#// finding a border i like for my muses is a challenge \\
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TITANIC: BLOOD AND STEEL (EPISODES 1-6)
SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE DIALOGUE IN THE PERIOD DRAMA TITANIC: BLOOD AND STEEL, a twelve-episode miniseries about the construction of the RMS Titanic in Belfast.
CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.
SPECIFY muse for multimuses.
EPISODE ONE: A CITY DIVIDED
“ I'd like to introduce someone to you. ”
“ You are venturing into the unknown, sir. ”
“ It's not arrogant if it's true. ”
“ I don't care what he is, right? You leave him alone. ”
“ I believe we have an appointment. ”
“ Could you explain precisely what you would offer, why your contribution is so necessary? ”
“ We stand at the border where our ambition shall outstrip our technology. ”
“ You are in uncharted territory. ”
“ And you — you feel yourself the right person to test our mettle, so to speak? ”
“ Where are you staying? ”
“ The high and mighty appear so only because we are on our knees. ”
“ If we stand united and indivisible, there's nothing that can't be achieved. ”
“ So I hear you've joined our merry band. ”
“ Oh, I wouldn't underestimate the Americans. ”
“ Maybe she talks too much. ”
“ Well, you shouldn't lose your job because you talk. ”
“ You should be more like your sister. ”
“ Now that they can read and write, their heads are full of all sorts of nonsense. ”
“ Science shall never replace good judgment or plain common sense. ”
“ We're a man short. Do you want to play? ”
“ Where did you say you went to school? ”
“ We can give it another half an hour before we make our final decision. ”
“ I don't know what they're all so mopey about. ”
“ I don't understand this game. ”
“ You are a funny one. ”
“ What is it that brought you here? ”
“ You speak like a man in love. ”
“ I merely look forward to working together, to furthering the excellence of your work. ”
“ We all play our part. Some parts are more interesting than others. ”
“ I don't know how much longer I can do this. ”
“ The beauty of our country is lost on these people. ”
“ I worry about my daughters. ”
“ I don't think you're a man to sit back or be proud. ”
“ Well, of course, since then it's grown in my imagination. ”
“ We are now on the threshold of a newer movement, with newer hopes! ”
“ You have no authority here. ”
“ We have to start fighting back, and making demands. ”
“ Your father is worried about you. ”
“ Your parents must have been very proud. ”
“ This generation’s gone soft, don’t you think? ”
“ Is he really as terrifying as they say? ”
“ Are you finding the work challenging? ”
“ That was completely inappropriate. ”
“ You have a lot to learn. ”
“ Are you avoiding me? ”
“ I can read you like a book. That's what I love about you. ”
“ What are you reading? ”
“ How many people are we expecting today? ”
“ Today we start building a legend that will last a thousand years. ”
“ Never had you down as a superstitious man. ”
EPISODE TWO: STAINED STEEL
“ I need someone to draw something for me. Would you be free? ”
“ I know what desperation, what needs, what false promises brought you here! ”
“ There is no prize so high that can merit the betrayal of your brothers! ”
“ There's just a lot of mayhem out there today. ”
“ We shouldn't assume it's a victory. Just the first shots fired in a long war. ”
“ I don't think anybody's talking about victory. Not yet. ”
“ We can't let fear stop us from taking a stand. ”
“ Do you mind if I sit with you? ”
“ I believe there are serious grounds for concern. ”
“ Trust I take this issue as seriously as you. ”
“ They believe what they want to. They don't hear what they don't want to or see what's in front of them. ”
“ If you want to persuade, you have to take human nature into account. ”
“ You have something of the real world about you. ”
“ You don't strike me as the timid type. ”
“ Rank does have its privileges but there's always a price to pay. ”
“ Come and speak with me. My door is open. ”
“ Would you look at who's come home! ”
“ Truly, my dear, what is troubling you? ”
“ Stick by your principles, and to your emotions. They’ve served you well before. ”
“ A consciousness of your own dignity and worth must be encouraged. ”
“ Get away from the wrong ideals and false standards of womanhood. ”
“ Be as free as your dream of the future would have you. ”
“ I think of her and it makes the thought of living in this miserable little town bearable. ”
“ I would like you to become my wife. ”
“ I will decide who I marry and when, if I want to get married at all! ”
“ You have disgraced me! ”
EPISODE THREE: GOOD MAN DOWN
“ My father wants me to change my mind. ”
“ This Saturday, march for your rights. ”
“ He doesn't like a smart mouth, so keep your answers simple, to the point, and you'll do all right. ”
“ You do as you're told and you'll do just fine. ”
“ Did you do much fighting? ”
“ It was terrifying and it was boring at the same time. ”
“ I’ll tell you what I learnt. I learnt that there's things worth fighting for, and there's things that ain't. ”
“ It's only since I've been back that I realize why you made me go away. ”
“ When we march, we must be united. ”
“ United we stand; divided we fall. ”
“ Are you two old enough to be in here on your own? ”
“ You have bigger things to be thinking about. ”
“ Should I start a conversation or should we just sit in silence? ”
“ The world of science is littered with the reputation of men and women who spoke out before they were certain. ”
“ You have to be careful. He’s from another world, one which you don’t belong to. ”
“ You're a good teacher. ”
“ The best thing is for you to get on with your life. Forget about me. ”
“ Nothing's gonna change unless we all support it. And when I say "all," I mean all. ”
“ This is a peaceful protest and we have every right to be here. ”
“ You're all right. You're all right. You're gonna be all right. ”
“ Did you get caught up in all that mayhem? ”
“ I wasn’t there, but I know people who were. ”
“ Well, that may be your kind of politics, it certainly isn't mine! ”
“ If you so much as interfere, I'll find out where you live and I'll burn your house. ”
“ They hit us where we’re weakest. It’s the oldest strategy in the book. ”
EPISODE FOUR: DANGER LOOMS
“ Pleased with yourself, are you? ”
“ You think we organized this to bring the country to its knees? ”
“ I came to say thank you for helping me. ”
“ Oh, I specialize in damsels in distress. ”
“ Don't they understand the tensions this will inflame? ”
“ You've started a dialogue. We have to keep them engaged. ”
“ Half of me is pleased. The other half feels hollow. I don't know which instinct to trust. ”
“ Either we sit and we're at the same level, or you make me stand. Which is it to be? ”
“ We have more in common than you might think. ”
“ I want us to work together. ”
“ My door is always open to you and to anyone. You only have to knock. Have I made myself clear? ”
“ I know these will be difficult times for you. ”
“ What are you trying to prove? ”
“ Well done. You did the right thing. ”
“ There was a time when I was a great deal more like you than you'd imagine. ”
“ I keep seeing his face. His blood on my hands. They killed him. ”
“ You don't think the man's gone a bit soft, no? ”
“ When you do nothing, it breeds malcontent. ”
“ Sorry. He's just not used to anything other than his own opinion. ”
“ I've been waiting ages to casually bump into you. ”
“ You’re a strange one. ”
“ You have this all worked out, don't you? ”
“ This is sex and fun, darling. Probably the only place we can meet and be ourselves. ”
“ I'm turning you down. Gently, but I am turning you down. ”
“ This is a dangerous game you’re playing. ”
“ You shouldn’t have come back. ”
“ I've got a very good teacher. ”
“ Even a mere suggestion of romance across this divide can ruin a man. ”
“ People can be driven out of their homes by their own community. ”
“ If you act now, you might be able to avoid the inevitable consequences. ”
“ There is something lonely about you. ”
“ Men think they are in control, but they aren't. Women are. ”
“ Democracy? Another vastly overrated institution. ”
“ You killed my daughter. You never came back for her. ”
EPISODE FIVE: UNDER LOCK AND KEY
“ Open up! I know you're in there! ”
“ You lied to me. ”
“ I just want to know what happened. ”
“ Why the urgency all of a sudden? ”
“ If I had known, I would have done the right thing. ”
“ I'm here now because I've just learned the truth. ”
“ Could I have a minute of your time, please, sir? ”
“ Perhaps this would have been better had you remained ignorant. ”
“ If you pay more attention, you might have more success in finding a job! ”
“ This has nothing to do with you. ”
“ When I walk out of here, you will never see me again. ”
“ Distrust and suspicion drive a wedge between us. ”
“ I don't have to tell you how disappointed I am in you. ”
“ Had the boot been on the other foot, I believe I should have done exactly the same as you. ”
“ Your contribution is highly valued. ”
“ We are prepared to keep your history confidential. ”
“ if your history ever becomes public knowledge, I won't be able to defend your position. ”
“ His presence here is valuable. ”
“ I must insist you keep this information to yourself. If you breathe a word of it, I shall regard it as a personal betrayal. ”
“ So this is where they imprison you all day. ”
“ I honestly don't know how people do it. Cooped up in these little rooms, having to do what someone else says. ”
“ You shouldn't believe everything you read in newspapers. ”
“ Do you have any idea what damage is being done to our reputation? ”
“ Is your father unwell? ”
“ Usually, when we deal with your father, he knows exactly what we're talking about. ”
“ I just get this feeling that he's holding something back. ”
“ He isn’t one of us; he’s one of them. ”
“ He lives by their rules, not ours. ”
“ Look, I don't make the rules. I only deliver the message. ”
“ Hey, if you can't do it properly, you shouldn't be here. ”
“ Sometimes you seem so distant. ”
“ We need to show our strength. ”
“ You must know that what you're asking is virtually impossible. ”
EPISODE SIX: THE IMPOSTOR
“ All I ever get are stolen moments. ”
“ You have some explaining to do. ”
“ I have nothing to hide. ”
“ Don’t you dare call me a thief again. ”
“ We're interested in men like you. ”
“ What have I done that’s so special? ”
“ Do you believe in the cause? ”
“ We're only looking for men who are serious and committed to the cause. ”
“ Remember what I said. Keep your mouth shut. ”
“ Gentlemen, we have a larger problem than we thought. ”
“ We have the power to make them do what we want. ”
“ All those in favor, raise your hands. ”
“ You cannot give into blackmail! ”
“ Has it ever occurred to you they may have a genuine grievance? ”
“ You should be very proud. ”
“ He would be so proud of you. ”
“ If we stand together on this, they will bow to our demands. ”
“ I find myself between a rock and a hard place. ”
“ Will I have to betray anyone’s trust? ”
“ Not all rules are fair. ”
“ It's what I was trained to do. ”
“ He wants to meet you. Privately. Without anyone knowing. ”
“ We’ve come to rescue you. ”
“ I told you, this is all part of a grand business arrangement. ”
“ I'm just showing you what'll happen if you try and cheat us. ”
“ I fear that, to end this dispute, we both need to claim victory. ”
“ Others might call it a step too far. ”
“ I really don't care about politics. It's quite the most tedious thing in the world, apart from religion. ”
“ I don't know if the whole thing is completely bogus, but there's something not right about him. ”
“ What do you dream of? ”
“ We need a strong candidate. Someone with forthright views who speaks the language of our people. And we think that person is you. ”
“ You might be shocked to know all the wild imaginings I had buzzing around in my head. ”
“ He's committed no crime! ”
“ I believe we all have been deceived. ”
“ That is an outrageous allegation against me! Withdraw it immediately! ”
“ Your true identity is now known. ”
#askbox meme#askbox prompt#rp ask meme#ask box#roleplay sentence meme#sentence starters#roleplay prompts#roleplay sentence starters#* sentence meme#rpc help#historical rp#fantasy rp#acotar rp#disney rpc#bridgerton rp#broadway rp
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started streaming Golden Wildfire! gonna reflect on the route as it unfolds, courtesy of your resident Claude enthusiast.
CURRENTLY PLAYING: Chapter 4
[document version]
if Three Houses glossed over the sort of wild situation that Claude has to survive every day in Garreg Mach then this route has started with a bang by opening with conflict at the Fodlan-Almyran border. bold move! and I certainly am endlessly curious about this impending intrigue - in fact I have spent the last four years (four years!) since Three Houses musing about Claude’s relationship to his home nations, and the nations’ relationships to one another, and what that conflict means for Claude and everybody else.
do I trust the writers with it? not really. am I gonna try and play it in good faith anyway? evidently. so let’s get into it~ 🏹
right off the bat I can tell there’s stuff in this route that’s gonna make me uncomfortable, sometimes in the fascinating and deliberate way, and sometimes in the “oh I feel like an accomplice to/victim of a hate-crime” way. this is not really a surprise when it comes to Fire Emblem but it deserves a mention regardless, as I think Golden Wildfire’s going to be a rollercoaster that will frustrate me as much as it intrigues me. I’ll have the additional challenge of having to articulate how I feel about it off the dome, as a biracial POC playing to a mixed-bag stream audience. so, in short: occasional yikes are inevitable.
but such is the price I pay for Claude. ahh Claude, my beloved. when first I played Three Houses I was drawn to the game by him, not expecting him to be everything I enjoyed in a character. other than just being generally *chefs kiss* impeccable, he also conveyed some nuanced mixed-race experiences rarely expressed in a lot of media I’ve engaged with. that he sprouted from a game that frequently overshoots its own political intrigue and bungles character resolutions like FE3H surprised me, but I was happy to pluck the fluff and dirt off my darlings and make the best of what had been provided -- a bizarrely relatable, endlessly complex nice young man having a terrible, no good, very bad time.
I already got a whiff of this from playing Scarlet Blaze first, and it’s vindicating to see Three Hopes elaborate on something I’ve been clawing at walls trying to convey since the first game: Claude is light-hearted, but his situation is not. it always blew my mind to hear people say that Claude was the “good vibes house leader” in 3H only to play the game and find a character that would flippantly laugh about threats on his life, occasionally mention that he exists at the hostile junction of two warring nations, and ultimately find himself in the impossible position of an anti-war leader operating during a war. across two nations. both warring. yes, yes, he’s quite a funny guy, but his circumstances are abysmal, and a big part of that agony comes from the role he occupies -- that which he is saddled with, and that which he takes upon himself.
this was not a position easily occupied, and I was delighted to find that Claude was intelligently portrayed as a character whose ideals had to bend to the demands of leadership, resulting in morally-grey decisiveness, diplomatic juggling, and one of my favourite things to explore in fiction: the pragmatic, sometimes paradoxical pursuit of “non-violence” during war, and as a solution to war.
already in Three Hopes (I played SB first) I sense they’re leaning a little harder on showing Claude’s struggle with this, including some hints at the unbearably high bar he sets for himself. he doesn’t wear accountability like Dimitri or Edelgard in 3H - it’s always a little more cavalier, something you have to read between the lines to spot and understand. but this game is a tad more forthright with it, pulling back the disguise of “Master Tactician” to plainly show Claude in a perpetual state of, well... this:
and nothing exacerbates this like the situation they’ve started the game with. it’s dramatic irony that makes the first three chapters really sting: we know by now that Claude is Almyran, and are placed in an uncomfortable position of puttering around the camp listening to the people Claude calls his friends talking at length about the brutish Almyrans invading at Fodlan’s Throat.
this is technically good set-up. Claude is here to fix a problem, and this is our first experience of the problem -- lacking communication and education means that neither side knows who they’re fighting, or why, just that they have to. with the Church of Seiros already positioned as a questionable but overbearing presence in ch. 2 (“Why are we being sent here to fight? Church school said so.”) it begs to reason that showing the consequences of Fodlan’s intensely insulated culture starts with these uncomfortable scenes. they are, after all, born from the fear of not knowing. Claude as an antithesis to ignorance-based conflict makes a habit of overcoming fear by knowing everything.
so there are some pretty ick conversations happening around camp, and that’d honestly be something I’d be fine to reckon with as a narrative choice -- if not for the visceral discomfort and sharp drop in faith that came in the form of Shahid’s introductory scene.
let’s get this out the way: I did not spend four years mopping my tears about all these Lords and Royals to see Shahid and not immediately think “bratty king? I can fix him, and/or make him worse.” especially as a foil to Claude, it’s interesting to see a foolish heir working towards the throne in a way that Khalid, and perhaps even the King of Almyra, would oppose. I’m bracing myself for his justifications, for his humanity, because he occupies an interesting political position and he’s the first family of Claude’s that we’ve seen on screen. and yes, he could just be shallowly evil, but that wouldn’t be anywhere near as fun as it being complicated and ugly, the way all the other Lords and Leaders are afforded.
alas, it is difficult to have faith that GW is gearing up to say something interesting when they introduce such a caricature of the ‘evil desert guy’ that I feel like I’m watching a Disney movie. especially when a scene shows a narrow-eyed, ashy-but-darker-skinned ‘evil’ sibling in contrast with our bright-eyed, lighter-skinned mixed-Fodlanian Claude. it’s these sort of artistic choices that threaten to undercut the same cross-cultural intrigue that this route is constructing.
the Three Hopes sprites are a bit awkward, proportionally (shout out to Margrave Gautier’s bizarrely wide mouth) but it’s a long and yucky history with depicting MENA people that makes this particularly egregious. I’m Samoan so not personally affected by this, but it is nevertheless going to take an active effort to just try to look past the way his character is drawn. I spare a wince of sympathy for my viewers that are more personally affected: it sucks, and it’s such a simple fix that it becomes even more frustrating.
he does look slightly less like a hate crime in the animated cut scenes though. “the only one who can beat me is me!” type rizz.
