#this scene is pure perfection so well written and acted

[kittenbased]

Why would you two have hidden something that big from me? Was I that untrustworthy? I'd sometimes think that.But then I'd think, "No, this is on those who kept it a secret." As I watched Woojoo withering away, I realized she was the one suffering the most. So I'd calm down a little. But I was still mad at you.

#call it love #kdrama #kdrama edits #kdrama gifs #sung joon #kim ye won #i love her more for exact reasons that people on here and twitter been hating on her recently #she be serving so much complexity and realness and yall choose violence #just because she is not a man and a main character whose backstory is not spoon fed to the viewers #let's make one thing clear that haesung's suffered from his dad behaviors too and she just has her own way of coping #which is not much unhealthier than woojoo's as many of you think it is #she's also more mature than she appears to be but yall and many other characters in the show hardly take her seriously to really see that #thou the show already shown moments of her trying hard enough to be the eldest #idk she being brutally honest here is also a sign of mature (in terms of recognizing accepting and verbalizing her feelings #which take A LOT from a person #also which both jun and woojoo seem to lack #this scene is pure perfection so well written and acted #microexpressions and subtle acting from both actors are chefs kiss #love them a lot #*mine #*otp: how am i gonna handle her by myself

[sinisterexaggerator]

Happenstance

Hondo Ohnaka x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a rich heiress with daddy issues; Hondo is an ex-pirate without purpose. Your fates are intertwined, and soon you will be too, unless the hired help can’t keep her mouth shut. Will your relationship advance, or is your meeting purely happenstance?

Content warning: 18+ / NSFW for alcohol / mention of drugs, fingering in a public place, kissing, blowjobs, dry humping, tit sucking, cunnilingus, PiV sex, daddy issues, alcoholic parent, neglectful parent, caught in the act, stealing, and HEAVY simping. Reader is WEALTHY. Reader's parents are at some point present in this fic. No physical description other than the fact she has a decent pair of tits.

Word count: 23.4k (SORRY)

Notes: Oh My God. I started this fic last Spring Break when I was still in graduate school, if you recall, and I just managed to finish it this week -- almost a year to the day. Don't ask me how it got to 23,000 words, but -- SO SORRY. I edited it to the best of my ability.

This is the longest single thing I have written with only two small breaks as a continuous story. I read Pirate's Price / listened to the audiobook version, and was inspired. Hondo lives rent-free in my head, as does Cad Bane. I should mention the bit about Hondo hiding his true intentions behind his goggles is an idea @allsystemsblue had some time ago and I agree. They are like a shield, barring view into his soul.

P.S.: Yes, I had to throw in a Cad Bane / Duros mention, and yes I threw in a scene in a library. I couldn't help myself. ;D

Read on Ao3

Ah, what a perfect evening for a teensy bit of excitement of another sort. Smooth jizz music provided a delightfully mellow atmosphere, the accompaniment of moderate lighting helping to facilitate a most relaxing experience. This particular high-priced cantina was bathed in a wash of dark hues and tantalizing scents, however one individual scent stood out from all the others - it was the unmistakable and arousing smell of profit! Hondo Ohnaka knew this odorous perfume like the back of his scaly hand – which was quite  well, in fact – and this time it had decided to take on the form of a beautiful woman wearing a rather priceless heirloom around her supple neck.

Oh, but this was no ordinary woman and no ordinary heirloom! This woman was one of the wealthiest women in the galaxy by no fortune of her own, and the priceless object she wore around her graceful neck was none other than a fragment of Life-crystal, a valuable stone only procured from one planet by the name of Rafa from the aptly labeled Life-orchards. Hondo only knew this from eavesdropping on the greedy aristocracy that populated this little rock. She was an heiress who most likely had many riches to her name; it was too tempting to pass up such an easy target. 

Despite the lore and interesting stories ascribed to the jewel in her possession, the important thing was that these Life-crystals sold for exorbitant amounts of credits on the black market from Batuu to Scarif, and it was this object that called to him like no other. Currently. As far as Hondo was concerned, that crystal belonged with him – that is, until he sold it – which hopefully would be as soon as possible once he laid his twitchy, ring-laden fingers on it. 

The crimson coated devil took note of his surroundings, drinking in the scenery, the song, the “ambiance,” if you will, as he mentally prepared himself for the task – or rather, game – at hand. This flashy establishment was situated in the middle of the entertainment district on Oseon 6845, the largest asteroid in the Oseon System. It was spattered with opulent hotels, stately residences, and venues for shopping, dining, gambling, and so much more. 

It was not important how he arrived here, but it was important that he find a means of transport on his way out. Hondo would no doubt have to make a quick getaway and possibly even a daring escape should the worst case scenario happen to occur – the one where he was caught red-handed!  It never hurt to think ahead.

Hondo recalled seeing an XS stock light freighter snugly nestled in its docking bay back at the local spaceport, not to mention many luxury starships. This thought somewhat quelled the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach, though the pirate oftentimes felt butterflies before any sort of risky activity! The thrill, the chase - the not-knowing-what was-going-to-happen-next part – all very addicting and quite satisfying at the end of a hard day’s “work.”

Presently, however, his attention was captured by the thing he sought – all in due time for everything else – knowing that it was in his best interest to focus on one criminal undertaking at a time, though he was of course capable of multitasking. Adjusting his sleeves in turn and flicking a speck of something off the ornate cuff link of his decadent outerwear, Hondo sized up the fine specimen before him with a tilt of his head and a twinkle in his eye; it was just visible beyond thick black rectangles and reinforced transparisteel. 

This lovely creature who leisurely sipped her Toniray carried with her an air of… something. Nobility? No. Regality? Definitely not. Ennui? Perhaps. Or maybe it was an overwhelming sense of entitlement. Regardless, Hondo stepped forward with hands clasped firmly behind his back, unable to help his poor posture after all these years. He supposed he looked a bit out of place, what with his eclectic fashion sense and the swagger in his step, but that had never stopped him before, and it most certainly would not stop him now! It was then the Weequay had a unique thought: he could use her apparent boredom to his advantage. What that clearly entailed he had only a few seconds to figure out as she had already laid her eyes on him. And what captivating eyes they were. 

Oh, this would be easy, he realized, like taking candy from a youngling. He almost felt guilty – almost being the keyword here – but he had not too long ago disabled his pirate’s honor! There was no turning back for Hondo, not once his mind was made up once and for all!

That is, unless there was some unforeseen issue… one that he did not realize until it was already too late… 

Luckily, as of right. this. very. moment, that was not the case! The scoundrel had set his intentions. By the subtle shift in this woman’s posture  - the miniscule nuances of her body language – he knew – oh, he knew -- she would be receptive to the most fun game of all: the art; the craft of double-tongued seduction! This night may turn out to be awfullllly interesting indeed, he mused. 

--- 

A man approached you – if you could call him a man. He was not human, but Weequay, although he was dressed very peculiarly. You had been lounging with an expensive, rare, and azure Alderaanian wine. At a thousand credits a glass, it was nothing you could not afford as you were the daughter of a weapon’s dealer and manufacturer; your father had a contract with the Empire. You had not worked a day in your short life though boredom had set in. 

Your eyes traveled over this odd fellow, noting despite his eccentric look he was rather handsome in a sort of rugged, cavalier way. If you were being honest, this being having locked his sights on you like one of your father’s heatseeking missiles was the most exciting thing to have happened to you all week long. 

Though you were rich, your life was one of tedium and endless irritation mostly brought on by the rest of your family. You had your small pleasures, your haunts, and your dirty little secrets, but overall your days were dreary and uneventful. In fact, you did not have a good relationship with the majority of your siblings and your father’s work consumed him. You still harbored resentment for how many birthdays he had missed.

Considering these facts, you discreetly straightened your posture, taking another sip of your chosen beverage to project a façade of casual impassivity; there was no sense in appearing desperate for his regard. 

“Forgive me ef I am intruding – dhough as you sit alone, I du not believe dat I am -” the man began, pausing before you, “- but I couldn't help but notice your long face from across de room.” He offered a bow of his head, his right arm lifting ever so slowly for his bedecked digits to gently clasp and raise your hand. He planted a kiss against the back of it; your heart instantly fluttered despite yourself -- you had been disarmed. “A flower as radiant as you should not be made tu suffer so. Tell me, what ails you, my dear?” 

“Are you always so bold?” you asked without thinking, much to your regret. You were used to being approached by others, it came with the territory. Your family was famous in this system, and someone was always trying to inch their way into your admittedly small social circle.  However, in this instance you were intrigued, a little off-put, but also very much enjoying the attention of this dashing sentient. You did not try to dislodge your fingers from his grasp; you allowed him to naturally release your hand of his own accord.

The stranger smiled - or rather, grinned devilishly - revealing his pearly whites alongside shining gold. Your eyebrows raised ever so lightly in surprise, you having instinctually drawn your arm back once the man had finished with his somewhat antiquated mode of greeting; he was treating you as if you were some fair maiden in a holomovie from times of old, yet you were anything but. “Ah, yes, you see, bold es my middle name – one of dem, for I have many – alongside bastard, and scoundrel, and ‘hey you, get back here!’ Et es one of de… nicer tings I have been called.” 

The man settled in, resting one elbow casually on the bar top next to where you sat, fingers snapping briskly together as he called to the Duros behind the counter. “A drink, I tink!” Then, returning his attention to you, he lowered his voice, a low-pitched baritone replacing the sharper notes he had used seconds earlier to address the server. “But you ded not answer any of my questions. I am so curious tu know… what could make such a beautiful woman frown so very, very hard…” 

He trailed off, feigning he did not know anything about the preposterous amounts of money your family supposedly had to its name; he was amazed you were sitting here alone. Perhaps you had a bit of a rebellious streak. The one thing that made sense to him was that this “planet” was full of the well-to-do. Such little riffraff passed through Oseon, you had no need for bodyguards or security measures - unlike your father – perhaps a mistake. A mistake that would cost you quite a lot of credits! 

Yet, Hondo felt you should feel lucky. He was a rogue, a thief, a technically ex-pirate, but he would not be any of those things at the risk of your physical harm. No, no! He was not that kind of brigand, not anymore! Mental harm, perhaps. Harm to your ego - to your pocketbook - but that is where he drew the line! 

In fact, as of late, he had the thought of starting up a legitimate business of his own. 

Of course, he would require funds to undertake such a venture… There would be overhead costs - things he would need to purchase or otherwise procure by different means – and he was sure your little trinket would help to offset anything he could not ordinarily afford.

Yes, yes, he had nearly sold the Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano into slavery knowing that she would catch the eye of a… certain type of person. Yes, he had objectified and sexualized many species, including his own, both men and women – not to mention all his other crimes -  but! But, but, but, but, buttt! That was all behind him – pun intended – or so he liked to think! He supposed there was always a chance some impossibly-hard-to-ignore opportunity might present itself, but until. that. time, Hondo Ohnaka was a gentleman. 

It was when the server arrived that, unfortunately, Hondo realized he was rather short on credits, and that this fine venue was a little bit too rich for his jet-black blood. Under most circumstances, he would have ordered anyway, started a tab to walk out on later, convinced his latest victim-er-friend to buy him one, or merely walked behind the bar and poured it himself, yet today - today -  he decided to tell the truth. It was far more exciting that way, and excitement appeared to be the very thing you needed, for Hondo was rarely wrong in that respect. 

“Excuse me, my sweet,” he interrupted before you could even begin to answer his previous query, “but would you mind paying for dis old pirate’s drink? Credits are… so hard tu come by dese days. What you are having es fine,” he finished with another arresting smile. 

You sat quietly, captivated. Your brain needed a moment to catch up. You absentmindedly waved a hand to the bartender, asserting that it was OK, and to put it on your tab. The Duros produced another glass of Toniray, nearly the color of its scales, and the self-proclaimed pirate merrily swiped it from her outstretched hand before there was a chance to set it down. He took a measured swig then inspected it up close, drawing the imported wine near to his weathered goggles. “Ah, a fine vintage,” he declared. “Very rare and expensive, I presume.” 

“A thousand credits a glass,” you said offhand, twisting the stem of your flute against the bar top. The pirate nearly spat out his next sip of wine, though that would have been a waste, so instead he nearly choked while swallowing. 

“I daresay, dat es …more dan I anticipa-”

“-you’re welcome,” you interjected, the smallest of simpers curling the corner of your mouth. You took the opportunity to allow yourself another drink, watching him carefully over the rim of your pricey beverage. Even though you came off cool and collected, inside you felt a tingle of something akin to delight. You had never seen a pirate before, much less talked to one. Despite your station in life, you were more or less sheltered. The number of times you had stepped foot off this damned rock could be counted on one hand. 

“Oh-ho-ho, a woman with expensive tastes! On dat we can relate.” 

“On account of you being a pirate?” you inquired.

The way this Weequay’s smile split his face in twain should have been alarming, the brightness of his expression more luminous than the light of a thousand suns. He chuckled from the seat of his belly, throwing back another gulp of Toniray before he gazed at you with steely eyes, a twinkle residing deep within.

“As my beloved mother always used tu say, all dat glitters es not gold! Sometimes, et es someting even more valuable, like a much-needed vacation, or an interesting conversation,” the devil claimed, gesticulating with his hand as he circled back to his main point. “But, more importantly, de… company of a most gorgeous woman for de evening, hm?”

“Oh, is that why you’re here?” you teased. “You’ve decided to make a pass at me? And here I thought my ‘long face’ had you concerned.”

“My dear,” the nameless man began, the lush complexity of his timbre sending a shiver down your spine. “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, even toned. His sudden seriousness caught you by surprise considering the circumstances. 

Your expression mimicked your abrupt change in mood, a slight look of embarrassment crossing your features as you stumbled to come up with an answer. This prompted the man to laugh so boisterously that the volume of his mirth caused you to startle in your seat. But you would be remiss if you failed to admit that the stern shade he had taken with you stirred something primal that could not so easily be explained. 

“Hondo does. not. lie,” the character before you blurted out, “he merely stretches de truth on occasion. But!” he continued, “enough about me, for now – though I am so very interesting – what of you, madam?” 

What Hondo failed to comprehend or notice - though the pirate could be said to always notice everything - was the reason for your sudden slack jawed stare. Your brain was whirring with memories – memories of your childhood – and the anger your father projected when storming about your house. Before the fall of the Galactic Republic, he had made his fortune selling weapons to both sides, covertly playing the field so well that he earned billions, but there was forever present a sharp thorn in his side.

By this point in your short history, at an age where you were cognizant of politics and war and their respective atrocities and outcomes, you were somewhat disgusted by your family trade. Growing up you had wanted nothing more than to be seen and heard, yet your father was always said to be preoccupied. 

Your disdain for him grew, as well as the company he spearheaded that raked in profits from death and destruction. There was only one thing that gave you a small reprieve and a tiny amount of joy – a household name that was spoken more times than you could count – the source of all your father’s woes and troubles -  a thing that made you smile when nothing else would, and it was the curse of one Pirate King, his title like music to your ears: Hondo Ohnaka, the venerable bane of your patriarch’s existence. And now, here he was, in all his waggish glory. 

One particular hyperspace route, the Shaltin tunnels, ran straight through the Sertar sector, home to Florrum and situated deep within the Outer Rim territories. No matter how many times or how many ways your father tried to deliver his goods to their respective buyers, it seemed the Ohnaka Gang was always there to disrupt his schedule. 

Though he never stepped foot outside his cozy office, more and more men died on route to Syngia Station nearly every day, all thanks to a notorious gang of miscreants. Although some did live to tell the tale, they came back empty-handed time and time again. Whatever wares were aboard those freighters became the personal property of one very crafty Weequay. The rush it gave you to see your father so distressed, the absolute glee you felt as you watched his veins pop out - it was exhilarating. 

It was like some kind of well-deserved revenge for all the wrongs he had committed, and for all those missed birthdays, holidays, and milestones. You loved seeing him so flustered and out of sorts. It was a reward for all the trouble you had to go through. 

For one, your mother was a rather lonely drunk, a lush for lack of a better word, and his absence only further drove her to the bottle. You blamed him for all life’s ails; your eldest brother remained an undisciplined, boorish loaf who wasted his life gambling, and you were stuck here on this Goddamn rock, though he would be the one to receive your family’s fortune in the event of your father’s untimely death.

For once, excitement had come to you. This man you suddenly wanted to kiss so badly had stepped foot into your life, and though he seemed to have no idea who you were or what was about to happen, you were trying and failing to remain calm. 

Still, that look of shock and awe, and something downright strange remained plastered on your face, the scoundrelly fellow shifting his body weight as he gave you an incredulous glance. He frowned, switching his attention down to the Toniray left in his glass. He finished it in one final swig, then made an observation as he studied the now empty flute. 

“I can… tell when I’m not wanted. I apologize for wasting your time. I shall take my leave of you,” he stated calmly while setting his vacant vessel down. 

You had to make sure; you could not let him scamper off, not without confirming his identity. “Wait!” you entreated, worried that you sounded a little too excitable. The Weequay’s eyes widened beneath his four-sided frames as he served you a questioning look, though it quickly dissipated, Hondo intrigued by this unexpected outburst. 

“Don’t go,” you half asked, half demanded of the trickster, your hand rising for you to return the Duros to you. “Bartender, another glass of Toniray,” you instructed, your eyes never once leaving the slanted, stormy gaze of the rogue just adjacent. You lightly touched his wrist as it lay limply against the bar top, fingers caressing the leathery skin that peeked from beneath the sleeve of his long coat. 

“Your mother sounds like an interesting woman,” you offered, motioning for him to take up residence at your side. “Join me?”

“Yes, dat she was. Dat. she. was.” His gloomy disposition melted before your very eyes like ice in a glass, though there was a pause; it was as if he was ruminating on some time long since passed. 

“Who am I tu deny you?” he finally quipped with a sweep of his forearm beneath his ribs. The knave bowed in a gesture of goodwill before he rose to take up a nearby stool. “And since you asked so very-very nicely-” he started, flipping his other arm right side up. Your teasing hand was involuntarily repositioned to lay within the center of his palm, not that you minded. “-how can I say no?” 

You endeavored to begin your impromptu interrogation without him noticing, though you were so antsy it was a wonder that you could stay still in your seat. You watched, charmed by his every movement, chewing idly on your bottom lip as the former pirate king appreciatively took his beverage from its resting place. 

He savored another sip, swirling its contents to absorb its aroma like a true connoisseur. You casually wondered how many wines this man had sampled in his lifetime, though he interrupted your train of thought before you delved too deep. “I am impressed, my little beauty, dat you would go out of your way tu spend such a hefty sum on little old me,” he passively admitted. “Es dere a reason for your… generosity?” 

“Are you the Hondo? As in, Hondo Ohnaka of the Ohnaka gang?” you blurted out, unable to control your inquisitive nature and desiring to know right then and there if this was the man that had kept your father awake at night all those years ago - so much for playing coy. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me,” the Weequay beamed, once more that infectious smile overtaking the entirety of his face as his ego was given a healthy boost of self-esteem. “Though I am no longer-” he crinkled his broad nose in mock disgust “-acquainted with de gang who stole my name, yes, I am he. He es me. I am Hondo Ohnaka, en de flesh.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled in a whisper, the expletive pulled from your lips with a sigh that bordered lewd. You made to remove your hand from his, pressing your already crossed legs together as you distracted yourself by biting into the perfectly manicured nail of your index finger. 

“What’s she like?” you randomly thought to ask, but more so to sedate yourself. “The mother of a pirate king – what kind of woman was she?” 

The thief was taken aback. Though not opposed to talking about his dear, sweet mother, Hondo could not help but notice the odd reaction to the affirmation of his given name. His smile became more nuanced, the layer visible to the people in the room one of joviality, while an alternative cognitive process vested itself and presented as the tiniest twist in his upper lip. He stowed what he had learned; for now he would do his best to entertain you, his wandering gaze studying the shape of your body before his stony eyes lingered, focusing for one millisecond – without detection - on your crystal necklace. Eyes on de prize, he thought, though now he believed there to be a chance of gaining more than one type of prize tonight. 

“She was wise beyond her years,” he began in a somber, yet affectionate cadence, “and always offered sound advice. Dhough my childhood ded not consist of fun and games, she taught me all she knew, namely how tu swindle an easy target!” The Weequay dallied to see if he had captured your full attention. You did not try to hide the fact that you were already hanging on his every word.

“No, dere were no hugs or lullabies for me, no creature comforts, nor any luxuries, but what we ded have between us was love – or, at least, I tink so, for a short time later she sold me intu slavery – and I will never forget her en all my days. Without my poor, sweet mother, I would not be de man I am tuday! Tu her I owe my life, even dhough she… often tried tu get rid of me before dis, but I du not love her any less! She did de best she could and dat, little one, es all dat matters en de end.”

What he failed to tell you were the fine details: how both his parents were nearly destitute with many mouths to feed; how his mother had kicked him out on more than one occasion when feeling cross with him; how a religion he did not believe in forced him into a life not of his choosing, and all because his kin had decided he was the easiest to sacrifice thanks to some… plastic, talkingnovelty, some children’s toy! But Hondo was not stupid – despite what some may think – he knew well enough they were in it for the profit to be made. Perhaps it was the greatest lesson of all that his mother had taught him: never trust anyone, not even your own clan. 

Instead of basking in the finality of his solemn words, you jumped - which was borderline disrespectful – to the next topic on your list. You could always apologize for your abundant enthusiasm later if need be, but for some reason you doubted that it would be a problem. 

“What happened to your merry band of pirates?” you asked, brushing your dress shoe against the Weequay’s ankle before you could put an end to it. Hondo responded by taking up his glass with one hand, while the other shamelessly placed itself upon your knee.

He chortled dryly, giving your leg a squeeze that made your pulse quicken and your heart race. “Dat, my ravishing beauty, es a story not worth repeating.”

“Tell me another one instead? A different story?” you chirruped, scooching closer until you were but a hairbreadth away from the handsome scoundrel, hip parallel to hip. You felt daring enough to uncross your legs, purposely rubbing your silky thigh against his trousers through the slit in your dress. You gingerly batted your lashes, knowing full well you were taking on the role of flirt, yet unable to control your most base desire. Currently, it was to simply touch the man in any way you could, or in any way he might allow. 

“Hmm, yes,” he hummed, his bony fingers drifting lazily from the cusp of your knee to the beginnings of your thigh, “I can… tink of someting dat may … pique your interest. A tale of one of my many successful business ventures, perhaps.” 

“Please,” you cooed, leaning closer still for the curve of your shoulder to playfully graze against armored plating; wisps of your hair swept across his sensitive frills, though ironically you did not know anything about alien biology, much less Weequay. You purred out a tiny whisper of satisfaction as his hand trailed upward, the heat between your legs beginning to build upon itself in spite of you just having met this man. Though the smile he gave you was of cartoonish proportions, there was just something about it, not to mention the reputation that preceded him that was nearly causing you to come undone.

With elegant precision, Hondo set down his glass, callous digits curling to rise and stroke the underside of your chin as he gazed resolutely into your eyes. Then, he asked if you had ever heard of a particular arms manufacturer with a particular name. 

The aforementioned organization was the one run by your father. With your best sabacc face you shrugged, though the suspense was killing you. You were about to hear one of your father’s tales from the perspective of the Pirate King himself. You were doing your utmost to contain your zeal, among other things; it was absolutely serendipitous, a moment of happenstance. 

“You see, dis, company, dis, organization - whatever you want tu call et – must have had one of de dumbest persons en charge of deir logistics, because no matter how. many. times. dey sent deir fancy cargo ships off entu space, Ohnaka and his gang, we took what was rightfully ours. By rightfully, of course, I mean de… fact dat dey were en our territory, and once you step foot – or fly ship – entu Hondo’s very backyard, why, you have no right tu question de king en his own domain!”

“Mhm,” you muttered, your foot still fondling his ankle as you leaned over on your elbow against the bar. You observed his voice to be expressive and melodic, each word articulated eloquently despite his decidedly swift pace. He was just getting warmed up, yet you felt you could listen to him talk all night should it please him as much as it pleased you.

