.  The high concept comes into play as he examines Wallace through the lens of bad life choices, and how these choices have ripple effects that can leave an individual isolated before they realize for far gone they’ve spun out.  Wallace is presented to us as egotistical, boorish, opportunistic and unfaithful, but in one of the rare tender moments he shares with his girlfriend Ally, we are told that he did possess desirable and admirable qualities at one time.  Based on his character choices, and his job as a host of The Not-See Party Podcast (a show name that creates a self-imposed hurdle), his turn into danger plays out in a perfect “boy who cried wolf” scenario.

Perhaps the most interesting and impressive aspect of the film is how Kevin Smith is able to serve as a bridge between the comedic stylings he made his name with and the high-level skills he has gleaned from two decades in the film industry.  A mix of absurdist, intellectual and low-brow humor is a given with a Kevin Smith affair, and Tusk provides it in spades.  Canada not only serves as the butt of a few jokes, but it manages to dish out a few zingers and quips full of Canadian personality.  Several characters are given carte blanche to embody outrageous characters and go nuts in that skin, with Michael Parks specifically getting the chance to show a handful of these looks.  The premise of the story is a randomly obtuse mix of Misery and The Human Centipede, and the periphery of the main narrative is peppered with mini-narratives that are proportionally ridiculous in their own right.  What really stands out amongst all of this, however, is the high production value of the film, as Smith finds a middle balance between the big budget comedy look of Cop Out and the darker, edgier look of Red State.

Tusk continues a streak of stellar, rejuvenated writing that began with Clerks II (if you’re willing to ignore Cop Out’s poor performance and critical reception), with Smith finding new and unique ways to expand his voice and naturally gifted ability to tell stories.  The production value on the Howard Howe home is stellar as well, with everything from the living quarters to the walrus dungeon providing a jarring tonal shift at each point of appearance.  The walrus effects and costuming are bold, but the final result is one that creates an image that will forever be burned into the minds of viewers.  The scoring is also strong, standing up to the high bar set with his previous film, the brilliant Red State.  The expository insert shots that accompany the Michael Parks monologues are a nice touch.

Justin Long jumps off of the screen with his ridiculousness broadness, with everything from his hilarious mustache down to his outlandish behavior setting viewers up for a shared journey down a path of darkness that could not be further from that initial stance.  Michael Parks plays equally ridiculous in his diabolicalness, with his madness and obsessiveness played so large that it nears the brink of insanity, and yet somehow, he finds a way to ground it all so that he plays sinister enough to incite fear.  Haley Joel Osmet finally gets a chance to break out of what seemed to be an eternal typecast as he gets to bask in a humorous light.  Genesis Rodriguez brings the emotion to the table, with her unconditional ability to share tenderness and be vulnerable making the main protagonist trio engaging.  Johnny Depp completes the trinity of ridiculousness, with his measured and specific take on his Inspector Clouseau-like character adding a different shade to the spectrum of humor in the film.  Appearances by Ralph Garman, Harley Morenstein, Jennifer Schwalbach Smith, Harley Quinn Smith, Lily-Rose Depp, Doug Banks, Zak Knutson and Ashley Greene also stand out.

BONUS THOUGHTS : Yoga Hosers (2016)

As if Tusk weren’t weird enough as a standalone, Kevin Smith followed it up with a comedic horror for kids in the form of Yoga Hosers.  Part lore expander and part “let’s throw a movie together with famous friends”, the film famously divided fans of Smith and the View Aswkewniverse, mostly due to the lead roles of the Colleens in the form of Lily-Rose Depp and Harley Quinn Smith (the daughters of Johnny Depp and Smith, respectively).

Colleen C. (Lily-Rose Depp) and Colleen M. (Harley Quinn Smith) are a pair of friends whose job at the Eh-2-Zed convenience store has brought them minor fame due to their involvement in the rescue of a “man turned to manatee”.  One evening after sneaking in a practice for their band Glamthrax with drummer Ichabod (Adam Brody) while on the clock, the girls are invited to a Grade 12 party by seniors Hunter Calloway (Austin Butler) and Gordon Greenleaf (Tyler Posey).  The girls accept, but on the night of the party, Colleen C.’s father Bob (Tony Hale) is invited to Niagara Falls by his girlfriend (and Eh-2-Zed manager) Tabitha (Natasha Lyonne), leaving the girls to cover the store and miss out on the party.  In a last ditch effort to exert control, the girls invite the seniors to move the party to Eh-2-Zed, but the Colleens have no clue of what was in store for them.

If held up to the standards of other Kevin Smith films, it’s easy to pick this one apart, as the tone is much more juvenile than films like Mallrats or the Jay and Silent Bob films.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, however, as it seems like this film was not meant to be taken seriously or held as high art… this film does, however, totally read as a gift to two daughters whose fathers believed in their desires to act, and due to their rare ability to facilitate those dreams, were given the chance to fulfill a wish.  You can see both actresses progress and become more comfortable as the film progresses, with Harley Quinn Smith especially showcasing that intangible growth where an actor or actress can visualize their place within a frame while on the set.  It’s also very fun to see a litany of familiar faces and famous friends pop in and out of the film.

Certain creature design choices and production design continuously serve as reminders of this film’s connection to the Tusk world, though the two films have very unique rhythms.  Much of the writing and humor drives home how the film is meant to be perceived as a bit of a “human cartoon”, with literal references to cartoons and comics sprinkled throughout.  Keen viewers will be able to spot the numerous references to nearly every other Kevin Smith film that are presented.

It’s safe to say that words and descriptions cannot do the film Tusk justice… this film is one that simply must be seen in order to be believed, and even then, it is still rather unbelievable.  Yoga Hosers is fun in its own right, but you REALLY have to be a fan of not only Kevin Smith the filmmaker, but Kevin Smith the family man to truly enjoy it… it’s definitely the one folks will see simply out of a need to be a completionist.  I may or may not be writing on Jay and Silent Bob Reboot, as I watched it on the same day, but I can say that I have not laughed that hard at a movie in a long time.  

#ChiefDoomsday #DOOMonFILM #KevinSmith #Tusk #YogaHosers #JustinLong #MichaelParks #MattShivley #GenesisRodriguez #HaleyJoelOsmet #JohnnyDepp #HarleyMorenstein #RalphGarman #JenniferSchwalbachSmith #HarleyQuinnSmith #Lily-RoseDepp #AshleyGreene #DoungBanks #ZakKnustson #AustinButler #AdamBrody #TonyHale #NatashaLyonne #VanessaParadis #TylerPosey #SasheerZamata #JackDepp #JasonMewes #KevinConroy #StanLee

[dewitty1]

The Pirate and the Prince

Maniacani @maniacani-arts  PalenDrome (nerdherderette) @nerdherderette

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Terry Boot, Colin Creevey, Marcus Flint, Roger Davies, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Pius Thicknesse, Hedwig (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Pirate Harry Potter, Aristocrat Draco Malfoy, Virgin Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley, Past Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter - Freeform, Past Roger Davies/Harry Potter, Harlequin, Adventure & Romance, Tattoos, Drinking, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Sexual Harassment, No Period-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Light Angst, Happy Ending, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Digital Art

Summary:

Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

Excerpt:

"Don't jump," someone says softly. 

Draco hears the weight of Harry's footsteps on the deck behind him, sure and light-footed. "Sometimes, when I close my eyes and hear the birds and the waves, it's as if I'm flying alongside them," Draco says, opening his eyes slowly. 

Harry settles himself on the railing next to Draco as they stare out at the waters ahead. "Hmm," he says quietly. The setting sun bathes his strong features in its soft light, his eyes luminous under his dark lashes. "I think I prefer to keep my eyes open, though. To be prepared for any eventuality."

"Being prepared doesn't mean one can't enjoy a moment of spontaneity. I would think that the Master of Death would embrace Fate's whimsy with a bit more daring."

Harry snorts. "I've experienced more 'daring' by the age of twenty than most have in the entirety of their lives."

"So modest." Draco glances at Harry, and in a fit of inspiration, lowers his hand to the strip of green fabric that's wrapped around his waist. He undoes the knot and waves it in front of Harry face. "Let's try, for a bit of fun. It will be like playing buffy with a stick."

Harry's eyes widen as he lets out a long hiss. "I won't wear a blindfold."

Draco frowns, deflated at the rejection. "But you wear a mask all the time," he says.

"Not one that impedes my vision." Harry leans back, visibly trying to slow his breathing. "I was often locked in a cupboard as punishment when I was a child. To be forced into such darkness is difficult for me."

"I'm sorry." Guilt wells up in Draco, the heat in his face rising. "I didn't know."

"How could you?" Harry asks, soft and without censure.

Draco thinks about his parents, how they tried to lay everything at his feet, give him every advantage. Though their wishes for his future may be different from his own, they had never done anything so deliberately cruel. "Your parents…forgive me, Harry, for speaking out of turn, but I don't understand how anyone could do such a thing to a child, never mind their own."

"It wasn't my parents," Harry whispers, fiercely staring at a spot on the railing. "It was my aunt and uncle. Monsters can be found everywhere, including one's family."

Draco reaches out to hold Harry's hand. Harry's eyes dart up in surprise, but he doesn't withdraw from the touch. His palm feels solid and warm, and then his fingers curl, interlocking with Draco's.

Harry watches Draco intently, then raises Draco's hand and brings it to his lips.

Harry's mouth brushes against Draco's skin. It's fleeting, but the ghost of the kiss lingers, the memory a sweet boon. "You're beautiful when you blush," Harry says, grinning.

"You make me feel like a lady who's just been granted a voucher to Almack's," Draco laughingly admits, thinking of Pansy.

"Hmm." Harry lets go of Draco's hand and runs a finger absentmindedly along the railing. "I doubt you'd ever find me hanging around with such esteemed company."

Draco's face falls at the disdain that's clear in Harry's voice. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The company of people who think that good breeding and exemplary behaviour are provinces of the nobility when they, in fact, are often the ones who lack it the most."

Draco takes a step forward, unwilling to let such a statement go unanswered. "That's a bit presumptuous. Why would you think so poorly of those whose only crime is to have been born of noble birth?"

"Because I was shown their immorality and cruelty at an early age, for it was none other than a noble—Lord Voldemort, the Duke of Hangleton—who robbed me of my childhood when he struck down my parents for his political advantage."

A chill washes over Draco, causing him to shiver despite the still-present sun. His father was an ardent supporter of Voldemort and his policies. He's still not sure how Voldemort met his demise and Harry's role in it, what rumours are salacious gossip versus some embellished version of reality. Given what he's just learned, he's certain that both Harry and his father are somehow involved.

Draco turns back to the open sea. As the sun touches down over the horizon, lavender washes over the skies, and the ocean turns a dark and turbulent blue.

Draco crosses his arms, unable to shake the sense of foreboding. "Here," Harry says gruffly as a light, woolen coat drapes over Draco's shoulders. It smells of Harry and his soap.