I actually like that his features might deviate from the typical proportions of most of our main cast, the way Hubert’ or Lorenz’s do. it is a shame to have it pushed just into the realm of caricature when there is something workable there.
nevertheless, 3H optics have betrayed themselves before (shout out, woman-enjoyers). so again, I’m going to try and brute-force past this icky design choice and try and find my bliss, which is thus: sibling drama, please, I beg. I love the garbage mish-mash of family dysfunction and political drama that happens in royal families, and it was high time that we saw a glimpse at what Claude’s other side is going through. I swear the British monarchy convinced people that wild dysfunction is reserved only for the English, but where there is power there is corruption, and where there is hereditary power struggle, by jove do you get problems -- it’s just a matter of flavour.
all that to say: I am hoping that we will be compensated for that abysmal talk-sprite with enough royal family intrigue to write home about. I would like to see Almyran politics that are just as complex as everywhere else, but culturally diverse and interesting without leaning lazily on the same fear-mongering racist rhetoric that Claude’s entire character exists to debunk. that’s my hope. my three hope. ha ha. look I’m not holding out hope for a diamond, I just kinda want a gem-shaped rock that I can polish up myself.
anyway, new spite-induced meow meow aside, let’s get back to Claude.
my god! his life fucking sucks!
thinkin about this scene just before the timeskip where Claude expresses his thanks to House Goneril, and apologises for not being of more assistance. it makes my skin crawl knowing that Claude is not just thanking Holst but saying sorry to him after all the micro-and-macro aggressions he’s been weathering, but it makes a lot of sense; Claude is representing House Riegan and his grandfather, not Khalid of Almyra, and not even Claude himself. and what that shows is an important feature of diplomacy: the ability to make connections, and say what needs to be said in order to maintain good relations with his new allies.
better than that, it shows how damn good Claude is at it, despite having every reason in the world not to be. he is, in this moment, House Riegan. and with foresight, this is an interview, and this humble apology operates twofold as a promise, setting the tone for his eventual leadership and securing House Goneril as an ally.
if Claude were more selfish, more proud, more emotional or less wise, he wouldn’t be able to say things like that. it is the humility that makes people underestimate him, but it’s also what makes him so pivotal in creating and maintaining peaceful circumstances. sometimes, peace-keeping means pacifying the people in power. and especially for Claude operating in the alliance, managing expectations is key for a leader. he’s clever, this is strategic, and I’m excited to see Claude juggle the egos and roles of all the nobles around him.
but it’s tough, right? this is a situation that rewards Claude for not behaving like a human ought to. I like to imagine the way his smile falters when the Almyrans are spoken of like barbarians, agitation ticking along in the back of his mind while he forces himself to speak the niceties that will benefit everyone in the long-run. he’s only seventeen. we hear a lot about noble obligation, but there is no greater pragmatic noble obligation in Leicester than managing the other nobles, and Claude has that skill in spades -- hard won, but effective, with an eventual payoff to make all that juggling worthwhile. sometimes. maybe.
speaking of noble obligations, good lord that bit where Lorenz snaps that they must execute Tomas and Claude has to remind him that dead men don’t talk... I’ll inevitably end up talking plenty about Lorenz as the game goes on because he is a fascinating foil, so remind me later to talk about the things that make Lorenz a good noble, bad leader, and eventual good ally later.
and on the topic of fascinating foils...
man. I was not expecting Shez.
for those unaware, my read of Claude in 3H was that he mostly saw Byleth as a curiosity pre-timeskip, then brought them on as a means to an end post-timeskip. room for interpretation about how they develop after that, but generally most of my Byleth and Claude interactions boiled down to this thinly-veiled hostility and how it evolved into apologetic manipulation and mutual care.
Shez is different, right off the bat. I can see Claude working them over, but there’s something very new about the vibes of Claude approaching a peer he finds suspect. it has the same echo of how he treated Byleth, and even Marianne, but there’s a difference that I can’t quite put my finger on, and I suspect it comes from Shez just being a much more talkative character, plus the dramatic irony of vaguely knowing where Shez’s story might be heading. they’re not harbouring the goddess, nor a cursed beast, but a secret third thing :’l (and god I’m so excited to see what’s up with Shez, they’ve been impressing me as a protag since I started this game, I don’t think I’ve liked a FE avatar this much since Robin)
the way I characterised Shez has him coming off a little arrogant and brash, compared to my previous Shez, who seemed mostly daft and down-to-earth and is currently committing girlboss crimes in Adrestia in an alt timeline. I’m so used to overlooking the avatar character that I hardly realised just how much potential Shez holds in this route, as a sellsword brought onto the squad of the guy that wants to avoid bloodshed. honestly I’m pretty astounded by the raw fire of intrigue it’s set alight in my brain. Shez thrived under Edelgard because they always had work. and now they’re struggling under Claude, and we’re seeing just how vile the war machine is that it will make peace an inconvenience to the merc economy.
just before I finished the stream, I played the opening scene of the timeskip: where Shez is struggling to make ends meet by being a mercenary in a peaceful alliance. therein lies the intrigue of this pair-up. Claude wants peace. Shez needs to fight to live. so how do we reconcile this?
already it seems that Claude mmmiiight have just deliberately forced scarcity on Shez in order to easily manipulate them into a) not moving into a different nation when Claude still doesn’t know what’s up with him and b) taking up his first offer of becoming a commander, which is exactly the morally dubious pragmatism that I love to see in my Alliance leader - but who’s to say? it’s not as if it’s the same method he used to flush out Bergliez’s army in the SB route, forcing their hand by starving their troops with hopes they’d choose surrender...
guess we’ll find out next time, eh? but oh, is my spotlight shining on these funny little guys.
and quickfire round: Nader’s still lookin’ handsome, love that Claude’s opinion of Shez rises every time I side-eye the church, and Arval continues to enthrall my entire brain.
and. yeah. that’s a majority of my first impressions of the GW route. not even all of them but this is like an entire essay and I’m only just past the prologue. tl;dr more of the same Claude goodness, something new and tense in Almyra lore, and then something new and unexpected in Shez. and we’ll see where the rest takes us.
thanks for reading, all the best!
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#golden wildfire#three hopes#fire emblem warriors: three hopes#claude von riegan#mimzameta#mimzamine
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Hey absolutely no pressure, but I was wondering where Salt Vows fell on the update schedule?
Oh gosh, I didn't think anyone was waiting for that one, so I didn't mention it, but I've been itching to pick it back up, so I'm adding it to the list! I'd love to wrap up at least one of these fics first, but in the meantime, have a snippet!
Follows chapter 1 of Salt Vows, aka the fic where the navy finds out about Makino. Some minor spoilers for recent manga chapters, but mostly with regard to the setting:
Tell the truth, but tell it slant
“Let me buy you a drink, Captain!”
“Hey, I was going to buy him a drink!”
“I saw him first!”
“I called dibs the last time he was here!”
“Why does this happen every time we’re in port?” Yasopp asked, as one of the women threw the other over a table, to hollering cheers from the delighted giants.
“A brawl!!”
“Gya gya gya, only the greatest warriors are fought over in such a manner!”
“As expected of someone like you, Red-Hair!”
The clap to his shoulder would have taken him off his chair if he hadn't been prepared for it, but then he'd spent enough time around drinking giants to know it was better to be on one's guard, even if they were friendly. Perhaps especially then.
As for when things got serious...
“Should I intervene?” Shanks asked. The bar's other occupants had gathered around to watch, their voices raised in encouragement.
“Hard to say,” Yasopp mused, as one of the women sent the other flying over the counter and into one of the kegs, to the loud dismay of the barmaid. “They might start throwing you around instead. Or tear your clothes off.”
"The way Boss dresses, they're already on their way off," Limejuice said, to guffaws from the rest of his crew. Shanks might have smiled if he hadn't been warily observing the fight, but then as much as he was known for enjoying a little attention, he'd rather keep the peace.
“Why so concerned, brother?” Brogy laughed, gesturing with his tankard to the brawling women. One of them had the other two in a dual headlock, the audience stamping their feet and cheering. "They're only fighting for your favour!" He grinned, and with a nudge of his giant elbow, "And if they're not to your liking, there are many beautiful women on Elbaf. A warrior like you could have your pick of our finest maidens!”
A rousing holler from the whole tavern punctuated this declaration, as one of the women broke free of her headlock, only to tackle the other two to the floor, and with enough force to rattle the walls.
Before Shanks could wonder if he had to resort to his haki to settle things, “I wonder what Makino would do if they challenged her for you,” Lucky said, to the delight of the rest of his crew.
“I’d pay to see that!” Bonk Punch laughed, to roaring agreement, accompanied by the raise of their tankards. “My money would be on our girl!”
“Hear!”
“She’d show them who's boss!”
“To our Empress!”
“Speaking of our Empress, it would be interesting to know what she'd say,” Yasopp mused, watching the brawl, with a grin Shanks was tempted to say was bordering on insubordinate, “if she saw all these women fighting over her man.”
“That he should button his shirt,” Ben said, turning a page in his newspaper.
“Or wear his wedding ring,” Lucky suggested, and this time, just a little too loud to just be heard by his crew.
The brawling women stopped what they were doing, as the whole tavern turned their heads towards where they were sitting.
“Wedding ring?” one of them asked.
“You’re married?”
"Cat's out of the bag now," Yasopp sing-songed, and the warning look Shanks shot them was cheerfully ignored, their grins entirely without shame, but then he didn’t know what he’d expected, protective of her as they were, her status included.
And even if it went against his own instincts to protect her, revealing her existence, presented now with the chance to talk about her, the urge struck him with surprising force, but then it had been months since he'd seen her. And the longing was always there, but it seized him now, along with his breath.
And even if they knew about her, he doubted they could do much with the information, and if the tabloids caught wind of it, it would just be one rumour among many. His love life had been a hotly debated topic for as long as he’d been in the spotlight, and even if word should get out that he had a wife somewhere, it wouldn't be the first time the press had speculated the possibility.
A glance towards the bar found the barmaid watching, but it was easy to imagine a much smaller figure in her place, a fey smile lifting her soft mouth as brown eyes sought his, as though asking, Now what will you do, Captain?
The chain around his neck tempted his fingers, the metal of his wedding band warm where he wore it against his skin. But even if the safest course of action was to lie, or to smile and keep them guessing, what he said instead was, “For almost two years now.”
It was hard to tell if they were more shocked or disappointed, but the defiance was expected as they rallied, not opponents now but allies against a common enemy, however horrified Makino would have been by this designation.
“You’ve docked here several times and I’ve never seen hide nor hair of a wife!”
“If she's real, why isn’t she with you?”
“Yeah, where is she?”
His eyes still on his newspaper, Ben’s grin told him he was on his own. The rest of his crew were unashamedly watching, their eyes wide as coins changed hands under the tables.
Yasopp hand his face resting in the cup of his hands, his elbows on the table and his beaming smile so wide, Shanks made a mental note to put him on cat-wrangling duty later.
Keeping his own smile measured, although the softer note couldn't be helped, when it was her, “She’s somewhere safe,” Shanks said, leaving it at that, but then while he considered himself among friends here, he’d been on this sea long enough to know that all it took was one person letting the wrong thing slip, and if there was anyone present who thought to use her existence in any way, they at least wouldn’t know where to find her.
If only he'd been as safe.
“If I was your wife I’d never leave your side!”
The impassioned declaration was accompanied by arms thrown around his waist, before Shanks peeled them back. “As flattering as that is, miss, I really am taken.”
Her lips pursed with a pout, before she surprised him by seizing his hand. “You say that, but I don’t see a ring!”
He should just let it lie, but he’d already revealed this much, and fishing the chain out from under his shirt to hold it up, he watched as their gazes zeroed in on his wedding band, along with the rest of the tavern.
But just as he thought that would do the trick, “Why aren’t you wearing it?” one of them asked.
“Are you unhappy? Is that why you're hiding it?”
“I could make you happy, Captain!”
Tugging his wedding ring back from where one of them had wrapped her hands around it, he ignored the shit-eating grins of his crew, and knew they'd be falling over each other to tell her the story later, no doubt with accompanying theatrics, if they didn't just put the whole thing to music.
“It's a protective measure,” Shanks said, and with the smile his old captain had said could get him off his own execution platform with his charges dropped, lowered his voice to a gentler pitch to say, “And I would appreciate it if you ladies could be discreet about this.”
Then for the killing blow, but then he was only telling the truth, “I’d do anything to keep her safe.”
Wide-eyed, there was a beat where they just stared at him. Then―
“Kyaa!!”
“How romantic!!”
“What a man!!”
“Of course we’ll be discreet!”
“We’ll protect her identity with our lives!!”
Shaking his head, “How the hell do you do it,” Yasopp murmured, his grin hid behind the rim of his tankard.
Shanks just smiled.
He was still holding the chain, slipping between his fingers now as he considered his wedding ring where it lay in the cup of his palm. He only wore it on his hand while inside his own cabin, never where there might be photographers, but then he hadn’t forgotten the vow he’d made her on their wedding day, her small feet atop his, holding her as they’d swayed to the chorus of a hundred voices, the safest he could keep her.
I’ll let no harm befall you, as long as you are mine.
Turning the ring between his fingers, he considered the polished metal, made from the anchor chain of his ship, but then without the frequency of wear, it still looked brand new, gleaming faintly in the light of the braziers.
Makino’s would look different, but then for all his misgivings, she had so stubbornly insisted on wearing it, although it was hard to feel anything but soft, thinking about her, and that gentle defiance. But then it was a rare thing, to be loved so fearlessly.
“She must be something special to have caught your eye, brother,” Brogy said then.
His smile was gentler than his feelings, as Shanks said roughly, “Aye she is.”
“She a pirate like you?” Dorry asked.
His smile crooked, but all he said was, “Not like me.”
“But she has a bounty on her?”
“On her, in her,” Yasopp said, as someone further down the table choked on their drink. Grinning, "Eh, Captain?" he asked, only to swear when a look from Shanks included just enough haki to be felt.
The bar was buzzing now, their excitement palpable, and he felt a pang of worry then that he’d revealed too much, but catching the snippets of conversation, he couldn’t help his smile, imagining her reaction, but then she got so easily flustered when at the centre of attention.
Lifting his eyes to the bar, and the barmaid behind it, he wondered what she was doing. She’d be mid-shift, their son sleeping against her back as she worked, but her bar would be nothing like this, with loud and boisterous giants, and cups of mead so big she wouldn’t have been able to lift them. Although thinking about her, it was all too easy to let his mind wander, and to wonder how she would have found it all, the fighting for his favour included.
But even if she wasn’t with him, as long as she was safe, that was all that mattered.
Yasopp’s smile had softened, no teasing in it now as he asked, “Wondering what she’s doing?”
Smiling, Shanks didn’t answer, just lifted his cup, although the pace at which he downed it said enough.
He'd just put it down when the door to the tavern burst open, revealing Rockstar.
“BOSS!!!”