Hondo embraced the meat of your thigh with another soft squeeze before ever so slowly inching up once more. You reined in a lustful utterance, compressing your lips to form a line as you refused to give in so easily to your increasingly obscene impulses. 

He continued with his tale. 

“Et just so happens – on dis specific occasion – dat dese weapons were on route tu a Jedi general! I intercepted, not knowing any better, of course, claiming de very expensive, very important missiles for myself.” 

Hondo paused, taking another delicate sip of his Toniray as you blinked languidly, wanting him to continue as soon as possible. “You knew Jedi?” you asked, enthralled.

“Of course I knew Jedi! Hondo knows – well, knew – many, many Jedi en his time. Considering dis man I was speaking of, dis general, tu be my friend, I had a devious plan dat would work out en both our favors…” 

He trailed off; you squealed audibly in disappointment, a low, profoundly  resonate chuckle rising up from the pit of his throat to rumble just beside you. The ruffian had drifted closer, the tip of his flat nose nuzzling the smooth skin along your neck as it came to rest in the divot behind your ear. 

You shuddered reflexively, letting a faint gasp escape you as Hondo’s fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress. “So eager tu hear de rest, aren’t we, little one?”

“Yes,” you practically pleaded. You turned on your stool to fully face him, leaning in so close that you felt your lips might touch. The cunning rascal only grinned again, this time leaving his cup behind to lightly run a thumb crossways your pouty mouth, the rest of his wiry digits tenderly wrapping around the bend of your cheek.

“So eager… for someting else,” he stated, though that did not stop him from recounting more of his adventure. “Dis Jedi - trusting old Hondo as well he should - came tu me, realizing dat dis particular dealer was … unreliable. He knew I was a purveyor of many, many tings, and he assumed – correctly, might I add – dat I had connections tu get dese tings he wanted.”

The Weequay had pulled away from you just marginally, enough to look you in the eye again. You whined a nearly indiscernible sound of protest, your fingers drifting downward to clasp the hand that still relaxed along your thigh. Ever so slowly you began to guide it, Hondo releasing a pent-up breath through his nostrils as his smile took on a hint of mischief. He relaxed his arm and let you take the lead. 

“Dere were many battles,” he remarked boastfully. “Each one was more exciting dan de last. Dey upped deir security forces, tried tu establish an alternative route with little success, and de man himself, de hoity-toity richly rich guy even went so far as tu learn of my private comm frequency so he could scold me en, well, person!”

By this time, he had worked himself up, Hondo gripping your thigh a tad harder in his fervor. You carefully caressed the back of his hand. He seemed to settle, or at least enough to release the pressure behind his grasp, but at the idea of your father being so stark raving mad that he had solicited this wily pirate for a cease and desist forced you to suppress a grin as you presently returned to gnawing on your bottom lip. You spread your legs a little wider as you snuggled up close to the much older man, making sure your knees touched; he hummed a sweet sound of gratitude, coming off his high horse to speak at a more suitable volume.  

“Oh, he was … so, so livid… I thought for sure de guy would have a heart attack right den and dere, but fortunately, or maybe rather unfortunately, he ded not.” Your arousal currently trumped your amusement, even as a visual of your father in one of his disagreeable moods found its way into your thoughts once more. You nodded to inform him you were still being attentive, your free hand undertaking a courageous feat when you laid it upon his chest. 

You did the very thing he had sought to do all evening, yet not wanting to earn your distrust or ire from the outset; you toyed with the tiny charms that dangled about his neck as he craved a chance to touch the Life-crystal that lived around yours. He withheld any comment, even as you languorously traced a path down the cut between his firm pectorals. He gazed at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind his goggles before he dived back in, his voice having lost its ebullient tone all together to be supplanted by something a bit more sultry and seductive. 

“His eyes, dey bulged, as ef I had my boot on de back of his head. He spoke of profits lost and some personal grievances of his.” He tittered wryly, noticing your extremity felt warm to the touch. “My little flower, you’re blushing,” he noted matter of fact before finishing his thought. 

“I said tu him, my good sir, as my beloved mother always told me, du not put all your nuna eggs en one basket – et es bad for business. Ef you drop de basket, you have no eggs, however, should you spread your legs – I mean, eggs - out over many, many baskets… dere es more of a chance you will still have some tu-” his voice dropped emphatically lower, “-eat.”

You caught fire the same time you caught onto his innuendo regardless of how lascivious or ridiculous it had been. You finally took your innocent fraternizing to another level, ushering the Weequay’s lengthy fingers all the way up and beneath your skirt. 

A small breath hitched in Hondo’s chest though nearly undetectable. He tensed minutely before he relaxed. The only change in his outward appearance was the torsion of his cheeky grin into an expression that was on the verge of evincing scuzz and sleaze; it only further impassioned the inferno that was quickly catching ablaze within your loins. 

Once accomplishing your task, both your arms lifted to capture the pirate’s neck in a loose and lighthearted hold. You dangled somewhat awkwardly around his shoulders, your lips daringly planting a soft peppering of kisses across his weathered cheeks and then reverently across his mouth; his bottom lip was so full, so plush. You could not help but spend an extra moment there, gently pressing your teeth into his flesh. 

Hondo sighed in yearning, enjoying the inundation of spontaneous affection, so long it had been for a woman of your caliber, or any woman at all, to pay him any mind. Perhaps it could be blamed on the reality his majesty kept tucked away inside; the reality where he no longer tried to keep close to anyone for fear of what the future might bring later down the road. Too many times had the Weequay allowed his heart to reside unprotected on his sleeve, and whether it be men, women, his rambunctious band of outlaws, or the fading memory of a once great love, he dare not tread that path again, or walk that line so closely to the edge. 

But, he had to remember, you were just a woman. A woman with a valuable and priceless jewel hanging around her neck; one that he wanted, and he still thought – though his thoughts were now heavily clouded – that he could use your rapacious neediness to receive an undue windfall, and just in time, for he had debts to settle.

No one seemed to pay you any mind, the rapscallion Sriluurian taking your more than obvious hint to brush the tips of dusky fingers along the silken fabric of your panties. He exuded a hushed moan, your sex having already left a moist outline from where your arousal spilled over to dampen your undergarments, but so heavenly a thing it was, the pirate had no complaints to offer but a semblance of praise instead.

“My dear, you are-” he whispered delightedly, “-so… unbelievably… wet.” 

You nodded, kissing him again in tiny, unhurried spurts directly on the mouth, your hips rocking gently forward to encourage further exploration beneath your dress. 

He obliged, Hondo gingerly teasing your already soaked cunt by staying above the thin strip of cloth that guarded your aching sex. His touch was so featherlight it simultaneously infuriated and stimulated you to beseech him for something more. 

“Hondo,” you breathlessly announced his name, “come with me,” you implored him, your voice a whine against his lips as you covertly slipped your tongue past ivory and gold to lap at tongue and teeth.

“Mm, darling …” The pirate’s words were temperate, spoken between playful licks and nips.  “Tugether? At de same time? I would love tu,” he insinuated artfully. “I also du not mind waiting my turn.” 

The Weequay’s dexterous digits slid your panties to the side, his last three fingers gathering the fabric as his thumb discreetly aided his index in parting your velvet folds. He exhaled into you, a wanton groan escaping him in muted notes as he saturated himself in your warm slick. 

He took his time, glossing your sensitive clit with the pad of a surprisingly soft thumb as he slid his stool closer to yours. A wave of all-encompassing desire surged through your core as you emitted a prurient gasp; it shortly devolved into a piteous mewl of pleasure, and the scoundrel had barely touched you. The music was thankfully loud enough - and the barkeep too busy serving others – for anyone to discover what was truly happening. From an outsider’s perspective, you may have looked like two lovers kissing, and perhaps it was not far from the truth.

“Oh, God, fuck,” you murmured shyly against scarred and sand-worn lips, though they were still so tantalizing and palatable. A bassy hum commenced, reverberating in such a way it immediately soothed you, despite it transitioning into a throaty chuckle. The scamp had begun to work precise, intricate circles around your swollen pearl.  

“Not a God, sweet one, but de thought es appreciated,” he retorted before bringing the conversation back around. “I… never finished my story,” he informed you in an indolent tone, Hondo having pulled away from your mouth to grace your neck with downy kisses, the Weequay continuing where he left off, even as he nursed off the taste of your skin and surreptitiously drove you toward an orgasm; he hardly exerted any effort in the process.

“You see, it was den de Jedi paid me tu deliver weapons tu dem.” More kisses were sprinkled delicately along your jaw. “I skimmed off de top – a finder’s fee, ef you will - for every freighter I intercepted.” 

The patient swirling beneath your skirt forced you to grip both sides of the pirate’s foppish lapel as you suppressed what would have been a rather crude noise. You had a sudden, powerful need to press your mouth against his, your intense hunger nearly consuming you as he unapologetically persisted in delighting you in public; you were practically strangers, yet he felt so familiar to you. 

“Soon, I had a great deal of firepower at my disposal, and quite a lot of credits tu my name.” The Weequay cradled your cheek as he trailed his wandering lips toward yours again. “I was one of de most feared and infamous pirates in all de galaxy,” he claimed, his voice dropping in volume once more as he reminisced. 

“You still are,” you panted, voice quavering as you were so close to the edge, so close to coming already that Hondo was brought back to the present moment by your words. He positioned his palm beneath your chin, winding his spindly fingers around its point as he forced you to refocus and look him in the eyes.

“So sweet of you tu say.” Your tongue slithered back inside his mouth, Hondo’s a roiling thick, black muscle that danced around yours with such enthusiasm that it drove you to the brink, a lust filled cry quickly cut off as he waded farther down your pharynx. It was an attempt to pacify you, Hondo not wanting to cause a stir and create a cause for gossip – you were a notable woman, after all.

His stratagem worked; you came quietly, pitiable whimpers and caught breaths engulfed by the thief as if sucking your soul from out your body while he deepened the kiss even still. His free hand massaged the back of your neck and shoulders as you descended back down to earth, or rather asteroid, from off your peak. What you did not detect or even feel was his unfastening of the chain that bore the weight of your favorite charm; it had occurred with such mastery that his expert movements had gone unnoticed. At some point the pirate had pocketed the Life-crystal from its place along your throat, and you were none the wiser - not at first.

“I want you,” you brazenly admitted once some vestige of sanity returned to you. “I need you, Hondo Ohnaka, my Lord, my Liege, my Pirate King,” you crooned airily between more furtive, wistful kisses. “Please,” you implored, “don’t make me beg,” you urged, the soft press of your lips breaking away to gather just below his ear.  

Perhaps this time the man felt a little out of sorts himself, maybe, just maybe, not expecting your affection for him to run so deep so quickly. Of course, that was not to say that this sort of thing had not happened many, many times before! This was not Hondo Ohnaka’s first. jump. into. hyperspace - not to detract from the absolute satisfaction he felt wholly within – but he never once grew tired of having an attractive sentient pine for more of his winsome company. 

“Ah, you are a go-getter. I admire dat,” he conceded, burying himself in the crook of your neck as he returned the gesture, interspersing more physical shows of adoration in the form of pecks across your collarbone. “And… just what would you do with me?” he asked, not bothering to disengage from the task at hand.

“Treat you as the king you are,” you said without missing a beat. “Let me show you,” you offered as you pushed off your stool, the Weequay’s hand being returned to him as it slipped out from beneath your skirt. You slid forward, interlocking your fingers amongst his, drawing that dexterous appendage toward your face before your tongue snaked out. You licked the remnants of your own slick off the devil’s ribbed digits as you moaned a salacious little sound; it took Hondo’s very breath away. 

The charmer found that he himself was entranced, beguiled by your display, losing himself in the sensation of your mouth around his finger. In fact, he was semi-speechless, which seldom happened, if at all, angled, achromatic eyes watching intently until you finally had the decency to free him from your spell. 

“Et es… hard tu reject such a… compelling argument,” Hondo tremulously muttered, his oblique hues never once leaving you as you trailed your tongue across your upper lip and top row of teeth. You cast a sultry glance, retaking the scoundrel’s hand as you began to pull, convincing the man to get up from off his rear and follow you. 

“Are you sure you’ve thought dis through?” he asked more out of curiosity, pondering the cognitive operation that led you to make such a rash decision. It definitely wasn’t because he was worried, knowing you may soon realize your beloved Life-crystal had suddenly gone missing in his notoriously thieving presence. 

One might say that question was meant more for himself. While more often than not flying by the seat of his trousers, on occasion the madman had a dastardly plan. In this case, he had premeditated only as far as this, not expecting or accounting for your very flattering and pleasantly surprising gusto toward his person.

This wasn’t to say he could blame you – Hondo was well aware of his physical attractiveness and that his reputation was known far and wide for many reasons - though it was a bolster to his confidence, nonetheless. He found the answer to his query was a nonverbal one as you had made it a point to steer him in the direction of the cantina doors, the pirate playing along for he was intrigued, on top of other things.

“No, but where’s the fun in that?” you replied on your way to the exit, stealthily relaying an order by the single press of a particular button on your wrist comm -- it summoned the immediate attention of your driver, signaling that you were ready to leave this place and expected your hovercar to be waiting at your leisure. Otherwise, you maneuvered between tables, chairs, and other bar goers, all the while actively encouraging your amused captive to stay close by your side. He indulged you, the dark chortle that impishly resounded behind closed lips threatening to loosen your already slack grip on what little composure you had left.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” he professed in response to your gratifying answer. “I find dat a bit of spontaneity en life es good for de sou-”

Hondo did not have time to finish; you had both made your way past the double doors. Urgently, you pulled him toward you, pressing a firm kiss upon his mouth.  His words died in his throat, dissolving into nothing more than a docile moan, his arms slowly rising so that both his hands might find their way to rest gingerly on either side of your pretty face. The tenderness of this singular act made your heart pump faster; you slowly drove him backward the two paces it took to reach one of the many panes of transparisteel that lined the building, the viewports of this bar extending beyond the height of the average man. 

He took it all in stride, allowing you to have your way; what would be the reason not to? He pondered this as his decorated fingers skirted the curve of your jaw to apply themselves just behind your delicate little ears, drawing your exquisite visage closer as he finally made contact with the window just behind thanks to your forthright escort. 

“Mn, my lovely little bird,” he cooed against your lips, “you make dis old Weequay feel wanted,” he confessed, perhaps permitting himself to be too vulnerable. It was no secret, or at least no secret to him, that he often craved the fellowship of some comely creature, or anyone at all. His was now a lonely life, traversing the galaxy in whatever way might suit his fancy, whimsy being the sole directive that propelled him from place to place.

Of course, that is exactly the opposite of what he told himself. Yes, he had lost his crew, his men, his fortress, his credits, his women, and even his Kowakian monkey-lizards! But!— he did not need them, or so he told himself. Hondo was more than the sum of all these things put together! He was a man who had accomplished so much already! And he was still… relatively young, there was still time, and perhaps he could right his reputation – for all the good it did or did not do him – to not be seen as a pirate, but a legitimate business owner with a new place carved out for him among the history books.

Still, at that moment, it did not quell his ache for this to somehow not be too good to be true as you pulled away, looking the Weequay in his uniquely askance eyes. 

It was there with Hondo pressed against the wall of glass that you saw your own reflection from the corner of your vision. Pleased that you did not appear too disheveled after the sordid affair inside, you did a brief double take as you realized your favorite piece of jewelry had gone missing. You paused cursorily before gazing back at him, a playful smile exhibited despite just learning that you had been robbed. 

“That’s because you are,” you returned with another kiss, quickly taking up his hand to usher him toward the appearance of an airspeeder that had slid to a halt at the end of the walkway. Your chauffeur had already opened the automated door, revealing luxurious, cushy seats on either side and a tinted pane of transparisteel that would give you privacy, though you fairly trusted the man who would fly you to your destination. Still, you had plans he was not privy to. 

“This way,” you guided him, pulling Hondo along as you crawled in first. The scoundrel followed, taking the seat opposite yours as the door slid closed, pewter irises absorbing their surroundings as your guest inspected your opulent ride. 

“Dis es quite de vehicle,” he commented, perhaps feigning being impressed more than truly affected by its extravagant size and ostentatious interior. “Et es yours?” he questioned you curiously, though sure that he already knew the answer. 

You presently ignored him as you actuated the comm panel built into a nearby console, your voice calling out to your duteous wheelman as you gazed unwaveringly into Hondo’s eyes. “Home,” you instructed him, continuing to stare unapologetically with a hungry look as the thief leaned back and got comfortable, a saucy smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“You are … taking me home tu mother, yes?” he teased, knowing full well he was not the “take home to mother” sort, however, that was more or less the case.

The airspeeder began to move, joining the faint traffic that existed on this space rock, however fashioned to look as if its surface were hospitable to life. Synthetic trees whizzed by, accompanied by an assortment of lights as you zipped past The Esplanade. It was a pedestrian thoroughfare known for its fine shopping and dining, though you did not let that distract you as you persisted in admiring your catch. This time, your study of the Weequay was once more complemented by a nibble to your bottom lip. 

“You are clearly awestruck by my illustrious presence. Of course, dis es tu be expected. I completely understand. Aldhough, considering you were not shy en de cantina, I thought perh-”

You whisked forward, nimbly placing your knees on either side of his muscular thighs as you came in to straddle his lap. You planted yourself firmly astride him, both arms reaching up for your explorative fingers to wind their way between his frills as you moved in to kiss him once again; your need for the pirate was voracious and quite possibly unquenchable, yet so sudden was its onset. 

Hondo had laughed as you approached so deliberately, though the sound of his amusement was cut short as your tongue snuck its way inside his already opened maw just for the sake of another taste. The rogue’s gaiety at once quieted, only to be replaced by a receptive moan as he settled in with you against the posh seating of your transport. 

“Dat es de spot…” His comment was muffled by your kiss, Hondo reveling in the gentle caress of your human fingers as they danced between the sharp barbs along his jowls.

You abruptly halted your barrage. “I know you pilfered my necklace,”  you whispered against his supple lips without further elaboration. 

He froze, as if caught in a hovercar’s high beams, the shoulders and neck of the Weequay stiffening as your hands found their way down, down, until your fingers casually wrapped themselves around his throat. Your thumbs worked a pattern against his tough and scaly skin, though perhaps the charming devil may have thought you were planning to choke him right then and there. 

He laughed again, this time nervously, his head marginally tipping back as his gray eyes regarded you behind his goggles. He kept a blaster on his person, after all, though it would be a shame to have to use it on such a seemingly defenseless woman. Ah, but he knew better than to fall for that! Yet, he took his chances. Danger was as alluring as it was … dangerous.  

“I was… hoping you would not notice,” Hondo admitted with a kind of passive defeat, his musical voice having lowered an octave and holding within it a modicum of what you thought might be shame, or guilt.

“It’s an honor,” you teased, humming against his mouth; it was contorted in his blatant bewilderment as you slyly swept your tongue across his own, so warm and sweet. You could not help it; you gently gyrated your hips as you pressed your clothed sex against his loins, the heat in your core building as you sighed out a contented, airy breath.

“I…” he began longingly, Hondo transported back to salacious thoughts. Your provocative position across his lower half was not helping matters, as he was caught between being somewhat flabbergasted and highly aroused. 

“I don’t care,” you assured him softly, your hands sliding down the pirate’s throat to brush past the armored plating of his crimson coat. Your fingertips trailed along the intricate filigree-like pattern woven into its fine threads, swirling to match the shapes, until you arrived at his gaudy belt buckle. The texture of its design was cool against your skin. 

“Dat es … wonderful news …” he barely managed as the width of your splayed palm serried itself between you. You carefully groped the bulge that had begun to form beneath his trousers, nearly moaning outright at the feeling of it twitching in response to your measured touch. 

Hondo himself took a moment to recoup, releasing a pent-up breath. He was not surprised you had caught on, he had only hoped it would have been after he had made a hasty getaway. Of course, agreeing to accompany you elsewhere was his first mistake.

Et's dese little details dat will get you entu trouble every time, he mused. 

“You mean tu say… dat I may keep et?” he asked, perplexed. Your lips had already found their next target; they planted themselves one time after another across each raised line that was etched into his neck. He crooned out a little noise - you had never touched a Weequay before this night, and you were so very curious as your fingers tenderly kneaded the now fully swollen protrusion flexing against your palm.

“Yes,” you murmured, working your way up and over beyond his distinctive frills to administer another round of sensual kisses to the striated flesh of his angular cheek. From there beyond, you traveled to meet his lips once more, skirting the surface of his bottom rung with your teeth as you silently begged for a quick admittance. 

The once great pirate king chuckled lazily as his weight slightly shifted under your own, Hondo’s hips rolling faintly beneath your grasp as he admired the sensation of your tepid hand cradling his cock. Still, it would be neglectful if he did not admit he was very, very, skeptical, the scoundrel hoping to remain mindful of the situation at the same time you had decided to deliciously squeeze his dick – it made everything ten times harder and in more ways than one.

“Ut-ut-ut,” he intoned quietly, feeling a pleasurable ache flooding his senses as your index finger had found its way to the slit at the head of his cock. “Wait-,” he began, “-but et es worth at least two mill-”

“Five million credits,” you cut him off, speaking directly into his mouth before your eager tongue worked its way past gold capped teeth to twirl around his own.

He attempted to continue to talk, even as you kissed him. “Dis es not some sort of trick? You are not pulling one over on old Hondo? I should have known better dan tu trust de intel I received!” he practically shouted, though you kept on with your mission as you replied.

“Hm? Mn-mn,” you responded, questioning exactly what he meant as you shook your head in the negative to indicate you were being honest about your intentions, unlike the pirate whose lap you were currently roosted in. 

“What intel?” you whispered along his still flapping lips, your occupied hand painstakingly aligning his erection along the outside of your already damp panties. You finally let go only to begin undulating your hips while you simultaneously massaged his cock through the seam of his pants.

Hondo gave a lecherous groan, such was the sensation of you rubbing so shamelessly across his hardened member, even if only atop your clothes. It was becoming difficult for him to think clearly, and to form words, his own hands finally coming to rest gently along either side of your waist as he endeavored to keep you still. 

“Dat…dat you are… so very, very rich, and so very, very bored.” He took a slow, deep inhale, attempting to contain his lust.  “Dhough now, I wonder ef dis was all a ploy tu incriminate me. Perhaps you plan tu turn me en? Du you… work alone? Where are we really going, little minx?”

You gently pulled away, muttering placidly into his intriguing, pointed ear. “I was bored-” you corrected him, “-and I am very, very rich,” you finished with a mischievous smile, slightly intensifying the rhythm of your hips. 

In the midst of confessing your financial status and attesting to your continual ennui, your arms rose for you to remove the backs to both your earrings; they were fashioned from Krayt Dragon pearl and as a pair worth a hundred thousand credits each. You collected them in one hand as your other collected his, placing them directly in the center of his open palm. 

“Take these, too,” you offered as the intense heat in your belly further expanded, the friction from the outline of his hard-on luring a tiny whimper to the surface as you leaned back in, both arms now encircling the Weequay’s neck and head as you pushed him forward, giving him full access to your breasts.

Hondo found himself being smothered by a pair of luscious, humanoid tits; he favored them - as seemed liked the natural thing to do; his species was also endowed with such a gift – he was very familiar. Weequay, though considered to be reptilian thanks to their evolutionary adaptations - including blaster-resistant scales - were warmblooded. The women were proof of that. And, just like other warm-bloods, you had those things that were so soft, pliable, and hypnotizing. 

The pirate did not complain as his oxygen supply was momentarily cut off, though he gave a muffled, somewhat exaggerated chortle as he pocketed the earrings, letting his guard down just a little more as he used both hands now free to compress those doughy objects against either side of his cheeks and not his frills – stabbing you with the spiky protrusions that grew out of his face seemed like it would ruin the mood, to put it mildly.  