"Thank you," Draco says. Harry's gaze flicks over Draco's body wrapped in the too-large jacket before his expression becomes hooded.

"We'll be docking at Brisson Cay on Friday. My estate—Godric's Hollow—is on the western side of the Isle of Hogsmeade. It is large, and most of us reside there when not at sea, while we attend to our other business ventures. There is room for you and work to be had if you would like to continue your stay, although it might include a bit of hard labour."

Despite his predicament, the prospect fills Draco with a semblance of hope. "I believe I have proved to you that I have both the desire and capability to perform such work."

Harry gives him a smile. "It would only be fair to tell you that the Hogwarts Express sails from Brisson Cay to the Port of New York every three months. From there, it would not be difficult for one to book passage to London. If you should ever need it."

Draco frowns. "Is that what you'd prefer?" he eventually asks.

"There is a small cottage by the gardens, close to the water." Harry hesitates. "Hogsmeade is famed for its unusual beauty. I think that, for you, it would be a perfect home."

There's no mistaking the way in which Harry's voice husks lower. Draco tilts his head and licks his lips, parting them invitingly. "I look forward to you showing me all the beautiful things," he dares.

Draco winds his fingers along the back of Harry's neck and pulls him in. The hairs along Harry's nape tickle Draco's skin; Harry lets out a groan and gives in to the demand with the smallest of protests, and when he does, it's as if the walls of his resistance come crumbling down. He pushes Draco against the rail and brackets Draco's body between his muscular arms, his breath hot against Draco's cheek as their foreheads brush against one another. 

"You drive me to madness," Harry grits out. "Filling me with a fever beyond all reason." He allows Draco to bridge the distance as their lips touch, and the kiss that follows is desperate and almost angry.

The force of their kiss nearly causes Draco to buckle, his head dizzy as Harry cups Draco's chin and tilts it so the angle is better. The clumsiness of Draco's initial attempt slides into something more practised, a longing filled with lips and tongue, the heat of it urgent. Harry's left hand grips the side of Draco's hip, pulling them flush, the tightness of his breeches leaving no misunderstanding about the state of his arousal.

"Harry," Draco gasps. He tilts his neck back as Harry mouths the exposed line of Draco's throat, and he's sure that his skin is mottled and bruised as Harry worries it between his teeth. Draco's hips buck forward, and he's mortified by how needy he sounds, how desperate, how dangerously close he is to spilling in his trousers as he ruts against Harry's thigh.

"Do you know how much I've thought of you, Jacob?" Harry asks as Draco whimpers, his heart a rapid staccato.

Draco is so far gone that he doesn't care that Harry thinks he's someone else. His body burns as if suffering from ague and his heart races from the way Harry's fingers dig into his sides, as if he is trying to mark Draco's skin through the layers of his clothes.

"So needy. So beautifully responsive," Harry adds as he punctuates his words with a roll of his hips.

"Only for you, Harry," Draco gasps. "No one else. There's never been anyone else."

Harry's hands still, his grip painfully tight. He pulls back, and though his eyes are still dark with arousal, they are also widening in shock. He takes a step back, his lips swollen and kiss-bitten, his dark hair tumbling out of its queue as he shakes his head forcefully. "You are…" he rasps, his throat working from the effort. "You are an innocent?"

"What does it matter?" Draco pleads. He moves to draw Harry towards him, his heart aching when Harry recoils from his touch.

Harry's hands are clenched into fists so tight, Draco fears his nails will draw blood. "It matters because your first time should be something more than a dalliance."

Draco's cheeks pink with anger. "Are you saying I'm but an amusement?"

"Jacob…" Harry takes several deep breaths but he's already closed off, distancing himself from Draco with his words and actions. "I am saying that I am not the man that you think, nor the one you deserve. You should be someone who can return the trust that you give in equal measure."

He turns and walks away. When the sun breathes its last gasp, Draco realises that he's still wearing Harry's coat.

#The Pirate And the Prince #Nerdherderette #Drarry fanfiction #darry #drarry fic rec #fic rec #my recs #drarry squad #Draco malfoy #harry potter #Carey's bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal bookmarks

[mageicalwishes]

Bournemouth Beach - Chapter 2

Read on AO3: here

Read previous chapter (on Tumblr): here

Summary: Simon, Baz, and Penny escape the stress of their upcoming exams with a day-trip to Bournemouth Beach. Contains happy times in the sun, a splash fight in the ocean, ice cream, and of course … Fish and chips.

Chapter: 2/2

Words: 3,194

Simon

When we get to the beach, I immediately start running towards the nearest ice cream kiosk, grabbing Penny and Baz’s hands and dragging them behind me.

“Crowley, Snow! Slow down! You're going to rip my arm out of it's socket!" Baz calls.

“Yeah, Simon. I’m going to trip in a second!” Penny shouts.

Ignoring them, I carry on, refusing to slow my pace in the slightest.  I laugh, joy bubbling up inside me. “Not my fault you two are so slow!”

Despite their protests, we keep running until we reach the back of the kiosk’s queue, slipping in behind a small family of three (A mother, and two curly-headed toddlers dressed in matching neon green swimming trunks).

“What flavours are you guys going to get?” I ask, resting my chin on Baz’s shoulder.

“I think I’m just going to get Salted Caramel and Vanilla,” Penny answers, squinting over at the board of flavours.

I turn my head towards Baz, waiting for an answer.

“I’m not sure that I want any,” he murmurs.

“Baz, come on. We’re at the beach, you have to get an ice cream!” I protest.

“I don’t think that that’s actually a rule, Snow.”

I pout, displeased. “Why not?" I whine. "It’s part of the fun." I'm fully aware that I probably sound like a petulant toddler, but I just really want Baz to have the full beach experience. He's never been to the beach before, which is honestly ridiculous, considering that even I've been before (The Wellbeloves used to take me to Weymouth sometimes during the holidays). So, I want to make sure that his first experience is a good one.

“I’m concerned about the - You know,” he mumbles, gesturing towards his mouth.

“It’s ice cream, Silly. Nothing happens with them when you drink - So, just don’t get a cone and I’m sure you’ll be fine. You shouldn’t miss out just because of that.”

“Fine. You win,” he says, sighing dramatically. “I’ll just get a scoop of Espresso.”

“Ew, grim,” I laugh, scrunching up my face in disgust. “I meant for you to get a proper flavour - Like Chocolate or something.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at me teasingly. “There is nothing wrong with Espresso, Snow. That is a proper flavour.”

“Not really.”

“Oh really," he drawls, disbelieving. "What 'proper' flavour are you getting, then?

“Bubblegum and Banana Fudge Swirl,” I say proudly.

“Merlin, Snow! That’s abhorrent! Those flavours don’t go together at all ...  It’s a bit hypocritical of you to criticise my choice when you’re seriously considering eating that.”

“Shut up!" I moan. "It’ll taste nice! Trust me.”

“Simon, you know I love you. But, I won't lie - I’m with Baz on this one. That sounds disgusting,” Penny adds.

"Thank you, Bunce," Baz says, flashing me a pleased smirk. "I always knew you were a woman of good taste."

Exasperated, I throw my hands up into the air. "Traitor," I tease, poking her arm lightly. "You two are just boring."

————————————————————————————

We all eat our ice cream laid out on our towels. The beach was totally crammed, but luckily we managed to find a spot near the back of the sand (Which actually works out quite well, as it’s a little shadier here, so Baz is much less likely to burn).

“Here,” I say, sticking my cone out towards him. “Try this. It’s good, honest.”

He turns to me, pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose slightly, and raising an elegant brow - Clearly unconvinced by my assurances. It’s irritating really. He’s lying on his front, his face shaded by my silly froggy umbrella (which he’s spiked into the sand beside his head) - So, he should look ridiculous, yet somehow he still manages to look frustratingly suave. His expensive shades, and loose, linen shirt ensuring that (even with the stupid umbrella) he still manages to look like a bloody model.  

“Whatever you say, Snow,” he laughs, taking the cone from my hand, and giving it a tentative lick. Almost immediately, he recoils, his face twisting into a disgusted grimace.

“Unsurprisingly, I was right. That is vile,” he says cockily, thrusting the cone back into my hand.

“Drama Queen,” I grumble. “It’s not that bad.”

“Debatable.”

“Whatever,” I tease, pushing his arm softly. “Penny. Do you want to try my ice cream?” I call over.

She doesn’t even bother lifting her head up from the book she’s engrossed in (Some huge leather-bound, tome Baz lent her), instead shaking her head curtly, and murmuring out a quiet “No way".

Baz chuckles lightly besides me. I turn to face him again, confused.

“You’re pouting, Love,” he explains, reaching forwards, and swiping a thumb along my bottom lip. “I wasn’t really serious. If you like it, that’s all that matters. I doubt you'd like mine either.”

“Hmmm,” I hum in agreement. “Let me try it, then.”

“Okay,” he says, passing me his tub.

Hesitantly, I take a small spoonful of the beige cream into my mouth. It tastes awful - Filling my mouth with an unpleasant, earthy bitterness. I knew I shouldn’t have let him pick his own flavour (I should’ve known he wouldn’t pick a good one). Next time, I’ll just have to pick one for him - Maybe, Chocolate Brownie or something.

“Ice cream is supposed to be sweet, Baz,” I chide, handing the tub back to him. “That is just wrong.”

“I did tell you you wouldn’t like it. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Unsure of how to respond, I stick my tongue out at him childishly. He laughs at me unabashedly, small crinkles popping besides his eyes. Naturally, I mirror him - A  huge grin breaking across my face, hopelessly besotted with him. I love seeing him like this - So unguarded and openly joyful. It used to be quiet rare, but luckily for me I'm seeing it more and more nowadays.

“What are you laughing at,” I whine.

He pulls himself up, shuffling so he is sat upwards, opposite me. “You look ridiculous,” he chortles, taking my chin into his hand. “Your tongue is bright blue, you disaster.”

I stick my tongue out, trying to look down at it.

Baz chuckles, leaning forwards, and pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. “Hold on. One second,” he says, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Okay, Okay. Stick your tongue out again. I’ll take a picture so you can see it.”

I oblige, sticking my tongue out and scrunching up my nose slightly.

“Perfect,” he says, snapping the picture, and turning the screen towards me. “See, Snow. You’re all blue.”

I smile over at him. “You should probably delete that now. I look stupid," I mumble.

“Nonsense," he tuts. "You look sweet. I’m keeping it, whether you like it or not. I may even make it my home-screen, Snow. You can't stop me.”

“Prat,” I grouch, jokingly.

“Oh absolutely,” he agrees, flashing me a wicked grin before flopping back down onto his towel. “You love me anyway, though.”

————————————————————————————

Baz

I’m just coming up to the end of the chapter, when I feel Simon flop down onto the towel besides me. He shuffles, resting his head against the small of my back, and sighing softly.

“What’s got you in a strop, Snow?” I ask, my tone teasing.

“I’m bored of the phone, and I’m bored of you guys reading. I’m gonna go for a swim,” he says, standing up. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I’ll go with you,” Bunce chirps, slapping her book closed. “A swim would be nice.”