Turning his head, Shanks was about to ask what was the matter when he paused, but then even prone to overreactions, the terror on his face was genuine.
His hand shook, as Rockstar held something out. “T-The paper!”
Frowning, Ben looked up from his newspaper, but then it was hours since it had arrived, and there hadn’t been anything alarming in it, aside from the usual news of the world going progressively more to shit. But nothing to warrant that kind of reaction from Rockstar, unless it wasn't the morning's paper he was holding.
“A special edition?” Yasopp asked. “Did Luffy defeat another Emperor already?”
"Given that Boss is here, that doesn't leave a lot of options," Hongou said.
“Poor Buggy just made the cut, too,” Lucky said, before his grin faltered when Rockstar's expression didn't change.
They were all looking at him now, the rest of the tavern included. The merry atmosphere within had shifted, and none of them were laughing now.
A sudden fear gripped his chest, and he wondered then if Yasopp's question had actually hit the mark, or at least close to it. Because a battle between two Emperors would certainly warrant a special edition of the newspaper, but even after Kaidou and Big Mom, if Luffy had encountered Blackbeard at the strength he was now...
Rockstar’s mouth was working, but before Shanks could fear the worst, “The Fleet Admiral,” he said, as Shanks’ brows furrowed. “H-He―”
His hand shook, as he wordlessly proffered the newspaper, and Shanks thought he wouldn’t get the words out before Rockstar rasped, “It’s Makino!”
His whole crew went still.
The giants exchanged glances. Even the barmaid had paused what she was doing.
For a long beat, Shanks just stared at him, unsure if he'd heard him right, before his gaze lowered to the rolled-up newspaper.
His hand lifted of its own volition, as he took it. He was so still, he didn’t think he was breathing, as he unfolded it.
The photograph covered the whole front page, the ink so fresh it was still drying. And he recognised Fuschia at a glance, the windmills in the background, and her bar, its sign clearly visible, although one thing had him forgetting about both. Because there, between two armed navy officers, her small hands cuffed―
His crew were out of their seats, gathered around him where he sat holding the paper. No one spoke, but then their shock was so great, Shanks wondered if they could have managed.
His eyes moved over the photograph, his first time seeing her face in months, and for a beat, that fact was all he could think about.
She looked like she had when he'd left her, in a loose-sleeved summer dress, her dark hair gathered in a loose bun at her nape, drawn back by her kerchief. She hadn't even taken off her apron.
She looked so ordinary, and so small next to the towering shape of the Fleet Admiral, and the officers flanking her. The marines weren’t touching her, but the fact that they had their rifles out said enough, even if it looked as incongruous to Shanks as the cuffs around her slender wrists.
A terrifying stillness had overtaken him, his scars deepening as his fingers shook around the paper, his gaze fixed on Makino on the front page, and the dark eyes where they'd lifted to look straight at the photographer. And had she looked terrified, he thought no one would have believed the news, but that the navy must have been given the wrong intel, wrongly accusing an innocent village barmaid. The very embodiment of gentleness, and everything he wasn't; the mere association with him should have been dismissed as libel the moment she'd looked into the camera and the eyes of the world.
But the defiance in her dark eyes betrayed her, and her expression, the firm line of her soft mouth and the regal lift of her chin, more damning evidence than even the headline above the photograph where it declared for the world to see, in bold, black ink:
THE WIFE OF EMPEROR RED-HAIRED SHANKS,
ARRESTED.
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I could warn you about the spice, but if you don't like spice, what are you even doing here? 🤣
Unrecognisable Part 12
“Does this feel like deja vu to you?” I asked curiously as I stood against the wall, waiting for Jake to take the perfect photo for my would-be Passport.
I was still rather warm after our shower together so I was just in my t-shirt and panties. Given Passport photos only needed from the shoulders up, this wasn't an issue. Jake was shirtless after the shower, but this time I didn't mind it so much. I also got the impression he preferred leaving the scar tissue on his back and shoulders exposed. I had to admit, the eye candy was nice.
“Deja vu?” he looked at me confused. “No.”
“It’s just I feel like we’ve done this before,” I sighed.
“I would have remembered if we had done this before,” he remarked.
“It feels oddly familiar,” I frowned.
“What? Like a dream?” he questioned.
“Or a previous life maybe?” I shrugged.
“If we’ve done this in a previous life then our souls are forever tormented,” Jake said as he took a few shots. “Hopefully one of these will work.”
“That or our creator is not very creative,” I mused. “I can’t believe She’d be reusing old ideas.”
“She?” Jake put his phone back in his pocket.
“You got a problem with that?” I raised my eyebrow.
“No, you’re right, She’s definitely moody,” Jake mocked as he went back to his laptop. I spotted his sock on the floor and threw it at him.
“I wonder if the other us succeeded,” I thought out loud as I plopped down on the bed.
“Hmm, I would like to think so, but if we’re here now, then maybe they didn’t,” he commented as he worked at his computer.
I fell backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling, “To think, two souls forever stuck in a loop, repeating the same plot over and over again.”
“That sounds depressing,” Jake mumbled from his laptop.
“It’s kind of romantic though. To think we keep finding each other,” I smiled.
Jake was quiet for a while before responding, “Still, She needs new ideas. Being on the run is old hat.”
“Maybe this time’s the one,” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Maybe we get to break the cycle.”
Jake glanced at me and then went back to his laptop, “Maybe. I’ve finished sending the photos and the details for your new identity, Mrs. Wagner.”
“Mrs?” I questioned. “Are we married?”
“I thought it would be easier for us to travel together if we were,” he explained.
“Hey, you didn't give me a chance to choose my name,” I realised.
“You would’ve chosen something bizarre. I don’t want you drawing attention to yourself when we cross the border,” he argued. “Emily is a nice, plain, unassuming name for you.”
“So boring!” I exclaimed.
“Next time you can choose, but this one’s staying for now,” he tried to compromise as he leant back in his chair. “So now, we wait.”
“Gee, how will we kill the time?” I giggled.
“I was thinking about getting us food actually. Something other than granola bars,” he proposed.
“Hmm, I could go for some Chinese,” I suggested with a smirk.
Jake smiled, “All right, I’ll look for a restaurant nearby. While I’m gone, I have a challenge for you.”
“A challenge? And hold up, what do you mean, ‘While I’m gone’? Why can't I go with you?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It’s your photo circulating around the public right now. I’m just picking up food and coming back,” he pointed out. “The challenge should keep you busy until I return.”
“And what if you don't come back?” I sat up. “Am I just meant to keep waiting here for you?”
“In the unexpected situation that I am unable to reach you again, yes. Here is still the safest place for you,” he insisted.
“Until we run out of money,” I clarified.
“Until Patrick Kempsey of Toronto runs out of money,” he corrected.
“Wait, you're using a stolen credit card?” I questioned. “Won't he report it?”
“He hasn't reported it the last twenty times I used it,” Jake snickered.
“Note to self, check my card daily,” I shook my head.
“Some people have too much money to even notice trivial charges,” he tried to excuse what was plainly still credit card theft.
“And we have him to thank for dinner?” I mused.
“No, that’d be Marcus Ruben of Manchester,” he corrected again.
“And he has a lot of money?” I guessed.
“No, he’s just an idiot,” Jake smirked.
“Jake, it feels very wrong,” I frowned. “We're using innocent people’s money.”
“I'm sorry, did you not want to eat? Did you want to sleep on the streets? Because I can arrange that too. I told you I will always do what it takes to survive, it’s just now that also includes you. But if you want food scraps from dumpsters and risk food poisoning on a daily basis while sleeping in alleys, be my guest,” there was a pained tone to his voice.
“Is that how you used to live?” I asked solemnly.
Jake sighed, “It wasn’t living; it was surviving. So what if some asshole has to pay for my food bill? At least he doesn’t have to fight with rats over dinner.”
“We have my money though,” I argued.
“No, that's an emergency fund for you. You are not touching it unless something happens to me,” he insisted. “Ok, I found a restaurant. What did you want?”
“Um, well, I'm craving noodles right now. A Lo Mein? Maybe some spring rolls,” I shrugged.
“Are you sure that's all you want? We can order a bit more and keep the leftovers for tomorrow in the mini-fridge,” he pointed out.
“I don't want to make Marcus Ruben of Manchester pay for too much,” I shook my head.
He scoffed, “Unfortunately for him, I am the one ordering and I don't care so I am adding more.”
“So, what was this challenge?” I reminded him.
“Ah, yes, the file hunt. While I am gone, you are tasked to find a specific file on my laptop, somewhere deep within the directories,” he glanced up from his laptop at me.
“Ok, what's the catch?” I frowned.
“You don’t know what it’s called, what it contains or its file type,” he smirked.
“How will I know when I find it?” I asked perplexed.
“You will know when you see it,” he grinned. “You have until the time I get back to find it.”
“Hmm, ok, what do I get if I find it?” I inquired playfully.
“Find it and you'll see,” Jake stood up from his seat and put his hoodie back on.
I got up as well to take up position at his laptop, but he walked forwards to stop me halfway. His fingers hooked into the side of my panties and pulled me over until I was in reach. Then his hands grabbed my hips to hold me against him. I bit my lip as we both leaned into each other for several tender kisses. Each one became progressively more heated than the previous. Resting my arms over his shoulders, I closed the gap between us as the kisses deepened.
“I could just put some pants on and go with you,” I offered quietly, after pulling away ever so slightly.
Jake leaned his forehead against mine and shook his head, “I won’t be gone long, I promise. I'll miss your cute ass too much.” He squeezed it with both hands.
I rolled my eyes, “Just my ass?”
“I love the way it bounces,” he smirked.
“Wow, I think we went like an hour without-" I was interrupted by Jake kissing me again. “Hey! We don’t have to make up for lost time!” I laughed.
“I can't help it,” he smiled. “I'm addicted to you. Being with you is like a drug.”
“The good kind, I hope,” I teased.
“But everything I want to do to you, with you, is bad,” he glanced down at my lips before looking back up at my eyes.
“Ok, the kind that doesn’t make you feel horrible when you come back down from them,” I giggled.
“But if I come back down from you, then you’re not near me anymore. And I would feel pretty horrible,” he argued.
“The kind that you won't ever regret,” I reworded.
“As long as it doesn’t get us caught,” he mumbled before kissing me again.
I broke away, gasping for air, “What about our food?”
“It can wait ten minutes,” he said as he pushed me down on the bed.
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“That’s interesting and all but what does it feel like?” The question may have appeared abrupt in their conversation but it had long been on her mind. “Everyone calls it the Cancer of All Worlds yet… it’s just dormant within your body? Explain it to me.” Yanfei mused before lightly proding at his chest with the blunt end of her balance.
Those eyes. He's familiar with them, the way it always managed to burn some innate and unknown curiosity alive in countless individuals.
As it stands, it's also the same ticket that's made him well associated with many in the Genius Society.
Caelus's expression grinds itself into a singular, sharper edge once the thought is cast like a die to the table. He could feel the same energy from Yanfei as well, a desire to understand, to simply know what should be a paradox in itself. "Would words really be able to do justice for a thought like that?" It wasn't for anything drawn out of concern as it stands, no, it's how the answer would find itself limited by the codes of communication known as language.
He can feel that within this character burns a torch that intends to hone upon the truth. Truth, in this case, finds itself being settled in parameters intentionally taunts and challenges the intelligent, the mad and the intuitive to dive down and apart that very lock with the aid of no keys. "My initial answer would be nothing at the start of it all. Since all I feel in its presence is just myself."
For his soul has found itself aligned in a unique pack with this radiant calamity. Mired by its composition, yet, it's woven together so intimately with that abstract essence of all living beings; the soul. The one in a trillion connection found peace in making it's own human slumber.
"I am this dormant Stellaron, soul and all. The fire and flare it extends are more me then even this body." No matter how highly favored this vessel now is, tempered together through this realm's brand of Information combined with the essence of a wish.. He knows what came first.
After all, the Stellaron's curse is part of his very being. Hell, one way or another would find it's way to his doorstep, to taste and test the potential of humanity that was vied for, that is grasped.
Now what exactly could he mean by that? Caelus doesn't bring any opportunity to Yanfei to expound on those very questions. For the temperance of her balance would find a sudden shift, as if the weighing scale has captured some intangible force once the Trailblazer brings attention to this innate quality of himself. His journey in establishing a deeper connection with the Path of Harmony graced him with means to materialize this very sensation.
If the Xiezhi could feel it on on the fringe of this border and deep within the chaotic beyond, it'd be akin to a visible light that's molten, flaming and boiling ruthlessly upon that very scale, immediately drawing a weight that could only be discerned by the soul, as if there was the combined weight of star systems that finds itself wholly prepared to drive the opposing end of that balance down, to cosign it to the belly of the Underworld.
He'd draw one of his hands directly upon his chest, allowing the shimmering light that brings a distinct shine to his chest to momentarily flourish, emulating the imagined intensity of how many perceive the blaze of the sun.
"For all I know, I could've made a deal with some devil. What you're asking about is the very reason I'm alive again to start with."
@wise-innocence
#wise-innocence#| Shuttle Mail#Welcome to a realm that's even keen on devouring the paths themselves#Ms.Emanator#He had to give this an honest shot for such a direct question. One he'll no doubt face again
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[MMX] Future Me Hates Me: Part 4
Summary: After stumbling upon a Light Capsule, and having it erroneously refer to her as Kalinka, Aero seeks to figure out just what her family connection is to Doctor Light. Meanwhile, after the death of Iris, Zero vows to absolve himself of his past. However, as Aero becomes the target of a Maverick, Zero is forced into finding that not all bridges can easily be burned…
Rating: K+
word Count: 1,748 words
Part: 1, 2, 3, [4], 5
. . . .
“Okay,” Aero decided after reaching the second floor of whatever building they were in, “Now I feel like we’re being watched.”
“Just now?” Zero questioned as he disabled another trap. This one would have shot plasma bolts at them. All of these traps were new, potentially even placed within the last day or so. Someone knew they were coming.
“Look,” came the retort, “My brain reserved most of its deductive reasoning for stubborn code. At this point, I’m surprised if there’s any space for self preservation at all.”
“As long as you’re aware of it.”
Aero cocked a bemused eyebrow, but didn’t drag the conversation much further than that.
The Cossack family vault was in what could more accurately be defined as a bunker. Once highly controlled and monitored, the bunker -spanning 11 floors deep- had long since been placed on a ‘self-sustaining’ prevention measure. That is to say, no one cared or even knew it existed anymore. Zero was surprised someone hadn’t cracked all the vaults yet. This felt like a goldmine for gravediggers- the only thing stopping the steel doors from opening to whoever was a simple keypad password. Thankfully for both him and Aero, the Cossack vault was on the fourth floor. They had already gotten past the second floor, and just started navigating through the third.
“Maybe I should be grateful that my family's past is so colorful,” Aero mused, mostly to herself. “Who else can say that they’re being followed while heading into an abandoned bunker-vault? Not that I want to be followed or anything. Beats being at home.”
Zero immediately grimaced. “What is it with humans and reminiscing on the past?” he grumbled back. “That stuff doesn’t even matter anymore.”
Aero cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Question,” she then said, “Have you ever stopped to consider that you should let yourself grieve for once?”
“I AM grieving!” Zero immediately snapped, turning around to glare at Aero once more. His fingers itched to pull out his sword, but knew that doing so was just as pointless.
Aero’s own gaze darkened.
“Then say her name.” she challenged. “Say her name and cry about it like you want to. Stop taking it out on me. There’s a lot of crap I can take from you Zero, but this? Get a damn therapist.”
“You don't know-”
“What I’m talking about? Are you seriously pulling that line with me? After Doppler, who took me in for awhile? After knowing I’ve witnessed my own parents’ murder? You’re the one who doesn’t know anything. Get out of your emo bubble and grow a pair. I remember the ones that left me, and look back on the rest of my family so I don’t forget. It’s always better than pretending they were never there.”
With that, Aero started back on the path again. She refused to look behind at Zero. What he hated the most was that he knew she had a point. It took him a moment more to realize that he was genuinely sad. He almost wished that he could cry like X could. Almost.