“Oh, you are a naughty, naughty thing, ah?” His question was suppressed by the fleshy mounds of your chest, the man having begun to carefully work them between his adroit digits as you felt a gentle nip that made you chirp. This only triggered the pirate to titter throatily, the flat of his broad tongue licking a stripe between the cleft of your cleavage.

“I love an enterprising woman who knows exactly what she wants-” he complimented, “-and how tu get et.” 

Following this bout of praise, Hondo lifted one breast from the confines of your dress to be revealed, the scoundrel’s unexpectedly well-kempt-for-a-pirate’s teeth placing your sensitive nipple between them. He nibbled ever-so-slightly before intaking it to suck, the rhythm of his tongue causing you to gasp as you continued to grind against the firm outline so perfectly arranged - it was pushing you toward your second orgasm of the evening - you had no shame. 

You continued to clutch at the back of his head as you rocked slowly across his lap, your breath quickening as he skillfully sought out his reward; the little noises you made were more than enough to stoke the fire in his heart, the Weequay’s suckling of your teat becoming more nuanced and refined with every small reaction your body gave.

“You’re so good at that; don’t stop,” you murmured readily, the scoundrel obliging as he kept his pace. 

Within moments, you had edged your way to the cusp of pleasure once more. This time, Hondo allowed you to vocalize as you cooed for him such pleasing sounds, riding the wave to its end before you perceptibly relaxed. 

The pirate unlocked his jaws, adjusting your rack for you as he refitted them where they belonged. He made a flippant comment to boot, though meaning no ill-will; he was just surprised, and maybe a tiny bit proud of himself.  “Well, dat was easy.”

You grinned as you pulled away, not having time to respond as your journey came to its end. Now properly tousled, and more aroused than ever, you crawled off his person as the door began to open to reveal the path that would lead you to your home. 

“We’re not finished,” you assured him, hopping up from your seat and exiting the vehicle. Hondo hesitated, as his erection had yet to subside, though he peered out to admire the lush, artificial foliage, the sprightly water fountain, and the ornate stairwell he would have to climb in order to reach a set of decorative double doors. It was more extravagant than his old fortress back on Florrum, akin to a palace, or a compound – not something as rinky-dink as a mere mansion!

“Well, well, well, es dis de Fountain Palace of Hapes? De … Castle of Per'Agthra, perhaps?” the pirate joked, finally exiting the hovercar so that your driver could attend to its proper storage. Your family had many modes of transport to their name, this airspeeder only one of them, not to mention the SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000 parked at this planetoid’s northern pole; it could be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“This is where I live,” you stated plainly, using all of your self-control to keep your mitts off him as two attendants came forward to offer their assistance. None was needed, so you began to shoo them away with a dismissive wave, the other hand reaching out to clasp Hondo’s bony fingers as you guided him onward and up into your family’s ridiculously prodigal home. 

“Time for a tour,” you asserted lasciviously, your voice having dropped a note lower as you dragged him beyond the doors splayed open for you by a man in a crisply ironed suit. They only needed a small push before the mechanics took over, yet the theatrics and the aesthetics of an old-fashioned door had been your mother’s idea.

A woman waited for you once they had parted, though she was not your matriarch. She was the caretaker of your vast property – a housekeeper of sorts - an Arthurian with white hair who wore gloves upon her hands as was her species’ custom; she would only make eye contact with you whilst speaking as to her any other time was considered rude.

“You did not inform me we would have a guest,” she remarked, her gaze diverting to silently judge the manner of dress of the person at your side. She then turned back to you, most likely noting your rumpled appearance by the slight scrunching of her nose. “I was not prepared. My apologies.”

“Greetings, Madam,” Hondo began, moving to take a bow as he of course assumed that everyone would be interested in knowing more about him. In your heart, you knew he was not wrong, but it would not serve you in the here and now. 

“I am-”  

“-This is… Orb Orenk,” you interjected. The look the man gave you indicated he was affronted, just as you had feared.

“I was asked by father to retrieve him from Club Corusca. He is a new business associate of his,” you lied, hoping that she might buy it.

This woman, who was so loyal to your father that she knew his schedule like the back of her hand, gave the perfectly polished floor a peculiar expression, finally raising her eyes to look into your own once more. “Your father, last I checked, has been delayed. He will not arrive for some two rotations,” she finalized.

“Oh, well, then I suppose I shall have to entertain him,” you shrugged, taking up the Weequay’s hand again as you began to escort him past the massive foyer and into a large hall. You could feel the Arthurian staring at the back of your head as you made your way, just happy that she had kept her peace for now, even if she did not believe you one iota. 

This was your home, you rationalized, though she was like its eyes and ears. At least you felt safe in the fact your father would not return for a few days’ time. The only thing that had you worried was the possibility of her recognizing your guest of honor, though so far so good, and you were at this point bound to take your chances.

Presently, however, Hondo was barely hiding his indignation as you tugged him along behind you, though somewhat distracted by all the attractive, valuable objects that were on display, as your abode was fashioned with all sorts of expensive things. 

“I daresay I am wounded. Dat was uncalled-for,” he lightly scolded, “are you now embarrassed of me?” he questioned, pondering on your reasoning for giving your housekeeper a false name when you had embraced him back at the cantina for who he was.

In reality, Hondo knew what it was like to have a need to hide your identity very, very well! Still, it did not hurt any less, for his reputation was the one thing he still had left to him.

Not that it was a good reputation. He had been labeled a brigand, a rogue, and an all-around scoundrel! This was of course in addition to a smuggler, a conman, and a pirate! 

As if this were all negative! A. very. unfair. assumption! Hondo Ohnaka had honor! And he was many, many things all at once, some of them more unsavory than others, and some, well, just came with the territory.

But he was also a lover, a poet, and a strategist! For now, he was a pouter, jutting out his bottom lip as he was currently offended. Once you had him far enough away, you paused, turning to face him.

Oh, that look. You heart sank as he stared at you behind timeworn transparisteel. You leaned in and took the base of his jaw in your hand, your fingers bypassing and weaving between his distinguished frills as you caressed the Weequay’s cheek with a back and forth stroking of your thumb. 

“No,” you breathed out, overcome once more with lust as you pressed your lips to his. You trailed tender kisses along his mouth and to either corner before imparting your true feelings. “I don’t trust her, that's all.”

“And yet… you trust me.” Hondo’s expression transformed into a wide, shit-eating grin as he turned his head to kiss the center of your palm. He took up your hand, then planted another across the back of it. 

“How very interesting,” he stated as his confidence returned.

To be fair, his confidence had not strayed very far, and Hondo was always one to bounce back quickly, no matter how awful the circumstances. Besides, this had been a rather small slight to his ego in comparison to anything else he could recall.

Still, he could not help but wonder about you, his grin broadening as you stepped closer, the devil playing submissive as you backed him in against the nearest wall.

“I am… sensing a pattern,” he said smugly, allowing you to dot the underside of his throat with a sprinkling of adoration; you slowly inched your way up and over his chin, offering your tongue once more. 

The pirate accepted, prompting you to moan softly against his warm and wiry lips. Your fingers grappled with his coat as he took to groping your right breast. His other hand drew you in by the small of your back, his brand of strength gentle, yet so very compelling; it caused you to practically melt against his robust frame. 

You wished this moment would never end, and perhaps it might have gone on for quite some time, had two giggling maids not rushed past you in the corridor. They attempted to shield their eyes the best they could to give you some semblance of privacy, though their incessant whispering accompanied them until they vanished around the corner.

You abruptly tore away, Hondo immediately adjusting his ensemble to remain at his most presentable. He swiped a thumb across where a tingling sensation lingered, then gave you another award-winning smile. “Et es… so hard tu find good help dese days, yes?”

“Hurry,” you persuaded him once more, towing him along in the direction you were desiring to go.

The pirate conceded, though he would not do so without giving you an earful of sound advice. “Ap-ap, my dear. As my sweet mum always used tu say, ‘rushing es a form of violence. Be quick, but du not hurry.’ Life es… so short, after all. At least, dat es what I keep hearing.”

“And I’m impatient,” you replied, having guided him to another wing of your absurdly large home only to pull him into a turbolift that would usher you to the third floor of your abode.

In the space of time it took for you to hear the chime, you kissed him three more times, your hands gliding over his stalwart form. From his taut abdominal muscles to the sharpness of his hips and down the meat of his thighs, you only paused to cup his groin; his cock was once more enlivened by a single touch of your playful fingers. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just a little eager?” you asked in a mellow, teasing tone of voice.

The scoundrel laughed huskily; a sound you could become addicted to, so melodious and dry, its intriguing vibrations once more causing shivers to trickle down the length of your spine. Everything about this man, despite his connection to your father, demanded that you make love to him until you passed out from exhaustion. 

And that was exactly what you planned to do. But first, business.

“You may be… ontu someting, yes?”

On that note, the lift opened to reveal another hall. You would have kissed him again, but you would wait to do so behind closed doors – there was a particular set that had long ago crossed your mind – and for more than one reason. While it made sense to take him directly to your bedroom, you had a few pit stops you wanted to make along the way.

Finally, you made one such stop, enticing the Weequay into your father’s favorite room of the house: his study and personal library.

Not sure that you had gone unnoticed upon entry, for the moment you did not care, Hondo gazing around the room and up toward the vaulted ceiling where there was a skylight that gave a clear view of the stars. 

Although not obvious from first glance, Oseon’s business and residential sectors were encased in a kind of bubble. The gravity, air, and flora of this planet were all of an artificial variety. Still, it was an impressive thing to be able to look straight up into an expanse of black with only the dim twinkling of faraway stellar objects to break up the monotony.

“Your family certainly spares no expense,” Hondo remarked, glancing toward the direction you had wandered off in. At this time, you were removing a most splendid work of art from off the wall, unveiling to Hondo and to yourself a safe deposit box built right into its surface. You had seen your father open it many times and had memorized the code, knowing that sealed inside were some of his most valuable and prized possessions. 

The contents were at once revealed; held within was an assortment of rubies and gemstones, diamonds, pearls, and more Life-crystal fragments, not to mention credits of the highest denomination, gold and silver – it was a veritable treasure chest! These items you gathered in handfuls, carrying them back to where Hondo stood curiously watching before you shoved both money and jewels straight into his pockets.

Hondo was dumbstruck, and maybe a tiny bit concerned, not used to someone so willingly parting with their wealth and for seemingly no good reason. He chuckled anxiously, then cleared his throat, addressing you as you walked back to get another round.

“What es de meaning of dis? Not dat I am… complaining, by any means,” he added as he dipped his fingers down into his coat. He withdrew a fistful of the riches you had so unceremoniously stuffed there without a word of explanation, admiring them, the way they sparkled; the heft of their weight in his hands; the price he knew he could get for them from the right buyer, though he did not let himself get carried away with his grandiose daydreams -– not yet. Hondo was sure he needed to keep his wits about him. This was all so very peculiar. 

“I’m paying you for your services,” you stated as you returned to shove more jewelry and credits into his boundless pockets, both in front and within the lining of his coat. He balked at that, placing a hand against his chest as the other still held a wad of pretty stones, giving you the most offended look that he could muster.

“Hondo es not a common whore! He cannot be bought with-” He paused, thinking over what he was about to say. It seemed he thought better of it as you began to smatter his throat with zealous kisses. 

“OK, yes, maybe I can, but dis es highly irregular. Not dat I would put a price on my head, dhough many, many others have already done dat.” He pondered on the past for a moment, remembering a singular wanted poster he had seen in passing with his face on it. It had read he was only worth seven thousand credits! Seven! That had been absolutely uncalled-for! Hondo was worth far, far more than that! 

Not to mention, the image of Cad Bane right next to his handsome mug read one million, which the pirate had found ridiculously outrageous! If anything, they were on par and deserved to be wanted - equally! 

You had ignored his ramblings as you began to work your way down his neck to the split of his tunic, ever so softly pressing your lips against his unique skin. Here you placed more kisses, one after the other, as he continued to talk. However, you did not mind, as his voice alone could make your heart flutter, so musical were the notes that rose up from his larynx. 

“But, as my mother always told me, son, du not look a gift fathier en de mouth,” he concluded, looking down into your eyes as if he had just realized you were still in the room. 

Then, Hondo noticed you were slowly getting farther and farther away as you sank toward the floor, the Weequay’s face tilting at an angle as he studied you from beneath his distressed goggles. The villainous grin he gave you only quickened your haste, your fingers diligently working at the same time your knees found carpet, unhooking his trousers to reveal the man had gone commando.

You involuntarily gasped at the sight, having felt it through the thin fabric of his pants, but not understanding the full potential of his anatomy until you saw it for yourself. 

The little sound you made had triggered the pirate; his grin only intensified. “Du not be frightened, little bird,-” he quipped, “-et does not bite.”

You hesitated a moment longer; it was stout, thick, and slightly above average, though it was ribbed in alternating patterns with the deepest grooves lining its base. You hummed a little sound of adulation before your tongue simply could not help itself; you clasped him by the hips with both hands as you prompted him forward. Using his assurance as an invitation, you painstakingly licked a stripe from the bottom of his shaft all the way to the head of his robust cock. 

The pirate shuddered, exhaling a haggard, broken breath of air. “Returning tu our previous topic of conversation, as far as mouths go-”

He had not finished his sentence before you encircled the tip of the Weequay’s foreign dick with your lips, lapping up the bit of pre-cum that had leaked from the slit at its head. Your mouth stayed cinched tightly around him as you ingested nearly the whole of his phallus, your cheeks hollowing out as you worked your way back up with a very deliberate, powerful suction.  

“Yours es-” He surrendered then, leaning back against your father’s ornate desk on the palm of his free hand, having hurriedly pushed his chair out of the way in the process. For someone who talked of not being in a rush, his haphazard movements had caused you to smirk, even with your mouth full. 

“Mmm,” you moaned, relishing the taste of him as well as the way his eyelids had begun to close as a most pleased expression had overtaken his handsome visage. You worked in a syncopated rhythm with your tongue, keeping him on his toes, but the up-down motion continued at a steady pace as you fluidly glided over each rib and ridge.

“-es quite…” It seemed as if he were still trying to carry on a conversation, one hand occupied by priceless loot while the other had decided to almost lovingly stroke your hair. This only encouraged you, the pucker of your mouth deepening as you slathered his dick with your spit. The Weequay finally dropped the jewels back into his pocket, gazing down at you once more as you unabashedly stared into slanted, lustrous grays. 

“Spectacular,” he finished, his other hand joining the first as he placed both on the back of your head with something tantamount to reverence. However you might describe it, it was gentle; he was not forcing you to go faster or deeper, his thumbs lightly caressing the base of your skull as he relaxed even more. 

It was also apparent he liked to watch, even as his eyelids continued to droop, Hondo finding himself lost in the sensation of your warm, inviting mouth working his cock as if he were a tasty treat that you could eat - one enjoyed in the heat of the summer on some sticky planet, or while on vacation in the tropics of Glee Anselm.

Now fully seated on the edge of your father’s work area, a particular thought sent a spark of joy into your heart - if only he knew whose cock you were sucking in his study. The look on his face would be absolutely priceless, worth more than all those jewels you had lined the pirate’s pockets with. 

Of course, should he really find out, his reaction would be extremely unfavorable. It was obvious this was happening entirely on purpose; you would not be able to come up with an excuse strong enough to save your life. You doubted your father would actually kill you, even in the throes of an anger so volatile he might tear the scoundrel limb from limb. Being his own flesh and blood had its benefits, but you would never allow any harm to come to this man, not while you were still alive.

This thought process increased your excitability, taking the time to  sit up slightly on your knees so as to get a better vantage. You paused in your veneration to allow his cock to slide out of your mouth; you kissed it tenderly before your tongue flicked teasingly across its bulbous tip, taking the time to situate yourself into a more comfortable position. 

The pirate had opened one eye, his breath slow and steady before it picked up again at the flutter of your tongue against the sensitive head of his cock. Hondo himself shivered, though his movements were exaggerated, the Weequay’s hand relocating itself suddenly as it came back around to snatch you by the chin. 

You stifled a gasp, though his gaze was so sharp and intense that you reflexively whimpered, his voice low and licentious as he stared penetratingly into your eyes. 

“Tell old Hondo what game you are playing, child.”  He had murmured his demand against your lips, the pirate having hunched over near to your level. You were unable to form coherent speech, so he pressed his mouth against yours that had been left immobile. It was an act of fiery passion that before this moment you felt nothing could quite match, the gruffness of his tone having caught you off guard. It had somewhat frightened you, to tell the truth, but the feeling was quickly offset by your bolstered arousal, as if you could possibly become any more turned on. 

Though he was considerably your senior, you were not a youngling, yet you took no offense, even as he was trying to demean you in some way. It was likely he still did not trust you, and you had not bothered to explain yourself or your bizarre gifts - you really could not blame him.

You forewent any elucidation and instead gathered up his girth in your hand as your fingers cinched carefully around it. You gave it a long lick in one fell swoop before intaking it back into the whole of your mouth and toward the far end of your throat. Then, you gently gathered his testes in the curve of your other hand, a warm palm massaging them with calculated enthusiasm.

Your head bobbed to-and-fro, alternating once more between up and down as you whined against Hondo’s cock, cognizant of the fact you may never get another chance at this. An almost imperceptible tremble vibrated through the Weequay’s core, it being exhibited by way of a quiver in his knees, the pirate digging his nails into your hair as those fingers still locked around your chin stayed stationary, though his thumb had begun to rub a pattern along your jawline.

“I… believe you tu be incorrect,” he stated arbitrarily, though it spurred your curiosity. “You are de one… who es…  servicing me,” he informed you between ragged breaths, Hondo feeling that he was near to peaking under your expert control.

“Mn, little bird, sing for me,” he pleaded in a voice softer and more melodic than before. “Et begs de question,” he whispered, that same thumb continuing to stroke your cheek as he rocked his hips forward in time with your head’s momentum. “Tell Hondo what he has done tu deserve all dis.”

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, nuzzling into the rogue’s affections as you made lewd slurping sounds, engorging yourself on the blissful experience of making Hondo Ohnaka squirm and fidget amidst your charms. You could tell he was close; you wondered what the cum of a Weequay tasted like, but you would not find out, as at that moment the door to your father’s study slid open to reveal one of your personal attendants, a young woman who stood with her mouth gaping open as she took in the scandalous scene.

Yet, she was one whom you had bonded with, being so bored cooped up in this house. She was about your age, and you trusted her well enough, having often confided in her your secrets and relaying to her the latest gossip from about town. 

Still, it caused you to halt, jerking your head back for Hondo’s erection to vacate your throat. You wiped a drizzle of spit off on the back of your hand as you stared at her, wide-eyed. 

She stared wide-eyed back as Hondo blinked indolently, coming out of a stupor that had temporarily disarmed him, so sluggish and slow was he to recover from this impromptu visit that for a moment his genitalia remained outside his trousers before you hastily thought to aid him in putting it away.

You stood as Hondo finished the job, not having said a word for once, the woman creeping forward one or two steps inside. The door closed behind her; she seemed disturbed, but also worried, finally speaking to you after she had overcome her visible shock. 

“Miss! The Madam’s on the way! She’s bringing Jaina with her, and those little sandwiches!” she stated in a rush, her eyes darting to Hondo as he had finally risen to his full height, the Weequay looking out of sorts as he brushed off each sleeve of his coat in turn before joining you at your side.

“Thank you, Mara! Comm me should you see anything else!” you said, dashing behind you as the girl took a small curtsy and left just as quickly as she had arrived. Shouting at the handsome scoundrel who looked somewhat confused, yet also intrigued by the idea of sandwiches, you demanded he play along: “Quick! Pretend to look at books!”

“Pardon?” Hondo asked, nonplussed, the baffled expression intensifying as he turned to watch you dart back toward the open safe nestled in the wall.

“Pretend to look at books!” you repeated, referencing your father’s library that lined the walls with expensive and rare items printed on traditional paper.

“I would prefer tu try one of dese sandwiches dat was mentioned, or-” he paused for effect, strolling toward a bookcase regardless as he removed a volume from off the shelf. One wiry finger traced a path down its gilded spine. “-I could always go for something a little more… gourmet.” 

He smiled again, having recovered rather quickly, his mood once more bright and cheerful even though he had been denied a finish to what you had started. “Aldhough, finger food also has ets place.” 

You gave him a quick look, knowing exactly what he was referring to, though you were too enwrapped in your current task to be amused. Closing the safe deposit box, you reset the lock, quickly collecting the painting from where it lay against the wall to replace at just the proper angle. You stepped back to admire your work for a split second before scurrying across the room to join the rascal, taking up residence by his side. 

Hondo had just cracked the volume open, doing as you had instructed, feigning interest in what was written on its pages. You quickly made some shit up in your head just as the door opened, speaking to the pirate as if you had long been settled into conversation.

“You are correct, this particular book does date back to the time of the Old Republic,” you began as the white-haired Arthurian stepped into the room along with her accomplice, a woman of lesser status who carried with her a plate full of those tiny sandwiches Mara had decided to warn you about. “As you can see, they still practiced top edge gilt, which the edges of the pages are finished in real gold along the top of the text block-”

You cut yourself off, pretending to be surprised, as Hondo himself seemed genuinely to be so. There was more to you than met the eye, your expertise on such an obscure detail catching his attention as you rounded on the woman by the name of Hilre who was once again sticking her nose in your business where you felt it did not belong.

“Madam Hilre,” you said curtly, removing the book from Hondo’s hands as you closed it and returned it to its proper place. Hondo easily allowed this, taking the opportunity to utilize his infamous charisma. 

“Ah, we meet again, my good woman. And what es dis you have brought us?” He traipsed forward, plucking one of the perfectly cut sandwiches from off the plate held by Jaina, at once taking a bite and savoring its flavor. Hondo was legitimately hungry, after all. He had not had a scrap to eat since arriving at this rocky little asteroid. 

“Shawda Clubb!” he exclaimed as you came forward, looking directly at the Arthurian who, as was her custom, had averted her eyes.  “Et es truly delightful. De best I have ever tasted,” he emphasized, though you were unsure if he was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Hilre, but we do not require your services,” you said tersely, walking past her and around, “Mr. Orenk, allow me to show you the garden,” you lied, knowing very well what your next destination would be. 

“Certainly,” Hondo acquiesced, though he held out both hands to Jaina who still carried the full tray within hers. “May I?”

To your surprise he took the entire plate, leaving your servant dumbfounded as she stood there with an odd expression, dropping her hands down to her sides. She did not comment, knowing it was not her place, but looked to Madam Hilre for guidance, which she was quick to turn and watch as you made to take your leave.

“Shall I prepare a place for Mr. Orenk for the evening? If he is waiting on your father, and since he is delayed, he is to spend the night, yes?” she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Hondo paused mid-bite and looked at you. He shrugged his shoulders minutely before fitting the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes, of course,” you agreed before hurrying out and back into the corridor with the Weequay thankfully in tow. 

“Dese are quite delicious, you should try dem,” he said with a mouthful of food as you made your way back toward the turbolift at the end of the hall. 

“Tu de garden, den?” he asked, licking the edges of two fingers to clean the taste of the Manpha-fowl and nuna bacon off their tips. This tiny set of movements enthralled you, so set on the image of his tongue and what it might feel like down below that you erratically searched out the button to the second floor without so much as a glance in the direction of the control panel.

“No,” you breathily exhaled, stepping forward to remove the plate from his hands just as he took up another sandwich. Hondo decided three was enough, allowing you to withdraw the tray without protest, nibbling on the end as you salaciously whispered, “now for the main course.”

The pirate’s expression morphed into an impish grin as you were now back on the same page. 

“Well, et es about time.” He quickly finished his snack within the next two bites just as the door to the lift sprung open to reveal yet another hall. You placed the half-empty tray down on a nearby side table, picking up two other items: a set of solid gold candleholders. They were antiques, and worth a small fortune; you emptied them and then stuffed them inside yet another of Hondo’s many pockets.

“Ah?” he asked quite simply, though you were already dragging him down and to the left. 