“Uh uh uh, you two,” I interject. “Neither of you are going anywhere until you put some sun cream on.”

“What? Why not?” Simon asks, sounding unnecessarily peeved. “I don’t burn. I never burn. I just tan. And, tans look good. The sun cream is for you. Not me! You’re the one who's basically allergic to the sun.”

“Yes. I’m perfectly aware of that,” I deadpan. “Don’t fret. I was going to ask you to put some on me too. But, there is no reason you two shouldn’t be careful as well. You don’t need to tan, Love. You need to not get burnt."

“Fine,” he groans, dropping himself down onto the floor in front of me.

“Thank you,” I breathe, reaching into my bag to retrieve the bottle of lotion.

I splatter a glob onto my palm, rubbing my hands together to spread it out evenly. Gently, I rub along the freckle-dusted plain of his back, being sure to pay  particular attention to the back of his shoulders where (Despite his argument that he 'never burns'), the skin is already slightly tinged a light shade of pink. Once I'm satisfied, I tap his shoulder slightly, prompting him to turn around and face me. The sight of him leaves me awestruck. The sunlight beaming behind him, surrounding his head with a halo of warm light, and lighting his bronze curls a glowing gold. He looks positively ethereal. Entranced, I reach forward, wrapping a soft curl around my finger.

“Earth to Baz,” he laughs, shoving my shoulder.

Jolted from my trance, I feel my face flush, heat rising across my face with embarrassment. Shyly, I continue my ministrations, patting the cream onto the remaining portions of his face and chest. I press a light kiss to my favourite mole at the base of his neck, pulling away and spreading the remainder of the cream there. "All done," I whisper, turning towards Bunce (who has resumed her reading, apparently too impatient to wait unentertained). “Your turn.”

————————————————————————————

When I'm satisfied that we are all sufficiently coated in sun cream, Snow marches us down the beach, expertly weaving us through the throngs of people laid out on the sand. Coming to a stop at the edge of the ocean.  

“Just to warn you guys … It’ll be slightly cold. Okay?”

“Yes, Simon. We know. Come on,” Bunce complains.

“Okay,” he says, gripping my hand tighter, and breaking out into a sprint once again, pulling us into the waves with him.

Immediately, the temperature of the water hits me, and I realise that Snow describing it as 'Slightly cold' was probably the understatement of the year. It’s freezing - A cold sting invading my muscles, and chilling my bones. Snow doesn’t seem to mind at all though - Which makes sense, considering that he’s practically a human furnace, even without all of his magic. He’s sploshing about happily, giggling quietly to himself. So, I decide it’s worth the potential hypothermia.

We wade out further into the water, hopping slightly with every wave that crashes against us, until we’re submerged up to our chests. It’s slightly difficult to breathe at first, the chill of the water paralysing my chest, so that my breaths come out in shaky, laboured huffs - But, I soon adjust.

I’m floating, rubbing my thigh gently to try and restore some feeling in it, when a huge wave crashes over my head, drenching me in salt water. I splutter, my mouth filled with putrid flavour of the overwhelmingly saline water, as the sound of Snow’s mad cackling reverberates around me. Of course. He is so dead.

“Snow!” I shout, clawing my hair back from my face, and slicking down smoothly. “What the actual fuck?”

“Duh. Water fight,” he shrugs, grinning over at me. “It’s fun, Baz. Trust me,” he says, the smile audible in his voice.

“How did you even make a wave that bloody big?”

He turns around, pointing his thumb towards his back. “They’re invisible, not non-existent!” Of course - The wings. I should've known he wouldn't play fair.

“So do you want to-” he starts, spinning around to face me once more. But, before he has time to finish his sentence, I retaliate. Scooping my arm across the surface of the water, sending a splash of water hurtling towards his face. He shrieks, shaking his head like a wet dog.

“You prick! I’m so going to get you back!”

"Bring it on then, Snow!" I shout.

And, bring it on he does.  We fight for almost an hour, relentlessly battering each other with wave after wave of salty water. Even Bunce joins in. And, I must concede that Snow was right - Water fights, as it turns out, are incredibly good fun. We keep going, until I catch Snow gawping at me, his brows furrowed deeply with unconcealed concern.

“Shit, Baz! Your nose,” Simon calls, paddling over to me quickly.

“What about it?” I ask, absentmindedly lifting my hand up to touch it.

“Don’t touch it!” He scolds, batting it away from my face. “It’s gone all grey ... Like all charred looking. It must’ve burnt. Why didn’t you say anything? We would've gone back into the shade if I'd have realised.  We could’ve just gotten more ice cream or something.”

“I didn’t realise. I was a bit preoccupied with thrashing you in our little water fight,” I tease, trying to reassure him. He doesn’t smile though, worry still etched on his face.

“Pen!” He calls out. “Throw me your hat, will you?”

She obliges, tossing the hat towards him, and bounding towards us.

“Hey, you. Stop fussing,” I reprimand, taking his face into my hands. “It’s fine. It doesn’t even hurt. It’s just a tiny bit of sunburn - I’m not going to disintegrate into a bloody pile of ash. Everyone gets sunburn. It’s nothing you need to get all worked up about. Honest.”

“Shh you,” he huffs, tugging Bunce’s floppy, green sunhat down onto my head. “It’s still not good.”

“What’s wrong?” Bunce (who is standing besides us now) asks.

“It’s nothing, Bunce. Just a tiny bit of sunburn,” I say, gesturing towards my face vaguely.

“Oh, I see,” she says, her voice flat.

“Do you know a spell that could fix it, Pen?” Simon asks, anxiously tugging on his curls.

“Yeah. It’ll be easy to fix - Don’t worry. We probably shouldn’t do it here though, Simon.”

“Okay. Come on then," he says. "Let’s go back into the shade. I think my legs are going to fall off in a minute anyway, I haven’t been able to feel them for like half an hour. It’s so fucking freezing in here!”

I laugh, reaching out and taking his hand in mine, earning me a soft half-smile. “Sure. Let’s go.”

————————————————————————————

The sun is setting now, the sky painted with glorious shades of pink and orange. I’m lying on my back, reading aloud to Snow. He's laying with his head resting against my chest, an arm slung around my waist, as his fingers trace small, smoothing shapes onto my side. I’m not entirely convinced that he’s actually paying attention to what I’m saying, but he seems content - So, I carry on. Carding my hand through his curls lazily, a soft, in-suppressible yawn escaping me.

“Baz,” he mumbles, the vibrations of his talking tickling my bare skin.

“Hmmm,” I hum.

“Do you want to go and get some Fish and Chips and then maybe go home? I'm kind of tired.”

“Sure, Snow.”

“Do you wanna wake Pen up?” He sighs, stretching his arms out exaggeratedly.

I tilt my head over to look at her. She’s still laid exactly how I left her - Her book sat in the sand besides her arm (she fell asleep with it in her hand, so I bookmarked it for her), and a towel draped over her back (to prevent her burning).

“Bunce,” I whisper, shaking her arm gently. “Wake up.”

“Hmmm,” she grumbles, peeking an eye open to look over at me. “What?”

“Me and Simon were thinking of getting some Fish and Chips. Do you want anything?”

“Just chips,” she sighs, snuggling her head back down against the towel.

I chuckle quietly, turning back to face Simon.

“And what about you, Love?” I ask, my voice hushed.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. We can’t leave Bunce here alone if she’s asleep, it's not really safe. And, it certainly doesn’t look like she’ll be waking up any time soon. I’ll go and get it. Don't worry.”

“You sure,” he murmurs.

“Positively,” I assure.

He smiles up at me then, his dimple popping handsomely. “Hmmm … Well you might want to get a piece of paper, cause I want a lot."

I chuckle, endlessly charmed by him. “Of course, Love. I expected no less.”

————————————————————————————

When I return to our spot on the beach, dinner in hand, I’m not surprised to find them both passed out asleep. Amused, I drop the bag onto the sand, and start packing away our belongings. When I'm done, I squat down between them, and attempt to wake them up.

“Simon, Love,” I coo, stroking a hand through his hair. “Wake up. It’s time to go home.”

“Five more minutes,” he whines, burying his face into the crook of his arms.

“No way," I giggle. "Come on, you have to get up now. Otherwise you never will. You can sleep in the car, I promise. I’ll drive."

“Fine,” he sighs, sitting upright, and rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Bunce,” I call, shaking her arm once again. “Come on we’re going to go home.”

“Huh?” he mumbles, blinking up at me, her glasses laying on the bridge of her nose wonkily.

“It’s getting late,” I explain, reaching forwards and straightening them up. “I’ve got dinner, so you’ll have something to eat when you get home.  Just use a 'Some like it hot', Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Baz," she breathes.

“No problem, Bunce. Anything for you two.”

————————————————————————————

The motorway horrifically is gridlocked, but I can’t find it within myself to care. I’m still floating - Residual joy from a wonderful day still coursing through my veins. I’m glad Snow convinced me to come. He’s always doing that - Leading me into marvellous new things. He’s like my own, personal Joy Sherpa. We’ll definitely have to come back, some day (Maybe when Wellbelove can come with us). I need more days like this is my life. More days purely dedicated to fun. More days with friends. More days with Snow.

I sneak a look at the rear-view mirror, and my heart swells. Snow and Bunce are fast asleep, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder. Snow’s face is dusted a light shade of red - The sun’s rays seemingly having managed to catch him, despite my best efforts to keep him adequately sun screened. While Bunce’s hair is draped in a mad, frizzy mat (The ocean salt having done a real number on her natural waves). They look painfully sweet, all snuggled up together like siblings. Looking at them, I know I meant what I’d said earlier - I’d truly do anything for these two (Apparently, even volunteering myself to drive in the bloody endless traffic of the A31, which, I will admit, was probably selfless to the point of stupidity). Unavoidably, I feel a pleased smile shining across my face as I look at them, my cheeks aching slightly with the force of it. My friends. My family. My future. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.  

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #penelope bunce

[crepeshifter]

character profile i use

Full name: add their whole name, including middle names

Preferred name/s: any nicknames they like? what they tell people to call them?

Previous name/s: if they changed their name, or if they forgot it, what was their name before that happened?

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Species: in a multi-species world, it’s useful to specify species just in case someone reading these profiles gets confused as to why your character has blue skin

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Age: if a character is a different species from human, it’s useful to add both their chronological age (the years) and the biological age (in relation to human years, how old would they be in regards to body development?)

Mental age: mental age often differs from physical age. it’s a good idea to specify this so that any behavioural problems can be linked to mental age, if that’s the case.

Birthday: always add this, if you get a fanbase on your story/fanfiction/game/whatever else you may be making, your fans will want to know their favorite character’s birthday, as that’s the best time for fanart!

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Height: this helps keep consistency. if a tall character interacts with a short character, height difference is a good way to make the situation more realistic. forgetting the height difference could be an issue so keeping a note is a good plan.