Swallowing back some of his pride, Zero took Aero’s side. There was a bit of effort on his part to match his wider footsteps with her smaller ones.
“How long have you known?” he asked her. His voice bordered on harsh, but there was the tiniest hint of envy.
For this, Aero all but gave a wave of her hand as she said, “Repliforce dissolving was quite a spectacle on the news not long ago. I think they’re still having ethical debates about it.”
“I meant Iris.”
“Ah. That.” Aero then looked down at the ground. “X had the Maverick Hunters set up a meeting with me not long after you two got back. He tried to keep it professional, but you could see it in his eyes. He was scared. Worried. For me, for you especially… He wanted to make sure I knew, so I wouldn't bring it up when we made fun of each other.”
Resisting the urge to place a hand on Zero, Aero instead looked up at him.
“For what it’s worth, I wish Iris had lived too. Our ideals weren’t the same, but she had the power to brighten up a room just by being there. There were a lot of friendly chats I wanted to have with her.”
Zero raised an eyebrow. “Actually friendly, or our ‘friendly’?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
That got Zero to smirk by the tiniest hair.
“She probably would have liked that too,” he softly admitted. “You might have even been able to change her mind- just a bit. She could be just as stubborn as Colonel.”
“Oh, I know what that’s like.” Aero laughed. Zero joined her. Never will he admit that, in that moment, he knew he could trust Aero with Iris’s legacy.
. . .
The fourth floor felt far different than the others when they reached it. Everything was too quiet to be natural. Zero was sure that he was picking up signatures from something other than small rodents and other minor pests. For a flicker of thought, he remembered that Aero was unarmed this entire time. She’d barely be able to carry herself if they did run into someone. Well, she might be able to, but not for long. She should have been a Reploid. It would have made times when she got herself in trouble a bit more tolerable.
A very similar thought crossed Aero’s mind as well. She knew for a fact that airport security would have taken any weapons off of her before she had the opportunity to even board the plane. Not that there weren’t ways around that, but she only found out two hours ago she was being followed. Hindsight was a bigger jerk than Zero was.
Their suspicions were proven well founded when they reached the Cossack vault. There waiting for them were five Reploids dressed in dark grey robes without hoods. One of them was still trying to work the vault’s keypad.
“Get away from that vault!” Aero demanded first- beating Zero to it by just the tiniest fraction.
The Reploid at the keypad paused for a moment. They took their time standing up, and turning their attention to Aero and Zero.
“Ah, you came a bit earlier than expected.” they said in a smug tone. “So you have the blood to open not only the vault, but the capsule inside of it as well. Go on, we’ll protect you every step of the way.”
“She already has protection.” Zero then affronted. He withdrew his saber and gave the robed goons something terrifying to look at. “Seems to me you five are tramping on family property. It’s best if you leave, or else this might get worse… for you.”
“Alas,” the leader lamented, “We’ve come too far to be stopped so easily.”
With a snap of their fingers, the four goons occupying the leader went straight to Zero. To their defense, despite not lasting very long, they put up a pretty decent fight. In those precious few seconds, the leader went straight to Aero. The human reacted by bracing herself, successfully putting the two of them in a hand-to-hand deadlock.
“You’re stronger than you look.” the leader approved.
“Thanks, it’s the trauma.” Aero shot back, even pairing it with a condescending smile.
“But has no one told you that trauma lowers your defenses?” the leader questioned. Not long after, they gave a precise turn of their hand that forced Aero’s wrist into a painful position. By the time she gave a yelp of pain, the leader had taken both of her hands behind her back, making her a buffer between them and Zero.
“Not a very robust group you’ve got.” said Reploid remarked as finished off the goons. When he turned around, Zero immediately went back on guard.
“It doesn’t matter!” the leader declared. Aero flinched- their voice was far too close to her ear for comfort. “The sacrifices of many will never compare to when the key to the ultimate Reploid is ours!”
“Oh great,” Zero whined, “There’s either more of you, or you’ve got a complex going on.”
“Zero!” Aero snapped in exasperation. He seemed to ignore her for the time being.
“If you don’t mind,” the Maverick Hunter mused as he stepped closer, “I have a few questions for you.”
The leader growled. “What?”
“Well,” Zero then mused, folding his arms, “It’s not often for a Reploid to follow a human like this. Let alone one who isn’t directly involved with common Reploids today. Why would you target this one specifically?”
“Because she can open a Light Capsule.” the leader explained. “She has access to the greatest knowledge from our time! She has the key to know how to make the ultimate Reploid?”
“You know,” Zero said with a click of his tongue, “That term keeps getting dropped often as of late. What do you mean by ‘the ultimate Reploid’? Do you plan on making another template based on the first? What do you want to gain from recreating X from scratch?”
“X.” the leader hissed. “He is no Reploid. He is the ultimate failure. A coward. A pacifist! No, we want the knowledge to make what X could have been from the start- a leader. A king! We wish to rule the world with humans groveling at our boots!”
“And that right there is the reason why you’re Maverick.” Zero sighed.
“The only reason?” Aero interjected- a part of her in disbelief, the other almost about to laugh.
Zero simply shrugged. He then looked at her and gave a small nudge of his head. Aero raised an eyebrow as she took a look at her captor. Acting quickly, she stomped on the leader’s foot as hard as she could. The sudden motion caught them off guard, allowing Aero to move her elbow upward to hit the leader’s jaw. The leader let her go almost immediately, nursing the surprise pain from such a small human, allowing a good opening for Zero to go in and kill them on the spot.
“Well,” Aero mused as she nursed her wrist, “He sure wasn’t helpful.”
“And we still have to open that stupid vault.” Zero agreed, putting away his saber. “At least that weirdo won’t be a problem anymore.”
Zero and Aero looked at each other. In equal time, they both let out a sigh of relief.
#megaman#Mega Man#rockman#mega man x#megaman x#rockman x#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction#fan fic#zero#mmx zero#mega man oc#megaman oc#megaman fanfiction#mega man fanfiction
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anonymous asked : ❤ probably bordering on stalkerish at this point but I love your writing and what you give to all of your characters, there is a depth to them all and you can really paint a scene. Love seeing your stuff here and on Abe appearing on the dash. You're a very enjoyable author to read. Forgive me for hiding on anon, but I want you to accept and enjoy the praise rather than risk you thinking of a way to return it because you're kind like that. ❤
Send me ❤ if you read / reread the RPs on my blog. -- accepting
I've been rereading this ask on and off over the course of the day and I find myself at a loss of words for how sweet this is. You know me too well that if I knew the blog behind this, this reply would be full of praises and compliments back to you.
I'm glad you enjoy the Abester. He's one of my more asshole muses, but I've been writing him for so long that despite his annoying self, I've found myself enjoying writing him. Abe is not my favorite character in t.urn and his general stubbornness is a great challenge for me to sift through when writing because he'll do the opposite of what I intended some of the time, but I have been rather fond of the challenge of writing someone so opposite of myself and my muse type. So, regardless, I'm glad you are able to enjoy him and my stuff there. It's been mostly crack stuff recently.
I've definitely been going through a mindset that my writing quality has diminished with my busy schedule. I also usually don't see myself as being an avid description writer, so I'm really thankful that you complimented me regarding that. I have worked really hard on my muses, ocs and canon, to try to develop them more from their starting point in my own way. But ignore my rambling, I'm going to save this for a rainy day because this was really, really lovely to read.
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Can i request an Arthur/sadistic female reader please？i really want to see him all messed up because of...you know🥺
(btw, pls check out the requester's art. her arthur content is 😩👌)
[Oneshot]: In which you still don't know how to tie an overhand knot
[Rating]: Explicit
[Note]: this is so fucking horny that i feel i have to apologize in advance. unedited and a little rough around the edges, feel free to point out errors or give criticism
———
“Huh,” you muse aloud. “Looks like the gallery’s putting up a new exhibition this weekend.”
With one hand, you spread the newspaper across the bed and skip to page three. With the other, you continue to stroke Arthur’s cock, twisting your wrist a little to smooth your palm against its dripping tip. The man himself groans as you touch him, and the frame of his body trembles beneath where you’ve straddled yourself over his thighs.
His breaths are quickening again. “Please,” Arthur rasps, his voice hoarse with exertion and desperation alike. You indulge him with another slow, teasing pump of your fist as you continue to pick through the St Denis Tribune, humming thoughtfully as you peruse the newspaper’s Arts and Entertainment section.
“I’m beggin’ you, girl.” He sounds as though he’s teetering on the very edge of agony and ecstasy, and venturing perilously close to the latter. “C’mon. Please.”
“Looks like it’s mostly Impressionists this time. Let’s see here… a selection of Seurats and Monets… a couple Renoirs… oh, some Degas too?” With a mild expression that belies the depth of torture you’ve been putting him through, you slow your hand to a stop. He makes a choked, unhappy noise in the back of his throat that you heartily ignore. “That’s pretty bold of them, considering the reception they gave that Chatenay fellow you told me about.”
Growling, Arthur starts fumbling with the (admittedly badly tied) restraints securing his arms behind his back, twisting his wrists in an attempt to find a loose end.
“Easy there.” You run the pad of your thumb along the ridge delineating the head of his cock, slicking against the precum beaded at its tip. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough.”
“Been hearin’ you say that for almost half an hour now,” he replies, glaring. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”
“Immensely.”
“Better savor it while you can, because I promise you — I’m gonna remember this the next time I get you beneath me.”
You laugh. “Oh yeah? What‘re you gonna do then?”
“Untie me and I’ll show you,” he says.
“No,” you reply with a beatific smile.
He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to something smooth and dangerous: the sort of tone you’ve known him to use for threats he actually intends to follow through on. “When it’s my turn,” he says. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Won’t need to. Because with you, all I need is my hands.”
A shiver runs down your spine. The man’s wrists may be bound, but you’re still very much at his mercy. In all actuality, your authority here amounts to only a length of rope and his own good humor.
You let out a soft, involuntary whimper at the very thought of it.
“Gonna pin you down when I fuck you,” he continues. He’s smirking now, clearly enjoying the demonstrable effect his words have on you. “Lay you down on your stomach and keep you under me, where you belong.”
You’re half-tempted to loose the rope and let him do just that. Instead, you grab the hem of your shift with both hands and pull the garment over your head in a single fluid motion. It’s 1899, after all. High time for a woman to take charge of her own pleasure.
The dim glow of the oil lamp bathes your bare skin in a wash of gold and amber as you settle yourself against him, pressing the wet line of your slit along the length of his cock. “Go on,” you tell him. “What else?”
Arthur swallows hard and licks his lips, then draws in a sharp intake of breath as you roll your hips forward — just a brief stir of movement, but more than enough to make him twitch beneath you. “Drive you to the brink the same way you’re doin’ to me now,” he says weakly. “Take my time with you, nice and slow. Make you really beg for it.”
“Mm-hmm.” Another roll of your hips, this time with just enough pressure to grant him a touch of warmth.
Finally, he breaks. And it’s truly a sight to behold: Arthur Morgan, a man who you’d thought would break your spine like a toothpick the first time you’d met, openly begging for the simple privilege of being allowed between your thighs.
“God, please,” he groans. “You can’t do this to me. Can’t let me feel how wet you are and just leave me like this.”
“Of course I can.” You relent. “But I won’t. So be a good boy and stay still for me, alright?”
His cock weighs heavy in your hand as you guide him between your thighs. Arthur lets out a harsh gasp and instinctively thrusts upwards — but you immediately withdraw, and he finds nothing but the cruel emptiness of absence waiting to receive him.
“Thought I told you to stay still,” you repeat sternly.
He nods with the frantic desperation of a badly-trained dog begging for a meal. Hungry and eager, but standing to attention with as much obedience he can muster. Which isn’t much, even on the best of days, but he is trying. And for that, he deserves something in return.
You take him in slowly, both out of principle and necessity. Just a taste of him first, then the gradual descent, a long and drawn out consumption that he has barely the means to endure.
His gaze still hasn’t left you. There is an intensity in it that once might have frightened you, an azure bright as broken glass and twice as sharp. The purity of emotion in them strikes you to the bone, makes your throat tighten and your dominance waver — there is a depth of devotion there that borders on the absolute.
When you move against him, he squeezes his eyes shut against the sheer force of sensation that floods through. Arthur makes a low, pained noise in the back of his throat and confesses, “I ain’t gonna last long.”
You lean forward and kiss him, then start a slow, rocking motion with your hips that spurs him to whimper your name against your lips, a small cry of warning before you feel the first twitches of his cock. Arthur bucks up once, twice, then shudders beneath you as his seed pulses deep, blooms hot and slick inside your core.
“Goddammit,” he hisses. “Didn’t think I’d— ah, fuck…”
You ride on, grinding through the last, weakening throbs of his orgasm and until he lets out a final, heavy sigh. Arthur regards you with loose-limbed exhaustion, lolling his head against your pillows as he flashes you a drained, weary grin. “Alright,” he says. “Untie me and get up here so I can—”
“No need,” you say brightly, then lift your hips in a brief mockery of release before sheathing him again and sending him reeling into oversensitivity.
Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps, wincing. “What’re you—”
“Too much?”
“Didn’t say that,” he says. His jaw is clenched tight and his voice is faint, but the look on his face is one of stubborn determination.
You test him with another slow, sinuous slide of your hips. This time, he meets you with a shallow thrust of his own. He’s breathing hard, each exhale shivery with exertion. “Keep goin’,” he urges. “I can take it.”
The added lubrication of his come eases the friction of him, soothes the inevitable ache of penetration. You settle for an unhurried, leisurely rhythm that allows you to fully appreciate the slickness of each stroke, the accompanying warmth of his seed still spread through your core.
Arthur’s gaze darts downwards to the base of his shaft, where the drip of his come has begun to pool. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Just beautiful.”
He snakes his right arm free from his bonds and abruptly flips you onto your back with a well-timed shove.
“What— how did you…?”
“Sweetheart,” Arthur says, his voice warm and affectionately condescending. “You still can’t tie an overhand knot for shit.”
“But I double-checked this time!”
“Not very well, apparently.” He hitches your thighs around his waist and cages you in beneath him, then lowers his mouth to the slope of your neck. A brief, gentle nip — not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to convey his renewed authority. “God, but you’re a greedy little thing, ain’t you?” he growls against your skin. “Just one load of my spend ain’t enough?”
“Thought you’d appreciate the challenge, since you’re always so— oh, shit,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders when he drives himself downwards with a sharp, savage thrust.
“Go on.” Arthur says. He’s panting now, his dark blond hair slicked against his forehead with sweat. “Weren’t you sayin’ somethin’ about me?”
You let out an indecipherable whine that bears only a passing resemblance to human language.
“My poor girl,” he murmurs, low and tender. Arthur cups the side of your face against his palm and traces his thumb over your cheekbone, then presses a chaste kiss to your brow. “Can’t even talk right when I’m fucking her proper.”
He’ll no doubt be insufferably smug about this later, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, distracted as you are by the view of him rutting against you, his shaft still streaked with his previous release. He’s fucking his own come back into me, you think to yourself, and that thought alone blinds out all else and leaves you blank with pleasure.
Arthur takes you hard and fast. Far rougher than his usual handling, which can sometimes be almost excruciatingly cautious. He kisses you clumsily, then lowers his mouth to the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting until the first, faint traces of tomorrow’s bruises begin to darken.
And with this, it’s not long before the first delirious ripples of your own orgasm begin to crest.
Every muscle drawn and tensed, dissolving into an inward ache of arousal that spurs you to grip him tight and whimper, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep his face in view. With a fierce satisfaction, you savor the sudden weakness in his expression when he feels you contract against him, then his harsh groan and the stutter of his hips as he follows, spilling what seed he has left.
Arthur keeps himself hilted until the very last shivers of exhilaration fade, then pulls away with a reluctance usually reserved for long farewells. The overflow of his come is thick and heavy as it drips from between your thighs, and the look on his face as he beholds it is one of tired appreciation.
Then he flops onto his side, totally spent. “You’re a real demon,” he sighs. “You know that?”
“A real demon would go for round three,” you reply faintly, staring dreamy-eyed up at the ceiling.