You were feeling frisky, and perhaps a bit more headstrong than before, wanting to defile and defy the stolen riches around you as well as your family name. To cavort with pirates, and your father’s long held enemy at that - even if the notorious scoundrel was none the wiser - had you riddled with excitable, anxious energy. Not only that, you were dying to take this man to bed, but not just any bed - the best, most luxurious bed in all your home – the one belonging to your parents.

You paused your trek, Hondo nearly bumping into you as you listened for complete silence, though he had made a sound of mild reproach. “Are we playing hide and seek?” he asked with a questioning lilt to his voice.

“Shhh,” you encouraged him - despite the scoff he gave - to be quiet for just one moment. You were sure your mother was in the lounge downstairs, sipping her expensive wine and watching holodramas for lack of anything better to do. Although it was getting late, she was known for staying up all hours, and she often slept on the sofa in her clothes. 

Once sure there was no one else about, you took him to the suite at the end of the hall, shoving open one of the massive doors to reveal a room so large it may as well be an apartment in and of itself that rented for four thousand credits a month on Coruscant. 

“Well, well, well!” Hondo marched past you and toward the middle of the space, forgetting immediately that he had been lightly scolded. It gave you enough time to turn over a family holo-photo that was being projected on a table by the door. “Dis bed es big enough tu fit three of me, ah?”

“One will do,” you were quick to retort, gently pushing him forward with both hands, your palms flat against the lower part of his back. 

The man humored you, allowing himself to be ferried. “Yes, et es a fact you could not handle more dan one of me,” he quipped. “Dere es no shame en dat, my dear.”

He turned on you quite suddenly, a devious look that was new-to-you plastered across his angular face. It was safe to say he had caught on to why you were here, the corners of his eyes crinkling alongside the upward curve of his toothy grin. 

“After yo—” His face fell, as you had already begun to walk away in the opposite direction, Hondo having been prepared to usher you where you rightfully belonged – atop sateen sheets and plush pillows. However, you had other plans, only meaning to delay your coupling a moment longer by way of marching straight toward  another door.

It parted to reveal a walk-in closet of ginormous proportions, Hondo peeking his head in behind you as you stepped forward, the Weequay’s lips forming a solid “o” shape unbeknownst to you just behind your shoulder. 

“Your boudoir has a… boudoir?” he asked cheekily, noting the posh clothing and accessories that were housed within. Handbags lined one wall, and hats another. There was shelving for shoes of all kinds, including those typically for men. Hondo quirked his head, not guessing you would be one to want to adorn a three-piece suit, though many hung carefully ironed and arranged on hooks. 

“Ah, we lead a double life, du we?” The pirate sauntered forward, fingering the length of one of your father’s designer coats as you became busy opening various drawers and miniature cabinetry; these stylized boxes were designed to hold rings, necklaces, and things like solid gold cufflinks, or platinum tie clips – a plethora of exquisite items resided here – things that were never worn or used after their initial purchase. It was all for show, and a waste of money. You were determined to make a dent in your parent’s horde.

“It’s my father’s,” you offered with a laugh, collecting all manner of jewelry and trinkets that were pocket-sized. 

“I must say, his tailor es a being of unmatched skill,” the scoundrel admitted, rather admiring the pattern sewn into the rich emerald fabric he was fawning over. You distracted him by sidling up to his hip, hands burdened with more treasure being unloaded into any empty nook or cranny you could find upon his person. 

Hondo stopped to stare, encapsulating your wrist with a mild pinch of his fingers. Your eyes traveled upward progressively, coming to rest on his, so beautiful and expressive, yet now they were narrowed in apprehension as was the theme for this evening. 

“And would he… approve of dis?” the Weequay asked, his voice taking on a dour quality.

You shared eye contact for a few more seconds, thinking of how you ought to kiss him again, right then and there, the far off look in your gaze being replaced by a vampish smile. 

“No,” you responded plainly, sealing your answer with a frivolous giggle, marching past the knave to exit back into the main chamber of your parent’s suite.

Hondo’s own smile returned, spreading across his corrugated face like the rising of a sun at first light. He briskly followed you, commenting on your behavior. “Now I tink I am beginning tu… understand.”

You would not allow him to finish that thought, turning for your skirt to swirl around your legs as you clasped his hand, dragging Hondo toward the monstrous bed that lay positioned against the adjacent wall. It was the main feature of this elegant space, and it hardly saw any use as far as you were aware. With your mother always passing out on her chaise lounge, and your father being absent more often than not, you were sure this was the first time it would see any action since the dawn of the current decade. 

“Time to finish what I started,” you bawdily suggested. 

“Ap-ap-ap,” the pirate interjected, interrupting your plans when he drew you in, forcing you to spin on your heel to face him. “Now et es my turn, darling.” 

He released your hand, then pushed you gently, barely exerting any force. You took a tumble right onto the bed behind you; you laughed gayly, stretching your arms out toward the pirate, suddenly overcome by a rather playful mood. “Come to me,” you whispered. 

He took one step forward, and you scuttled one inch back, Hondo smirking as he drew ever closer. “Et es not I who will be coming,” he teased, “not yet, anyway,” he offered in a dry and passive tone. 

You watched in awe as he crawled atop you, the Weequay repositioning his coat so its tails would not get in his way. How had you lucked out so well? You remained captivated as he slowly worked his way down, the delicious weight of his body pressing into yours as he took the time to run his lanky fingers along the curve of your jaw. 

“A work of art,” he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. 

“Flatterer,” you shushed him, a hand lifting for your forefinger to skim vertically down the Weequay’s textured lips. The man took up your hand and placed a tender kiss against the back of it, coolly maneuvering your wrist to a place just above your head. 

Hondo would hold you to this spot, fingers intertwined amongst yours, only gradually releasing you the farther and farther he journeyed down the span of your shapely form. Ah, but he knew you would not stray; you would not stop what was about to happen, for you had gone to such great lengths to readily seduce him. 

“But I am telling de truth. Should I hold my tongue?” he asked mischievously, expecting he already knew the answer to that question. “Or, would you prefer dat I use et?” he added, the undersides of his banded fingers taking to caressing the pliable meat of your thigh. 

His gilded teeth met with the fabric of your dress; Hondo hiked your skirt up, rising to gently reposition it by way of his mouth. A little shiver rode up your arms as you watched this intimate act, your anticipation only heightening every second that ticked by.

You bit your lip, chewing absentmindedly as you had become enthralled with every minute movement the pirate made, his current set being for long, lithe fingers to gingerly tug at the corners of your panties. 

“May I?” he inquired, asking for your permission. He was such a gentleman, you thought. 

“You needn’t ask,” you offered, words muted, heart thumping beneath a cage of bone as you witnessed the beginnings of the removal of your undergarments.

“As. I. suspected,” Hondo joked, kissing the upper portion of your leg. He would discard your underwear with a theatrical toss, the scent of your arousal engulfing his senses. 

Hondo was overtaken by an immediate desire to make you beg. 

Oh, he would bring you to the brink, to the edge of sanity; you would never forget his name – not that you could – remaining unparalleled and unrivaled to any subsequent lovers of yours for as long as you continued to live. 

Hondo would get comfortable, splaying his legs behind himself, lying flat on his belly with a sea of brocade and crimson waving out to either flank. Then, the ne'er-do-well briefly slipped his palms beneath your buttocks as he dragged you forward, hands sliding up each curve so that two wide thumbs could press back the lips of your labia toward the narrow, inguinal groove that connected abdomen to hip; he spread you open as you watched.

You practically moaned before he ever touched you, observing the thick, broad, black muscle that unfurled from the depths of his wicked mouth to taste you. A crafty tongue traversed the breadth of your vulva, artfully slow; it meticulously lapped a line to the cusp of your clit, the foppish freebooter kicking his feet as he felt the squirm of your stomach; the tightening of tendons and sinews, all a form of nonverbal encouragement and he had barely begun.

“Hondo,” you purred deliciously; your sweet adulation of his name was almost as tasty, this single mention spurring him to enliven his pace, but not by much. He was exacting when it came to this, doling out pleasure on his terms, his flannelmouth good for more than just weaving tall tales or boasting of his misadventures. 

“Yes, love?” he asked between masterful strokes, stopping to suck the pulsing pearl that craved attention, thighs quaking as your belly lurched, so close already. 

The villain paused, lifting his head, helmet rising first as beady, silver eyes zeroed in on your face contorted in the near midst of passion. He grinned fiendishly as you whimpered a complaint, ragged breaths exuded from lungs which expanded and contracted in rapid pants. 

“Don’t stop,” you implored him for the second time this evening, falling back to rest your head on your parent’s garish coverlet. Your fingers dug into the lavish, designer pattern as you twisted fine threads into stringent clusters inside your bunching fists. You languorously hiked a knee, letting it fall to one side as you stretched yourself wider, one hand unwinding to reach outward so that you could cup your lover’s cheek, slithering betwixt thorn-like frills to caress striated, tawny skin. 

“Iiii… du not tink I heard a ‘please,’” Hondo chided, feigning to be disappointed by your manners, or lack therefore, though he was already so fond of teasing you; you writhed exceptionally well, and the soft, well-placed caress of your hand alongside his face was a nice touch, to say the least.

“Please, Hondo, please,” you urged, hips grinding subtly into the sheets below as your body ached for more. 

The scamp simpered; he laughed a wry, cold laugh, Hondo taking the time to pluck two of his many golden rings off his long, spindly forefinger; they arrived in his pocket, beside all the other treasures stored there. He recalibrated his attention, once more dipping down below.

“Like music tu my ears,” he praised, voice dangerously low; words brazen. He tested you by carefully interring his ringless finger into the wet recess of your cunt, his tongue returning to its prior engagement before he had so shamelessly baited you to plead your case. 

A delicate flick across your clit paired with a succinct, patient gliding back and forth against the seat of your pleasure caused your limbs to insensibly convulse without your say; the tip would coil, applying a scant amount of pressure toward that special place, your belly gasping as you released the scoundrel from your grip to claw at bits of pillowy satin. 

“Yes, yes—” you uttered, voice restrained as you attempted to assuage yourself from making too much noise. You turned your head so that you might bury your face in bedding, Hondo once more lifting up to scold you.

“Ut-ut-ut! I want tu hear you, sweetheart,” the man boldly informed you, having so rudely taken his tongue away so that he could talk. You pouted like a spoiled youngling, ready to throw a fit if the Weequay would not let you cum, once more begging him to finish.

“Oh, please, Hondo— keep going,” you beseeched him in a most convincingly humble tone. 

“Hmn…” the bastard uttered, rather enjoying himself by denying you your finish. “I suppose et es de least I can du, no? For all de trouble you went tu, bringing me here and filling my pockets with such handsome, valuable treasures.”

“Yes, exactly,” you agreed, though to your dismay Hondo briefly disengaged. You almost cried out for him, though he did not stray too far, only readjusting.

“Aww, my sweet…You are breaking dis old pirate’s heart,” he proclaimed, though you were not any more reassured. “Let me not keep you waiting a moment longer,” he taunted playfully, his deft thumb placing itself atop your clit to swirl so, so slowly; so, so softly. 

Hondo massaged you with diligence even so, craning his neck to instead lap at your already slick sex, inserting the point of a lengthy onyx tongue between your velvet lips. He kissed you below the belt as if he were kissing another mouth; he was eager, industrious, and terribly unhurried, but it was his snail’s pace that pushed you to the verge, your imagination running wild as you had chosen to stare at the vaulted ceiling of your parent’s bedroom.

You could feel every aspect, every swipe, every inch of that roiling, dancing organ that made-out with your cunt as it probed and caressed you, your stomach jerking in that same telltale manner as he brought you to the brink.

You spoke his name, this time louder, not knowing who might be listening in, or even caring. Hondo did not bother to increase his speed; he kept things steady and on an even course; it almost drove you mad, the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears nearly drowning out the sound of your mother’s piercing shriek. 

She called out to you, shocked and appalled by what she was witnessing, a bottle of some expensive, imported wine clutched firmly in her hand. You had been midway through an orgasm, so unbelievably caught off guard that your brain and body were no longer communicating. 

Hondo marginally cocked his head, tongue retracting back into his mouth as he hovered above you, legs lowering to be eased back behind himself; he had taken to lightly treading air in his excitement, turning to face you as even he - for a moment - was unsure of how to behave toward this bleating woman.

“A friend of yours?” he questioned.

“Mother!” you screeched, pushing your skirt back down; Hondo made a sound that began as a thing undignified, but it quickly worsened as it turned toward a choke; you had labeled this onlooker to be none other than the matriarch of your rich family.

“What a surprise! Won’t you join—er—” 

You pushed the pirate back, up and off you; at any other time, he would have been incensed, though he merely crawled onto his knees before he was able to stand and rid himself of any dust that may have collected - stereotypically - on his shoulder.

Hondo did not take into account the… sizable erection he bore, clearly visible by the raised fabric of his trousers. Clearing his throat, Hondo adjusted his coat to partially hide his heightened state of arousal; he did not necessarily mind being caught. 

However, he also did not quite see the point, as he had just been discovered eating out this woman’s daughter, and in her own bed, no less. What did it matter if his cock was as hard as boa-wood? 

Hondo glanced at you as you hastily tried to mask your shame, having tossed the so-far-unused comforter over yourself, though you had since rearranged your dress. 

“Before you say anything—” you interposed, your parental unit having opened her mouth to hopefully do something besides scream. You stood to your feet, then brushed out the wrinkles in your clothes, “—this is Hondo Ohnaka.” You made sure to enunciate that last part.

The woman’s face fell; she strode forward. She circled about the man, taking him in as if he were a circus performer, or some kind of specimen to be studied in a science lab. Her steps were jaunty; she had all the confidence of royalty, however sloshed. Hondo trailed her with his eyes, ready to speak when she burst out laughing. 

“Madam, I fail tu see what es so funny.” 

Your mother pressed a finger to Ohnaka’s lips; she continued her observation as Hondo knit his brow, his beautiful eyes narrowing into deadly slits. He looked to you again as you stood, flinging his disheveled braids out over his back with an agitated cast of his head; he was not amused, impatient for you to explain yourself and why you had kept him a secret from your housemaid but not from your own flesh and blood.

“The pirate?!” she finally asked, throwing her neck back to cackle toward the cathedral ceiling, following it with another large swig of red wine. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me as well,” Hondo beamed, mood predictably changing. Your mother stared at him as if he was a figment of her mind, recalling all the instances that her husband had nearly blown a blood vessel thanks to this intriguing character. 

She laughed again, a dry, derisive sound, swirling to face you, bottle in tow. 

“Mother, I—” She grasped you by the strap of your dress, pulling you close to her face; she smelled strongly of alcohol and expensive perfume; it was a fragrance she preferred that was harvested from Nlorna flowers. 

“Anywhere but here,” she whispered, then adding, “Hilre’s lurking about the house.” 

With that she released you, sashaying her hips as she left you there with another dry, sharp laugh; you fought to calm your pounding heart, once again turning to face your befuddled lover. It was clear Hondo did not appreciate your mother’s continued mockery; he had put on another sour face. You wondered if the jig was finally up, though you would still endeavor to try your luck. 

“This way—” you entreated, taking his hand as you prompted him to follow you back out into the hall. 

“—No!” he protested, his voice heavily punctuated by his charming Sriluurian accent. “Youuuu have kept Hondo en de dark long enough! What sort of place es dis, and what sort of person are you?” he demanded, words saturated in a smooth, dark baritone.  

You forced yourself not to smile, knowing he was genuinely perturbed, though you found it absolutely delightful that you should be able to get this far in your ruse - however innocent - when Hondo was known far and wide for his wily tricks. 

“I’ll tell you as we walk,” you promised, holding out your hand. Ohnaka scanned it unfavorably with his eyes before skirting it altogether, walking past you and out into the spacious corridor. 

You at once caught up, keeping pace as you guided him back toward the lift. “That man you told me the story about, the one that you used to steal weapons from during the Clone Wars-” you began, pressing the button that would soon open the elevator’s Clari-crystalline doors.

“-Annnnd what of him?” Hondo asked snootily, cutting you off. He looked down his broad, button nose at you. You came to terms with the fact you wished to kiss it though putting the idea on the back burner for now.

“He’s—” You both stepped inside, Hondo wasting no time in finding a place to stand. He folded his arms as you picked whatever crazy spot you were taking him to now, it being the top, the fifth and final floor of your obscenely lavish-even-for-a-pirate’s home. 

You turned to meet his gaze; it was obvious he was now very skeptical of you. “All my days—” you paused, trying to work out just where to begin, “—I grew up hearing stories about you. My father was never present in my life; I grew up to resent him, and his work,” you confessed, gliding forward to take his hand in yours once more.

“Dis does not surprise me,” Hondo vaunted, though you would not let his inflated ego detract from what you meant to relay.

“This house, this money, these clothes I wear, that jewelry in your pocket – it’s blood money. Money earned from weapons sold that causes death and heartbreak on untold planets, from the Core Worlds to the Mid Rim, and perhaps even beyond,” you elucidated, Hondo listening with rapt attention to your story.

The chime for the turbolift dinged, signaling the arrival to your destination; your room was just down the hall; the entire level was yours.

“Yes, yes, go on,” Hondo prompted, having found himself curious in what you were about to say. You had not let go of his hand, ushering him to your private quarters without any more delay. 

“Even as a child it never sat well with me. I heard things, saw things. Things that disgusted me and made me ashamed, yet here I sit in the lap of luxury with nothing to show for it. But you—” You pulled Hondo forward and through your exceptionally tall doorway, kicking it closed behind you with the toe of your shoe. “You single-handedly thwarted his plans; you seized his product; you made his life a living nightmare, and for that I thank you.”

“Well, Iiii don’t know ef you would call et single-handedly—” Hondo began, but you had kissed him; the former leader of the Ohnaka gang only wished to give credit where credit was due. He supposed it could wait, his hands finding the dip in your waist to pull you close so that he might indulge you.

After a moment, he slipped back to look you in the eye, the cheekiest, most fiendish grin you had ever seen affixed to his smug mug. “So, one might say dat you have ‘daddy issues’—" his voice dropped nearly two octaves, thick like molasses, and noticeably subdued, “I should have known...”

“Your name was a constant in my household,” you breathed out. “I laughed when he cursed you; I wanted to know what it was like to be a pirate; I wanted to know you, see you. I wanted to run away and never look back, I had meant to escape this life, I—”  

Hondo had taken your chin in the flexure of his palm, his thumb almost absentmindedly trailing across your bottom lip in a bittersweet caress. “—And now… daddy’s little girl es all grown up,” he concluded, it being easy for him to ascertain where all of this was going. 

“Fuck me,” you pleaded earnestly and without warning, your tongue darting out to lick and suck Hondo’s thumb with somewhat sobering enthusiasm - not that Hondo was at all inebriated from those two glasses of Toniray back at the bar. He was just… surprised for the second time this evening; never in his wildest imaginings could he have predicted the way this night would fare.

“Sweet one, are you sure?” he asked in a peculiar tone, questioning your urgency. “We have been making a habit of being interrupted, et seems. Are you positive no one else es going tu come bursting en tu ruin our fun? Your… father, perhaps?” Hondo added seemingly as an afterthought, though it had been the most pertinent thing to ask. 

“He won’t be home for two whole days,” you whispered, still indefatigably kissing and sucking his thumb. 

“Den old Hondo will bestow upon you your greatest wish, dear child – me,” he ceded, walking you back the few steps it took him to lay you down. 

When the backs of your knees hit the bed, your legs folded; you sat down swiftly, tugging on the pirate’s blood-red coat. He hastily rid himself of it – albeit with the sound of loose jewels and credits clinking against metal - you doing the same with your dress. 

Your underwear was nowhere to be found, having left it on the floor of your parent’s suite. Hastily, you unfastened your brassiere, discarding it off to the side as Hondo kicked his boots off and bent down low over your retreating form. 

“Perhaps you would care tu undress me?” he inquired, tone sultry and seductive as he pierced you with look that caused your loins to tingle. 

“Please,” you requested, immediately going for his helmet. His eyes lifted as he watched your fingers stretch out toward his face, then vanish somewhere up above. You displaced it, setting it on the bed, Hondo’s bare head apart from his long braids now visible to the naked eye. 

He grinned again, a devilish stretch of his wide mouth as he flashed dual rows of aureate and pearl; you lifted his goggles up and over his forehead by their straps, for once able to see those sloped, ash-gray irises up close. 

You gasped mildly in shock; you were beguiled; his ears were pointed at their tips. You dropped his eyewear beside his helmet so that you could gingerly run your fingers along his strikingly handsome, reptilianesque face.

He bore a scar, its pigment lighter than the rest of his leathery skin, over one eye. His countenance was stark and skeletal, eyes sunken to protect them from harsh desert winds, though there were none of those on Oseon. You found you could not stop yourself from kissing him again, fondling and caressing his armored flesh; the tapered shape of his elvish ears. 

Hondo had to admit that this was somewhat unexpected. He had assumed you had other ideas when it came to the removal of his clothes, but you had gone for those accessories that prevented you from being able to delve into those windows of the soul. His swoop-pilot goggles were just as much for safety as they were for forestalling others from probing too deeply; Hondo always played his cards close to the vest. 

He gazed at you as if seeing you for the first time, and perhaps there was some truth to this, the Weequay’s chin lowering as he studied your pretty face in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You were more beautiful than he had previously thought, and the way you were drinking him in with your thirsty eyes was distracting and disarming. It was as if he was water itself, and you were so very, very parched. 

It was either that, or he now felt vulnerable, having nothing to hide behind; nothing to shield him from your scrutiny. 

“I take et you… like what you see,” Hondo said sonorously, yet there was a lacquer of uncertainty in his tone. 

Did you like it? Were you disappointed?

As if addressing his implicit fears, you pulled him down on top of you. “More than anything,” you whispered, excitable hands ripping at his tunic. Hondo subsequently assisted you, removing his arms from their long sleeves. As he did the rest, you redirected your energy toward the belt buckle that bore the symbol of a life since past; his Ohnaka gang was no more, but they were nothing without the man himself to lead them.

“Dat es what I like tu hear…” 

He had a moment when you were unzipping his pants that he thought about your reasons for wanting him, the daughter of a weapon’s dealer scorned. Oh, how you must have despised your father, and your mother was a piece of work herself. Many times he had been as wasted as he had seen that woman; more so, yet— had she also been a lush when you were still in diapers? Had you always found yourself to be neglected? He knew something of that.

Perhaps this was to be your revenge; Hondo knew something of that too, yet he did not once feel used. And even if you were using him, far be it from him to complain. 

Still, he saw genuine affection in your eyes, or was it awe? He could not blame you for desiring to copulate with him; you were not the first person to take him for a ride, but perhaps this was the first time it almost seemed funny. Funny, but endearing, nonetheless.

You had placed him on a pedestal without his knowing anything about you; he was some sort of heroic figure, or a person to look up to; a role model, though a poor one. He almost wondered if he should be doing this – almost. 

Then, your warm hand was on his prick; it brought him out of his quiet meditation, a thing Hondo rarely was - quiet. The pirate pushed his trousers down off his knees and toward his ankles, kicking each pant leg loose, one by one, so that you might bask in his full-blown nakedness. 

“Uhh- how old ded you say you are?” he suddenly asked, his voice holding within a modicum of trepidation; he did not take the time to do the math himself.

You laughed brightly. “Old enough,” you replied.

That was good enough for him, though he was significantly your elder. If it did not matter to you, it did not matter to him. He had no more reason to think about it, your tender lips meeting with his. 

You were overtaken by desire, lifting your legs to wrap them properly around his torso. You guided him in, your free arm hooking around his neck for your human hand to clasp the back of his head as you aimed to kiss him hard and deep.

Hondo moaned against your mouth, helping to ferry himself forward; you took that part of him that was ribbed and ridged in your palm, angling your hips so that you could begin to slide it within yourself. 