Weight: again, helps with consistency and story elements. heavy characters will likely be louder when walking, for example.

Blood type: not a super neccesary base point but don’t forget that transferring blood between people is harder than just ‘here have some blood’, especially in a game. crossing blood types can be fatal so adding this point gives a new way to kill characters off >:)

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Eye color: this is simply an appearance point. try to be as specific as you can (i like to take the hex code and copy and paste it in, so there can be no mistake!)

Eye shape: again, just an appearance point however this can help to almost give characters animal qualities! e.g you can make a person seem more ‘cat-like’ by giving them more slanted eyes. an easy way to do this is make an eye shape sheet, numbering and lettering tables for shape, lashes and pupils.

Glasses: this can be really useful especially in game situation. glasses can be used to focus light and start fires, and story element; what if your character has bad eyesight and loses heir glasses? how does this affect their performance - maybe even their overall morale!

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Hair color: as with eye color, try to be specific as possible so mistakes are less likely. giving a loose description such as ‘ginger’ or ‘black’ is fine, but only if you want the reader/player to have a wide scope for their own imagination. e.g ‘ginger’ could be more on the red side or the blond side, specifying even ‘red-ginger’ or ‘gold-ginger’ can be really useful. is it dyed or natural?

Hair length: this one doesn’t need to be super specific - don’t go measuring it accurately, simply stating ‘shoulder-length’ or ‘mid-back’ is perfectly fine.

Hair type: for this one try to describe the texture of the hair, whether it’s thick or thin, greasy or clean, knotty or brushed etc. this gives the reader/player a good visualisation of how they treat themselves.

Fringe/Bangs: again, this helps with visualisation. try to specify if it’s a neat cut, or choppy, or if they even have bangs at all.

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Freckles: this isn’t super important but it can add some uniqueness to your character’s design. specify how dark the freckles are, how they are distributed (many freckles, few freckles) and where they fall e.g cheekbones, bridge of nose, all over face etc.

Scars: this can add some personality as well, if a character has more scars, it can tell a lot about their personality - are they daring? try to describe where their scars are, how deep are they? are they burn scars or gash scars? do they open up under stress? how did your character get them?

Beauty marks: again, a cute uniqueness point. as with freckles, where do their beauty marks fall, on their neck? a dot under the eye? how dark are the spots? are they large or small?

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Skin tone: this can also add personality to your character. for this point, add a sort of rating for the skin tone e.g 1-10, 1 being palest and 10 being darkest. hex color values are also useful because you could have a character with green skin, but if you don’t specify color, how would anyone know from the profile? give reasons for the skin tone. do they go out a lot? where do they live? do they work? what is their skin like, tough? delicate? sensitive? do they have a rash, or a skin condition?

Nationality: make sure you add this, it can be useful to justify skin tone and other pints like their hair and eye colors.

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Allergies: this is always useful, especially for a game character. if your character is allergic to mushrooms, tell the reader/player! in a game situation, a character who eats mushrooms but is allergic to mushrooms could be severely affected. how serious is the allergy? will it kill them, or just give them a headache?

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Any health issues? : this could be mental or physical. it’s useful to add these for plot points, or stats in a game. can it be solved? how does it limit their capabilities? is there someone/something that is an exception, e.g do they refuse to talk to anyone due to social anxiety, but they get really happy and excited when their best friend calls them up? do they have to take medication for it? what if they don’t take their meds? do they refuse to take these medications? how do people judge them based on their health problem? is their issue countered by something which is amplified (this is often the case with autism for example). is their issue noticable at first glance? can they cover it easily or do they have to make excuses? do they even want help?

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Sexuality: oh, this. the ships will roll, when you add this. it’s useful to add, just in case they have a crush on someone whose sexuality prevents them from having a relationship, e.g a gay male crushing on a straight male. it also helps in the way of distractions, are they interested in boys? girls? how much do they like the people they’re attracted to (would they stare at someone they find attractive, or just glance and think ‘cute’, before looking away?)

Gender identity: for this point, add their physical sex, the gender they identify as, and pronouns. if you have a transgender character, add the sex they were born as, then the sex they feel they are, e.g female-male trangender, male, he/him/his.

Crush/Lover/Spouse: delete as appropriate. if they have more than one crush, list them all, if possible. if they’re in a relationship, but they’re crushing on someone else, put ‘Lover: [name of lover], Crush: [name of crush], [who they like more]’.

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Favorite color: useful for personality and helps to decide what they would wear as well as what things they would buy. if they have multiple, just list them, and if they have no favorite, then say that. if they hate all colors, say that too. it’s also useful to mention if they’re colorblind, this could justify their lack of preference. also specify what type of colorblindness they have.

Favorite food: useful to show where they would eat, and what they would eat there. is their favorite food something they’re allergic to? if so, do they eat it anyway, or do they suffer in silence as their friends all help themselves to the peanut butter sandwiches? again, if there are multiple, it’s useful to add that, as well as if they don’t like any food in particular.

Favorite drink: same as with the food. it’s also useful to mention if they can even tell the difference between pepsi and coca-cola for example, especially if one of these is their favorite. can they only drink the branded drinks, or are non-branded drinks just as good to them?

Least favorite color: this is a good plot point. some people associate memories with colors, so maybe your character does too. is there a reason behind their dislike for a certain color, or is it just unappealing? did they used to like it, but went off?

Least favorite food: it’s useful to specify why in this section. why doesn’;t your character like curry, is it the spiciness, or the weird flavor? do they not like meat? is it because they’re vegetarian, or is the issue the texture?

Least favorite drink: same as with food. do they dislike non-branded drinks, or maybe, do they prefer the non-branded ones? do they dislike fizzy drinks because it makes bubbles go up their nose, or maybe do the bubbles give them heart-burn?

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Loves: this is helpful for plot. what do they enjoy? is there a reason behind this? are all the things they love just people? is it something their friend gave to them? is it a hobby which they find peace in? do they take pride in these, or do they try to hide it?

Likes: what do they find enjoyable but not as much as what they love? is it all food?! what if they only like it because their friends do? is it something they get money from?

Tolerates: add things which they don’t like, but they won’t try to argue with. e.g loud people, queue-cutters? cold weather?

Dislikes: this could define their friendships! what if they don’t like hyper people, but they have to work with a hyper person for example?

Hates: the things they absolutely, under no circumstances, ever, will tolerate. spiders? liars? this is an opportunity for plot!

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Weather: the weather they feel most at ease in, or enjoy most. does your character like to read books indoors while a thunderstorm cracks outside? do they love to be at the beach in scorching weather? throwing snowballs? kicking autumn leaves?

Temperature: which temperature makes them happy? the winter chill that clouds their warm breath? the summer air which makes the cool breezes all the more welcome? add the temperature in both °C and  °F, and add factors which may affect this.

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Notable strengths: things they pride themselves on. is it their artwork? singing ability? the capability to stay motivated? calming people? physical strength?

Notable weaknesses: things that they maybe aren’t so good at, and may or may not be working to improve. social interaction? sword skills? cooking? maybe it’s as simple as their dissatisfaction with appearance. bear in mind that these ‘weaknesses’ will likely be things that, when mentioned or pointed out, will make them uncomfortable or protective.

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Piercings: do they have ear piercings? are the earrings they wear significant? did they have a piercing, but it closed up? make sure to specify how many they have and if there’s a reason at all, mention it. it could me important.

Tattoos: where is it? did it hurt them? why do they have this tattoo? how old is it? did they even want it? if they have none, but want some, what do they want? are their tattoos faded? did they have any removed?

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Hobbies: things they enjoy and love to do. walking in the rain? stroking kittens? singing along to music? sleeping?!

Style: their clothing choice. do the prefer light or dark colors? do they expose a lot of skin, or prefer to cover up? do they like loose clothing? why? do they prefer to wear warm clothes or ones that let them stay cool? do they have loads of the same hoody?

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Other: this is where you write any other important things. backstory, maybe? quotes? catchphrases? alignment?

[skaye33]

New Music Friday

A weekly review of all the newly released singles and albums that have made an impression on moi/broken my heart into a million pieces (you may never know which). 

There was literally so much new music out this week, my poor little heart couldn’t handle it. 

SINGLES

“Call It What You Want To” - Taylor Swift

Impressions: Oh Taylor. I really should unfollow you on social media. Every time I see those three posts in a row, I have a heart attack. I was SO not ready for a FOURTH single prior to reputation. We fans are truly #blessed. The music in this single is amazing. After three bold tracks, it’s nice slow it down a little bit, while still maintaining the backbeats so popular in today’s pop music. It’s the calm before the storm - with her album releasing in seven days, she’s giving fans some much needed R&R after the overwhelming “Look What You Made Me Do”, “...Ready for It”, and “Gorgeous”. I am a huge Taylor fan. Don’t get me wrong. There are just a few lyrics in this song that feel a bit awkward to me (see “I’m the one he’s walking to” and “I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck, chain round my neck. Not because he owns me but 'cause he really knows me”). The rest of the song is so lyrically strong, but these bits just really feel off to me. I love the concept (I am a huge fan of bebe Joe Alwyn for making T feel so incredible), and the music is just so wonderfully produced. I don’t think I can handle the next seven days while waiting for reputation.

Best lyric: “All my flowers grew back as thorns. Windows boarded up after the storm. He built a fire just to keep me warm. All the drama queens taking swings. All the jokers dressin' up as kings. They fade to nothing when I look at him.”

“Like Gold” - Vance Joy

Impressions: A new Vance Joy song???? This one took me by total surprise. I had become convinced that the Australian had fallen completely off the map, but here we are, with a new single. “Riptide” took the world by storm 2013, and I feel like Vance Joy was really taking some time to recover, especially after a whirlwind tour with Taylor Swift. He returned with “Lay It On Me” in June, but I think “Like Gold” is the real return for him. Vance has some great lyricism in “Like Gold”, and the chorus shows some super fun word play. All in all, it’s very reminiscent of the calm vibes we received from Dream Your Life Away, and I’m super excited to see what’s in store from Vance Joy’s second album.

Best lyrics: “Gold, when you see me. Hi, if you need me. Babe, that's the way it was, that's the history. Blue, how we used to roar, like an open fire. That's the way it was. But that's history”

“The Way Life Goes” - Lil Uzi Vert, Nicki Minaj

Impressions: NICKI I MISS YOU. I can’t really call myself a Lil Uzi Vert fan, tbh. However, I really like this song. I don’t know if I like it because I’m an Oh Wonder fan, and Lil Uzi borrowed Oh Wonder’s intro from their single “Landslide” for his chorus. But if Nicki’s on the track, I am always down to listen to it. Her rap is a more low-key than normal (although she still manages to bring in some choice curse words, gotta love her for it), but her rap mirrors Lil Uzi’s well, and with the techno vibes brought in from Oh Wonder, it’s a great, relatable piece that would be great to drink wine... or smoke some weed to… You know, if you were into that kind of thing.

Best lyrics: Literally anything Nicki says.