Arthur groans at the mere suggestion of it. “I think that’d actually kill me.”
When you curl up against him, he automatically throws an arm over your side, the action at this point an instinct secondary only to breathing, and brushes his mouth over the back of your neck.
As you ebb towards sleep, you murmur as an afterthought, “Didn’t you say you were gonna make me beg?”
He lets out a weary chuckle. “Well,” he says, “There’s always tomorrow.”
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan/reader#arthur morgan/oc#rdr2#red dead redemption#fic#smut#my work#this makes my kinks so apparent that i want to crawl into a hole and die#sorry for being gross :’^)
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Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!
Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺
tw: breakdown
PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)
It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.
Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.
Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.
Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.
That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.
To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.
His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.
It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.
He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?
Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.
He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?
All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.
Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.
Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.
He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?
Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one.
But he had to. He had thought he had to.
Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?
And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.
Just ask.
It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.
And that wish had been granted.
And now he is here.
Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.
A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.
At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.
There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.
Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.
“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”
He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.
But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.
“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.
“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.
“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”
Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.
They're okay.
He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.
“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”
Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.
“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”
#ygo dm#yugioh#puzzleshipping#puzzlespace#puzzlejune2021#puzzlejune#puzzlequiet#atem#yuugi#tervdraws#tervdrabbles#fanart#fanfic#this bad boy can fit so many headcanons and projection in it#i am in the possession of the crybaby beam and i'm not afraid to use it (for real though. my agenda is to Normalize Boys Crying)#(no i will not be taking criticism)
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Troubled Waters Prologue
Hey y’all! Some of you may have seen this already, but I took it down and reworked it a little bit. Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!
Word count: 1,723
Aziza [a-zee-za] noun: A benevolent magical species with moderate stature, pointed ears, colorful wings, and deep brown skin that always has a slight glow. They enjoy music, dancing, and frolicking with human children. They also have a propensity for plant magic and hunting and tend to dwell in or around the rainforest.
Long before humans ever stepped foot in Wakanda, the aziza were appointed guardians of the land by the panther goddess, Bast. Aziza lived in harmony with the other magical beings, with a few exceptions, and the queen of the aziza ruled over all of Wakanda. That is until these strange, magicless creatures stumbled into the forest one day and were immediately accosted by some of the more malevolent beings that inhabited the land. Several aziza sprang into action to protect the newcomers and were able to stop the evil obambo from possessing them and driving them mad. When the heroic team of aziza brought the defenseless humans to the queen, she welcomed them into her kingdom with open arms and gave them their own plot of land that was locked between her forest and a dangerous mountain range.
When left to their own devices, the humans began to fight with each other over resources and the right to rule. Queen Ani grew tired of the fighting and called on Bast to help end the constant wars. The goddess instructed her to find a man named Bashenga and bring him to her garden. Apparently, her favorite flower had a strange effect on humans. To all the other beings under her rule, the flower simply acted as an ointment of sorts, but it made humans powerful. Queen Ani followed Bast’s instructions and ground up the petals for Bashenga to consume. She buried him in the rich soil, and when he emerged minutes later, he was a new man. He was a leader, a champion, a king.
Humans and magical beings lived in harmony in isolation from the outside world for centuries until a strange thing started happening on the continent. People were disappearing from the western coast, and when the queen of the aziza heard about it, she brought it to the human king’s attention. King Amir refused to help out of fear of exposing his kingdom to the world, and Queen Onara became incensed. She couldn’t believe he was turning his back on his own kind. The queen wanted nothing more to do with him and his cowardly people, so she called on Bast again. The goddess made another realm within Wakanda for the magical creatures to live in. Onara assumed it would be difficult to get the other species on board, but, as it turned out, most of them were eager to get away from the humans. It seemed the only ones that actually liked them were the aziza, but that quickly changed upon hearing of their negligence. A few even chose to travel to the new world in disguise to help the humans that had been taken. The aziza operatives did their best to help them, but there were just too many for them to save. Their numbers were few, but they were able to perform small acts of magic to help where they could.
Over the years, magical creatures became a thing of the past to the Wakandans. They became bedtime stories and folk tales, but nobody truly believed in their existence anymore except for the children the aziza would occasionally visit when they felt like being playful.
————
One sunny afternoon, a little aziza was playing down by the river when she sneezed, and her surroundings changed. Everything looked almost the same but slightly less vibrant despite the bold greens and blues around her. She turned around and couldn’t see her village in the distance, but instead, she saw a boy about her age splashing in the water.
She emerged from behind the bushes and called out to him, “Sawubona!”
The boy looked up, and his eyebrows furrowed. He was sure he had been alone.
“Um, mholweni...ungubani?”
“I’m Nia. Who are you?”
“You speak Xhosa?”
“I speak a bunch of languages,” she giggled. “You speak Zulu?”
“Yeah. I bet I speak more languages than you,” he challenged her.
Nia’s face scrunched up as she counted up all the languages she knew.
“I speak thirteen so far, but I’m only eight,” she shrugged.
“Wow, thirteen?! I can only speak five.” He looked dejected, and she hated seeing the look on his face, so she quickly changed the subject.
“Can I swim with you?”
“Sure, but...where did you come from?” the boy asked as he looked around. “You just sort of came out of nowhere.”
Nia was young, but she knew she was in the human realm. She had visited plenty of times with her ubaba and knew it well. She just wasn’t sure how she got there this time. However, she knew not to tell him exactly what she was, so the little aziza tucked her ears under her colorful headband as she stepped closer and tried to think of a good explanation.
“My ubaba says I’m sneaky like that,” she shrugged. “Want to play tag?”
“You’re it!” he yelled as he splashed her and swam away as fast as he could. She cut her eyes at him and wiggled out of her clothes before jumping in after him. She quickly caught up to him, much to his surprise, but he stopped when it was his turn to chase her. The boy noticed something strange on her back as she swam away, and he grew concerned.
“What happened?”
Nia quickly turned around, confused by the tone of his voice, “To what?”
“To you. The scars,” he pointed to her back.
“Oh,” Nia had to think fast again. “It’s just a really big birthmark.”
“Really? That’s so cool! It looks like two wings,” he mused before his eyes lit up and he gasped loudly. “What if you can fly?”
“I wish,” she said with a certain sadness to her voice that confused him. He noticed the heaviness in her eyes and decided to lighten to mood a little by splashing her in her face. It worked, and they were off again.
The two of them spent the afternoon splashing away in the river, laughs echoing loudly as they played until a deep voice called out, and the boy froze.
“T’Challa!”
“Coming, baba!” he yelled back before turning to his new friend, who had just figured out that she had been playing with the Crown Prince of Wakanda this whole time. “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out here.”
Nia’s face deflated until she looked at the shadows and realized too much time had passed since she left home. She nodded solemnly, and they swam to shore. They begrudgingly got dressed in silence until T’Challa spoke up.
“Can I see you again? I had fun today… I don’t get to have fun often,” he looked at the ground, and she hugged him tight to make him smile.
“I can come back tomorrow,” Nia said, making his face light up.
“Deal!”
The two kids said their goodbyes, and Nia watched as T’Challa ran through the trees towards the disembodied voice. She turned around to leave the same way she came and jumped at the sight of her father.
“Did you have fun?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Nia nodded enthusiastically, “I made a friend!”
“I saw,” he chuckled. “How’d you get over on this side?”
“I sneezed,” Nia shrugged as she grabbed her ubaba’s hand, and they shimmered back over to the magic realm. That night, he began to teach her how to clear her mind and travel between the realms intentionally. Nia took to it quickly, and she was excited to explore the human realm, her mother’s realm, more than ever before.
Amare, an aziza, and Celeste, a human, met and fell in love while he was stationed in New York for his first tour as a secret operative. When Amare heard about what the human Wakandans had allowed to happen to their kin, he jumped at the chance to make a difference. It was a dangerous job, dealing with humans and the occasional fae, but he loved it. Almost immediately, he met and fell in love with Celeste, a vivacious and opinionated brown-skinned beauty from Harlem. They lived together for two blissful years before they found out they were expecting a child. Celeste was over the moon, but Amare couldn’t help but worry. There had been very few half-human, half aziza babies over the years, but they always took a massive toll on human mothers. Amare knew then that he might have to say goodbye to the love of his life. Sadly, he was right. The baby’s higher need for energy to fuel her growing magic drained her mother dry, and Celeste was even too weak to push. She didn’t survive the cesarean.
Amare brought his baby girl back home to Wakanda, and they lived in a small home near the rainforest on the outskirts of the Border province that he had enchanted to straddle both realms. He raised Nia the same as any other aziza child, but they often traveled to the human realm so she could be among her people. Before popping over to the other side, he’d always cast a glamour spell to hide his wings, making them lay flush against his back so that they looked like intricate tattoos. Nia was always jealous of her dad’s bright orange wings since she never got hers, just the giant wing-shaped scars that covered her back. She always felt a little broken, like she wasn’t as good as the other aziza kids, so when she met T’Challa she was excited to have her first human friend. Or so she thought.
Nia went back to the river the next day and waited for T’Challa. She waited and waited, but he was nowhere to be found. She tried again every day for a week, but he never showed. His absence started to weigh on her, and Amare hated to see his little girl look so sad. After day seven, he put a stop to it and Nia eventually gave up on her so-called friend. However, the pain of his abandonment never really went away.
Next Chapter
Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser
#cecewritessometimes#black panther au#black panther fanfiction#t'challa x oc#black!oc#troubled waters
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The Unforgotten King
A Dimimari drabble that fits into Fae's post canon.
The icy winds pouring down from the frigid Fraldarian mountains were starting to upset the horses with how cold they were. Many roads this far north were impassable for carriages; even the main roads, which in many cases were the only option, were made to constrict the approach of enemies and allies alike, venturing to and from the historically chaotic northern border, and the capital to the south.
They had come first by boat and then followed the trade routes carved out by the fishing villages on the eastern coast.
Marianne held her scarf against the chill, wincing and shaking her head about Dimitri, with his scarf pulled down around his smile as he spoke about his homeland. He'd long ago let his hat fall back around his shoulders, secured by a cord about his neck, and his bound hair was a tangle as a result of the gales. He was going home, and it was as clear in his person as it was in his temperament. His nose and cheeks were pink and frozen, and his beard was gelid with frost, but the Faerghan climate suited him. Marianne even suspected that the temperature might have been harsh on another man's injuries, but Dimitri was only livelier by the mile.
Some might have said he was as a boy gone to the fair, but she knew him too well now, and could see the flit of his eye as he watched the forests. He was fighting his hauntings and his memories of war, and trusting her and their guard with his insecurities. A vast improvement when compared to the dreary state of his heart and mind during the year or two past.
Marianne had worried that despite Dimitri's growth, that returning to Faerghus was going to upset him and his friends, when he and they found him without the crown, without the armour and attire one expected of a king, and with the continued trauma of never having achieved his vengeance. She was overjoyed that it was nothing so simple.
.
"Do you see how the trees have turned from green to blue here?" Dimitri asked, gesturing to the evergreens, brightening as Marianne nodded. "They say the Goddess took pity on the verdant evergreens of Fodlan after her first ice storm, and blessed all the trees north of Conand River with a piece of her home on the Blue Sea Star, that they might from then on weather the storms."
Marianne held her scarf from her face as she replied, "They're quite beautiful. I hear they house wildlife too? I would have expected we'd only find migratory birds out in these temperatures."
"It would be wonderful to hear an owl at night," Dimitri mused. "You are right, though. There are a variety of creatures in the underbrush."
"As stubborn as any Faerghan," Marianne joked. "Although I suspect, in regards to your tale of a blessing, that similar accounts are told of the seas themselves, rather than only of Faerghan forests. Anything blue."
Dimitri had blushed and laughed awkwardly at Marianne's initial declaration, knowing that it was true that sailors in Faerghus were revered and worried perhaps even that he had misremembered his own short yarn, but then he'd smiled and contributed softly, "It is a color dear to my heart."
"Because of your house banner?" Marianne asked as if to confirm, offering Dimitri no space to argue. "Perhaps a square or kerchief could be sewn in one of your pillows? Or some other secret space? I am sorry that you're only clad as one of my guards."
Dimitri shook his head. "An honor. I am glad to ride beside you, Mari— my lady, and ... maybe with the right materials, I could try to award myself with the gift you suggest. It would be a small and challenging project for a man of my extremely limited skill."
.
Upon their arrival at the manor in Fraldarius, they were escorted to the entrance hall, where Dimitri embarrassed Rodrigue with a bow and an embrace.
"Dimitri," Rodrigue said softly, as a reprimand and a prayer, testing the name, free of title and ornamentation. "It is good to see you again. If Felix had not seen you himself, I would have assumed a ruse or extortion." He pulled away, a hand still on his once and fallen king's shoulder. "To bury you, would be as burying another son—"
"Rodrigue—" Dimitri said, meaning to interrupt.
"Humor me," he begged. "Hear me. Not only am I proud to host you, in secret, in public, but should you ever need a home in Faerghus, we will never turn you away." Rodrigue swept a tear from his eyes, "Hm. I think you'll find my lack of decorum is your fault, for hugging me first—"
"My sincerest—"
Rodrigue chuckled. "Don't apologize. Just know that I intended to be more reserved, for the sake of Lady Marianne, if not for that of my son."
"Where is Felix?" asked Dimitri, as a door to the entrance hall opened at the top of a far stair, and Felix, Annette, Sylvain and Ingrid rushed out of it.
Although Felix had been to visit him in Margrave Edmund's territory three times, Dimitri could not suppress his joy at his friend's reveal, and after Rodrigue's admission, he could either hope that Felix too thought of him more fondly, or else worry that he needed to apologize to the younger Fraldarius for what he'd inspired in his father. "Felix!"
Dimitri spared a glance for Marianne, who waved him off delicately so that he could rush to his friends at the base of the stair. She shared a far more respectable greeting with Duke Fraldarius.
.
"Wait—!" Felix started to object, but too late or with too little conviction to keep Dimitri from fitting his arms around him and Ingrid and squeezing them to his chest.
Ingrid laughed happily, and Felix scoffed when Sylvain was greeted with only a joined hand and a clap on the shoulder, though Annette then jumped into Dimitri's arms.
"I half worried it was an exaggeration," Dimitri said softly. "That you all could make it."
"Mercedes and Dedue's boat is expected tomorrow," Sylvain said to assure him.
"Ashe won't be here for a week," Annette lamented as her feet hit the floor, "but I hear that will be long enough to see you?"
"I won't leave before," Dimitri promised. "It would break my heart if his journey from Gaspard was fruitless."
"Did you know that he needed to wait for Linhardt to take up residence in Gaspard?" asked Ingrid. "To deter the Adrestians from overreaching — even now."
"As well as general rebellion," Felix supplied. "Things aren't exactly settled that far west."
"You're helping him?" Dimitri confirmed, and a part of his heart stirred to be able to have this conversation with Felix in person, rather than over a period of days by letter.
"Fhirdiad's helping him," Felix said and then frowned when the others around Dimitri looked at him more directly, and corrected himself. "Yes, I'm helping him."
Fhirdiad had been Felix's home and his charge these past few years. He had taken up the title of Archduke and wielded his role with purpose. He always intended to return to Fraldarius, imagining that there would be an opportunity to suggest another lord be honoured with the capital region, but some days he worried he had sealed his fate. His father, and Sylvain, were less subtle in their matching inquiries about his return, but it seemed all others were slowly becoming accustomed to him sitting in that place of kings in the more temperate south.
"I appreciate it," Dimitri said carefully.
"There'll be plenty of time to worry about the shadow of dissent tomorrow," Sylvain said, looking to change the subject. "What are you wearing?"
"Oh," Dimitri said in surprise, looking down at himself, dressed as a Leicester soldier in wool and armour.
"Are you warm enough?" asked Annette, turning over a side of his cloak to assess its thickness.
Dimitri chuckled. "I'm plenty warm, I—"
"How many layers is that?" Ingrid inquired critically.
"Do the rest of Marianne's escorts have hats like this?" asked Sylvain, propping Dimitri's upon his golden hair.
"Four. No, most have wool lined leather caps."