The man inhaled sharply through his nostrils as you inched your way down, down along his shaft until his cock was buried fully inside you. Your plush inner walls gave it a loving squeeze, Kegel muscles tightening insofar that Hondo’s whole body went rigid, the Weequay pulling away from your greedy lips. 

“Mmn -- keep doing dat, and I won’t last long,” he forewarned, but you were already using your legs around him as leverage to glide back and forth across his girth – and girthy it was.

Each raised line, each groove of his phallus felt wonderful inside you. It was alien, unlike anything you had ever felt before, already close to satisfying every itch nothing else could seem to scratch.

You let out an uneven exhalation, gripping the man by the shoulders. Your eyelids fluttered as you whimpered a dulcet sound in his goblin ear, coming already from only a few strokes of him inside you.

Hondo tilted his head, having not even begun to fuck you. He thought you to be exquisite, your face twisting in pleasure without him so much as having to pump his hips. 

“Wait for Hondo, no?” he teased.

You laughed shakily, though it was almost forced, still coming off your high. Finally, you opened your eyes fully to look at him; he was too perfect. Your heart ached, knowing that beyond your short time together lay uncertainty, and that you might never see him again after tonight. It was a thought you nearly could not bear.

Your eyes welled with tears; your emotions were short-circuiting. Hondo pulled back, momentarily concerned. “Darling, what es wrong? Have I done someting?” he asked. 

“You’re not kissing me enough,” you lied, though sounding needy.  He stared at you long and hard before bending at his waist to dip low and press his mouth to yours. You hungrily accepted it, cinching your legs around his flanks to push him deeper still.

Hondo lightly gasped before it morphed into a moan of gratitude for your healthy appetite. He was also feeling something, respecting your tenacity while also marveling at the copious amounts of attraction you felt for him. 

Why, it bordered infatuation, a thing that might be considered dangerous under the right, or wrong circumstances. Still, that did not dissuade him. His ego was being fed, and fed well.

And yet, he was beginning to like you. Perhaps it was all the gifts and gold you had bestowed upon him, the fact you were not just some ignorant, rich heiress, or the fact you were rebelling in the only way you knew how – by having promiscuous sex with your father’s hated enemy. In another life, maybe he would have had you join him on his quest to rob the galaxy, yet now he was nothing more than a washed-up pirate captain without a crew.

You exalted him, and he felt somewhat humbled by it. It was a foreign feeling, like that of being satisfied. While definitely not new, per se, it was different. It was not exhilarating in the same way he had once presided over droves of men to do his bidding. No, this was like drugs, like the most potent strain of spice, or the drowsy, stupefying effects of the nastiest narcotic. For a moment, he felt lost in the sweet heat of your debauched embrace. 

But Hondo would feel the damp trickle of your tears; people did many unusual things in the throes of passion, such as claiming love when there was no such thing to be found upon its finish. Still, he wondered, the underside of his thumb daring to brush those pesky drops away as his tongue remained ensconced in your tepid mouth. 

So moved by the gesture, you could have cried ten times over, however humiliating, pulling away to exact your grip with the muscles of your thighs to a more readied position. Your kisses came quick, feverish, incrementally deeper, faster, as if you were a woman starved for months on end who was only now allowed to partake of the most forbidden fruit. 

“Sweetheart,” Hondo lightly berated, “you have me,” he posited. “Du not rush et, hm?”

He had coerced you to slow, to follow his pace, your ardency unbidden and almost uncontrollable. You could only nod, arching your hips to settle at a more favorable angle, each languid caress of him inside you causing your toes to curl. The wet squelch of his cock thrusting into your cunt was reminiscent of the finest music, igniting your senses as if your whole body would soon burst into flames.

The dastardly being captured a pillow for his use, propping you up so that you might relax. Hondo dragged you forward until your body was folding on itself, your sex snugly bound to his groin as your back remained level on the sheets.  

Powerful thighs propelled him forward as gentle hands groped yours, sliding up the smooth flesh of your legs to come to rest at the cusps of your hips. Sinewy fingers bit down, snaking around to grasp the meat of your ass as Hondo pressed his cock to the head of your cervix, careful not to push too far or to cause you pain. 

“Harder,” you dared. “Deeper.”

He did not ridicule you for this; he looked up with those heavenly sky-gray eyes. One hand crawled to the curve of your middle back as he clasped you tightly, ramming you repeatedly with the alien shape of his thick, ribbed shaft. 

All you could do was lie there, mouth parted to exude nothing but startled silence, pain mixed with pleasure rocking you to the very fiber of your nerve endings. Hondo would grunt generously with every precise stroke of himself inside you as your body twisted in ecstasy; he was unable to help himself as he cupped the roundness of your breast in his hand, the other still holding you partially aloft.

“Breathe, my dear,” he whispered as you started to unravel, your form jolting with every forceful push of his hips as he pinched your raised nipple. The tears returned, though it felt so right to cry, the warmth stored in your belly blossoming into elated moans as you gasped for air.

“Hondo,” was all you could think to say, “fuck, Hondo—” you repeated, perhaps louder than you meant to be. 

“Dat es what I am doing,” the man above you whispered in a salacious tease. 

“Hondo fucking Ohnaka,” you laughed, at once coming a fourth time that evening as you wailed to the walls, the ceiling, and anyone who might hear you, despite not knowing that indeed your housekeeper would, as she had parked herself for the last five minutes right outside your door. 

“May I, darling? I can’t – hold—” he struggled to keep at it, wanting nothing more than to please you thoroughly before he himself got his. In fact, he had never asked if you had any sort of protection to ward off pregnancy, not that he wasn’t sure he had several bastards out there roaming throughout the galaxy without an inkling as to who they were, or to whom they belonged. 

“Cum inside me,” you uttered coyly, batting your sultry lashes in that way only a woman knew how. Having given him permission, Hondo obliged; you gleefully held his pulsating cock in place, feeling every pump of semen enter you as you cupped your lower abdomen and pushed down on purpose, just to intensify his orgasm. 

The Weequay’s eyelids fluttered as did his erection in your guts, spurts of hot ejaculate coating your insides until there was nothing left of himself to give. He pulled out, a creamy white substance dribbling down the inside of your legs, the man doing all in his power to calm his mind and regain control of his gelatinous limbs.

“I—dat was—” he began, gently releasing your lower half so that you might lie down properly. He would soon join you, bereft of energy, sprawled prostrate on his belly as he began to succumb to drowsiness. “Perhaps I could just… rest here a little while, ah?” he asked.

“My home is yours,” you whispered, cradling the Weequay’s head in your arms as your hands cushioned the sharp angles of his face. You would only leave him momentarily to clean yourself and to locate a clean towel in your personal refresher, doing your best to sop up both his and your own excess.

Once accomplished, you drew him to your bosom like a thing forever to be cherished. You tucked yourself around him like a warm blanket, never once worrying that you might get a rude awakening, though Madam Hilre had her own plans once her suspicions had been undeniably confirmed. 

Still, at that moment, you were floating high above the artificial clouds of Oseon, not caring what daybreak might bring, only that you were content to lie here at Hondo Ohnaka’s side for as long as fate allowed.

---

You showered but did not dress. It was a balmy morning, and the warmth of fresh brewed caf enlivened you. Hondo would encircle you, as if lovers on a honeymoon, gathering your waist with one arm as he partook of his own beverage in the opposing hand. 

Your view was of the gate below, surrounded by a lush garden that Hondo had somehow failed to notice on his way in, taking the time to rub your naked belly tenderly as he peered over your shoulder, breathing in the perfume of fresh flowers that he knew, unfortunately, were not real. 

Nor was the tree that provided you with shade, just to the right of your commodious balcony. It looked real, he thought, knowing that not every planet could be so lucky as to have foliage as lustrous as Naboo, or Eriadu. 

Drinking from his cup, he offered his compliments, the first thing said on this bright, beautiful day. “Delicious, as es everyting en dis house.” His upper lip perked slightly, “including you,” he added cheekily. 

It was so early, and yet faithful Mara had left you a pot of caf outside your door with a timid knock. Had you not already been awake, you were sure you would have missed it, the smell having brought Hondo to consciousness some few minutes later. You were happy he had joined you, your neck craning back to grace the man with a good morning kiss, the hand not wholly occupied subtly pushing his a little lower, his fingers skirting your soft mound. 

“Is that so?” you asked, Hondo entertaining your early morning lust by slipping between the folds of your labia. He spread you apart at the seam, reintroducing himself to your hypersensitive clit only to massage sumptuous little circles so masterfully it made your eyes begin to roll toward the back of your head.

“Et es.” 

You tossed your mug and let it break somewhere off to the side, grasping the back of Hondo’s head as you prompted him closer to you, the Weequay’s long, black tongue delving into the deepest parts of your throat as he bent down to engulf you in his sweet embrace.

You involuntarily writhed, sharing the same breath from Hondo’s lungs as you moaned against his lips, offering him your orgasm through the impassioned furl of your tongue. 

“Stay with me,” you uttered your plea softly, Hondo’s hand once more trailing up so that his fingers could wind carefully around your vulnerable throat. He swiped your bottom lip with his thumb as the rest of his fingers moved to grasp your chin. Then, he forced you to look at him as he studied your face, there being an intensity to his gaze you could not place. 

He meant to speak, only he was interrupted by your servant busting through the door. She did not stop there, rushing onward to the balcony, covering her eyes for sake of modesty even though her voice rang out high-pitched and alarmed.

“Miss! Your father’s coming!” she blurted out, “Hilre caught onto who you’ve brought home!” 

“What?” you turned to face her, not caring that you were naked, only fearing for Hondo’s safety and the sudden announcement Mara had made. “That fucking bitch!”

Mara dropped her hands; her eyes darted between the both of you, Hondo taking a sip from his mug as if unperturbed, thinking he perhaps still had time yet to finish his caf.

“I heard her on the comm! She knows he’s—” Her eyes widened as she had chanced to look, really look, at the Weequay who had on not a scrap of clothes “—Hondo Ohnaka!”

“So I am,” Hondo said offhand with a playful grin.

“How far out is he?” you demanded, wondering what else she may have overheard, ignoring the Weequay who was at the heart of your concern.

“Don’t know, miss, but—” 

There was a sound like that of a single blaster shot. Hondo’s mug shattered in his hand. “Uh—” 

All three of you turned to look; your father’s personal guard was on the lawn, gazing up at you five stories high. 

“Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Indeed,” Hondo replied, dropping the handle to the ground; it was all that remained, the men below belting out curses and obscenities as they began to rush inside. 

“You have to go!” you urged him. Hondo seemed to agree, flying past you and your dutiful maid to gather first his trousers, and then his tunic from off your floor. 

“Mara!” you ordered, “belay them; turn off power to the lift!”

“Yes, miss!” she replied, giving a curt nod of her head. She was out the door in seconds; you thought this woman deserved a raise for all she had to go through on your behalf.

Someone screamed your name; you darted to the balcony once more, Hondo having already adorned his helmet, his goggles, and his crimson coat. 

Your father and several of his hired goons stared up at you, his jaw having dropped to the ground. In your haste, you had forgotten you were in the buff, the man yelling so pointedly you thought he might give himself an aneurysm. “Is he in there with you?!” he demanded,  followed by a furious, “put some damn clothes on, for fuck’s sake!” 

He did not wait for an answer, stampeding into the house with an entourage of four other men. Hondo had slipped on his boots in the nick of time, witnessing the tail end of your father’s heated outburst. His duster jingled with every movement, full of the treasure you had so kindly conferred to his possession, silver eyes sparkling in the light of this asteroid’s star. 

“Go north,” you instructed him, firmly clasping his cheek in the crook of your palm. “Docking Bay seventy-seven, there is a ship there. It should be unlocked.” Your eyes brimmed, knowing this might be the last and only time you ever saw him. “Take it, hurry,” you implored him, Hondo giving you his most stunning smile.

“Ah, a double-seven! What a lucky number, ah?” Then, he paused. “I will never forget you,” he promised, jumping with surprising agility on top of the nearby banister as if it was nothing at all; the railing was fashioned from pure, Durosian marble and quite elegant, though it also served its purpose as a step stool. 

This is when Hondo felt truly alive: laden with gold, jewels, credits, and escaping with his life and dignity intact. He looked over his shoulder when he heard you shout; you were doing your utmost to distract and delay your father’s guards just as the man himself stormed into the room. 

You had common sense enough to grab a robe that had been previously discarded over the high-backed chair of your vanity, tossing it on to clothe yourself, only if so your father’s thugs couldn’t get an eyeful any more than they already had. Then, you heard your own last name; Hondo was calling out to your father from his perch in a nearby tree, the brigand holding on with one hand as he dared to give him a mock salute. It was a gesture that was almost friendly, the scalawag unable to miss out on his chance to gloat.

“Another ting I have stolen from you, ah?” Hondo asked cockily. “Your peace of mind, and your daughter’s heart.” In that moment, the newly risen sun caused a plethora of gems, jewels, crystals and gold to gleam, light refracting radiantly with as many colors as a Kallakean rainbow from out the numerous pockets of Hondo’s stolen coat.

“Filthy Quay!” you father bellowed.

Hondo blew in your direction one final kiss.

“No!” you screeched as your patriarch withdrew his pistol in a fit of unbridled rage. You shoved him as hard as your strength permitted, guards scurrying valiantly to surround you on all sides as others fired aimlessly at the now vacant spot on which Hondo had hung like a Kowakian monkey-lizard from off a single branch. 

Burly men held your arms as you gazed after the retreating form of your audacious lover, your heart beating fervently in your chest with the joyous knowledge he had escaped unscathed to live and fight another day. You could not help it; you laughed without reserve. To simultaneously scorn your father and fall from his favor had been an easy feat. But no matter what was to become of you, you would be content, because it had all been worth it in the end.

Main Masterlist

Hondo Ohnaka Masterlist

#Hondo Ohnaka #Hondo Ohnaka x Reader #Hondo x Reader #Hondo Ohnaka x You #x you #x reader #star wars smut #pwp #Star Wars #Clone Wars #Star Wars Rebels #Pirate's Price did something to me #Cad Bane mention because I could not help myself. #Yes there is a library in there somewhere #sorry not sorry #oneshot turned into a novel #my writing #fanfiction #sooooo much plot

[mirageofadesert]

So I watched most of Luo Yunxi's (allegedly) mediocre filmography ... here are some thoughts.

⭕️Ashes of Love (dropped it, will come back for it later) ❤️ ✔️Princess Silver ❤️❤️ ✔️ And the Winner is Love ❤️ ✔️ Love is Sweet ❤️❤️❤️ ✔️ Broker ❤️❤️ ✔️Lie to Love ❤️ ✔️Light Chaser Rescue ❤️(❤️) ✔️Till the end of the moon ❤️❤️❤️ ❌ Immortality 🤡🤡🤡

First off, the words (allegedly) mediocre and "TTEOTM" or "Love is Sweet" are not allowed in the same sentence. That's why I wont discuss them here. These dramas are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique ... next question.

As for the rest... I have some thoughts and I'm willing to share them:

First of all, I enjoyed all of them and that came as a surprise. I had seen fans joke about his filmography with one smiling and one crying eye, voicing that they hope he would soon be a position to pick better scripts. However, on paper I think the scripts weren't bad per se, but the execution is a bit questionable.

The kind of roles he picks ...

... are actually really great. He seem to gravitate towards deeply conflicted and complex characters, that allow emotional and nuanced portrayals. Non of them are perfect, but they try. Sometimes, the script or directing doesn't allow the characters to be as convincing, as they could be. In other cases, the actors he share a scene with, are utterly unconvincing in their performances.

I appreciate that all his chosen dramas have actual plot besides the romantic story and I didn't have to sit through something as boring as a pure romance without any substance (looking at you, Hidden Love). I also would guess, that he chooses his show based on the roles he plays, because those are often considerably better than the script overall.

Trapped by lackluster writing ...

... is a serious problem, especially when it involves cringey lines as well as wattpad level backstories. I think "Lie to Love" had the weakest script, "Broker" had some really over the top and cringe backstories, while "Lightchaser Rescue"'s biggest problem lies with the directing and production. "Princess Silver" was great overall and I wish he played a bigger role. I'm still not sure what went wrong with "And the winner is love", but I guess it's a combination of everything. Kudos to the actors, that pull off these bad or cringe lines with the same level of dedication and passion... I'm sorry, that I had to skip them anyway.

Acting circles around other actors...

... it's not a regular thing, but it tend to happens with some of his FL. It's not even that they are bad actresses per se, but often written with so little character, that there isn't much anyone can bounce off of. Su Xieyi (Cheng Xiao in "Lie to Love") and Chong Xuezhi (Yukee Chen/Chen Yuqi in "And the Winner is Love") are particularly guilty of this. It's also not something that can be blamed on lacking chemistry between the lead actors, as those two did not convey any chemistry with anyone in their perspective shows. A lot of the female characters in cdramas are hard to watch - and it's the main reason I have not been able to watch Ashes of Love yet.

I recently read a reddit post, that pointed out that Luo Yunxi always has good chemistry with his FL, but that those don't necessary give back the same energy. This leads to his characters always seeming more in love with their romantic partners. Luo Yunxi sells every love story... I really wish he would be paired up with more emotive actresses portraying well written characters.

His strengths ...

... lies in costume dramas for sure. He just looks like he came right out of a painting. This is also where his dance background shines the most. His wire and fight scenes are always excellent. However, I do understand that those are strenuous to shoot, particularly in the summer. In addition he excels in portraying suffering and a storm of conflicting emotions. He is a great actor, with exceptional facial expression and good voice acting. As an audience, you can feel his commitment to all of his roles. This becomes even more obvious, once you find out how often he was injured on set and still pulled through. I wont forget that one leaked clip of him doing wire stunts with his wheel chair waiting on the side ...

What I want to see him play in the future....

... is a more comedic costume drama. "Love is Sweet" but with long hair and fight scenes! I also would love to see him as a villain (again), but I guess he has outgrown these roles - at least in dramas. I also need another show similar to TTEOTM, that is more mature than most dramas of this genre and doesn't focus on the romance. Lastly, a 3rd drama with Bai Lu would be great!

What I learned from this going forward ...

... is to give less popular shows a try. So far, some rather popular or loved dramas (Hidden Love, Ashes of Love, Immortal Samsara etc) failed to impress me. I also learned that I need at least one character to latch onto, while starting a show or I will not get into it. A lot of shows sadly lack these convincing and obsession-worthy characters.

#luo yunxi #cdrama #till the end of the moon #love is sweet #lie to love #broker #cdrama review #and the winner is love #princess silver #light chaser rescue

[syraxesrevenge]

i don't usually get involved with team stuff but mini rant (im low-key losing my fucking mind)

I don't understand people who are Team Green, and not because of their opinions on the characters. I find Team Green as some of the most complex, interesting characters in the whole lot of asoiaf.

1: First of all, the treatment of the strong boys. They act like Jace and Luke are absolute monsters; which, I don't necessarily agree with, but without bias I do agree they are not pure and cherubic angels. Lucerys is impulsive and childish, making jokes about actual trauma and maiming a ten year old who was influenced by his older brother. Jacaerys has extreme anger issues which lead to him acting arrogantly and stubbornly to the respite of his elders.

This does not mean they are *demons*, though, and do not deserve to be treated as such. I've seen people say that they were horrible for not showing a horrified reaction to Vaemond's death, that they should've felt remorse; what choice was for them to make? Lucerys was openly against the thing, wishing his own birthright upon the person who tried to usurp him; Jacaerys heard only the words "whore" and "bastards", which set him off. I do not blame him for this in the slightest; those words have been used his entire life to demonize him, villainize him and his mother.

Other people say Rhaenyra was terrible for making her sons believe they were real Targaryens, not admitting they were bastards and trying to persuade them from the throne. This take is just - abhorrent, imo. Jacaerys was taught by his grandsire, his mother, his father that he was going to inherit the throne just like his mother would before him. Lucerys and him obviously knew they were bastards - it is hard to ignore when everyone looks at you in the street, points you out, suggests you are not what you say. Jacaerys also spent his entire life, especially in the Dance, trying to prove himself a worthy heir. His traits of being well-studied and righteous were given to Aemond, because there would be no debate on who to choose if not.

"Team Green writers should've written the show! They're making the Blacks too sympathetic!"

The blacks are supposed to be the sympathetic ones. They are the tragedy of the war; the close-knit family that, in their pursuit to stay together, were torn apart and murdered by themselves. Joffrey died alone. Lucerys died alone. Jacaerys died alone. Daemon died alone. Rhaenyra was the only one who died with her son. They were the epitome of a caring, loving family - and what did that get them? Their reluctance to be ruthless resulted in the cold murder of a child. Lucerys was 13 in the book - 14/15 in the show. His death should be as hard hitting and as sympathetic as Jaehaerys, but somehow, it is not. To make a joke about Vhagar ripping Arrax to pieces is funny, to make a joke about Blood and Cheese is horrible. The double standard is just *baffling* to me.

Another thing - most of TG loves Jon Snow. They think that Daenerys was mad, that she deserved to die, that she was evil. By this precedent, if you can accept a legitimized bastard on the throne in the form of Jon, why is it *so hard* to picture Jacaerys on the throne?

"They have no personality!"

They had absolutely no screentime. The writers gave a scene to a fucking *foot fetish*, and they could not give us a scene of Lucerys, Jacaerys, or Joffrey. Especially when Lucerys was going to die in that season - he had a total of 23 minutes of screentime, and near 6 minutes of lines. That is not even half of an episode worth - especially for him to just be sitting in the background. And the times when he is talking? He is made to be the most unsympathetic character, ever. Laughing at Aemond, attacking Aemond - he is used mainly as a plot device, and it's sad, because I truly believe he deserved better than that, bc Elliot Grihault is a great actor :D

might make a part 2 if this idiot in a discord RP keeps insisting tg is righteous and perfect and amazing and MY fav characters suck ass

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #pro team black #team black #anti rhaenyra antis #anti aegon ii targaryen #opinion #rant

[x-birdsong-x]

1 7 10 and 13 for Warriors?

1 - Frecklewish. Not a compliment. Mapleshade too, but on a different scale because it's the people pushing "perfect victim" on Frecklewish that play along with two YouTubers' out-of-context words being used to say Mapleshade was evil from the very start actually. Appledusk plays a part here too. I'll come back to this.

7 - Frecklewish, again. She's angry. She's absolutely furious. She and Oakstar plan to raise the trio as weapons to kill Appledusk. She wants one to be named Birchface because she sees them as only extensions of him. Mapleshade did a bad thing- for the sake of her kits, in her eyes- but Frecklewish does not wait for a reaction of any sort before she pounces on her and slits her eyelid. It takes two full-grown warriors to pull her off. All in front of the toddlers she calls half-clan creatures and stopped giving a rat's ass about as soon as they weren't related to her. Their confrontation at snakerocks was not a case of Frecklewish being non-confrontational or Mapleshade provoking her for the entire scene. Frecklewish jumps at her and screams that she wished Mapleshade had died, and this is during Mapleshade talking about Frecklewish seeing her kits in the river and never mentioning Freckle doing nothing to aid her.

Frecklewish shouldn't have jumped into the river, of course not. But she saw the RC patrol and they didn't realize what had happened right away. If Mapleshade could be IN THE WATER and hear Appledusk calling for her, then Frecklewish could've yelled over the river as soon as she saw the patrol to make sure the kits got across the stones safely. She followed them out of camp in the first place, making it impossible for Mapleshade to hide them on the territory considering Frecklewish attacked her once already and as we hear in the snakerocks scene, wants Mapleshade dead. She doesn't care about the kits as soon as they aren't related to her. She's not a precious little baby constantly crying for a blankie. She's impulsive and angry and judgemental. She didn't deserve hell, sure, but the fandom should've been angry that Oakstar and Appledusk stayed sippin' wine in heaven while only she got booted, rather than immediately going to "she did nothing wrong!11"

10 - I can easily get into more of Frecklewish and Appledusk here, but lets go for Mapleshade being painted as evil from birth and manipulative from the start and pinned as "Appledusk's abuser" is revolting. I don't care that the fandoms precious pair of leading YouTubers said one thing that can be taken as them thinking this. That one video is not well-written and full of out of context things and them acting morally superior for not liking Mapleshade because that wasn't the trend at the time until the fandom 180'd the second the video gained traction. The title of the video alone is spiteful. I could directly quote and talk about one thing said in that video that isn't twisting a simple line from the book, but I think the fandom would hang me. It's ironic that Mo/onk/itti can come out with acknowledging that people will defend male characters while "pulling apart every tiny infraction a female character has ever committed" while The Mapleshade Problem is doing nothing but that.