ALBUMS

The Thrill of it All - Sam Smith

Impressions: GOSPEL SAM SMITH IS THE HERO I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED THIS NOVEMBER. This is an album that holistically is beautiful, although individual songs do tend to run together. Sam sings a lot about ending relationships and smoking cigarettes. Seriously, someone get this guy a light, he seems to really be jonesing for one. I had extremely high expectations for this album after Sam’s three singles shattered my heart into more pieces with each release. “Burning”, the last single, set my heart on fire, to smolder until the rest of the album came out. Sam’s voice is so beautiful, and there’s no denying the passion and vulnerability in his lyrics; even though he claims only four of the songs are about his personal experience, he makes it seem as if each one makes up the fabric of his life, and that shows the power behind his voice. My only complaint is just the similarities in the musicality of the tracks. He does have a bit of experimentation, breaking out from his typical strings + piano duo with some powerful drum and bass combinations (see “One Last Song”, “Midnight Train”, and “Baby You Make Me Crazy”), but all in all he maintains his proven vibes. And there’s nothing wrong with that! Use what works, am I right? Sam also brings in the gospel in more than one song, and touches on religious content, which I find bold and distinctive. All in all, an impressive sophomore album by the British crooner.

Stand out tracks: “HIM”, “Nothing Left For You”, “Baby You Make Me Crazy”

Red Pill Blues - Maroon 5

Impressions: This album is full of collaborations, and that’s what really makes it unique. This album is fresh. It manages to maintain the Maroon 5 vibe while still introducing new talent to the mix. I feel like Maroon 5 have been releasing singles for this album for forever, and yet the album still feels extremely new. “Don’t Wanna Know” came out over a year ago, and yet still manages to fit into the flow of the album, which just goes to show how well Maroon 5 focuses on balance in their album. They’re kings of the act - they balance brave collaborations with solely Maroon 5 projects, they balance R&B with pop-rock, they balance Adam Levine’s beautiful vocals with… well, with nothing, because he deserves to stand out on his own. I like Red Pill Blues more than their last album, but alas, nothing will ever top Overexposed.

Stand out tracks: “Wait”, “Who I Am”, “Denim Jacket”

Unapologetically - Kelsea Ballerini

Impressions: I didn’t even know this album was coming out today. But I saw someone’s retweet about Kelsea’s Unapologetically and decided to queue it up during my work day. Damn, am I glad I did. Out of all the new albums that came out today, this one took me the most by surprise, and it ended up being my favorite release of the day. I haven’t stopped listening to it. Kelsea lets listeners into her world, introducing them to her past, present and future with extremely relatable lyrics and poppy country vibes. This album reminds me of early Taylor Swift, but manages to maintain a maturity that makes it extremely relevant for millennials. It also bridges the gap between country and pop, a hard bridge to cross for many artists. Kelsea stays true to her country roots, but manages to incorporate many pop elements (see “Roses) that can draw in more mainstream listeners. Her honesty is one of the most striking things about the album. Artists have always relied on their personal experiences to make music, but Kelsea owns past mistakes in a way that is rare. Kelsea discusses breakups, past loves, and self reflection in new, bold ways (see “I Hate Love Songs”, “In Between” and “High School” that make her second album a unique treasure that I will probably listen to on repeat until at least 2018.

Stand out tracks: “Roses”, “I Hate Love Songs”, “Get over Yourself”

#sam smith #the thrill of it all #kelsea ballerini #unapologetically #taylor swift #call it what you want #music #blog #music blog #recording booth #recording boothe

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Volunteer Work; PG

theres a lagoon by my house and u can volunteer there on saturdays and do nature and gardening stuff so like au where taem runs one of those and jonghyun comes to volunteer on saturdays and jonghyun also may or may not be mafia brought to u by gq

tw for like vaguely gang related references

Jonghyun opens Taemin’s truck, tosses his jacket inside gently, and comes to join him at the tree pots, pushing his pristine white dress shirt sleeves even further up his arms. Taemin glances at the suspiciously stab-wound-esque scar on his forearm and decides not to ask about it this time. He’ll bug Jonghyun about his secrets later.

ao3

“Um… excuse me… where’s--? The thing again? Sorry.”

“Oh. Uh, over here.” Taemin gently steps around the high school kid and reaches over his desk to pull out the volunteer sheet again. They’re small; a classic freshman, he thinks. Getting their volunteer community service hours done early but a bundle of nerves about it. “I thought you signed it already?” he asks, handing it over. He could have sworn that he saw them scribbling their name down earlier with their other three friends.

“Oh, I did, but, uh,” they say, squinting at the paper for their name. “I forgot to put the date,” they mumble.

“Ahh,” Taemin says. Yeah. That makes sense. They hand him back the clipboard and he tosses it on his desk again, then leads them out of the education center and onto the gravel of the little parking lot. Their friends have already clambered into the bed of his truck and Taemin smiles at them as he heads to the driver’s seat.

“You’re gonna be raking leaves and then pulling weeds by the middle bridge today,” he tells them. He gets a chorus of nods and “yeah, okay”s and nods back. Nice. It’s still wild that kids actually listen to him here. He’s used to his brother’s kid being a little dingle to him all the time. These kids would probably fish litter out of the lagoon by hand if he asked them to, to be honest. He makes sure that all of them are secure in the back before he clambers into the front seat. As he backs up to putt them down to the supply shed at the other end of the reserve, he catches sight of a shiny white lamborghini in the queue at the stoplight out front, waiting to turn into the little parking lot. A smile tugs up the corner of his lips. Right on time.

Jonghyun is waiting for him when he gets back, leaning casually on the hood of his car. His white dress shirt is loose and rolled up at the sleeves, his expensive jacket is hung over his shoulders, and his hands are shoved lightly into pressed pockets. A heavy bronze wristwatch is set around his wrist and simple black studs dot his earlobes. When he looks up and catches Taemin’s eye as Taemin steps out of his truck, his grin is wide and lopsided and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes under his dark brown hair is gorgeous. Not for the first time does Taemin shake his head and muse about how this man is way too fucking clean and loaded to be volunteering at a place like this every Saturday.

“Morning, boss,” Jonghyun says anyway. Taemin exhales softly in amusement, leaning against the hood of his own considerably less pristine car.

“Hey,” he says back. “Wanna help me repot some apple trees?” he asks. He points lazily over his shoulder back the way he came, towards the tool shed and the baby trees growing in the back. It’s either that or re-varnish the front bridge, and Taemin doesn’t feel like doing that today. Maybe he’ll get the kids to do it next week. Jonghyun shrugs, nodding easily, and pushes off of his car.

“Sounds fun,” he says. He taps the hood of Taemin’s truck when he passes, gives him a quick wink, and invites himself easily into the passenger seat. Taemin rolls his eyes fondly as he gets back into his own seat. Jonghyun thinks he’s so fucking smooth.

“So how’s the family?” Taemin asks conversationally as he drives them passed the ponds. He throws Jonghyun a glance and a wiggled eyebrow, just to make sure that he really caught that emphasis. Jonghyun smiles back at him, pleasantly amused, before he shrugs.

“They’re good,” he says. “Mom is lovely. Sis is wonderful. They’re both shining stars in my life. The usual.” His voice is a touch too light and friendly to be normal and Taemin snorts.

“No important family business things to take care of lately?” he asks. This time at his pointed question Jonghyun chuckles softly, resting his elbow on the armrest of his seat.

“You think you’re so subtle,” he mutters.

“Not at all, actually,” Taemin hums. He is very obviously trying to pry into Jonghyun’s secret illegal life. It’s fascinating.

“I took my dog to the vet the other day,” Jonghyun says, very obviously denying his prying. “She’s doing great.” Taemin grins, pulling his truck to a stop next to the shed.

“Grab some spare gloves from inside,” he says, pointing to the shed and wiggling out of his seat. Jonghyun nods easily, jogging inside and grabbing his work stuff without needing to be shown around. When he comes back outside, his jacket is off of his shoulders and draped over his arm instead. He opens Taemin’s truck, tosses it inside gently, and comes to join him at the tree pots, pushing his pristine white dress shirt sleeves even further up his arms. Taemin glances at the suspiciously stab-wound-esque scar on his forearm and decides not to ask about it this time. He’ll bug Jonghyun about his secrets later.

For now, he goes through the motions of repotting the trees with him, making regular smalltalk as they work. They cover the usual range of topics, from “it’s supposed to rain tonight” to “you know how sometimes when you masturbate it’s like the best thing in the world and you feel pure and clean like the angels themselves had their heads between your legs, but then other times it’s like, ‘wow, when did Satan crawl into my bed and lick my asshole,’ you know?” They laugh and catch up and just have a nice time together, Taemin pulling his red hair into a ponytail so it doesn’t get all sweaty in the sun and Jonghyun making overexaggerated noises of exertion when he moves a sapling from one pot to the next. It’s comfortable and familiar, all the way up until a jazzy little tune starts playing from Jonghyun’s pocket.

“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down at it. “Sorry, one sec.” He flaps off his gloves and pulls his phone out, smiling quickly at Taemin before jogging into the tool shed to take the call. Taemin wonders blandly if he realizes that there are so many cracks and holes in the wood of it that it’s not soundproof at all, even with the door closed.

“What?” Taemin hears him snap. “Why are you bothering me? Are you gonna pay me or what?” Ooh. Taemin raises his brows, switching from not particularly trying to hear to completely, absolutely eavesdropping. He loves Jonghyun’s threatening phone calls. “Yeah, I know I have money already,” Jonghyun says. “But we both know that it’s not about the money. It’s about respect. As in, if you respect me, then maybe the next time we meet my foot will decide to respect your fucking teeth, and let them stay inside of your mouth.”

Taemin snorts. That wasn’t one of Jonghyun’s best threats. Still, though, he’s sure it has whoever’s on the other line stammering and shaking right now.

“Shut up,” Jonghyun snaps. “I don’t want to hear it. You know where to find me. And, more importantly, I know where to find you.” Taemin laments the fact that flip phones went out of style years ago because he would have loved to hear that satisfying little snap of an ended conversation. Instead, there’s just silence for a few moments before Jonghyun comes out of the shed, fixing up his shirt sleeves and smiling at Taemin. “Hey, I’m back,” he says. Taemin snorts. He sure is.

“Mafia problems?” he asks sympathetically. His grin widens when Jonghyun huffs at him with a sharp glare.

“It’s not--mafia,” he snaps, the hesitation an obvious tell.

“What is it then?” Taemin asks.

“None of your business,” Jonghyun grumbles. Taemin cocks a brow. Mmhmm. Sure. He’s heard that before.

“What if it is, though?” he asks as Jonghyun pointedly ignores him and reaches for another tree pot. “What if they’re, like, my dentist or something?” He doesn’t think a dentist with missing teeth would do very well in the business. At his question, Jonghyun laughs himself, an escaped little chuckle that he muffles into the back of his hand.