"Four? Like this? That's not enough," Ingrid worried.
"We'll warm him with drink and games," Sylvain suggested. "Maybe dancing if Annette feels like singing?"
Annette squeaked in protest, but Felix spoke first.
"You're being ridiculous. Dimitri's had a long ride—"
Dimitri's lips tightened to hear Felix call him by name, and he spoke gently, worried he might break this simple spell of friendship when he spoke in favour of Sylvain's suggestions, "I think it would be nice to drink with everyone, but I might like to bathe first. I fear as soon as I loosen my collar my sweat will thaw from where it's frozen upon me."
Three exaggerated tongues of disgust extended in sympathy.
"Do you want to stay inside?" asked Felix. "Wood fires can heat baths in the lower levels."
"Oh, no, lets show Marianne the hot springs," Annette said, as if pleading with Dimitri, though he would have agreed without any provocation.
"I would like that," he agreed, looking at Felix for permission.
With an expression of vague annoyance, Felix nodded, and then he and Dimitri each glanced to where Marianne continued her conversation with Rodrigue.
.
There was a social element to the hot springs that Marianne feared, but Sylvain made a joke that set her at ease, and challenged her to try the new experience.
Dimitri half expected Felix to return home after dutifully guiding their group to their destination, and thanked him for his continued company and conversation, such as it was, while they sat together in the steaming water. Sylvain was kind and assertive, inspecting Dimitri's right side as he stretched his arm and took advantage of the heat, to massage strong fingers into his shoulder.
Elsewhere, Ingrid and Annette had Marianne giggling as the trio raced from the spring to the snow and back again each time they grew over-red from being boiled together.
Later, they drank and reminisced, and Ingrid pulled Dimitri aside, to reaffirm that she would have been his knight and protector ... and that she still would, if he wanted to pursue his place in Fhirdiad. She saw no reason to defer to the law in Garreg Mach when Faerghus could still have its own king, and if not that, then at least he could be recognized, as the rest of them were, within Fodlan's nobility.
The shock that overtook Dimitri frightened her, when she had only meant to offer him his ancestral home, and the respect many had died to get him.
Sylvain and Felix were in listening distance, and Ingrid had known that; the four of them looked to Marianne, weaving Annette's hair in a five strand braid, while they spoke of seals and bears and other creatures that plagued the harbours.
Felix hissed about how Ingrid would throw them from one war into another, reminding her that Dimitri was hidden away precisely to avoid what she was suggesting: that there would be people willing to die for their rightful king to reclaim his place in Fhirdiad.
Everything would change if Dimitri returned, and they'd lose the trust of the Adrestians, especially Ferdinand, when they had already been caught in another lie.
"You can't come back," Felix said to finish his argument. Aggressive, nervous, cruel.
"Dimitri should be given a choice now that he's recovered," Ingrid said, firm.
"He's recovering," Sylvain insisted.
With a great expression of self control, Dimitri maintained his volume as he declared for his friends' forgotten benefit, "I am right here." He waited for the shame to silence them before he went on. "And things are not ... how I envisioned them — how I wanted them? My mind and upbringing feel ... wasteful, at times; and yet I have been consulted," he sighed, "on strategy and trade, customs and etiquette — by Felix and Marianne both. My input is heard in Faerghus and Leicester, and if I willed it, I am sure that Garreg Mach is within my reach ... even Almyra."
Sylvain raised his tankard in salute as he walked away then, seeing that a fight wasn't about to break out, and that Dimitri had their conversation well in hand. He complimented Annette's hair, and strove to further distract the ladies from the dark turn of that other corner of the room.
"If Faerghus was threatened, I would find my way back here, lance in hand. But I trust the peace that's been building. And the crown, as it was, only invited duplicity and massacres. Faerghus will thrive without me." With one arm he embraced Ingrid, pressing a kiss to her temple. "And Sylvain is right, I have been recovering. I would not risk all of Faerghus' progress, all of your work," his eyes drifted to Felix for a moment, "because I could not accept the truth of what a minister said. I still struggle. I am more comfortable with smaller challenges ... and I would appreciate your reassurance of our friendship as I am."
"Of course, Mitya," Ingrid insisted.
"Thank you."
"I miss you," Ingrid clarified. "I miss... The lives I thought I'd have by now."
"Change is painful," Felix agreed, sharp and forgiving.
"Yours is a life worth celebrating," Dimitri promised. He drank at the same time as his old friends, and then fumbled after, worried about sounding too much like his healers, but still he added, "Take time to recognize success."
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by Marianne and Annette hollering with laughter, and Dimitri could not even imagine Marianne's disappointment in him if in returning to Fhirdiad he brought a new conflict to her doorstep. He could not imagine his own heartbreak if their peoples ever returned to bloodshed. Sadly, he had imagined his horror with the possibility of witnessing another day like the tragedy, his blue love desecrated, their hypothetical children screaming, and him again, a lone survivor.
He would not speak of this in casual conversation with his friends, though perhaps in private with Marianne at some later time.
He was grateful for his anonymity.
.
It was late in the night when they made for bed, and Marianne was as drunk as he, and Dimitri worried between her state and their locale that he shouldn't have followed behind the door of her rooms. They had lain together a handful of times, but not for weeks now, yet she pressed him against the door like it was a casual thing, delicate fingers curving over his hips.
They leaned close as if they might kiss, and then she turned her face away from him with a sigh.
"I hope I haven't made a fool of myself. Did you have a good night, Mitya?"
"Beloved," Dimitri beckoned, curving a large hand around the side of her face, his scarred fingers had been mended and shattered an embarrassing number of times in the early use of his Crest. He guided her to look at him, his shining blue eye, deep as the ocean in the dark of the room.
"Thank you for bringing me here," he said, his tone deep and sincere. "The snow, the culture, my friends... I missed them more than I realized. I've had a very good night."
His last sentence was near whispered upon her lips, his thick lower lip tickling against her mouth.
Eyes closed, Marianne hummed her approval, bumping her nose against Dimitri's; narrow and then bulbous, a pretty princely feature that somehow he still maintained despite the violence in his life.
He bent to kiss Marianne, his hands finding her upper arms, her shoulders, her neck, and her twin braids, a gift from Annette that extended nearly to Marianne's waist.
"I should let you sleep," Dimitri whispered, though he felt how Marianne's hands wandered, pressing his shirt against the muscles on his chest and stomach.
Marianne looked from her bed to Dimitri. "Let me sit," she requested, "and I'll untie your hair. Stay with me a while longer." She swayed a little and Dimitri worried he would have to catch her. "Your friends are kind," Marianne confided, "but it felt a little strange as the night wore on, and maybe it's just me, and maybe it's just the building, but I know I can rely on you. Say you'll stay."
"A while longer," Dimitri agreed, drifting a thumb through her bangs as his hand rested on the side of her tightly bound hair again.
He sat between her knees while she pulled the ribbon from his fine hair, carefully carding through it with her fingers around the strap of his eye patch, and then allowing her hands to find the muscles of his neck, thick from stress and training.
One dainty foot made it's way over one of Dimitri's monstrous shoulders, and he brought the opposite one over his other side, leaning back into Marianne's space so her skirt ballooned out around him. They shared a soft laugh.
"Did you have any trouble today?" Marianne asked, gentle in her approach of his occasional visions.
"I thought of Glenn," Dimitri confided, "but I am uncertain if I saw him or imagined him today. There are many memories of him here. And ... at the gates, I ... I saw some violence that was not there, but I could not hear it. I'll write it down tomorrow."
"Tell me about Glenn? There must be a happy memory tucked into what came to mind."
"He would have made you feel welcome," Dimitri insisted with a smile. "He was very personable, and I was always glad to be in his company — though I was always closer with Felix, and so thought, like Felix, that I was in contest with him. Unless my Crest activated, I was always left embarrassed, and regardless of whether my Crest activated, I always lost. Felix was often disappointed in both of us."
.
Dimitri spoke of friends like family until well after Marianne curled up on her side. He stayed on the floor, and spoke with less frequency, though the memories didn't fade. He could picture Glenn on the opposite side of the room, a macabre spectre of the self from his memories, but it wasn't a hallucination this time, just a horrible imagining, the loss of a friend.
Dimitri kissed Marianne's forehead, and she mumbled that she was still awake, despite sounding as if she were miles away. Still, Dimitri smiled and kissed her lips, just in case, and then left for his own chamber.
#dimimari#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#marianne von edmund#fire emblem three houses#fire emblem#long post#my writing#i made this#the fanfiction i mean#i'll probably put this on ao3 later#this is what i was writing to Maybe address things i find attractive about dimitri though it turned into something else entirely
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39.“I really want to kiss you right now.” | “Then do it.”
41.“I heard that!” | “You were supposed to!”
44.“Why should we date?” | “Because we’re attracted to each other.” | “I’m attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”
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notes; so this one is hella long but like MAN DO I LOVE HOW IT TURNED OUT
Thank you for requesting!! sorry this took so long to be posted!
wc; 1544
Drabble Game Requests | OPEN (but VERY VERY slow 24 requests in my inbox rn) | Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“Could I get a large chai-“ you started before the barista, Jeonghan, cut you off.
“Large Chai latte with extra foam?” he asked, a smile bordering a smirk gracing his lips. You flushed a little bit and nodded quickly, watching as he quickly scribbled your order onto the cup. You hadn’t realized just how often you were visiting the café, apparently often enough for Jeonghan to know your order. You liked the ambiance, you studied better here than you did at home.
“Studying tonight?” he asked, making small talk as he went about making your order. You nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see your movements. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.
“Yeah, just working on a paper for my philosophy class” you explained, shifting the strap of your backpack as you moved from the cash down to where you picked up your items.
“You’ve been coming here a lot lately” he mused, his eyes flicking up to yours in question. “Lot of school stuff lately?” he asked you, his eyes searching yours for any sign you were uncomfortable with his questions.
“Midterm season” you admitted with a forlorn sigh, your cheeks darkening when his eyes met yours. You told yourself you liked the ambiance of the café… but in reality, you never came here unless Jeonghan was working. There was something about the blonde barista that just… well he was incredibly attractive and liked to flirt. You never looked much into the flirting; he probably did this with loads of girls that came here. He nodded his head in understanding, taking a little bit longer with making your latte than usual.
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with school stuff… but I will admit I like seeing you walk through those doors” he said, a beautiful smile covering his lips. Your eyes widened a little bit as you ducked your head down, you could have sworn you heard a faint chuckle leave his lips followed by ‘cute’.
“Enjoy your latte…” he said, raising his eyebrow in question. You realized that you never told him your name, despite coming here four times a week.
“y/n” you told him, reaching out to grab the warm drink. He grinned at you, leaning back a little bit and nodding his head.
“y/n” he repeated back, seemingly to test your name in his mouth. You swallowed, shifting your weight back awkwardly before giving him a small smile.
“Thank you for the drink” you replied lamely, tilting the drink toward him before retreating to the safety of your usual table.
“You forgot something” you heard the males angelic voice call out, your eyebrows furrowing as you set your drink down; you hadn’t ordered anything else. Walking back to the counter, your confusion grew when you saw a slice of pie sitting on the counter.
“I didn’t order…” you started, looking up at him with your eyebrows drawn together.
“It’s on the house, darling” he told you before winking at you and turning back to the cash.
The redness on your cheeks somehow grew darker as you quickly retrieved the treat and scurried back to your table. Throughout the night you could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t have the courage to meet his stare. You told yourself over and over not to look too far into it. He probably did this with a lot of girls.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
A few nights later you were back in your usual spot, Chai latte in hand. You were caught up on most of your assignments, so you struggled to find things to occupy your time.
After asking a girl sitting nearby to watch your things, you stood and headed toward the bathroom.
“y/n” you heard a voice call as you walked by one of the storage rooms. Confused, you peered inside, finding that the voice belonged to none other than Jeonghan. He was struggling to balance boxes of ingredients, the top box teetering on the edge.
“Could you…” he said, voiced strained as his eyes flicked up to the boxes. Ah, you understood what he wanted now. Stepping into the small storage closet you rose up on your tippy toes to grab the top few boxes, picking them up and setting them down on the ground.
“Thank you” he breathed with a bright smile, moving toward the door and closing it? Confusion flooded you as Jeonghan turned back around, his features barely visible in the dim light of the storage closet.
“I’ve been trying to make my intentions clear… but you remain oblivious to everything I do” he said slowly, moving toward you. Your eyes widened as you processed what he was saying… had you done something wrong? Your back hit the wall of the storage room, Jeonghan now mere inches from you.
“I-I’m sorry?” you asked, your cheeks flushing as your heart rate picked up, you just hoped he couldn’t hear how nervous you were.
“W-Won’t Seungcheol be looking for you?” you questioned, swallowing hard as you tried to wrap your head around the fact that maybe Jeonghan’s flirting hadn’t been simply playful.
“He’ll be fine, he can handle it, he’s a big boy” he said, waving off your concern.
“I heard that!” you heard a voice call from outside the door, causing Jeonghan to groan in frustration.
“You were supposed to!” he responded, rolling his eyes as he returned his focus back to you. He licked his lips, his eyes flashing from yours down to your lips. You bit down on your lip in response, causing him to curse under his breath.
“You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he breathed, the air fanning over your face. You shook your head, eyes wide.
“You have no idea how cute you are” he mumbled, his fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. You licked your lips, watching him as he seemed to consider something.
“I really want to kiss you right now” he whispered, barely holding himself back from just doing it. Your eyes widened in surprise before you gathered your courage to respond.
“Then do it” you told him, your voice soft but sure. You could tell your answer shocked him, but within seconds his lips were on yours. The kiss could have lasted seconds or hours, as you found yourself lost in the delicious way his lips molded against yours. When he finally pulled back for air you breathed in hungry gasps, eyes closed as your head spun.
“Jeonghan! We’ve got a rush!” you heard Seungcheol’s voice outside the door, causing the boy above you to frown. He sighed before stepping back from you, straightening his uniform and smoothing out his hair.
“I’m not anywhere near done with you” he spoke, a smirk pulling at his lips as he slid out of the storage room.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
Not much happened after that day in the storage closet… and Jeonghan never brought it up. If it hadn’t felt so real you could have sworn it was a dream. You thought about just forgetting it, but the way Jeonghan acted made you want to find out where this could go.
Maybe he was waiting for you to make the next move?
You waited until the café was empty, before approaching him about it. You tried not to let your nerves show as you walked up to the counter. He watched you curiously, and amused smile on his face.
“I was wondering… do you want to go on a date with me?” you asked, your voice much steadier than you were expecting. His eyes widened in shock for a moment before a devious smirk settled on his lips.
“Why should we date?” he asked, his eyebrow raised in almost a challenge. You nearly faltered, anxiety begging you to just give up and return to the safety of your seat. No, you knew whatever happened that day in the storage room hadn’t been nothing… you didn’t want to give up this easily.
“Because we’re attracted to each other” you said confidently. Whether you pulled off the confident tone or not, you would never know, but your answer seemed to please him. He dipped his finger into the whip cream he had just placed onto a slice of pie. The finger disappeared behind his plump lips to suck the whip cream off of it, his eyes glued to yours.
“I’m attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie” he responded, his eyes flicking down to the slice of pie on the counter. You let out an exasperated sigh, rolling your eyes a little bit at his cocky attitude.
“Just forget it” you mumbled, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you turned to head back to your table. Before you could step away a hand shot out and grabbed yours, Jeonghan spinning you around to look at him.
“You are so easy to tease” he mumbled before kissing you hungrily. You didn’t care that anyone could walk in right now and see the two of you and you didn’t care that his lips were sticky from the whip cream. All you care about was the boy currently stealing your breath away.
#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen#yoon jeonghan#seventeen drabble#seventeen fanfic#jeonghan fanfic#seventeen fluff#jeonghan fluff#seventeen drabble game#svt#seventeen jeonghan
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Belladonna Noctunis
Notes: One-shot, because spy Elain is living in mind rent free and I needed to get this out of my system 😂 As usual, forgive me for any English mistakes, it's not my first language. I just wanted to have some fun and try something new. Be kind!
Warnings: Language, violence and NSFW (mention).