On another end, people who script the MAPs "about" Reedshine should ask themselves why they need to woobify and sympathize with Appledusk to sympathize with Reedshine (because everything is about a man and female characters are just DLC for male characters). The way so many people see nothing wrong with Freckle and Reed being characterized by the fandom as sad all the time purely over a man and thinking about a man 24/7 says a lot. Spending her whole life mourning a man who had an affair behind her back and called his children mistakes and used her to fuel his crocodile tears apology is nothing Reedshine deserves.

Reedshine's got an attitude herself, telling Mapleshade to go away and that she caused enough trouble was blatantly bitchy and a horrible thing to do, but considering her husband is a dishonest, two-faced, chickenshit son of a bitch I think she has the right to a rude moment or two. And no, that's not applicable to me refusing to play along with or defend the fandom ignoring Frecklewish's actual character.

13 - The same answers all around. Frecklewish and Appledusk. I'm also fiercely anti-crowfeather and gray wing <3.

#Tagging this because I'm feeling brave #didn't intend to get into TMP's absolute bullshit here but hey. maybe I'm glad I finally got to get into that a little #Mapleshade #Appledusk #Frecklewish #WC #Warriors #Warrior Cats

[captain-peanut110]

Percy Jackson and the Olympians episodes one and two, immediate impressions

Written by someone who absolutely lived those books as a kid and is no less obsessed with them as a grown up.

I will try to avoid spoilers for anything that comes later in the book or in later books in case people who have only watched the show will be reading this, but there might still be unintentional spoilers and there definitely will be spoilers for how the event of the first two episodes went down in the book.

I have been waiting since before the old movies came out, suffered the disappointment of their existence, was part of the collective agreement Lightning Thief had no sequel and am finally ready to see them try again.

I have just finished re-reading the first series and am nearing the end of House of Hades, so all the book stuff is fresh in my mind.

(I also bough the first five and all five Trials of Apollo for only £12 yesterday 🎊🎊🎊 now my tiny London apartment is flooded with books I already have no space for 🤣🤣🤣 so worth it though.)

Episode 1

- seems lovely so far;

- Percy is perfectly himself and the acting is damn decent;

- Little Percy is very cute, but also sort of spooky, make me think of the ocean, no matter what, there is always something eerie about it;

- Nancy is as awful, as she has to be and it is a nice thought that Percy understands she bullies him because of her own issues, yet also acknowledges it is still not okay;

- Brunner is perfect, they nailed his feel and presence 10/10. Why is his horse part not white though? Come on, it doesn’t have to match his skin tone and would have looked super cool, setting him apart from other centaurs like it does in the books;

- The kindly one (what they call Furies in the book) is well done and properly terrifying;

- Sally Jackson is the star, seriously, she is everything;

- Smelly Gabe is authentic enough to smell him trough the screen;

- Super funny that his reward for letting them take the car in the show is a sandwich he never ends up getting at all. At least in the books he got his dips

- BUT!!!!! Wtf with Gabe saying please? And them watching the game together? Why is he suddenly not that terrible??? How could they have decided to give redeeming qualities to this guy??? He is like the definition of awful and there really was no need to make him better in any way.

Initially I did not particularly notice this, because he was disgusting in my eye, yet upon watching for the second time, I replied he repeatedly said please and his conversation with Sally seemed suddenly more like banter than the awful way he treated her in the books. This gives their marriage something to it and makes it feel like there might have been a reason why they got married other than Sally wanting to protect Percy though Gabe's smell. And that is just wrong. Gabe was absolutely the king of awful in the books and he should have stayed that way.

I felt like I had to go back to add this point, because I missed it in my initial watching when I was writing this immediate reaction.

It can be argued that even the worst abusers are not horrible 24/7 and are ofter nice to the people around them from time to time, which makes it even more confusing and hard to leave them. But this does not really fit to the situation here, Gabe had zero redeeming qualities in the book and I can't see why there would be a need to give him any in the show;

- Sally being firmly on Percy’s side is pure gold and absolute parenting goals;

- Blue candy !!!!

- D’Angelo sandwiches though??? Hmmm…

- “Who is Yantsy?” 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Gabe is so dumb, i love it;

- Hades is not satan, they finally got that right! At least I think that’s supposed to be Hades;

- Can’t stress enough how awesome it is that Percy is not an orphan in the books. His relationship with Sally is everything. It is also a whole lot less lazy than just having an orphaned protagonist and also a lot more relatable for the readers;

- I love the scene where Percy is confused and scared, trying to get her to stop, but Sally keeps talking, as if she knows if she does not say it out loud, she will never be able to;

- Sally: “He was a god.” Percy: “You fell in love with Jesus?” 🤣🤣🤣

- Grover is so funny though, I can’t even;

- The Minotaur cgi looks decent;

- And he is wearing underpants!!!

- Bye-bye Gabe’s car;

- Grover is supposed to be unconscious!!! That’s a major point of his later self-torments, the fact that he got knocked out and Percy had to carry him all the way.

I cannot see why he needed to be present for this scene. He doesn’t do much of anything other than having Sully make him swear to protect Percy, although I am not certain what that was emphasised for?

- Sally is badass! Hell yeah for mothers doing mad stuff to protect their babies, super on point and as someone who does have a baby, super realistic;

- Noooo!!! Sally!!! Proper heartbreaking;

- He did not have the sword yet! Or Grover there! And he fought the Minotaur anyways!!!

It was supposed to be the first sing of his endless courage bordering on idiocy and a serious lack in the self preservation department when it comes to people he loves being in danger.

Which ultimately is a super important point in the story. I feel they missed an opportunity to show just how many fucks are absolutely not given when Percy sees somebody dear to him threatened;

- He does still kill him with the horn, not the sword, so I guess I can forgive the sword being there for a brief second. Although it would certainly add more meaning if it wasn’t;

- Show us how he carried Grower to Camp after killing the Minotaur!!! Percy did it all on his own, no help whatsoever! That’s part of what made other campers so interested in him!

- Annabeth!!! My best girl!!!

Episode 2

- Percy’s eyes are so book accurate, a proper proper sea green, I am happy happy happy;

- And Walker is such a perfect fit for the role, it really feels like he is Percy. I can forgive them for not having someone else, who had dark hair, his casting in on par.

Also I feel like nailing his eyes is more important than hair. They are an important part of the character, a reflection of his connection to the ocean.

I can also completely get behind not immediately wanting to dye a child’s hair, so it’s not that important.

I am personally of the opinion, that unless a character’s appearance is a point in the plot, such as relation to a certain someone hinted at trough similarity in looks/belonging to a certain group/coming from a certain place/being singled out positively or negatively because of certain features/etc, changing it doesn’t matter;

A good example is the colour of Percy’s eyes. It needs to be maintained, as they are a reference to his father being Poseidon and him being a child of the sea;

- The same goes for Leah, she has absolute Annabeth energy and is just perfect every step of the way, so the fact that she ain’t blonde doesn’t really matter. It was not a particular plot point in the books and the change will not affect her character in any way;

(If Elle Woods suddenly wasn’t blonde anymore, that would be insane, in Annabeth’s case, it is not that important.)

- Aww, Percy thinks Poseidon is going to be there at camp, that’s heartbreaking :((

- Peter Johnson !!!

- ‘He’s starting with me!’

- For a moment I thought he was gonna say ‘the wine dude Dionysus’ 🤣 that would hardy have ended well;

- ‘Your Highness’ 🤣🤣🤣 Percy is adorable;

- Mister D pretending to be Percy’s dad and trying to get him to fetch a bottle of wine is sooooo funny, I died. Chiron’s face though… 🤣🤣🤣 ‘I could be!’ ‘But are you?!’

And this:

- ‘Son.’

- ‘Dad?’

- ‘Yes Peter!’

- ‘Percy!’

- ‘Exactly’

- And Percy looking at Mr D and thinking: ‘Mom fell in love with and spoke so highly of this guy? He is basically Divine Gabe.’

I will be anything upon first meeting him in the show and hearing the ‘i am your dad’ thing, that is exactly what Percy is thinking. ‘Oh no, my dad is the Less Smelly Gabe?‘

- The Hermes cabin is looking good, the chaos seems very authentic;

- As someone who had been bullied at school for different from other kids, it is a very touching moment, when Percy is sure the Hermes kids are about to start some trouble, but Luke is just so lovely to him instead.

It is honestly every weird kid’s dream to have someone approach them with something kind to say.

And when he says: ‘you are just like everyone else here’, it must have felt so nice for Percy to finally hear something like that, like there is somewhere he can belong as himself;

- Luke, my sweet tragic baby ❤️ i cannot help loving him so damn much;

His underlying wistfulness and hidden pain from not feeling loved by his dad break my heart into a million pieces. And the way he just older-brothers Percy from the beginning is everything ❤️

- But does this show hate blonde people?

Cause Luke isn’t blonde either. 🤣

Once again, great acting, charisma and that feel of Luke’s powerful awesomeness tinted with desolate melancholy was captured brilliantly.

Charles does have that vibe and is great in the role. But I just had to note the ‘nobody is blonde’ thing cause it’s funny;

- More importantly though, WHERE IS LUKE’S SCAR??? That little scrape he’s got on his face is way too small and insignificant to be the unfortunate trophy from a dragon fight.

It looks nowhere near ghastly enough!

The whole point was that Luke was super handsome, but his scar was there like a tear in a beautiful portrait.

Charles is a good looking fella, he could have easily pulled off having a huge scar running across half of his face and still be a ladies’ dream;

- The Dryad with Grover has such sweet motherly vibes;

- Is it me or do Grover’s goat legs appear somewhat skinny?

- ‘Like an old banana’ Damn, Grover. I feel like this nicely reminds everyone Grover is not the human child he appears as;

- I feel like it is more realistic that Percy comes to believe his mother can be saved from the underworld by himself, since it is pretty logical, if the underworld is a place you can go to, you could theoretically bring someone back.

There didn’t really need to be an ominous investigation conducted by Grover for Percy to come upon that idea;

- More creepy ass dreams;

- CLARISSE MUST BE BUFFER!!!

And here I somewhat don’t get it.

Cause Dior looks perfectly buff enough for the part in pictures online, but it almost feels like they made her look smaller on camera, instead of using filming techniques to make her look even bigger.

All I could think while watching those scenes was “Clarisse must be bigger!”. Why does she look so skinny in the show, when the actress has got proper muscles irl?

- Percy being terrible at everything he tries reminds me of Harry trying the wands out and making stuff blow up

- He set the Hephaestus kids’ stuff on fire 🤣🤣🤣 Leo should have been there 😉

- Is there a god of disappointment 🤣🤣🤣

- But you burn the stuff to send a message to the gods, not mortals or dead people. Burnt offerings are only messages to a god they are offered for.

Did Percy misunderstand this or did the makers of the show?

Cause there should be no way for Sally to have actually gotten that message;

- Burning candy and talking to mama hits right home though. Very painful, peak cinema, hurts a lot. Poor little Percy, he just needs a hug;

- Not from a gutter, Clarisse, what the actual?!?!

- Aaaand Supreme Lord of the Bathroom emerges!!!

I just love how good old Jonny outright refuses to harm Percy.

But does this mean Poseidon is the god of toilet water as well 🤣🤣🤣 what about everything that is flushed with it? Would he have power over that as well? Or only clean gutter water?

Also!!! Is Percy immune to ‘the Neptune’s kiss’?

(‘The Neptune’s kiss’ - is an unfortunate occurrence while going number two, when one of them lot falls down into the bowl with a blast and the water splashes back onto your unprotected buttcheeks.)

Cause that would be a seriously cool ability to have indeed;

- Annabeth!!! Always a win for Annabeth!!!

‘i can explain!’ ‘No you can’t!’

Absolutely chemistry

‘Are you stalking me, Annabeth?’ ‘Yes’

- Forbidden kids… hmm.. that’s an interesting way of putting it;

- Annabeth is Sherlock with better social skills? Hell yeah, Percy can be her sword-wielding Watson;

- Their armour looks so good! Like actually pleasant to look at, you can see effort and thought went into the costumes in the show.

Seeing them all dressed up reminds me of the longstanding tradition at Camp Halfblood of running outside wearing a breastplate and underpants when danger strikes in the middle of the night!

I really really hope they show that in this series;

- Percy should appreciate Annabeth standing there silently and waiting for him to get up, since any other classmate from his past would have made fun of his fall and certainly would not have waited for him to get up.

The way Annabeth reacted is decent between two warriors.

She did not mock his fall, waited for him to get up and made no unkind comments about it afterwards.

She did not help him get up, because he does not need assistance with such a minor trouble, which is something Percy will have to learn very soon.

As someone who has been bullied back at school, sometimes standing there silently is the nicest way someone you don’t know very well can react to you embarrassing yourself;

- I love how Annabeth doesn’t flaunt her being better at stuff in Percy’s face, he is the one who says that in a fit of self deprecation.

The writers could have easily had her say something like ‘of course i’m better’, as happens a lot in modern cinema, when characters boast about how awesome they are instead of showing it.

She respectfully listens to his ranting, then simply straightens out his breastplate, which is such an adorable moment between them my heart is going to shatter into a million pieces.

She then proceeds to tell him ‘you don’t even know how you fit into all this’ , basically saying ‘you don’t know how powerful you are’, but Annabeth is being wise.

She knows there is no point in telling Percy how awesome he could be. She believes in him and knows he needs discover his awesomeness on his own.

(I am currently re-reading The House of Hades, about half-ways trough.

Thus seeing cute Percy and Annabeth moments soothes by bleeding heart.

If you know you know, not gonna spoil an ancient book, ahahahha. )

- Yankees’ cap!!! (I know i am way too easily excited to see stuff from the book, but I was a Percy Jackson fan when the first movie came out and i still carry that damage, so cut me so slack)

- Game on! And she absolutely believes in him and never says anything demeaning, that is so awesome.

There is a trend in modern cinema to show characters’ badassness and awesomeness by having them be demeaning and rude to their companions.

This has been around for a while where the guy who was the best at everything was just allowed to be awful to everybody because of it.

Recent it has infected movies with female leads, as if the only way a woman can be portrayed as strong and capable is by being a bully to lesser men around her.

I love what they did with Annabeth here.

She is spectacular, she’s got a great plan, she knows it, she doesn’t have to repeat it.

But she does not need to be compared to Percy to be amazing, she simply is.

She also has faith in Percy and is supportive of him, without being patronising or feeling the need to over-explain.

She is confident he will know what to do when the time comes and believes honestly he will do well.

She does not tell him what to do because she is sure he will know when the time comes and that is a smart way to teach him a lesson about having faith in himself;

- Luke is so awesome, they nailed him! His faith in Annabeth and the way he says ‘Percy’s on it’ with no doubt whatsoever… i am loving it all;

- Percy is authentically adhd, this shit is so relatable 🤣

Petting that lizard is such a banger thing to do, i mean…

- It did not happen in the books like this, but these are such Percy moments, i cannot even 🤣 the main actor was a top choice;

- Closing your eyes and touching leafs or rocks is something I also absolutely love doing, Percy knows what’s on;

- Clarisse’s spear looks nifty as heck.

While I did complain that she needs to be bigger, Dior is perfect in this role. The casting generally is great so far.

She does portray the big bully energy really well;

- I have enjoyed the fight, although wasn’t Percy only supposed to get his power up after he touched the water? (I most honestly don’t remember)

Here it seems the presence of the river so close was enough and I must agree that it does look awesome when he suddenly begins fighting properly;

- And he falls into the water, heals up and is claimed by Poseidon. Precious!

- I am loving the Poseidon cabin vibes, it is just like the ocean. Beautiful and charming, but eerie and mysterious;

- I do not understand why they had to change it from Percy taking the quest immediately with the hidden idea of saving his mother, to his blatantly refusing the quest, only to have Grover tell him Sally can be saved to sway him to go anyways.

I think this was somewhat of a weird choice, but maybe it will matter later on, who knows.

It does fix up the rift between Grover and Percy with the whole Grover lying and getting him expelled situation, but that wasn’t really in the book at all, so…

I guess they wanted to try and not copy the book word for word, but Percy refusing the quest so harshly out of self preservation we have already established he doesn’t have much of seems a little out of character.

Maybe they are trying to emphasise that he would do anything to save his mom, but even without that, Percy would still have agreed to save the world and all, that’s his whole point.

And he did go with the idea of saving his mother in the book, he just didn't Grover to tell him it was possible, he simply refused to accept his mother was dead and was set on getting her back.

He is not a reluctant hero, he marches head first into danger, risks his life to save the world all the time and eats reality shattering prophecies for breakfast. (If you know you know ;)) )

I guess it doesn’t matter all that much.

In the book and the show he agreed to go on a quest in great part because he thought he could to save his mother, it was just presented differently. But I do feel once again they are diminishing Percy’s badassery.

This sweet and wonderful child doesn't need anybody's permission or reassurance, he simply though: 'Wow, there is my opportunity to go to the underworld, my mother must be there, to hell with Hades, I will make him give her back!"

He basically thought she was dead and still planned on getting her back anyways!!!

As we have seem during the duel with the Minotaur, when given proper motivation (or simply when pissed off and/or desperate enough) Percy is absolutely unhinged.

He takes no shits from anyone, god, monster, or whatever else.

It just feels a bit weird to see Percy Jackson yelling ‘no’ to a quest.

And feels like Percy's determination and intelligence are diminished because he did not come upon the idea of saving Sally on his own.

- Also, since when does Percy have a sense of self-preservation, aahahaha he could have really used a bit more of that in the books

Overall 7/10 so far

One point off for the removal of Percy's grand refusal to accept death and his brilliant sneaky plan to attempt bringing his mother back from the underworld while the quest for the Masterbolt provides a valid reason to go there. Seriously, this was perfectly devious in the books. He kept the idea to himself and simply nursed a plan to basically bring his mother back from the dead all on his own.

One point off for Luke’s scar being tiny. Everything else appearance wise is not important cause the actors are great. But not giving Luke the proper huge scar is a cosmetic decision that I do not condone

And one extra point off for Gabe saying please and having redeeming human features, as well as Sally actually wanting to watch the game with him, I could not imagine she would have ever wanted to do anything with Smelly Gabe, no no no no no

All in all, this is great so far, I need more with urgency.

Thank you for reading this much 💚

#percy jackon and the olympians #disney #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #luke castellan #rick riordan #riordanverse #percabeth #clarisse la rue #dyonisus #hades #hades is not satan #please for Hera’s sake Hades is not satan and the Underworld is not hell #so far so good

[absolutebl]

I've been thinking obsessively about story structure lately. Are there any BLs you consider particularly well structured/paced? Or at least very typical? Especially for Thai BL, since so many are 12 episodes and that makes it easier to compare. I know we can all think of examples of shows that just kind of happened without any structure...

Now in the above post I wasn't thinking specifically about pace. I think that post is more about what you're calling structure (the narrative backbone brought to light via the script).

Thai stuff is always gonna be slower paced than Korean stuff. Because it's longer and jsut less tightly controlled by the directors.

Also something like 4 or 6 act structure (popular in China, Taiwan, and sometimes Japan) will often FEEL slow to western viewers.

I think the pace of a show is partly a judgement call on behalf of the viewer, but also heavily cultural, so let me try to explain.

Structure, Pace, Plot

Structure, or the writing of a narrative script, can be divided into plot vs pace as follows:

Plot: movement of characters through time (scene by scene) and space (setting) and the people they meet along the way (dialogue).

Pace: how the plot is executed in terms of which scenes follow which, length of scenes and shots, presence or absence of flashbacks, cuts, voice-over work, but also literal words on the page - staging instructions, dialogue sentence structures, monologuing, and so forth.

Plot = what is written in the script

Pace = how it's written in that script

This is going to get further complicated once an entire film crew gets ahold of that script.

Plot is characters moving through time, space, and interactions in the show AKA WHAT the characters are doing.

Pace is how that script and story now in the hands of the performers is relayed to the viewers using camera angles, dialogue delivery, staging AKA HOW those characters are filmed.

Plot is the responsibility of the actors and script writers to convey.

Pace is the responsibility of the directorial and editing teams to convey.

Thus a part of the world that has good talent but poor production values (like Thailand, Philippines, or Vietnam) will always be weaker on pacing. But they can churn out something raw and brilliant IF they have a good script.

On the other hand, a place that has great everything but just really likes to mess with story structure and style, like Japan, might ALSO have weak pacing because that isn't their focus or interest.

In the first case, they lack the editing talent, money, and technology, in the second they just like to play with structure A LOT.

But it means each country that produces BL ends up needing to be judged on its own merits and choices (or lack of options) IMHO.

So, I stand by my list above. I think of it as representing all round story execution to the capacity of the country of origin. They are still the best story, although by western standards that story structure may feel a little off - depending on how you feel about that country's style of BL.

I might add a few to the above list (from late 2022-2023)

Semantic Error - of course. This show is perfect, after all.

The Eighth Sense - Korea went gritty and tense, outside their comfort zone, and executed it sublimely well

Love Tractor - Korea frmly and entirely in their comfort zone but the pace never lets up

Jun & Jun - a master class in pure sappy fluffy romance but still knuckle biting tension, I was upset at the end of every episode that i couldn't watch the next one INSTANTLY, in TV that = pitch perfect pacing

Tokyo in April is... - this is paced beautifully for Japan, very tense but with Japan's signature artsy atmosphere, it's not it's fault I didn't like the story

Laws of Attraction - this is a plot-based pacing story, like UWMA, and these tend to be the ones Thailand paces best using plot to amp up tension, unfortunately that best can still feel a little weak on actual story strcture and basic plotting, e.g. they can go off the rails easily like Manner of Death or KinnPorsche, but at least this kind of Thai show keep us intrigued for the next episode.

I'm gonna mention Bed Friend here as a lesson in pacing. If this show had stuck to it's guns and stayed 8 episodes, rather than stretching to fill 10 at the last minute, it would have been a near perfect high heat show out of Thailand. But it didn't have the confidence, and it likely wanted the money from those two added episodes. It's a real shame.

I gotta say I think this is the fans. fault.

People always want more of a good thing, or more of the same thing, it's why we get shitty 2nd seasons. Sometimes what we need to truly better cinema is LESS of the good thing - better editing, tighter scripts - because that way the pace will be superior.

Bah, anyway,

Be you didnt' want a film lesson with your spontaneous ask?

#asked and answered #plot and pace in BL #wel in romance #I also added this to the original post of story structre

[whenyoulosesmallmind]

I fratelli Karamazov 1969 [EP1] - Ivan & Smerdjakov + at Katja's, the beginning of the three thousand rubles affair

As a farewell to 2023 and to a happy new year, I bring you... some more Karamazovian dramatics!

part one | part two | part three (you are here!)