"They’re not, trust me,” he says. “Pass me the spade,” he says next, holding out his hand. Taemin hands him the little shovel easily, watching him dig gently around the base of a tree and loosen the dirt up. After a moment, he sighs exaggeratedly and goes back to his own work. Jonghyun is playful, but once he’s moved on to a new topic he starts just blatantly ignoring Taemin’s prying questions.

Oh, well. Taemin holds the pot while Jonghyun gently pulls the tree out, grinning at his dramatic grunts of effort. He’s good. Situationally, at least.

They continue down the lines of saplings, getting into a rhythm of work and jokes. At some point another of Jonghyun’s shirt buttons comes undone and Taemin takes his time in looking at his chest, the soft muscle, the golden skin. Very lovely. There’s also the smattering of small, circular scars that are very obviously cigarette burns, not that Jonghyun will ever admit it. “None of your business” is a very popular excuse for them, which really just proves Taemin’s theory about them. Jonghyun only ever grumbles when Taemin asks about something shady. Sometimes Taemin finds things out that he wasn’t even trying to just because Jonghyun refused to answer his innocent questions. Taemin sure hopes that he’s a better liar around people that actually matter.

He’s about to open his mouth to ask about the scars again, just to bug Jonghyun, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He hums shortly, pats his pocket, looks up at Jonghyun and opens his mouth for a different reason.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Uh,” Jonghyun says. He lifts his fancy watch and squints at it under the sunlight. “Ten twenty,” he says.

“Ooh,” Taemin hisses, glancing over his shoulder. He squints through the trees and bushes, looking for the kids down there by the lagoon. He almost forgot about them. “Almost snack time,” he says, leaving the tree he was working on and pulling his gloves off. With his own little noise of excitement, Jonghyun follows him back to the truck.

“Ice cream?” he asks, shaking out his sweaty hands. Taemin grins and nods, driving them back to the visitor center to grab the cooler.

“And other snacks for everyone’s dietary needs,” he says. “But mostly for me,” he adds. It’s only ever around one in ten kids that can’t have ice cream and has to take a popsicle or some form of fruit, honestly, and Taemin enjoys hogging all of the good shit for himself.

“Nice,” Jonghyun says. He taps his hands excitedly on his knees as they roll passed the ponds. Taemin throws him a quick glance and a fond smile. Sometimes he’s way too cute.

At the center, Jonghyun follows Taemin inside with his hands stuffed in his pockets, smile easy and relaxed. It’s silent, but it’s a comfortable silence, just Jonghyun looking at all of the science stuff while Taemin digs in the mini kitchen for the cooler he prepared earlier. Lugging it onto his desk in the main room, he snags a strawberry shake for himself first, then offers it to Jonghyun.

“Take your pick,” he says, uncapping his bottle. Jonghyun hums in contemplation, looking everything over before taking a water bottle and a chocolate coated ice cream bar. He peels off a corner of the wrapping and takes a small bite, watching Taemin organize things in the cooler a little better. Taemin doesn’t know why he tries; they’re gonna get all fucked up in the back of the truck anyway. When he closes the lid, he looks up to find Jonghyun just staring at him instead, a fond smile on his thick lips. It’s the kind of look that makes Taemin feel like he’s being searched and judged and he scrunches his nose, meeting Jonghyun’s little smile with his own little frown. “What?” he asks.

“You know,” Jonghyun hums. “I’ve been thinking.” His words are slow and measured, a little lower and smoother than they usually are. “You’re, like. Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, “and really fun to be around, so, you know, if you wanted to be around me more later, I know this nice restaurant that we could--”

“Nooooo,” Taemin says, cutting Jonghyun off before he even finishes that question. He laughs at Jonghyun’s shocked and confused expression, but shakes his head anyway. “Nooo,” he repeats, picking up the cooler in his free hand. “No no no.” Not in a million fucking years would he go out to dinner with Jonghyun. Just the thought makes him want to double over with laughter. Holy shit.

“Ahh, come on,” Jonghyun says, following Taemin as he backs out of the visitor center. “I’d buy you like. So many cute things. Little leaf earrings. You’d love that shit.” He helps Taemin push the cooler far into the bed of his truck even as Taemin giggles and shakes his head.

“Listen,” Taemin says, pushing the tailgate up and making sure it locks into place. “You’re a babe. And super loaded. And I’m sure it would be wonderful to date you and let you buy me things and touch your butt.” He’s admittedly thought about that last part a lot. He smothers another giggle into his hand as he slips back to the driver’s side door. “But I’m just not gonna have a mafia boyfriend,” he says, shrugging simply and clambering inside. Before he shuts the door he hears Jonghyun huff loudly.

“I’m not mafia,” Jonghyun hisses when he opens the passenger side door. Taemin snorts.

“Okay, well, whatever line of work it is that you’re in that involves you taking phones calls that include the phrases, ‘Pop out one of their eyes, that’ll make their friends talk,’ and ‘Just take care of it,’” he says, cocking a brow as he starts up the truck again. “I’m not having that shit as my babe.” No thank you. He’s good. Jonghyun scoffs, crossing his arms and grumpily nibbling his ice cream.

“Alright, now you’re just making shit up,” he says. “I have never once said ‘just take care of it.’ I am not that cliché.”

“You absolutely fucking are,” Taemin says. “You said those exact words, like, three weeks ago. I heard you.” He doesn’t have proof or anything, but still. He knows what his eavesdropping heard. Jonghyun huffs again and grumbles, frowning at his ice cream as Taemin turns them down a side road and up to the second bridge. By the looks of things, the kids on the other side of it have been working hard. All of the leaves are piled into two big bins and about half of the weeds have been plucked up. Their sweaty souls absolutely deserve a break. Before Jonghyun can pull him back into their conversation, he rolls down his window.

“Hey, angsty teens,” he calls. The two that hadn’t already noticed his arrival look up as well and he grins. “Snack time,” he says, waving them over with one hand and unlocking the trunk with the other. “Pop the cooler in the back and grab a water,” he says when they all eagerly come closer. “You’re doing really well,” he adds, just for the pleased smiles that brings to their faces. Nice. He loves supporting kids and shit.

“Anyway,” he says once the four kids are all clambered into the back of his truck. They can’t hear their conversation inside of the car and he turns lazily to Jonghyun, cracking open his strawberry shake again. “You buying me expensive gifts is not worth me potentially being kidnapped and held hostage and, like, possibly being tortured or whatever just to fuck with you,” he says. He’s not about that life. He takes a sip of his drink as Jonghyun winces.

“That’s not… probable,” he says. Taemin just raises his brows at that until Jonghyun sighs. It turns quickly into a grin, a breathy little laugh, and he lifts his free hand to run through his hair. “Good point, I guess,” he says.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin hums. “No offense, but I want like. As little to do with you as humanly possible when you’re not being an innocent volunteer at my place of employment.” He shakes his head and waves off whatever thoughts always come into his mind when he thinks about big scary mobsters finding out that Jonghyun has an easily kidnappable kind-of-friend, let alone an easily kidnappable boyfriend that Jonghyun loves and cherishes. Jonghyun sighs heavily, but he’s smiling around his ice cream anyway, grinning at some internal probably kidnapping-related joke that Taemin would probably be horrified to hear.

“Cockblocked by the job,” Jonghyun says, shaking his head wistfully. “The job that totally isn’t, like, mafia or gang related or illegal in any way, by the way,” he adds, turning to Taemin and pointing at him with his ice cream. “I don’t know where you come up with these absurd ideas.” He tsks and shakes his head disapprovingly. Taemin chuckles into his own drink.

“If the police or whoever actually do manage to trace you back to me, you better not get mad at me when I expose your ass,” he mutters. “I’m not going to jail or being murdered just because you’re garbage at keeping a secret.” He meets Jonghyun’s arched brow with his own for a few seconds until Jonghyun shrugs and looks back to his ice cream.

“Yeah, fair enough,” he says.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #pg #brotp #oneshot #jonghyun isnt mafia but he is 100% in a gang lmao #he dos his big bad illegal threatening torturey kidnapping aesthetic nonsense during the week #and then comes and volunteers to help the environment on saturdays uwu #taem asks him one time like why do u even volunteer here anyway and jonghyuns like i mean i have to get good person points Somwhere' #and taems like shit tru #jong still offers to buy taem things sometimes bc like taem is his friend and he likes buying things for his friends #but taems like nooooooooo except the one time he was like y e s bc theres been this anime dvd set hes been wanting for Months #but jong just gives him like forty dollars cash and he buys it himself lmao #also one time taems grumbling about having to go to court bc some asshole rear ended him at a stoplight and is tryna blame him for it #and jonghyuns like oh we have a traffic lawyer i can give u his number #and taems like excuse me no thank u i do not want a mafia lawyer on my case #and jongs like were not mafia!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #and taems like lmao anyway i already have one his name is jinki and hes v v charming and good #but jongs just like L m a o bc jinkis the lawyer he was gonna recommend #and taems like ???? how did i get a mafia lawyer for some shitty traffic case???? #and jongs just like Oh My Fucking God #taems like ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[clan-fuildarach]

citadel under siege 

delta, seafra, and neven make it to the rezann’s citadel, which is currently held by president robin and her forces against the commander himself. and it looks like delta may know some information that is pertinent to robin’s whole operation

~

Delta had seen a couple of towns in his lifetime. He'd seen the fortresses of the Blacksand Annex and Court Dorchadas. He'd travelled through clans so big that they were townships in their own right. But he'd never seen a city before, let alone a city like this.

The walled citadel on the coast of the Starfall Isles was bigger than any fortress, a dense, sprawling jungle of buildings and roads and train tracks that seemed to have sprouted organically from the bare earth, unplanned. The buildings coated the coastline, their white walls gleaming in the sun, surrounded by huge walls that cut it off from the land to the east and left it open to the sea to the west. But the city had outgrown its own walls in a rather spectacular fashion; unable to spread outwards, it had chosen to grow vertically instead.

Enormous chunks of pink crystal, each one large enough to support a medium-sized clan of dragons, floated over the city. They were connected by bridges made out of densely-woven rope and wooden slats that wouldn't break if the crystals shifted. Buildings grew from the sides of the crystals like cells in a wasp nest, each with its own projecting landing platform for visitors.

The crystals floated quite close together, by the ground, until they almost blocked the light from reaching the terrestrial portion of the city. Further up, the crystals thinned out, until there were only a scant few grazing the base of the clouds.

Both Delta and Seafra had spent the entire morning since their arrival at the citadel by train simply staring. Neven was less impressed; they'd been to the citadel before.

“What happens if one of them falls?” Delta said, his eyes fixed on the cluttered view above. He and his companions were sitting outside a vegetable market by the edge of the cliffs.

“They don't,” Neven said, sorting through their bag of belongings (most of which had been stolen from the train) for anything that they could use in the market to trade for food.

“And people just accept that?” Seafra said, casting the floating crystals a dark look. “I'd go mad, living with those things above me like that.”