After three days traveling without so much stop to sleep, the gloomy, seedy tavern looked like Flynn's particular paradise. Even with the dirty, wooden floor and the cobwebs on the corners, he'd never been happier whilst he took a long drink from his cheap beer.
Flynn had never been to Night Court territory before and although he found the rumours about the unparalleled night sky to be true, it was difficult to admire anything when you were too busy trying to not get caught. Either by guards or by the evil, bloodthirsty creatures that lived in that area.
But The Night Court was the perfect place for someone who didn't want to be found. The vast land had miles and miles of forests dangerous enough to make the bravest warriors hesitate. Even the Lord of Bloodshed would think twice before stepping into those places. Of course, the border shared with Day Court made it all easier as well.
Flynn let out a long sigh. Two more days in the back of a horse was all that separated him from his payer. The job hadn't been easy. It was the most challenging he'd done so far. But he and Akir had managed just fine.
Since Akir was the one who got the short stick, therefore the messy part of the job, it was only fair Flynn received the money. Still… whatever the prick was doing right now, it was better than being in this hellhole.
Most of the customers had already headed upstairs, the lucky ones with some company. Only a few other males remained in the tavern, sleeping miserably in their chairs, probably too drunk to even take a step, when exhaustion began to settle over Flynn, heavy like a blanket.
He was finishing his third beer, about to raise his hand to call the bartender to ask for one of the rooms upstairs, when a flash of purple and gold caught his attention.
He didn't hear her enter the room. But right there, taking a seat at the other side of the bar, was undoubtedly the most stunning female he'd ever seen.
In a lilac gown that did nothing to hide her curves, especially her backside, her golden-brown hair braided was thrown over one shoulder, exposing her pointy ears, a five petal withe flower behind the left one.
Beautiful, with pink lips that were begging to be kissed… She was every male's dream. Flynn didn't try to hide his eyes glued to her, scanning slowly that perfect face and traveling through the delicious curves of her body. She would be even more beautiful between his sheets, that was for sure.
Given that the bartender was almost drooling when he served her a glass of wine on the house, he probably was thinking the same thing.
Under the scarce faelights, she glowed so at odds with the dark tavern. It was strange, he admitted, that a stunning lady like her frequented such a place. But Flynn didn't pay so much attention to that. Not when doe-brown eyes found him already staring and a little, sweet smile curved her lips before she sipped from her glass.
It was everything he needed to approach her.
He made a point of lowering his voice before saying, "If I knew I would find the most beautiful female I've ever seen in the Night Court, I would have visited these lands sooner."
If it was possible, she was even more stunning from up close, with her soft, creamy skin and large eyes. And her scent… almost made him dizzy.
Her face remained neutral though, as if she had heard that many times before. Which probably she had. "A traveler, are you?"
He smirked, "I'm whatever you wish me to be, gorgeous."
At that, she let out a low laugh. Totally unimpressed as if he had told her the funniest joke she'd ever heard. And strangely that only made him want her more. He wanted to know what would take to make a classy lady like her give in, to make her crawl into his bed.
Every ounce of tiredness suddenly gone.
"If this is how you approach someone where you came from, I have pity on those females," she remarked.
"No one has ever complained. Maybe you just need to try something new." The words left his mouth before he even realized.
Flynn didn't know if it was the stress of the last days or the two months since he had sex. But he could already imagine every filthy thing he would do to her, every place he would fill her.
She didn't respond, only raised her eyebrows in disbelief. It was the sweetest thing that look on her face.
His voice dropped an octave, "Maybe you need an actual male to treat you the way you deserve."
A small blush stained her cheeks, but she just crooked her head and studied him. Her eyes assessing him from head to toe in a way that made him feel bare.
The female narrowed her eyes at him and grabbed her glass, standing from her seat, "What makes you think you are an actual male that can give me what I want?"
Her tone was quiet and low as if she was telling him all of her secrets. And damn him if he didn't want to know them all.
She moved toward a table in the corner, her hips swaying in a way that he couldn't help but watch.
A heartbeat later he joined her.
They talked for a while. The flirting, the innuendos slowly blending into meaningless conversation.
Usually Flinn wasn't one who would talk to get someone into his bed. He would rather pay to have what he wanted than having the job of talking nonsense. But for her… well, it wasn't everyday a pretty thing like that crossed his path. And he doubted she would appreciate it if he offered her money in exchange for a good time.
But also... maybe it was her easy smiles or her open expression, but she did have something that made him want to keep talking, keep the conversation alive.
The fact that she wasn't boring also helped to ease his impatience.
So there he was, talking about a particularly charming incident that happened to him at Solstice when he was younger. It had ended with him lost in the middle of a deserted beach named Prateada, completely naked.
He hoped she would get intrigued as to why he was naked in the first place, the perfect cue to smoothly shift the conversation to a more heated direction.
But the female tilted her head back and laughed. Strangely, he took satisfaction from it. Everything about her was sexy and lovely in the same, perfect measure. Gods, she was killing him. He wished things could go a little faster.
"So you're from Summer, then." She mused, propping her chin over her first.
He shaked his head, "My friend is from Summer, gorgeous. Actually he lives close to that beach, but he didn't come to rescue me, the little shit." Her laugh was a song to his ears and hopefully a promise of what it would come next. "But I'm from Day."
She asked, "Oh? And where is this friend of yours?"
Flynn didn't miss the suggestive edge hidden in her tone."Why? Interesting?"
She bit her bottom lip, and a delicious, deep pink colored her cheeks as she whispered, "You know what they say... three is a party."
Gods above.
His blood heated and his cock ached in his pants.
She was really just sitting there, pouring sweet nothings into the conversation, batting her eyelashes and making his head spin.
The delicate flared of her nostrils told him she smelled it, too. His arousal.
Flynn locked his gaze with hers and drained his drink to the edges, her eyes tracked every bob of his throat.
"Unfortunately for you, my friend had an urgent matter and had to head home. But two can make a party just fine."
She merely hummed and took a sip of her wine. "Sure about that? You do look tired."
"My journey has been tough." He added after a heartbeat, his words full of promise, "It takes more than that to make me tired, don't worry."
She nodded to herself before grabbing their glasses. He made to help her, but one look from her froze him in place. "Sit. I'll take care of you, tonight." And with that, she was gone.
Cauldron boil him alive.
His pants were getting tighter by the second. Flynn took a deep breath, shaking slightly in anticipation.
A beer was placed before him a few moments later and this time she didn't bother to sit across the table, pulling a chair to sit by his side. Her sweet scent hit him hard and he tried not to look too much at her cleavage as he drank his beer, but failed spectacularly.
"I heard the people in Day are very… concerned." She started, her delicate scent enveloping him. "After what happened in the High Lord's palace."
His eyes shot to hers, meeting those doe eyes of hers. Flynn kept his face careful blank, even though a wave of smugness went through his body. It wasn't everyday a plan was executed with such perfection - and right under the High Lord's nose. He knew he shouldn't be talking about it. But changing the subject would only make things more suspicious so he had to play along. "They have reason to be. No one saw who did it."
Flynn took another long sip from his beer, eyes still fixed on her. He didn't know if that scent of hers were messing with his senses, but we could swear even his drink was sweeter, his head lighter.
She inclined her body a little, getting closer to him as if she was about to reveal even The Mother's secrets. Her eyes flickered in a way that should be forbidden.
He felt chills going down his spine.
"It is disturbing, though." She went on, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, careful to not mess with the flower. "They say the palace wing where one of his lovers was killed is the most guarded one."
He chuckled, too lightheaded. "Perhaps the west wing guards were off duty that day."
Her grin turned wilder as she nodded. "Well… maybe they should be fired, don't you think?"
With that gods' damn scent of hers filling his nose, he couldn't take it anymore. He was too drunk in desire, the corner of his visions turning black. He couldn't even breathe right anymore.
He murmured, "Here I was, thinking you were a good girl."
His heart was beating fast when he dropped his head, aiming at last for those plumb, pink lips.
He wouldn't even make it to the room. No, he would exposed that beautiful backside right there, bent her over the table and fuck her hard, just the way he liked it.
Flynn was already sweating, his mouth was inches from hers - when he felt the air get caught in his throat.
Frowning, he pulled back and gasped slightly at first, swallowing hard as he tried to pull air into his lungs. But it was like his throat had become too tight all of the sudden.
Still trying to ease that feeling, he undid the first bottoms of his tunic.
But it was like there wasn't enough air in the world anymore.
The female didn't show a hint of concern as she stood just to sit on the table before him. Wine in hand, she just observed.
Sweat was pooling in his forehead, his own hands and feet going numb.
"You proved yourself to be a better company than I've imagined, Flynn," she said.
Realization hit him like a punch in the gut.
He knew he hadn't given her his name. His guard was down, but he wasn't so careless, so stupid. Or so he thought. A small, secret smile bloomed on her face. "Although I do think it's interesting that you know in which palace wing his lover was killed when this is private information of the High Lord."
His eyes went wild. Shit.
"You-", he gasped, looking between her and his drink as his numbed hands covered his throat. His vision darkened further, but he still looked at her, at that adorable, fucking flower behind her ear. And utter panic almost made his blood stop cold in his veins.
Only four petals remained.
"Belladonna Noctunis, in case you're wondering. I grow it myself." Her face was harder, any trace of amusement gone. "It wasn't enough to kill you."
The world got darker around them and Flynn noticed it wasn't only because of that damn flower she'd put in his drink. He tried to look around, but he couldn't see past that darkness, that veil of swirling shadows. Where the hell were the bartender or the drunks, he had no idea.
He was still gasping for air, his throat almost completely closed, when a male stepped from a shadow behind her as if he was hidden somewhere in between them. Enormous wings peeking over his shoulders. Ilyrian.
A shiver shook his body as shadows curled around the male, his eyes blazing between them. His voice was deep, but soft as he asked, "Are you ready to go, El?"
That wasn't a common power, Flynn knew that much. He had heard stories about it for centuries, but it was like his brain was as numb as his entire arm now. He couldn't quite place who those people were, not when he was in desperate need of air, his legs getting too heavy to even lift a foot.
A smile bloomed in her face at the sound of the male's midnight voice. "Yes."
Flynn's eyelashes were becoming heavy, sweat running down his face as he still tried to make sense.
The male walked toward them. "Do I need to make him speak more?"
She shook her head. "No, I already have our confirmation. And you owe me fifty golden marks, by the way. I know where the other one is, too."
Shit. Flynn tried to stand at Akir's mention, but his own body wouldn't obey him.
The male gave her a smile as well. "Of course you do," he murmured, chuckling. "You are the sweetest little minx."
She turned to the male, something sparkling in her eyes before asking, "Will you take care of him?"
The male stared at Flynn, his hazel eyes cold. No softness in his voice, no amusement curving his lips. No trace of any emotion now. "He will be our personal present to Helion. They both will."
Fuck. Fuck.
"Generous of you, my love." She was still smiling at the male when she took his scarred hand in hers.
But the way he'd say the High Lord's name, with such casualness as if he knew him… even with his mind and body almost giving up, Flynn saw through his panic, the pieces of a puzzle clicking slowly into place.
That remarkable, perfect face of her… and those shadows… They actually knew the High Lord of The Day Court, because they were members of the… what was the name, again? Inner Circle.
He had heard the tales that travelled through Prythian of how the powers of fate united three brothers and three sisters, including the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. And the Generals.
Which means… if the male was the Shadowsinger, if they were the High Lord and Lady of The Night Court personals spies...
The last thing Flynn saw was the face of the Kingslayer herself looking down at him - and then the Shadowsinger touched his arm and the world vanished into shadow.
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Niall Horan: Live at The Royal Albert Hall
While some may argue that too few artists have done their bit to raise awareness for the people of the music industry who since March 2020 have been forced to stop practicing their profession, one artist who has stepped up to the plate is singer-songwriter and former One Direction star, Niall Horan. Joining forces with the crew-led organisation, We Need Crew, on 7 November 2020, the singer welcomed fans from around the globe to bear witness to a one-off performance from the eerily empty Royal Albert Hall, with all profits going to his touring family and technical entertainment charity, Backup.
In the lead up to the livestream, Horan could be found on almost every television network, promoting the show and explaining why the performance required the attention of all music lovers. In his own words: “I’m putting on this gig to raise awareness of the immense value they bring to an industry enjoyed by so many and do something to help them and their families. I ask all my fans to support them with me and buy a ticket if you can, and I encourage all artists to do the same.”
With several weeks passing since both artist and crew took over the RAH, TPi caught up with the crew behind the project and to get their thoughts on this very special event.
PRODUCTION ORIGINS…
“I remember it was a Monday morning when I got the call from Karen [Ringland] and Alice [Martin], who explained the concept of We Need Crew,” reminisced Ant Carr, Head of Production for Modest! Management. Both founders of We Need Crew explained to Carr that the goal of We Need Crew is, in association with #WeMakeEvents, to raise money for touring professionals who have fallen on hard times due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
“What really appealed about their organisation was that it was created by crew, for crew,” Carr said. “Around the same time, I was having conversations with Niall, who had already seen a few peers doing livestream performances, and we discussed the idea of performing in an iconic venue to raise awareness for the plight of the industry.”
With these two conversions in mind, Carr began to pull the pieces of would become Horan’s streamed performance together, as well as a big launch for the We Need Crew campaign. Carr and the rest of the Modest! team got to work reforming his touring family, whose album cycle had been stopped prematurely in March 2020.
“We were in LA when everything began shutting down,” stated Carr, who explained how he and the rest of the crew were in their last few weeks of promo before heading into rehearsals for Horan’s world tour. “We were finishing up a week on James Corden when the announcement came that the borders were due to be shut, so we all had to head back to the UK pretty quickly.”
After several months with no work, both Carr and the rest of the crew were all enthusiastic about getting back together to put on a very special performance. “In many ways, it was like we had never been away,” explained Production Manager, Andy Colby. “There was a part of me that thought it might have been a bit strange with it being so long since we worked together, but 30 minutes into the first rehearsal at SW19, it was like we had just got off the plane from LA.”
Colby was one of many familiar faces from Horan’s touring family who got the call to help with the livestream, alongside several technical suppliers including Wigwam and midnight:lights. KB Event provided a Megacube Artic for rehearsals in SW19 along with a Tech Kit for the show, oversaw by Lead Driver, Steve Crawley. Pulse Films and promoter, Driift were brought into the fold to make the event a reality.
In total, some 127,000 tickets for the performance were sold to 151 countries. “The response we had from fans was fantastic,” enthused Carr. “The funds raised are going to be able to help a good number of touring crew and their families and we kept this in the forefront of our mind in all aspects of the show.”
Carr was also quick to complement the attitude of the man in front of the camera. “Niall was very involved in every step of the process. He really gained a full grasp of the situation and during the promotion of the show, he really wanted to educate the public, and his fanbase, about what was going on in the sector.”
SETTING THE STAGE…
A few weeks from the broadcast date, a small group visited the Royal Albert Hall to make a start on planning how the show would come together. Lighting and Show Designer, Emma Bull and Director, Paul Dugdale led the creative vision. The livestream began with Horan performing a song on the piano on the venue’s stage, before walking down to the centre of the room to play the rest of the show in 360° in the centre of the hall. A top priority for the visual team was putting both Niall and the venue in the spotlight.
Bull elaborated: “Although several dance shows utilise the centre of the room, Paul’s Dugdale’s suggestion to do this for a music act felt fresh and was a strong starting point for the design,” she noted. “Having Niall and the band in the centre gave us a few options to really show off the building and take advantage of the fact the whole space was empty.”
One of her design ideas to make use of the space was to fill the empty boxes of the hall with lights. “It really ‘shined a light’ on the fact that there was nobody in the space,” she commented.
Aiding her in both the programming and running the show was Richard White of midnight:lights. “In total, we built 114 bespoke plinths for the audience boxes,” he stated. “On these sat a combination of Robe LED Beam 150s and Robe Spiiders.” The arrangement of these fixtures and boxes created a 360° backdrop of the central stage, with fixtures focussed into the room as well as back on themselves to flood the boxes.