Some sparse notes before the translated transcripts start under the cut: 1. usual disclaimer that I'm not a professional, just an amateur, and am doing this out of pure insanity -- if you want to discuss translation related things or have some corrections, my inbox is open and your thoughts are welcomed <3; 2. mild trigger warnings for (time appropriate): strongly implied slut shaming and more vague possibly mysoginistic remarks made by Smerdjakov about Grušen’ka -- i feel like Smerdjakov himself is sometimes made to fit into the evil gay "advisor" stereotype and that might not be everyone's cup of tea -- while I don't think these bits take anything away from the writing and actually contribute to paint a more vivid picture of the society and the time the work is set in, we must keep in mind that this is a 1969 adaptation of a 1860s novel and that there are things about it that might squick some nowdays; 3. I'm actually really sorry that this took me so long to finish, I've had the dialogues written down and a rough sketch of the translation sitting around for months and polishing it turned out to be an harder task that what I thought it would be. There's still some sentences I'm not 100% sure about, but done in this case is better than perfect, and it doesn't matter how much I mourn the formal you in english, I gotta learn to work without it; 4. that said, this time I relied in a couple of scene on a lot more stage directions than last time, I felt that some more prominent acting/staging choices, especially in the Ivan & Smerdjakov bit, were important enough to warrant a description -- Katja and Dmitrij's interaction I feel instead it relies on more subtle choices for its effect, that are harder to describe, especially on Katja's side, so left it more barebones to give the dialogue more space (so you should watch it to get the full effect, wink wink nudge nudge); 5. enjoy the insanity <33

Interpreters: Umberto Orsini as Ivan Karamazov, Antonio Salines as Smerdjakov, Neda Naldi as M. Chochlakova, Maria Grazia Antonini as Lisa Chochlakova, Carla Gravina as Katerina Ivanovna and Corrado Pani as Dmitrij Karamazov.

Original script by Diego Fabbri, directed by Sandro Bolchi.

You can follow watch the drama here on YT or here on RaiPlay -- I suggest the latter, it's free and it's the original source, but youtube's still there if you prefer.

[INT. – AT THE KARAMAZOV’S/IVAN’S ROOM] min. 14:19

(Ivan snaps his fingers from behind a screen – Smerdjakov enters: he’s here to help Ivan get dressed)

Smerdjakov: (with a servile tone – to keep in mind for all his dialogues: he never drops it) I’m not allowed to say certain things, as I’m just a servant who should only thank his master’s benevolence, but if I may risk a word it’s only because I’m devoted to you, Ivan Fëdorovič…

Ivan: (with a harsh tone – emphasis on devoted; he keeps up the commanding/angry tone until stated otherwise) I sincerely don’t understand why you should be devoted to me! – As you put it.

Smerdjakov: I like to hear you talk, Ivan Fëdorovič… when you’re arguing, downstairs, with your father–

Ivan: That’s rare!

Smerdjakov: (cont. – must note: as Smerdjakov is helping Ivan button the back of his waistcoat, they are talking in front of a mirror and the last piece of this line is spoken while they’re both looking at their reflection) Well, those times I… I never miss a word. Sometimes I even hide, I must confess, to not lose the flow of the conversation… and I can say that you don’t converse: you reason.

Ivan: Is the frac ready? – Did you iron the frac?!

Smerdjakov: Ironed, Ivan Fëdorovič: I overlooked the ironing myself because I don’t trust that muddler, Marfa, nor that hick Grigorj.

Ivan: (amused/sardonic – he’s putting on the cuntiest little round glasses) What is it – what would you have told me if you were allowed to speak freely?

Smerdjakov: Well, now maybe… I wouldn’t dare…

Ivan: You’re allowed! And don’t make me beg you…(grabs Smerdjakov by his hair and pulls him close) you’re cunning.

Smerdjakov: But maybe you already know, Ivan Fëdorovič–

Ivan: What should I know? (he releases Smerdjakov)

Smerdjakov: Dmitrij’s new sudden infatuation for Agrafena Aleksandrovna… they’re talking about it, in town, because Agrafena Aleksandrovna – Grušen’ka, you understand? – she has her own history, and those who have their own history are on everyone’s lips.

Ivan: It’ll be my brother Dmitrij’s usual whim.

Smerdjakov: Well… It may be something more. Certainly something different.

Ivan: Dmitrij has a fiancée.

Smerdjakov: The noble miss Katerina Ivanovna.

Ivan: (with a softer tone, almost dreamily, clearly he’s thinking about Katja) …and there is not a girl more fine nor fascinating – (back to the harsh tone; note that after this rise he softens a bit) so?!

Smerdjakov: And who might say the contrary… but this Grušen’ka, as those who know her say, looks like she might have other… other requirements. I’ve told you she has a history and, for a man as intelligent as you are, it’s all said.

Ivan: (laughs) The shoes – get the bone shoe horn, the long one.

Smerdjakov: (kneeling to put the shoes on Ivan, who is sitting on the bed) And then there’s more that’s riling Dmitrij up, there’s almost a challenge.

Ivan: The gossiper that you are…

Smerdjakov: (laughs) If it were gossip, I wouldn’t speak, Ivan Fëdorovič, but I can always stop here, if you prefer.

Ivan: And speak, then, say what you want to say.

Smerdjakov: For… this Grušen’ka has, how can I say it – given his age, fallen in love is a kind term, is it? – the master fell for her, too.

Ivan: What master?

Smerdjakov: (Smerdjakov looks up to Ivan) Ours – (he looks at the shoe he’s putting on Ivan) mine. Fëdor Pavlovič, you father, sir. (laughs) He’s fallen madly in love!

Ivan: (as he kicks Smerdjakov away, sending him sprawling on the ground) You’re a reptile!

Smerdjakov: I swear on everything I believe that this is the truth!

Ivan: And since you don’t believe in anything, you perjure!

Smerdjakov: (as he gets up to his feet) I guarantee you, Ivan Fëdorovič – the master confided in me, and I already had to run some tasks for him at that lady’s… I don’t badmouth: I confide in you, if you allow me, of course… Fëdor Pavlovič, despite his age, is gone for her to the point he even wishes to marry her – (reaching for Ivan) to this, we’ve come!

Ivan: (he gets up, puts distance between him and Smerdjakov again) Do the two know?

Smerdjakov: The two? – you mean, the father and the son? (as he gets Ivan’s frac and helps him wear it) I believe so, and this is, I think, the true reason for the hatred: no more the heritage. And it’s not yet said that the older one won’t have it his way, Dmitrij’s impetus notwithstanding – and I find him a handsome young man, a young man who should be liked, on the contrary: who is liked, undoubtedly; but this time, in this challenge, eh!, who knows? Because it looks like this Grušen’ka lights, how can I say, lights the amorous fantasy in more mature… elderly men; it’s one of her particularities, they say.

Ivan: (angry) Stop it! – (then, distraught) I have no more need for you, I’m ready.

Smerdjakov: The coat is downstairs, in the wardrobe. I’m sorry I upset you, Ivan Fëdorovič.

Ivan: (still distraught, upset) I’m only thinking about poor Katerina Ivanovna; ignorant, I suppose… (he scratches at the door frame with his fingernails) that upsets me.

*

[INT. – AT KATERINA IVANOVNA’S/BALLROOM] min. 19:52

(the scene opens with the camera following a waiter carrying a teacups tray through a moderately crowded ballroom; he stops by M. Chochlakova and Lisa)

Waiter: Please, madame.

M. Chochlakova: (takes one of the offered teacups) Thank you.

Waiter: Some tea, miss?

(Lisa shakes her head; the camera returns to following the movement of the waiter amongst Katja’s guests, until he passes by Katerina herself and Ivan and focuses on them – note: Ivan isn’t wearing his cunty glasses anymore, but he’s cuntily holding a cigarette)

Ivan: Yes, I am… I am worried for Dmitrij, the argument with my father over that damned heritage is exasperating him: he withdraws, he hides; we can’t find him for days and days. Do you see him?

Katja: I was hoping to have him with us today, I had a note delivered to his domicile but… who knows if he’ll show up. However, you don’t have to worry so, Ivan Fëdorovič: I know Dmitrij, I know what is troubling him at this moment. We need to let his agitation placate naturally. Why did he target his father so intensely – because now he needs money and he doesn’t have any, and he’s so proud he won’t borrow from anyone: and so he gets exasperated.

Ivan: So you think, Katerina Ivanovna, that money might pacify him.

Katja: No, it’s not the money that gives him peace. Dmitrij is the most generous man I have ever known, money obsesses him only because it lets him act fully free.

Ivan: (smiles) Mh, I admire your intelligence and your… extraordinary lucidity; I did not think that a woman in love could see with such clarity the man she loves.

Katja: I believe it is love that makes me see so clearly, for Mitja’s sake. I know the situation I find myself in.

Ivan: Do you know about… the news, too?

Katja: I know the news, too. (she spots Dmitrij, who just entered) There he is! (she turns back to Ivan, their faces are very close) He came.

(the camera cuts to Dmitrij, standing very still; at Katja’s aunt’s call he comes towards her and kisses her hand) 

Katja’s aunt: Dmitrij Fëdorovič, don’t pretend to be a statue, come closer!

Lisa: I hoped you would bring along your brother Alëša…

Dmitrij: Don’t you know he walks a different path than us? And he’s serious about it, my little brother – he’s not like us, he doesn’t mistake the devil for holy water (he spots Ivan and Katja sitting together) Anyway, I see another member of the Karamazov family already preceded me, and is already here.

(to Katja’s aunt) You really want us all, eh?

Katja’s aunt: We would really like to have you all – because you’re pleasant, you Karamazovs.

Katja: (she stands up and walks towards her aunt) Aunt, I’ll let you have him all for yourself later, but may I speak to him for a moment first?

Katja’s aunt: Youths and feelings’ rights, I’ve always respected.

Katja: Dmitrij Fëdorovič, if you’ll follow me. (she exits with Dmitrij following)

(the scene cuts off with a shot of Ivan pensively about to take a drag of his cigarette, he seems to be following Katja and Dmitrij with his gaze)

[INT. – AT KATERINA IVANOVNA’S/KATJA’S ROOM] min. 23:07

Katja: Come, Mitja, come.

Dmitrij: Will it be a long talk? Maybe an explanation?

Katja: (rummaging through a vanity) No. No, I just have a favour to ask you Mitja; you should send this parcel to Moscow for me, to my sister Agaf’ja Ivanovna. It’s not urgent but… you really must be the one doing it, Mitja, because no-one in the house should know.

Dmitrij: Would it be a secret, then?

Katja: There are three thousand rubles inside, my sister needs them, or her husband does, I didn’t understand very well. In any case, I’m sending them personally; there (she hands him the parcel) I told you you can do it at your leisure, then you’ll give me the receipt, but… it has to remain between us, understood?

Dmitrij: I’ll do it right now, I’ll bring you the receipt immediately – (he makes for a side door) can I leave from here? I’d rather not pass through the ballroom.

Katja: But why, Mitja, what are they going to say about this sudden escape?

Dmitrij: They’ll say… they’ll say you asked me to tend to an urgent and delicate matter. Isn’t it the truth, Katja? And then, you won’t be alone: someone from the family will keep you in good company – actually, I’m wondering, why didn’t you ask Ivan for this favour? He would’ve been happy to make himself useful.

Katja: What you’re saying isn’t worthy of you, Mitja. Maybe you don’t even really think it, but… you want to hurt me, I feel it.Dmitrij: Is there anything I’m not worthy of? What is it that’s not worthy of me? Come on, Katja, you know very well how low I can go. I’ll do what you asked me to, and without anyone knowing. (he leaves)

#the brothers karamazov #i fratelli karamazov #mitya karamazov #dmitri karamazov #ivan karamazov #katerina ivanovna verkhovtseva #pavel smerdyakov #sam.exe

[hotvinimon]

Symphony of date No. 10

Sawamura Daichi x Reader

Part 2

Plot : What's the best feeling you ever had ?? 4 times reader felt like having best feelings but one time, she was sure that this is the best feeling that she will cherish forever. A/N : Images are not mine. Credits to the owner. Likes, Comments and re-blogs are appreciated. Please don't steal my work. Enjoy ;) Warnings - English is my second language.

Master List

So, there you were, on your 10th date with Daichi, arriving fashionably late by 11 minutes (who's keeping tabs, right?). Well, apparently you are, marking each date on your secret calendar with red hearts and circles. It's like your own undercover mission!

You dressed up in that cute floral chiffon sundress, paired with your favorite handbag, feeling like a vision of elegance and grace. You were secretly hoping that this time Daichi would beat you to it. But, as luck would have it, he was the early bird of this romantic duo.

Then, the moment of intrigue arrived - you found Daichi, scrolling through Instagram, a habit he swore off. "Aha, someone's smitten," you teased him, watching him swoon over the photos from your past dates. Daichi, caught in the act, blushed like a ripe tomato.

In a sweet and almost cinematic move, he stood up and pulled your chair out, proving that chivalry was not yet extinct. You couldn't help but give him a little theatrical swoon and quip, "Thanks, Ichi, and they say chivalry is dead." You added a sly grin for that extra touch of charm.

The scene was set at a cozy, candlelit Italian restaurant, the kind of place where romance and dreams intertwine. The mood was perfect, and the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor each moment with Daichi.

The date was a feast for the senses. The garlic bread was like a fragrant invitation, the pasta dish a creamy delight, and the chocolate lava cake was, well, pure dessert heaven.

However, Daichi's behavior was intriguing and mysterious. He appeared a tad jittery, like he was drifting into a world of his own, and it left you puzzled. Was this the moment when he'd break the news? Your heart raced with curiosity.

Unable to hold back your inquisitive spirit any longer, you took a deep breath and decided to broach the subject. "Daichi," you began, "I've noticed something different in our recent dates. Is there something on your mind?"

Daichi snapped out of his daze, looking genuinely surprised. He cleared his throat, his eyes locking onto yours, and your heart felt like it skipped a beat. This had to be the moment of truth, right?

But Daichi had other plans. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he confessed, "I've been lost in thought, trying to find the right words."

Your heart sank - you were convinced this was the preamble to a heartbreaking revelation.

But then, Daichi took a deep breath and, with newfound determination, said, "I've been reflecting on our time together, and it's been nothing short of magical. You mean the world to me, and every second with you is a treasure."

There was tension in the air, but with another deep breath, Daichi mustered the courage to declare, "I want more than these wonderful dates, (Y/N). I want to make this official. Will you be my girlfriend?"

Your eyes widened, and your heart soared. It wasn't a breakup; it was a love declaration! Relief and euphoria washed over you like a dreamy, sun-kissed ocean.

Without a moment's hesitation, you beamed at Daichi and replied, "Yes, Daichi, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Daichi's face lit up like a constellation of stars, and he reached across the table to take your hand. The confusion of the day seemed to evaporate as you shared a dreamy, heartfelt moment, relieved and ecstatic about your newfound commitment.

The night continued with laughter, warmth, and the shared dreams of your future. It was undeniable that you were stepping into a thrilling new chapter of your relationship, where dreams and reality merged into a beautiful love story yet to be written.

With every passing moment, you realized that this could be the prelude to something magnificent, and that perhaps, the best feeling was yet to come.

V- Chan's Dilly Dally

Finally part 2 came. Next part will be sooner than this and I would do my best to complete this series before October, as won't be able to write in next 2.5 months due to my exams.

I'll do my best to update you guys with short drabbles and incorrect quotes.

Join me for taglist by commenting for the same

Love you all.

B-Bye

💗

#drabble #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #crack post #crack fic #daichi sawamura #daichi kawada #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #haikyuu daichi #hq daichi #daichi x y/n #daichi x you #haikyuu fluff #haiku #fiction #fan fiction #fan fic writing #fanfiction

[darkpoisonouslove]

I couldn’t decide whether to put these in alphabetical of numerical order, so I chose neither! Anyway, 11 for reluctant allies, 2 for CoL breakfast my beloved, 5 for domme AU, 9 for GxF enemies to lovers, and 10 for a WIP of your choosing 😊

Whatever works for you :D

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why? - reluctant allies AU

I'm going to have to go through a couple other scenes briefly first to explain the context of the one.

It's the portion of the story where Griffin is working with the Company but things are shaky with them because she and Valtor do have the habit of disappearing together (to make out) and things are shaky with Valtor because he feels that she's trying to earn the Company's trust way too hard. They are for once present in a battle with all of the other Company members and Valtor seizes his opportunity to kill Faragonda but Griffin saves her life and gets injured in the process. The Company extracts from there before anyone has a chance to react and Griffin heals slowly. The big development is that the Company now trust her because they are sure Valtor will never forgive her for what she did and she recognizes that fact as well so she has incentive to remain faithful to them and their cause.

Griffin sneaks out to meet Valtor and do damage control there. She explains to him that what she did wasn't out of remaining feelings of friendship for Faragonda but out of the necessity to earn the Company's trust. It's less trust in her than it is trust in his vindictiveness but if he remains mad at her now, he'll be doing exactly what they all expect of him. This is the perfect opportunity for him and Griffin to act without anyone suspecting them. Valtor concedes to her point but she can tell there's still indignation in him about her failing his plans to kill Faragonda. Still, they are on track with their plan so she'll have to deal with that later, when they've gotten what they're after.

However, when Griffin comes back to the Domino royal palace, Faragonda is waiting for her, fully aware of where exactly Griffin was. She is not fooled like the others and asks Griffin to leave. The argument pokes at Griffin's insecurities about her relationship with Valtor but she also figures out that Faragonda is hoping Griffin will leave because she herself cannot make herself expose her to the others and possibly put Griffin's life in danger. She still clings to her love for Griffin. Griffin uses that against Faragonda by pointing out (indirectly) that the situation with her and Valtor is the same. She challenges Faragonda to choose Hagen over her so as to lead by example. But if she does choose him and gives up on Griffin, how can she ask Griffin to choose her with a clean conscience? It's a Catch 22.

I can't wait to see people reacting to this purely for the angst factor. There's just so much juicy drama going on here and I want the readers to suffer with me. XD But this is also a really good representation of the balancing act Griffin (and Valtor but to a lesser degree) has to do to keep control of the situation. Plus, I feel that it really outlines the problems in Griffin and Valtor's relationship that will not be solved by them getting rid of the Company and the Coven, that they will have to consciously acknowledge first and work on to fix (not that I have any idea how I'm supposed to get them there but that is a hot topic in Griffin's mind).

2. How did you get the idea to write this? - CoL trying to have one normal breakfast

Because of this post that was in turn inspired by SotLK (I've written some context in the tags there). I just started thinking about the last line of the post and how they probably never had one single normal breakfast and I decided that it would be really funny if I wrote a fic about the guaranteed chaos that these people would cause while simply trying to eat breakfast and that's how the idea was born. And then I tried to figure out what would be best as chapter 1 and, of course, my brain turned to the gold mine of angst that Griffin's first breakfast with the Company has to be.

5. Is there any scene you're excited about writing? - Domme AU

All of them? This would be so much easier to answer if I had one single scene completely fleshed out in my head but as it is, there are still bits and pieces missing from the story as a whole and the characterization.

Anyway, to answer this, I am definitely excited about the scene where they discuss Griffin moving in with him because it's a complete accident. They were not trying to discuss that in the least bit. Valtor was being an ass by challenging her to "commit" to being the Domme by spending even more time with him at his apartment, which is causing some technical difficulties for Griffin. They have a fight about which one of them is more unwilling to spend their time together at her apartment and Griffin blurts out that it would be much more convenient if she were living with him. Before she can take it back, he invites her to actually do it (which she practically already has). He had reasons for not asking her himself but if she's the one suggesting it? He'll totally grab the opportunity. Griffin is not entirely sure this is a great idea but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about it (obsessively). They are so stupid, Your Honor.

9. Is there anything in the fic you're not so excited about writing? - Griffin x Faragonda Enemies to Lovers AU

If we don't count the fact that I'm still mad this is even a WiP and we don't count all the stuff that I have yet to come up with in order to actually complete the storyline, it'd have to be the transition between chapters 1 and 2. It's pretty much the beginning of ch 2 that's the problem because I have to summarize what's happening and at the same time I have to convey the emotional impact of that time so I don't love this mix. Especially because the end of ch 1 is supposed to be somewhat cathartic but that still doesn't change the fact that the circumstances are very much working against Griffin here and her emotions are conflicting at best if not downright depressing at worst despite the relief she might be feeling as well. I didn't really spend much time thinking that through when outlining it, though, so it might just be that I wasn't paying close attention to what emotional payoff/buildup needs to happen there. I'll definitely have to revise it.

10. If unpublished, can you show a sneak peek of what you've written?

Fallen Love is the only WiP that has any text not formatted like a script so I'm going to give you an excerpt from that. I have actually added more to it since last time!

She had forgotten there was another side to his power. Only the taste of his volatile spells that singed and curdled the breath in her lungs lay heavy and bitter like ash on her tongue, prickled her nose and eyes like acrid smoke. But his Dragon Fire caressed her skin from inside now like sun rays, light and warmth infusing her flesh to repair all damage. She moaned into his mouth, appreciation and greed tangled into the sound.

Valtor felt generous enough to reward her for it. His fingertips mapped out a path for the magic – all the way to another hidden bruise at her shoulder blade. He’d gleaned its existence from her movements alone.

A gasp broke her away from his lips. Her eyes snapped open to find his locked on them. There was a hair’s breadth of space separating them and it hurt worse than the brute force of a spell-charged body plowing into her but he wasn’t in a hurry to remedy that.

Instead, his thumb brushed over her lips to erase even the cracks the cold had carved into them. A single blemish left on her–from the most indirect of spells the Coven had cast–was yet another reminder that she’d left his side. They wouldn’t have dared to touch her otherwise. He would have killed all of them for simply looking at her wrong.

She could let herself be flattered, leave herself to the arousal of being worshiped in blood – like a goddess. Now that she was dry again, the slickness dripping down her thighs was cutting, a flood that would have swept her away if not for the tear stains on her cheeks he’d missed. It would have cost him nothing to sacrifice the whole world to her but the blood she had spilled, the blood that had stained her hands and the inside of her mind had meant something. She could fight her own battles.

She reached for his vest, unsteady hands feeling up the way to the clasps. The metal yielded instantaneously, practically breaking under her touch. It would have easily melted in the whirl of swift, sizzling spells that he’d known he’d be walking into. It was too frail to be anything but a mockery.

Battles between them had been more frantic–lethal–during the last months, with more blood shed and more scars left that time and magic couldn’t erase. Enchanted armor had become daily wear, a habit even he had adopted. He had changed before he’d come to find her, when the threat had been neutralized, and it hadn’t been enough. He had to twist the knife further, make a show of how untouchable he was to her magic and any desire she kindled inside him. He could afford to help her when she wasn’t in the state of mind to make use of either.

Her fingers curled, hooked themselves into the silk of his shirt and phased right through it. Her nails dug flaming scratches into the skin underneath, revealed further by the fraying fabric. Strips of it shed off his torso and withered into nothing midfall. The raining buttons never hit the floor, instead dissolved into the waves of her magic splashing against the walls. Any other piece of clothing obstructing her access to his naked body would share the same fate. Nothing would come between their skin until she allowed it.

She had assumed he’d heal the angry red lines she left in her wake. A strangled grunt escaped her when his power lodged itself between her ribs, burrowed into the scar tissue there to stitch the old wound anew until there was no trace left of it.

She could have done that herself. It had been a deep but not fatal injury. Received in a battle entirely removed from Valtor and the Coven. Sometimes the seemingly unconnected thefts over the dimension happened to be just that – independent magic users seeing an opportunity in the rising panic and finger pointing. The sorceress she’d faced had breached her armor and had paid for her overzealousness with a life sentence. Griffin had kept the scar as a reminder of the change not just in her affiliations, but in her purpose as well.

In the blink of an eye, it was gone and Valtor’s fingers traced the next one.