“I suppose they're enchanted,” Delta said. He couldn't look away from the crystals. Not only did they float as if weightless, they were moving, too. Like the gears of a clock they seemed to be circling overhead in a fixed pattern so intricate that Delta could hardly imagine the work that went into ensuring they didn't simply crash in mid-air. But there they were, drifting serenely overhead, blocking out the sun every few minutes.

Seafra stretched out her arms and yawned. “Right, so what's the plan for today?”

Delta didn't register her question for a moment. Then he blinked and glanced over at her. “I guess we need to find any signs of your clan, or... or mine.” He didn't really want to think of Clan Fuil Darach right now. The last time he'd seen the clan it had been held hostage, cut down to barely six dragons, stranded in the middle of the enormous desert in the heart of Dragonhome. Guilt washed over him; he'd abandoned his own clan. Maybe it was best if he didn't go back at all. They probably didn't even want him.

“So we'd better ask around,” Seafra said. She nudged Neven. “Anything good in there? I'm starving.”

Neven held out a single gem. “This is all we have.”

Seafra stared glumly at it for a moment before taking it. “It'll buy us breakfast at least. Any requests, Delta?”

“Anything,” he said with a shrug. “I'm – hey!”

A dragon from the crowd of pedestrians had snatched the gem right out of Seafra's hand. With a loud oath she shot after them, the two of them vanishing into the crowd.

This may have been the biggest city in the northern hemisphere, but it was obvious that it had been under a lot of stress lately. It had been occupied by a foreign force, and recently – hours after Delta's group had arrived – the walls and borders had been shut off to newcomers and visitors. The city was, officially, under siege. With the trade routes cut, it was only a matter of time before the stockpiles began to dwindle and more and more dragons turned to thievery.

“Maybe we shouldn't have come here,” Delta said quietly, leaning back against the white stone wall bordering the market. “It's too dangerous.”

“Yes, it is dangerous,” Neven said. “But it's safer here than it is outside. The citadel is almost impervious to attack, even if the one doing the attacking is the Commander.”

That was what the town criers had been shouting about all morning – the gathering of the Commander's troops on two sides of the citadel. He was attacking from the land and the water, catching the citadel between two different forces. His ships choked the harbour beyond the base of the cliffs, further cutting off the city's supply routes.

A battalion of soldiers marched past, bearing the standard of the city's new president, Robin. Two spanners crossed under a twisting flame. Delta didn't know much at all about Robin, but he'd learned a lot since arriving at the city. People said that she was an unparalleled genius, that she'd single-handedly placed all the train tracks in the Isles, that she was the only hope the dragons ever had to defeat Rezann. But it hadn't all been favourable information. People said she was a fraud, that her inventions were a worthless mimicry of what magic could already do, that she didn't stand a chance. Opinions were mixed.

“Delta,” Neven said quietly. “I... I don't like it here.”

Delta was already painfully aware of this. He slung an arm around Neven's narrow, bony shoulders. “We won't be here for long. All we need to do is ask around about our clans, or buy a map or something.”

“Mm.” Neven leant against Delta's side with a sigh. “You know I used to live here. With the Commander.”

“I thought you lived in the barracks?” Delta absently stroked his fingers through their hair.

“I lived here first. This is where he found me.”

Seafra elbowed her way through the crowds, muttering obscenities under her breath. She had not retrieved the gem from the thief. Without a word she came to stand beside Delta her hands spread to show her failure.

“There goes our breakfast,” she said. “Now what?”

“I know where we can find food,” Neven said, pushing away from Delta to stand up straight. They brushed their ragged tunic down self-importantly. “It is an, uh... a place for homeless dragons to find food. It's near here.”

They beckoned and set off. Delta and Seafra trailed along after them, Seafra still cursing under her breath.

“So how do you know this place?” Delta said, as the three of them turned off the main market square and down a narrow alley.

“Well,” Neven said. “I grew up here. This is where my parents left me, when I was young. I almost died, but somebody found me and brought me to the shelter. During the day I couldn't stay there so I slept outside, but I'd come back every night. And then one day I got arrested for begging in the wrong place, and that was how the Commander found me.”

Delta had only heard scraps of this story before. He'd never heard the first part, that Neven had been abandoned. A fragment of memory struck him; the iron-grey sea and white cliffs of the northern Sunbeam Ruins. The desperate grinding hunger and Luke's voice frantically reassuring him that their father would be back soon. All they had to do was wait, and he'd be home.

He stared at Neven's back, his heart breaking. “I'm so sorry, Neven,” he said.

“Yes, well,” Neven said, “it's over now. The Commander saved me. You don't need to be sorry.” With a dismissive wave, they led the pair of guardians down a set of terraced steps. They travelled through increasingly dim and dingy streets, until eventually coming to a nondescript door with the symbol of the Eleven painted over the frame. Neven knocked, then pushed the door open.

It was half-church, half-hostel. Rows of beds lined the walls, and at the end wall was a collection of small shrines, candles burning for each deity. A strong smell of stew filled the air; there was a kitchen area off to one side and a queue of dragons waiting to be served.

As Delta stepped inside, something caught his eye. He turned, frowning, then ran over to the noticeboard just opposite the door. The board was plastered with various notices, including an announcement that the city was under siege and a list of rooms that were currently to-let. But right in the centre was a new notice.

It was a printed illustration of a clan crest. Two oak leaves and an acorn. The text under it read REWARD OFFERED FOR ANYONE WHO CAN IDENTIFY THIS SYMBOL.

He snatched the sheet off the board, then quickly ran back to Neven and Seafra.

“Look!” He brandished the sheet of paper. “That's-”

“That's your clan crest.” Seafra said, her eyebrows rising.

Neven was talking to one of the shelter workers. The worker frowned oddly at Delta, then sidled over. “You know that crest?”

“Yes, that's my crest,” Delta said. “Who wants to know? Who put this here?”

“President Robin's troops have been distributing those all morning,” the worker said. “Apparently it's important to her, for the war effort.” They shrugged. “That's all I know.”

Delta flipped the page over. There was an address on the back, and a small printed map. “Okay,” he said, “you guys stay here and eat. I'll go and check this out.”

“Whatever you like,” Seafra said, “but be careful, okay?”

Delta hesitated for a moment, then tugged off the leather cord from around his neck. He took Neven's hand and carefully pressed the cord – and the tiny pouch that contained his charge – into their palm.

“Keep it safe,” he said.

“I will.” Neven seemed to understand the enormity of the gesture. They closed their fingers around the acorn pouch with a tiny nod, a spark of rare emotion entering their voice for a moment. “Be back soon.”

Delta pressed a kiss to their cheek, then left.

The map was easy enough to follow, once he understood which way was which. He walked at a brisk pace for a couple of minutes, missing the tiny weight of his charge against his chest. It was odd, though – he didn't feel nearly as anxious as he thought he'd feel, leaving it behind.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside a small barracks near the wall of the city. President Robin's banner had been strung over the door, hiding the old moth sigil that had been carved into the wall behind it.

He knocked, then let himself in. The place was utilitarian and bare, full of soldiers. Behind a small barrier were shelves and shelves packed with equipment.

A soldier approached Delta, spear in hand. “State your business.”

Delta raised the sheet of paper like a shield. “It's about this,” he said.

The soldier quickly lowered the spear. “Do you know that crest?”

There was no way of telling if Delta was helping his clan or hurting it by identifying the crest to the soldiers here. But this was the only way he had of locating his clan and somehow reuniting with it. So he nodded. “Yes. That's Clan Fuil Darach's crest. I'm the – er, I mean, I used to belong to that clan.”

Everything passed in a rush after that. The soldier brought Delta into the barracks and told him to wait. He sat by the wall, his heart pounding as soldiers moved all around. Someone offered him a cup of tea. This heartened him; if he was being imprisoned or interrogated, they wouldn't be giving him tea. He hoped.

Finally, the door of the barracks opened again and a new guardian strode in. She was tall, her long hair pinned back. Her uniform was devoid of any fancy details, a utilitarian black, but somehow Delta knew that she was someone important. Trotting behind her was a young bespectacled skydancer boy and a mirror swathed in greenish-brown furs, a giant bow at her back.

The guardian came to a halt in front of Delta. “My name is Robin,” she said. “Now. Tell me all you know about this Clan Fuil Darach.”

“Why?” Delta said, thoroughly taken aback.

“Because,” she said, “two nights ago a ship bearing this standard-” She held up the poster of the crest again- “was seen in the bay between Arcane and Wind territory. At that time, Commander Rezann's army was trying to make land with a quarter of his artillery in that bay. We tried to stop them, but they destroyed our defences with ease. And then this one ship – this tiny civilian vessel – somehow took out the entire flotilla, artillery and all.” She lowered the poster and rolled it up with a few deft movements.

“Oh,” Delta said quietly. “Is that bad?”

“Bad?” she said, her dark purple eyes widening. “It's amazing. We need that ship on our side. It could be an invaluable resource. Right now we're under siege from three sides, and if not for that ship it would be four. If you could help us, we'd be so grateful. Not to mention the reward...”

Delta cleared his throat, trying to avoid the somewhat creepy gaze of the mirror behind Robin. “All right,” he said. “I'll tell you what I know.”

#hghfhghghh i'm Struggling #this is just scene setting lmao but it'll do take it #quill darach #delta cfd #seafra cd #neven cfd

[crimson-legend]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck!

TAGGED BY: @summoners-path​

TAGGING: I was going to tag my other muse but it turned out the princeling was easier to finish that Auron (who can be such a recalcitrant bastard at times, I swear) - @oshimai, @fallal, and by this point I think most people have done this? If you have not and you’re seeing this, then I’m tagging you, yes, you, whoever you may be. Do the thing!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Auron ( アーロン ) - no last name. I’m one of those with the opinion that Spirans don’t generally have ‘last’/family names.

NICKNAME/S: Rikku calls him big meanie, and probably sometimes red. Still others might call him Sir.

AGE: 25 (at time of death) - 35 (at time of Sending)

BIRTHDAY: Some point in the mid-Spring. The date wasn’t recorded.

ETHNIC GROUP: Human (Yevonite), Macalanian.

NATIONALITY: Yevonite

LANGUAGE/S: Spiran Common. He knows a few basic words and phrases of Al Bhed but nothing more.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Grey-ace, sex neutral.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic, perhaps slightly inclined towards men(?). Intensely monogamous.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: unattached (verse-dependent)

CLASS: Practical: Warrior - 2H Sword (ATK, DEF, tank, debuff) ; Social: variable, depending on the point in his life. He’s gone from low-working-class to mid- then high warrior class, then booted back out into near-poverty, then to Dream Zanarkand where he didn’t fit anywhere.

HOMETOWN / AREA: Bevelle - from age 8 (There was once a small village back in the mountains of Macalania that a young boy called ‘home’. It’s not there any more.)

CURRENT HOME: (verse-dependent) Wandering.

PROFESSION: Originally, a warrior monk in the Church of Yevon, dedicated to the protection of the people against Sin and fiends and heretics and upholding the law of the land. After that, a guardian, dedicated solely to the protection of his Summoner. (After and in-between, he had to find something to do in Dream Zanarkand that wasn’t just babysitting Tidus…)

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Black, streaked with grey. Long when he was young, kept short when older save for a long queue at the back.

EYES: Amber, appearing mid-brown in low light but bright in full light. After his death, he only has one and developed a light sensitivity in the remaining one. It’s one of the reasons that he wears the sunglasses, along with the added bonus of obscuring his face - they protect his eye from brightness or sudden changes in light intensity. He also has impaired depth perception that he had to learn to work with, relearning even things as basic as how to navigate, much less fight.

NOSE: A fairly average-sized nose with a straight bridge, the tip pointed out slightly more from his face than you’d see in southern Yevonites or Al Bhed.

FACE: Oval face shape, with a gentle taper from cheekbones to jawline, firm jaw leading down to a strong chin. Slightly v-shaped hairline. When he was young he always kept clean-shaven, but as he got older, he has a sort of permastubble going on, as sometimes he bothers to shave and sometimes he doesn’t, but is apparently incapable of managing to grow an actual beard.

LIPS: Somewhat thin, often chapped (this man needs a chapstick, has Zanarkand invented those yet?). Prone to turning up into a smirk when he’s amused, but he doesn’t fully smile very often, much less grin.

COMPLEXION: Pale with yellow undertones, though he’s usually slightly tanned from being outside often. In places like Bikanel or the southern islands, he will burn (and be extremely irritable about it).

BLEMISHES: A massive scar that crosses his face from above his right eyebrow to his jawline, sealing the eye shut, and continues down from his shoulder to just above his right hip. He also has a fair amount of less drastic scarring incurred in battle, but aside from a few larger or more severe wounds, those are relatively minor due to the availability of healing magic and potions.

TATTOOS: None.

HEIGHT: 6’0”, probably 6’0.5”-6’1” in his boots - some people find this surprising, as his presence (most often!) gives him the impression of being an even larger man

WEIGHT: I’m terrible at judging/guessing this tbh - maybe somewhere around 200 lbs?

BUILD: BRICK WALL. Mesomorph, and very fit. He’s extremely solid, with a core like a steel beam from swinging that sword around like he does. Definitely looks like he could toss Braska to safety without a second thought. Nice legs, broad shoulders and hefty arms, a muscular but rather flat ass.

ALLERGIES: Incompetence. Mold and mildew, as well as mild lactose intolerance.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Mostly unstyled. Queue bound back with a tie or thin ribbon, the shorter majority he simply runs his fingers through and that’s good enough.

USUAL EXPRESSION: Resting murderface. Ah, stoic. He tends to show his emotions readily on his face but the changes of expression are always very minor, so one has to look close and know him well to see what he’s feeling. The signs are always there to be picked out, though. Everything is thrown out the window when it comes to very strong emotions, though, usually anger, which is obvious for all to see. When he was younger, his expressions were usually more obvious, but that changed over time.

USUAL CLOTHING: Dark, dark grey pants with a lighter grey vertical stripe on the front, back, and sides that tuck into tall black boots, which have a protective plate on top of the foot and a decorative medallion at the top of the boot that helps secure the strapping. A very basic undershirt between skin and a black hardened-leather cuirass with simple yellow-gold detailing. A tall grey cowl with leather strapping attaches to the cuirass itself, and with a pair of oval-lensed sunglasses does a good job of hiding his expression.

Over top, a long, ankle-length heavy red coat evocative of a haori, with a thick collar/front edging of blue edged with white. A pair of buckled straps at the end of each sleeve allows the wide sleeve to be pulled closed not unlike the standard yoroi hitatare worn under armor. His right forearm is bound from the wrist halfway up and covered over the back of his forearm with a bracer made of three plates, his right hand gloved with black leather. On his left shoulder is a pauldron of hardened brown leather, finely tooled and decorated.

The coat is held closed with a wide belt of scaled grey-green under double straps of brown leather, which is covered on the sides and back with a protective layer of steel detailing and blue lamellar plates. At his belt he carries a large jug, held with braided leather straps and a cord of decorative beading.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: failure, letting others down, enclosed spaces, losing himself to becoming a fiend

ASPIRATION/S: When he was younger, he was far more idealistic in some ways - he wanted to help people, to protect, and he did. The main ideal of that aspiration didn’t change as he got older, but the scope did. It became not so much an aspiration as a hope, a desperate goal to frantically grasp at even as it slipped through his fingers.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Determined, protective, intelligent, enduring, loyal, forthright (younger).

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy. Prideful. Stubborn. Acerbic. Secretive. Can and will walk right over you if you stand between him and his goal.

MBTI: ISTJ - The Logistician

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8 - The Challenger

ZODIAC: Aries (sun) - Virgo (moon)

TAROT: Justice (young), Death (in-game)

TEMPERAMENT: Choleric

SOUL TYPE/S: Hunter (with Thinker/Helper/Leader all tied for second place)

ANIMAL: well the test was terribly wrong for him but the closest thing there was Rhino, though that one underestimates his mental capabilities (many thanks to B-chan for helping me scour the choices)

VICE/S: This man can hold grudges. Usually big ones, but sometimes he can get in a snit and be very petty (see: the stop at the Macalania Travel Agency where Tidus calls him ‘old’ and Auron stops talking, turns away with a hrmf and a snide remark and then won’t even look at Tidus for the remainder of the stay). After his death, self-loathing is a serious vice as well, one that wasn’t present before (or at least until the very end of his life).

FAITH: Once, he believed in Yevon. Now, that couldn’t be further from the case. What faith he once had was thoroughly crushed.

GHOSTS?: As an Unsent, he himself is one, after a fashion. Even if he wasn’t, fiends would fit the definition well enough. In Spira, ghosts are not so much a matter of superstition as they are a natural part of the world; it is why summoners are needed to Send souls to the farplane, and the existence of fiends and unsent are abject proof.

AFTERLIFE?: Yes. As with ghosts, this is not so much a matter of faith as it is natural and evident. While one can debate whether the images the living see of their loved ones on the Farplane are a projection or truly their souls, that does not deny the truth that one can visit the Farplane itself.

REINCARNATION?: Yes, though mostly in the less comforting knowledge that one can become a fiend after death. A truly new life… he’s less certain of the possibility, though he’d like to believe.

ALIENS?: He’s been to and lived in a world created from dreams and set foot on the alternate plane of the afterlife. He’s inclined to think that anything is possible. There are so many stars out there, of course some other worlds with people on them are out there too. It just doesn’t have any bearing on his world here and now.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: For much of his life, Lawful Neutral/Good and a supporter as well as part of the reigning religious oligarchy/theocracy. Later and near the end of his life, as well as his unlife, Neutral Good/True Neutral and in (at first) subtle opposition to the established Church and then actively attempting its complete overthrow.

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: He never really had much of a need or want for material goods. He always had a few treasured possessions, but between his personality and his lifestyle he never accumulated many ‘things’. After he dies, he has even less to his name, but he’s content with remaining that way. He travels, feeling out of place, and so keeps his pack light rather than gathering and keeping objects. As he doesn’t spend much, he doesn’t particularly want for money.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: He’s… famous, being the (a) Legendary Guardian, but that doesn’t really afford him anything other than awe, and occasionally a free room. He stays out of politics once Yevon is brought low. It’s up to the people who will live for the future to determine it, after all.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Once he was dedicated to the Church of Yevon at 8 years old, he was granted good schooling along with all the other child-acolytes and training to enter the ranks of the warrior monks. Before that, he didn’t have anything in the way of formal schooling and was illiterate, though he’d been learning practical skills for some time. He was of an age that he was starting to try his hand at trades and would have chosen one to apprentice to had circumstances not changed his fate.

FAMILY.

FATHER: (deceased)

MOTHER: (deceased)

EXTENDED FAMILY: brother (Feron - deceased)

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): none (verse-dependent)

NAME MEANING/S: high mountain/mountain of strength (Hebrew); gold (aur) - a divine ending/death (on) (Old Celtic/Welsh); gold (aurum - Latin) gilded/gilt/noble (aureus - Latin); dawn (Áron - Quenya)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION: What familial history he may once have had is lost. The Church broke its ties with him, and he with it. What connection he has to history is his part in the story of Braska’s and Yuna’s Pilgrimages, until those stories are told no more.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: He likes histories and tales, whether fiction or not - a good story. The ending of it does not matter so much as what happens during the book.

MOVIE: He’s not much of a movie person, actually, but as with books, he’d prefer one with solid characters and a good story to it over anything else.

DEITY: He’s not fond of gods these days, self-proclaimed or otherwise.

MONTH: October

SEASON: Autumn

PLACE: Somewhere not the South. He prefers cooler climes and does terribly in hot weather, growing irritable the longer he has to deal with it.

WEATHER: Sun out but clouds in the sky, with a crisp breeze blowing.

SOUND: Gentle rainfall, the crunch of leaves and evergreen needles under boots, soft humming.

SCENT/S: Cedar wood, pine, stone in the forest slightly grown over with moss, the brightness of a mountain stream’s spray.

TASTE/S: Seasoned game meats, fish; will steal your berry tarts.

FEEL/S: Wood and tree bark, slightly textured paper, braided fabric, simple glazed pottery.

ANIMAL/S: Auron is most definitely a dog person. He’s also fond of flying creatures, and you’ll often see me associate him with the red-tailed hawk.

NUMBER: Three. It is a good, solid number, is it not?

COLOR: He likes red, favouring it enough to choose the colour for his coat, and in general likes autumn and winter tones.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: planning, combat, snarky commentary

BAD AT: Magic. White, Black, Blue, Time, it doesn’t matter. Absolute shit at it. I have a headcanon that he doesn’t even have the capability for it, backed by the fact that the abilities in his grid is essentially all physical - the debuff-abilities can be explained as ki-type physical energies rather than magic. He’d like to be able to cast even as little as a simple Cure, but it’s beyond him. Also bad at empathising.

TURN-ONS: Entirely dependent on the person, and pretty much null in general unless he’s romantically attracted to or involved with that person.

TURN-OFFS: Arrogance, superiority, degradation, arguments, pain, excessive testing of his patience (a little is fine but don’t push it too far-), et al.

HOBBIES: He doesn’t really have much in the way of hobbies. There’s almost always been something to keep him busy, and so he never had much time to develop fun down-time things. He does whittle, if there’s dead time and he’s feeling inclined. It’s an easy enough thing that keeps his hands busy, and he can just pick up wood wherever he’s settling down to camp and discard whatever he makes if he doesn’t care to keep it, so materials are never really an issue save for keeping his knife sharp.

TROPES: BFS; Dead All Along; Determinator; The Atoner; The Stoic/Not So Stoic; Taking the Bullet; Tall, Dark, and Snarky, I Gave My Word

AESTHETIC TAGS: I actually don’t have a dedicated aesthetic tag for him and I really should. Hmm. I’ll get on that…

#[headcanons] #[meme response] #//oooof but that took forever! #auron why must you be so /difficult/