P.S. I am going to include this here for absolutely no reason at all:

#winx club #griffin x valtor #winx griffin #winx valtor #winx faragonda #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans #fanfic snippet #snippet #excerpt #reluctant allies au #col trying to have one normal breakfast #domme au #griffin x faragonda enemies to lovers au #fallen love #apparently i've reblogged this ask game before #3 months ago precisely but hey it's a way to see what progress i've made *sweats nervously*

[juneviews]

axelle judges non bl shows > To The Moon and Back

/!\ SPOILERS AHEAD

summary: Matalada is a naive and kind girl who was raised by a community of queer drag queens. When she meets Pennueng, a doctor who was raised to be nothing but perfect his whole life, sparks flies and opposites do, as always, attract.

where to watch: dramacool

grade: 8,5/10

pros:

this story was so fucking down my alley, bro. minimal drama and pure character development & analysis for 21 episodes? sign me the fuck up!!! the themes were so beautiful, about forgiveness & growth, chosen family & kindness always winning... I ATE THAT SHIT UPPP!!! such a heartwarming & honestly important lakorn for choosing depth above drama.

this is the least toxic lakorn couple I've ever seen, apart from maybe the one in to me, it's simply you which I also loved! they just truly love & respect each other and were written incredibly well. even though they're vanilla af, I didn't get bored at all?? LOVE THEM!

bruh, the characters!!! truly the first time in a lakorn where I truly love not only the main characters, but the entire cast. pennueng is so fucking soft, mata is legit the queen of my heart, trichat owns me entirely and is one of the most complex & interesting ever in my eyes, pang was also super complex & badass, and matalada's entire family????? are my family now. I absolutely adored them, and it was by far one of the best queer representation in lakorns!

the chemistry was beyond incredible! the main ship is perfect & truly feel like soulmates, and the side ship was SO HOT & iconic together, I was stanning! two different vibes but they both ATE!

the acting was PERFECT! everyone did an amazing role, james jirayu perfect in the role of the sad & stilted doctor, toey jarinporn impressed me so much for the first role I've seen her in, she was perfect for mata & absolutely made this role hers, the pang actress was great, I loved seeing the dad actor in a queer role, he honestly ate, the aunt vee actress ATE, especially considering it's her first role ever, the grandma??? fucked me up, I cried so much in her scenes lol. but the one who impressed me the most is ryu wachirawich. I only knew him from 9x9, but BITCHHHHH. he absolutely BODIED trichat & made him his in a way that has made me an immediate stan even though it usually takes me 2 to 3 roles to stan someone! he was so good & I'm looking forward to his next roles!

cons:

I was so confused by trichat ending up with riri. while I liked them together & they had been built up to have some tension since their first meeting... obviously trichat & pang should've ended up together??? in fact, I was certain they did??? didn't they mend things together & go on a double date with the main couple??? that whole thing was so confusing bc tri & pang had been far more developed and also built up to be soulmates like the main ship, so I was so disappointed by this choice of ending. ESPECIALLY since riri is canonically queer & used to like mata, so I wish we'd have seen her end up with a girlfriend, which would've added to the representation of the show.

similarly, I think the whole tri x pang storyline was made overly complicated for no reason. what was actually my favorite ship of the two quickly became a bit slow & repetitive after a while, and I believe they could've conveyed the same type of story better.

I wish we'd have seen at least one queer character get a love interest. this lakorn focuses more on the 'identity' aspect of queerness rather than the 'sexuality' aspect, which I found very interesting & worth exploring, but considering half of the characters are queer & they're basically the only ones ending up single feels kinda weird. just something they could've improved.

would I rewatch it: yes!

It was honestly such a joy to watch a lakorn where the couple is not toxic, people's decisions make sense most of the time & that actually created realistic and beautiful characters, not caricatures. I loved every moment of it! I cried, I laughed, I screamed... definitely one of the best lakorns out there & truly such a gem to watch!

#axelle judges non bl shows #to the moon and back #matalada

[professor-rye]

10, 20, 30, 40 for the weird writer asks!

Thank you for sending me some questions! Apologies in advance for how much I ended up rambling 😅

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Oh gosh. Definitely Dapple. I was worried that I wouldn’t finish the very beginning idea I had (which ended up just being act 1), so I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when not only did I finish that, but then it kept going… and going… *and going.* I’ve always been good at coming up with ideas for long fics, but never before (or since) have I ever been able to actually *stick* with writing them, let alone so consistently. For some reason, for Dapple, my ADHD brain said “This is your life now and you are addicted”. It literally was what kept me on this earth for a while there. It unironically saved my life. And then it just… disappeared. 

My brain no longer wanted to think about it, and it was only habit keeping me going for a while there. I pushed past that point way too far and got burnt out, and I’m still waiting, desperately hoping, that the floodgates will open again. And not just because I want to finish it, mind you. Like I said, writing and posting dapple did so much good for me. It was a safe harbor in a storm. It helped me process some of the worst traumas in my life. It got me *so many friends*. I can not express enough how much I miss it. …. Gods, okay, that got way deeper than I intended. Apologies! Gods… well uh, on to the next question!

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

Well, after the last question, I think the answer is probably obvious lol. No question at all, I would pick to perfectly finish Dapple (Gods, and if that also let me get the sequel idea I had as well?? And also all the side fics??? Shit I would sell my soul for that). (It also doesn’t help that I am ace and have trouble contemplating the idea of magically gifted eternal happiness, so like… it was just very stacked in Dapple’s favor already)

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

So, its kind of complicated? I am very much so that writer who just daydreams about fic ideas as I lay down to sleep every night, so there is a very hazy period during the in between where sometimes I’ll get ideas that I can actually remember the next morning.

But I don’t think they’re actual dreams, because my normal dreams tend to be a) incredibly stressful and b) about the most boring stuff imaginable, which is quite the combo. 

But I will say that the pre-sleep daydreaming feels so different from any other actual plotting that I do. It’s very… gods, how do you describe this… 

There’s a thing I learned in art school where you step away from your composition and squint till you can only see the hazy outlines of the different elements of the work. Or like when they tell you to turn the painting upside down for a bit to see what isn’t working. The pre-sleep daydreaming always involves reimagining the scenes I had already thought about during more lucid moments, but looking at the broader strokes and the pure emotion of it (because sleepy). 

So most of the “ideas” I got from those moments were realizations that certain elements didn’t quite work the way I wanted them to, and then once I was actually lucid, I could think back on it and then (sometimes) realize a better way to handle that particular part. 

So… yeah? It’s hard to say if that counts as dreams specifically, but it’s also a really big part of my writing… existence? Process feels weird to say there lol. But yeah, it felt relevant to share. 

Gods, I’m rambling again. Last question! 

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(not me taking several days to find this poem because my memory is terrible and I kept mixing up the line I was searching)

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. ~ Mary Oliver

So yeah, if anyone else wants to send questions, here is the original question list post thingy. I will try not to ramble quite so much next time 😅

#my writing #writer ask game #dappled shadow and penumbral light #fan fiction writing

[nayruwu]

I saw your ca16 post & it's so true I hate reading ca16 because how shinya was treated kagami wrote such an interesting character with fun personality & ideals but put him in back burner like give him one chapter about his backstory that follows up with story but nothing??? It was so insane like that poor kid went through so much & it's for nothing like why did you even mention that?? I thought it will be explored or there will be some reason but at end of day it was about how perfect pure beautiful mahiru is so all those death & suffering is justified the fuck with that & not even gonna talk about girly treating him as if he owes her little miss your family ruined his life what was with that attitude like??? Shinya was really kags middle child but I feel like if he was written like guren kureto or mahiru I would've hated his ass. Rant over I needed this off my chest sorry.

yeah, he's... well.

i don't actually notice this that much while reading the novels, because it is mostly from guren's perspective and he has, like, a million different things going on. he's got 99 problems and a bitch is 97 of them. it's when you're done that you think, hey, what about shinya?

i fully believe it didn't cross the author's mind at all that acknowledging shinya's fucked-up'ness would be something worth writing about, because it's just... not important to the plot.

but he also accidentally made him not only a lovable but also extremely interesting character, so the fact that there are so many missed opportunities to tell us more about him or develop his friendship with guren to a more balanced level just feels bad. he spends so much energy on guiding and checking up on guren but no one ever really thinks to check up on him, lol.

even if it is guren's story, all shinya gets is "god i fucking hate myself" - "wow guren is so great amazing better than me omg" - *dies horribly* like WOW. thanks! there are many things i would have liked to go differently in their relationship and it starts right at their first meeting. not sure if y'all would like to hear.

in the end he's just here to support guren's story and we are all clowns that got attached to the wrong doormat. it is a very intricately woven doormat though, so i won't be leaving.

i'm not gonna talk about mahiru again but i will say that what her family did to shinya wasn't her fault, and i personally don't really mind the way she acted towards him in that scene! but the fact that it focused on her so much really annoyed me.

#sorry this took so long to answer but i have... a few asks in there so i got overwhelmed lol #do u guys want a how to lunaify gureshin post #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #shinya hiiragi #i have said this before but i feel like shinya kind of shines through the pages #as in many things we love about him are never actually said #you have to take the little shiny scraps you get and piece them together into a little moon.

[neixins]

yona of the dawn ofc :3

help i typed up whole paragraphs and then my browser crashed and none of it got saved 😭 i won’t be stopped though!

My rating (1-10): if it ends the way i think (hope) it will 10/10 no notes perfect historical fantasy shoujo series <3 if it doesn’t i hope we all explode

My favourite character: predictable answer but yona really is THEE protagonist of all time. she’s such a vibrant character even before she begins her journey and seeing her grow throughout the series is just so !!!! she cares so much and is ready to do anything to protect everyone and she’s clever and kind of insane but also silly and i love her so much!! also honorable mention to my special little guy gija <3 i adore his relentless optimism and how No Rational Thoughts Only Emotions And Actions he is 99% of the time. also he’s just so relatable To Me when he’s in poor little guy mode. i adore the entire hhb though, and so so so many of the side characters. they’re all just so well-written, it’s impossible not to love them

My least favourite character: probably chagol, mostly bc i keep seeing theories about how he’s not really dead and blah blah blah (in the famous words of kesha) and i’m sick of it. he’s a good villain and while i believe kusanagi could pull off his resurrection well if she so chose, as a meinyan fan, i LIKE that her abuser died so unceremoniously. let him rot, i say! even if he does get resurrected he’ll always be Just Some Gross Loser Guy to me

The character I think I'd be friends with: gija :) we’d get along so well on account of The Neuroses and The Only Child-isms

The character I think I won't hit off with: keishuk doesn’t seem like someone who’d appreciate my whimsy tbh

My favourite episode/scene: (don’t say gijaeha love potion shenanigans don’t say gijaeha love potion shenanigans) trying to pick One Scene in a 40+ volume series pains me so i’m gonna cheat and pick five (in no particular order) :3 (1) this scene from ch 163. all the hakyona scenes are so fucking good but this one’s just so so so sweet and i think about it all the time + it encapsulates so many elements of their relationship that i love, mainly how deeply they care about each other and help each other grow (where’s the post about austenian romance as a mechanism for self-actualization…), but also how goofy hak acts when he wants to cheer yona up

(2) yona getting the south kai envoys to admit to the shit they’ve been doing in kohka and then going “okie dokie now let’s get this meeting started shall we :)” she’s an icon and a legend <3 (3) gija in ch 252. absolutely devastating chapter and i need my guys back posthaste but OHHHH!!!!!!! i have so many thoughts about gija and monstrousness but i’m just gonna link to this post lest i go on too many tangents again…. (4) the hot springs chapter of course OF COURSE what kind of gijaeha enthusiast would i be if i didn’t bring that chapter up. it’s one of the most crucial chapters for the development of their relationship and it so perfectly captures how different yet similar they are + getting to see so much of jaeha’s thoughts on page really helps contextualize a lot of his actions in general (also i find his tendency to overanalyze and act on his assumptions instead of just. talking to the guy who’s been nothing if not remarkably earnest from day one lest he accidentally makes the situation worse to be both very endearing and very funny). (5) the “he’s stronger than i am” moment in ch 168. actually that whole battle scene Fucks Severely on so many levels but that!!!! line!!!!!! it makes me so crazy like. jaeha’s not just trying to stall for time, he genuinely thinks gija’s stronger than him (“from good morning to good night” bonus chapter) but like. looking at it purely physically they Are equals. but gija doesn’t hold back like jaeha does (ch 75, ch 170) and also it’s clear from the hot springs chapter that jaeha admires gija for not letting himself get shackled by his past (even though he’s Literally Being Haunted). also the moment right before that, when jaeha fucking. obliterates the bow of the soldier who tries to shoot gija (he’s doing SUCH a good job pretending that they’re enemies btw) is soooOOUGHHH like jaeha doesn’t get angry often but he’s FURIOUS in that moment and it’s so delicious (i think it’s the “let’s deliver him as a gift to lord kuelbo” part specifically that gets to him bc like gija can dodge one (1) arrow just fine without help but he risked the whole plan—) (getting vaudeville hooked off the stage) wait i lied :) (6) the blue forest mini arc is soooo good and so dear to me i HAVE to mention it!! it really showcases how caring sinha is + there’s also the lore drops about ghosts and the hakyona/gijaeha parallels, both of which make me wanna explode <3

Whose clothing style I like best: jaeha. the slutty little crop top wins by a landslide <3 i wish we got to see it more often (wistful sigh)

Times I watched it (and if I would again): once all the way through but i’ve reread parts of it many times for fic research and while theorizing. i definitely wanna reread it front to back though, all the parallels and foreshadowing make it so perfect for rereads

#there’s something wrong with me teehee <3 #thank u for giving me this wonderful opportunity to ramble 🥰 #asks #akayona

[alienelvisobsession]

Thirst Watch #1: “King Creole”

Semi-serious thoughts on the first Elvis movie I ever saw.

“If you’re looking for trouble… you came to the right place” It’s sort of a musical noir. I can’t think of another movie that combines these two genres, but it’s a great idea. More of this please! I’m a big fan of film noir, so I really liked the gritty themes and the shadows in the night scenes. Some of the shots on location were very charming and New Orleans is beautiful.

Danny’s character was written for James Dean, but it’s perfect for Elvis as well. They both straddle that bad boy/good boy line so well, but the resolution to that conflict is a tricky thing to accomplish.

The excuses for Elvis to sing at the beginning are a bit ridiculous, but the songs are great. Craaaaaaaaawfiiiiiiiiish…

Elvis pierces the screen with his charisma, but when he starts singing it’s pure magic. His acting is still a bit stiff here and there in the dialogues, but in the scene where he’s in the hospital and he has to cry I thought he was good!

I love that thing he does with his hands when he first starts singing “Trouble” and he’s a bit nervous. Also when he asks Nellie out and he stutters a little. 🥰

Carolyn Jones who played Morticia in “The Addams Family” is fantastic in her role of a pseudo femme fatale. I loved that old 60s TV show: as a child I used to watch old reruns of it all the time. She throws herself at the feet of flunk-boy Danny so soon, OMG, ahahahahah, so embarrassing, but understandable! He’s so damn cute! KING OF FLOPPY HAIR! 👑

I love all the silly faces Elvis makes in the movie, especially when he sings. So rare to see such a beautiful man doing that. They’re usually too busy trying to look hot, but not him! He was such a goof! 🤩

When Morticia drops Elvis at school, she wants to be kissed. I didn’t understand at first that she was a prostitute. His classmates make fun of him and it bothers him so much that he has to punch one of them. A bit exaggerated, but OK, they have to show that Danny can throw a punch or two.

Why on earth did they cut “Hard Headed Woman” from the movie? That song slaps. 🎸

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER When Elvis brings the other girl directly to the hotel room…. 🤦🏼‍♀️ Are you dumb, EP? Couldn’t you see that she’s a like a church girl? Nellie is kind of a meh character anyway and I didn’t care for her or for the cop-out ending where Danny is like “well, I’m not sure what I want to be”…

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER I think I would have preferred if Danny had ended up with Ronnie (Morticia) in the end. Also, now I’m imagining a parallel universe where Elvis Presley guest stars in “The Addams Family” and tries to woo Morticia while Gomez tries to chase him away! Look at that kiss! 🔥

You can totally see that Elvis is not really strumming the chords of his guitar, punching or stabbing anybody, lmao, it’s so obvious.🤦🏼‍♀️

Overall, pretty good movie, directed by Michael Curtiz who made “Casablanca”, but I bet the script has been touched upon by executives. I’d be curious to know how the novel ends. The music is great, I have listened to the soundtrack many times. ELVIS IS FREAKING HOT, BUT WE KNOW THAT ALREADY!

#elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #king creole #film review #film noir #morticia addams #gomez and morticia #1950s movies #1950s music #golden age of hollywood #classic film #movies #Elvis #elvis songs #elvis photos #if you’re looking for trouble #elvis movies

[rinwellisathing]

Here it is, my Durgetash fic. Please be gentle, I haven't written fanfiction in a very long time.

Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Dark Urge

Blood ran down the vial's sides in delicate rivulets like fine wine in a tasting glass. Mismatched eyes narrowed at the sight and a discerning frown became a look of pure joy. Yes, this would do. This was the perfect shade to complete the piece.

“Yes, yes, this is the color I wanted. You see, Sceleritas? You never have to settle or make do where art is concerned. Really, you shouldn't. It makes a sub par piece.” The young man smirked, capping the vial and slipping it carefully into a leather holder at his waist.

“As you say, young master. Your work is always most brilliant!” The diminutive fiend cooed, clasping his hands together and grinning wickedly. “But what of the rest of him? Your sculpture garden is due for a new piece soon, is it not?”

The cloaked man thought for a minute, a clawed finger tapping at his smooth chin thoughtfully. For a moment, he screwed up his face and furrowed his brows thoughtfully as though mulling it over and then clapped his hands together. “ Inspiration has struck, I'll need the spine, the rib cage, and some of that fancy iron he's got there. It's evocative, yeah?”

“Your expert eye never ceases to amaze, oh wicked one.” The butler clapped and set about opening up a surgical kit.

The two were interrupted by approaching footsteps and then a quick, rapid knock at the door. “Josef, I trust you didn't forget our arrangement...or, indeed, the deadline.”

“Fuck. Who the hells could that be? He's fully disrupted my process.” The cloaked man pouted. With a burdened sigh, he stood and pulled his hood up. “Well, with any luck this dumb bastard will have more useful parts. After all, waste not, want not.”

“Oh, you are the ever the optimist, young master.” Sceleritas replied, slipping into the darkness as his master did the same.

The door creaked open and a pair of fine boots crossed the threshhold of the dusty workship, the flow of an elegant coat, masterfully sewn and painstakingly ornamented. The figure wearing them hardly fit the costume. Disheveled but in an almost intentional way. He was flanked by two large figures in nondescript mercenary gear bearing heavy weapons. That didn't bother the young man, he liked a challenge. He was assessing the best way to make his entrance, when he noticed the man's eyes fell on the corpse of the unfortunate blacksmith. He made a motion to his men and knelt down to examine the corpse.

This act spurred the killer to rash action. “Hey! Hey that's mine! Don't mess with it, you'll ruin my entire vision!” He glided from the shadows, hurrying over to the scene before him. “Just who do you think you are, impeding art?”

The well dressed man looked up at the cloaked figure and then chuckled, rising to face him. “Well, it seems you aren't just a frightening bed time story then....The Executioner, I presume?”

“Hmmph. So you've heard of my work.” The cloaked figure lowered his hood. “And you're that arms dealer then...word among my brethren is you're also a Bane worshipper.” He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his hips, sizing up the would be tyrant.

The well dressed figure looked taken aback for only a moment and then recovered with a smooth, winning smile. “Enver Gortash, at your service young man.” Gortash observed the face of Bhaal's Chosen for perhaps a moment longer than he meant to. He was young, boyish almost. Handsome with smooth pale skin but for an angry red burn across his face at an angle. Black angular tattoos marked his skin and his eyes were mismatched, one bright blue and the other a vivid violet. A tumble of silver hair was brushed carelessly to one side, disheveled and asymetric, and a pair of golden horns curved up from his forehead. A tiefling. A lovely one.

“Well, Enver Gortash, I'd say I'm sorry about your business partner but I'm really not. Mind if I take my materials and go?” The Executioner smirked, pointing down at the corpse.

Enver couldn't help but apreciate the audacity of the younger man but he nodded and gestured for the boy to take what he wished, stepping back. “Oh, but...the iron is mine. I'm afraid I won't part with such valuable material, even for an artist of such renown.”

The Executioner rolled his eyes and blew out his lips in exasperation. “Ugh...so precious over some stupid metal....Fine. I'd have to waste more time here melting it down anyway probably....I assume...not really my usual medium anyway...” He snapped his fingers and Sceleritas scuttled from the shadows, returning to collecting the pieces of the discarded blacksmith.

Gortash watched as the tiefling and his servant exited the shop, The Executioner's long tail swishing elegantly behind him as he moved. The Tyrant had to admit, he was interested. The young man had captured his interest like no one he'd seen before. There was a magnetism about him and the flippant way he'd behaved towards a potential threat, that awakened a hunger.

'My dear Executioner,

Your art is sublime, museum quality to be sure. Do you know what should not rot away in a dusty museum, however? Artifacts of your proud Bhaalist heritage, dear boy. I have it on good authority that some ancestral torture devices and, indeed, many other evocative horrors are being housed at the city's Hall of Wonders, where any imbecile with enough coin can view them. It seems unfair, my friend, that such things should be accessible to the unwashed masses, does it not? I'd be happy to offer my assistance in the matter of their recovery, rest assured, an evening in your company would be worth the effort.

Yours,

Enver Gortash.'

“Huh....Didn't know about that, Sceleritas. Seems our intel is getting sloppy.” The Executioner cocked an arched eyebrow and frowned slightly. “And anyway, he is right at least, how dare they display our history to those who would see it destroyed, defanged....de....de...” He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose, thinking for a moment.

“Despoiled?” Offered a sultry, pleasant female voice as a hauntingly beautiful elven woman with long straight black hair and deep lapis, almost obsidian eyes carefully combed her hair in front of a cracked and bloodied mirror nearby.

“Decommissioned?” The sound of a knife burying itself in the wall as a grey haired drow lazily palmed another and took aim, violet eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“Defiled?” A tall indigo skinned female tiefling sighed, adjusting a stack of discarded limbs atop a work bench.

“Yeah, all of those. Yes.” He clapped his hands together. “So, I should go, right? I mean, we need to get these things back. Besides, this guy could be useful. He's some important noble or something anyway.”

“The writing is flirtatious, little princeling.” The elf cooed, standing up and delicately claiming the paper, a well manicured fingernail sharp as a claw following the words. “I bet his affections could be quite advantageous! Besides, there must have been a reason you didn't simply kill him upon your first encounter, saving the best for last? Preserving a prime specimen for a later date?”

The Executioner shifted awkwardly, trying to force down the blood rushing to his face. “No, I was just really tired and I had a really good idea for an art piece I needed to get home and finish. Besides, killing someone that important in the middle of a blacksmith shop would be bad for business, bring those Flaming Fist ass holes down on us and no one wants that. No matter what Orin and her idiot recruits think. Quality over quantity. Our murders have meaning...” He grinned, eyes widening. “Fuck, that's a good one! 'Our Murders Have Meaning'” He spread his hands. “Should we have pamphlets like that? You know, to weed out the slack jawed dregs who've been trying to join up lately?”

“Death is death, you little dope.” The drow growled, rolling onto his side. “How in the hells are you father's chosen?”

“Cause he made me special. Everyone knows that. Get on board, Jackal, or have fun going back to that asylum room.” The young tiefling rolled his eyes. “You need to learn some respect.” And with that, he turned and made his way to the back of the temple. “Anyway, I need to compose a response. I'll be in my chambers.” The door to the bedroom shut behind him, leaving his subordinates alone.

“I hate that prissy little brat.” Another knife sank into the wall, this time beside the door as the drow sat up, glaring after the tiefling.

“He is father's chosen. He will lead us in glorious slaughter and it will be beautiful. You're only jealous it isn't you.” The impossibly beautiful elf giggled, returning to her preening at the mirror.

“Brat or not, as his protector if you cause him any problem, you'll find yourself at the wrong end of my scythe, Jackal. And I promise you, your death will be pitiful.” The female tiefling stood to her full height, haunting eyes staring down the smaller man.

“The young master is not only of Bhaal's own flesh, but also a prodigy. To disrespect him is to disrespect your dear father and you know he would not abide that, sir Silk.” Sceleritas smirked nastily as he set about tidying the room. “It is best to follow his instructions. Or end up training would be assassins, like Orin. I hear they're quite unbearable.”

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