The other key lighting elements included three Robe BMFL Robospots for keylight, which were placed in the venue’s gallery level. “We kept most of the control of these at the console with it being a 360° shoot,” stated White. “We were then able to shift the keylight/backlight across the fixtures as the camera tracked.” Around the central stage, the lighting team deployed SGM Q2s to provide some glowing footlights, along with Litepanel Gemini Softlights for Niall’s microphone position. “From the beginning, I knew I didn’t want there to be any rigging or trussing in the shot,” explained Bull. “We didn’t want anything to distract from the key elements of the shot – Niall and venue – to produce a clean look.” This is also why the visual department moved away from the idea of a backdrop and instead showed off the immensity of the famed venue.
Aiding both Bull and White in their endeavours was Lighting Programmer, Dan Young. In the lead up to the show, both Young and White spent several days in the previs suite at midnight:lights using Syncronorm Depence² to plan the show. “I have worked with both Dan and Richard several times and they have a great understanding of my aesthetic,” praised Bull. “I like things to be quite static in terms of colour palette with refined looks.” During the show, White oversaw the key lighting with Young programming all the moves. This gave Bull the freedom to act as a go-between between both the lighting and the stage to ensure the integrity of the design for the broadcast.
“The main challenge for this show was to provide consistent lighting over the different shooting styles,” mused White. “On one hand, we needed to have soft beauty lighting for close-up shots and steadycam work, but we also needed to make sure that the stage was physically as clear as possible for all the wide room shots and overhead wire-cam.” To add a level of accuracy, most of the live show was programmed to timecode because the visual team were situated outside of the room during the shoot.
LIGHTS, CAMERA, LIVESTREAM…
Jim Parsons was brought in by Pulse Films to assume the role of Producer. “By the time I got involved, the concept had already been fairly well developed by Emma Bull and Paul Dugdale,” Parsons began. “From my side, it was a case of getting all the video and visual elements and working out some of logistics of how we’d get the event to the finish line.”
Parsons has collaborated with Horan several times over the years. “The fact he came from the TV world means he has much more of a grasp than many of his peers of what goes into this style of performance and how to connect with fans through a camera,” he enthused.
Speaking a few weeks after the event took place, Parsons reflected on what he and the team achieved with the livestream. “We always knew we had an opportunity to do something different with this show,” he commented. “The end resulted was big and beautiful, but it was still ‘live’. It had the feel of a real show and didn’t come across prescriptive or dull.”
Parsons went on to describe the collaboration between himself and Driift, having worked together several times during 2020 on shows for Kylie Minogue and Sleaford Mods. “Ric Salmon and the rest of the Driift team are the kind of broadcasters I really like collaborating with in that they just let you get on with your work,” stated Parsons plainly. “They were obviously interested in the initial conversations and in the creative, but once it was all in place, they left us to it.”
Driift CEO, Ric Salmon offered his two cents on the project. “The fact that Niall ended up selling 127,000 tickets for the event is such a huge achievement, made all the better as it was all for such an amazing cause,” he stated. Unsurprisingly, 2020 was a busy year for Driift as the company offered livestreaming solutions for several artists. “There are almost too many benefits with this format of show,” stated Salmons while discussing the progression of livestreaming solutions that have only expanded in the past few years. “As we move forward, I think you’ll find more people opting for this style of event over, say, music videos,”
Parsons described what it was like working in the RAH. “It’s a beautiful venue, but we have all seen it thousands of times and there’s no denying that making it look different is quite a challenge. So, hats have to go off to the visual team for making this livestream look so unique.”
A Luna Remote System Junior 5 Telescopic remote compact dolly on a circular track along with a Dactylcam Pro point-to-point wire camera system captured the magic of the livestream. The spanned the periphery of central stage to present virtual audiences with a 360° view.
Camera Supervisor and joint Owner of Luna Remote Systems, Dean Clish discussed what it meant to be involved in such a prestigious show. “It was an honour to be involved in Niall’s show,” he commented. “It was for such a great cause and it’s always good to be in the Royal Albert Hall – you can’t go wrong with such a beautiful location.”
He continued to discuss why the camera selection was ideal for this type of performance. “The Junior 5 and the Dactylcam Pro are perfect for this kind of shoot because of the need to socially distance and, of course, with this sort of intimate production, they are both really unobtrusive and discreet systems,” he explained. “We’ve rigged the Dactylcam in the Royal Albert Hall before. It’s a brilliant system to use in there as you can really capture the essence of the hall from a height, in flight, in a way that you can’t with static systems.”
SOUNDING OUT…
The production brought back the audio double act of FOH Engineer, Matthew Kettle and Monitor Engineer, Joe Campbell to oversee the mix for the livestream and the band on stage. Having started working with Horan on his first solo album cycle, Kettle gave an overview of his time with the artist. “I didn’t really know what to expect before I’d heard the debut record and, as I was more known for working with rock music, I wasn’t sure I’d be the right fit,” he commented. However, with Horan’s solo music citing influences including Fleetwood Mac and Bruce Springsteen, the Engineer explained how it had been a fruitful partnership over the past three years. “Niall is really quite involved with the audio production and often during rehearsals will listen to the mixes to get a feel of what is being produced.”
Having been put on a hiatus since the tour’s cancellation in March, Kettle described what it was like to pull the pieces back together for the tour. “It’s really quite a different process producing a mix for a livestream compared to a live show,” he mused. “I have always had massive respect for broadcast engineers as it is such a different craft. When you’re mixing live in a venue, if anything goes wrong, you can fix it for the next performance. However, with a broadcast, everything is under much more of a microscope and under a great deal of scrutiny. Not only that, but you only have one shot at a show.”
Kettle explained that once he and the team entered rehearsals, they soon found their rhythm. “The approach to mixing was not too dissimilar to what we had already been working on for the tour. Just like the visual department, we didn’t want the production to be too flashy, aiming to simply reflect the intimacy of the performance without too much embellishment,” he commented.
For this reason, both Kettle and Campbell virtually replicated their audio setups they had planned to use for the world tour, featuring two DiGiCo SD5 consoles for monitors and FOH, along with Shure Axient Handhelds with Sennheiser 2000 Series IEMs, d&b audiotechnik wedges and a V-Series for side fills.
The console setup was not significantly different from the touring configuration, with multiple inputs from various SD-Racks in different parts of the stage and performance areas going to the broadcast SD5, all connected by an Opticore loop and shared with Campbell’s SD5 in monitor world. “The SD5 is my favourite console in the world,” said Campbell. “I love it and, because DiGiCo products are well proven and rock solid reliable, we rarely have to include them directly in what we do.” Cambpell was initially concerned in the lead up to the show, having not touched a desk since March. “Thankfully, Wigwam had kept the desks in pristine condition – so much so that our show files were even still loaded on the desk from the tour. This saved a great deal of time in rehearsals and certainly made it easier to get back into the saddle.”
Campbell was keen to replicate the same stage setup for Niall and the band. “During the tour, although he uses IEMs, I still have a wedge and side fills just in case he wants to take out his ears to hear the crowd,” he explained. “Even though it was a livestream with no audience, I wanted the show to feel as familiar as possible for him and the band.”
Despite a relatively “meat and potatoes” band setup, Campbell had just under 100 inputs on his desk – the result of several reverb returns and an elaborate talkback system. “Each one of the band members have a talkback mic so throughout the performance they can talk to one another and me,” he noted.
Meanwhile, Kettle’s ‘FOH’ position was slightly further away, setting up in a corridor off from the main hall. “Wigwam prepared an acoustic treatment kit so I sat at the desk with several studio monitors to mix the show and then sent my audio feed to the Pulse team,” stated Kettle. “Before going into the RAH, I was concerned with how the room would react with no audience in there to dampen the sound, but from the first sound check it sounded fantastic.”
Discussing Wigwam’s involvement with the project, Tom Bush commented: “We were all extremely proud to be supplying Niall’s livestream, especially as it was addressing the We Need Crew and #WeMakeEvents funds and highlighting what goes into putting on a production with the unseen and behind-the-scenes rolls.”
Bush went on to explain the approach to this type of performance: “A slightly different thought process can be needed – the standard positions for mixing, for example. The package wasn’t too dissimilar to the one we had ready for the world tour, so we had a good starting point. A few additions and tweaks were needed to adhere to the show setup, but Matt and Joe’s attention to detail made sure the process was smooth. The need for trucks full of PA hasn’t been required yet, but soon hopefully. We currently have a few livestreams pencilled in that we’re all looking forward to.”
#WENEEDCREW…
Looking back at the slew of 2020 livestreamed performances, Niall Horan stands out among the crowd, not only for its aesthetic, but because of everything it represented – not to mention the sizeable pot of funds it raised for the live events industry.
As we enter a new year with the live events sector entrenched in the clutches of the COVID-19 pandemic, the hope is that more musicians will follow in Horan’s footsteps to shine the spotlight on hardworking crew members that are so often out of sight and mind to the average live music lover. In the meantime, more information regarding the We Need Crew initiative can be found on www.weneedcrew.co.uk
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blood 12 - Strange/Stark!Reader
Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader
Rating: M
Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence
Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.
When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.
With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.
part 11 - part 13
Masterlist
Chapter Playlist (GUESS WHO FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE PLAYLIST ISSUE)
12 - a memory
You’d been in the tunnels hundreds, if not, thousands of times in your life. There were very few places you were positive you could navigate blindly, but these caves and tunnels? Someone could take away every sense you had and you’d still be able to find your way home.
It was a little unsettling bringing Loki into your secret place. Very few people knew of the natural caves that fed into manmade tunnels (carved by your ancestor, Richard Stark, when he settled the land).
In fact, you could only think of four people, including yourself, who could navigate the paths without becoming lost.
There was you, Natalia (who’d originally shown you), James, and Stephen.
Not even Peter was privy to the knowledge of these cavernous paths, covered in old magic and fake tunnels.
The cave system was incredible. It was naturally occurring and if the history you’d dug up with Stephen was accurate, your ancestor had purposely selected the land for that reason. They were enhanced with this very action in mind.
To reclaim the castle by surprise if an antagonistic force overtook it.
Stephen once mentioned that history often repeated itself, but you liked to think it was more of a mimicry of the past. Similar, but never the same.
King Richard Stark the First never dealt with any serious threats to his reign. He lived a long life, had many children with his beloved wife, and died a very old man with his family at his bedside.
His son, however, King Emil Stark, faced many problems in his short reign. He was nearly murdered by his own brother, but escaped the plot using these very tunnels.
Later, he took back the castle with regional support and a surprise caravan of soldiers marched through one of the larger sections of the cave system.
You’d assumed and so had Stephen, when you’d read about the tale, that Richard had only told his eldest son. Why else had he been able to catch the younger brother by surprise?
But why had Richard only told one son?
Emil took the knowledge to his grave, but one of the soldiers had a son, who went with his father long after the battle to explore. That son had another son, and so on until one day, a red haired daughter was born.
That daughter was caught sneaking bread from the kitchens and when you protected her and gave her extra food, she taught you.
It was a funny thing, time. Cyclical, ever changing, but in the end, the fates would do as they pleased. How these tunnels led Nat into your life. How these tunnels have you freedom to explore and learn the land around you. How these tunnels brought the most important person into your life.
(—)
The first time you met Stephen Strange, you were sixteen years old.
By that point, you’d scared off almost every Master who’d passed the threshold of your castle. Some complained you asked too many questions, others tried to restrict knowledge of the dark and dastardly from you, one insisted a princess was to be simple minded and obedient.
That was the last one you’d chased off after casually bringing the fact up during dinner and letting Pepper deal with the rest.
This was long before Morgan. This was when Peter was still a little boy and you were a girl still trying to figure out your place in a world that didn’t value or respect you.
The first time you met Stephen Strange was ten days before he was due to arrive, officially.
You hadn’t known it was him at first. He’d been sitting in the woods on a stump, reading a book on local geography when you passed him on your way back to the tunnels that threaded their way through the forest to the castle. You and Natalia had spent the last few years wreaking havoc on the guard, slipping away without a word, only to reappear in a pub later that night.
You noted the odd fellow, out of place in the massive woods but not entirely unexpected and paused to do a double take.
“What are you reading?”
He peered up from his book, a brow quirked in her direction.
“What?”
You took a few steps closer. He didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Though Natalia would later reprimand you for being too trusting of strangers.
“What are you reading?” you repeated, having read the title and still wondering why someone would spend a beautiful afternoon such as that one, in the forest, alone, reading a book on geography.
“A book on geography,” he answered, folding the tome half shut and pointing a finger to the cover. “Geo-graph-y.”
He recited the word slowly, as if you couldn’t understand reading or letters.
“I know what it says,” you huffed, a little indignant at his tone. Did you look like some lowly peasant who couldn’t read? Glancing at your clothes you frowned. A simple frock.
Oh. Maybe you did.
“Why are you all the way out here?” you asked again, a little irritated when he went back to the book and ignored her.
“It’s quiet,” he lowered the book again, staring at you over the edge of the pages. “Or rather it was.”
“No one passes through here, usually,” you hummed, glancing around. “It’s a bit depressing though, isn’t it? The trees are blocking all of the sun.”
“I don’t need sunlight,” he stated cryptically and you noted his distinct robes of blue.
Kamar-Taj.
“Are you a sorcerer?” you asked, settling across from him on a mossy rock and leaning forward. “You’re a little young aren’t you?”
“I’m eighteen,” he shot back sharply. “I’ve been training my whole life. That’s considered more than experienced at this point.”
“So you are a sorcerer,” you confirmed with a sly smirk. “They’re getting a new Master Sorcerer up at the castle soon. Maybe you know him? Master Strange?”
If he knew the name, he made no indication and instead let out a long sigh, standing and closing his book.
“Never heard of him,” he replied curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He started to move toward one of the paths in the forest, but you caught up to him and followed closely behind.
“Why were you out here?” you asked curiously, trodding behind in the footprints he left behind.
“I told you, for peace,” he stated, a little exasperation to his tone.
Maybe that’s why you couldn’t hold a Master at the castle for very long, they frowned on questions and maybe Kamar-Taj taught them all to be sticks in the mud.
“You’re reading a book on geography,” you repeated. “Local geography if I recall?”
Your eyes fell on the book in his hand and he immediately shoved it to his chest, blocking it from view and continuing his path.
“You’re certainly not from around here,” you continued musing, plucking a flower from a nearby plant and twirling it between your fingers. He stopped and looked over at her.
“How can you tell?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Your accent is a little off,” you noted with a little chuckle. “It sounds like it’s from the border, where Kamar-Taj is located.”
“I was in Asgard,” he countered and you shrugged.
“Just to visit I’m sure,” you insisted and he didn’t reply. You twirled the flower again, giving it a small sniff. “I’m betting you were looking for the caves, weren’t you?”
His irritated expression fell and you walked up, tucking the flower behind his ear and grabbing his wrist.
“Here’s the thing, I’ve read that book and it’s ridiculously outdated and inaccurate,” you continued, pulling him back the direction you just came. “You see, Richard Stark, the son of Arthur Stark the Conqueror, had this whole region charted when he sought to build his fortress.”
“Yes, and this book is that report,” the boy insisted quickly and you laughed, much to his annoyance. “Why would he have built the castle if the report was inaccurate?”
“There was an accurate report at some point,” you explained, reaching and snatching the book up. You flipped through the pages until you found the section on the cave systems. “There’s a little truth to this, some of the tunnels are accurate but the entrances are all wrong.”
“But given the layout of the land-,” he protested and you shook your head.
“Just follow me,” you led the way past the stump he’d been sitting on toward the mouth of one of the well memorized tunnels into the castle. “They can go on for miles, so you have to be careful.”
“How do you know?” he challenged, sizing you over.
You paused. The tunnels were a closely guarded secret between you and Natalia, whose late father had passed the knowledge down to her. Aside from the serious security risk, you knew nothing of this boy or his past. So you stayed vague.
“I’ve explored them a few times,” you answered casually, hopping down into one of the smaller openings and calling for him to follow behind.
The two of you spent a few hours exploring areas even you hadn’t been familiar with. He pointed out a few magic runes, explaining their meaning as best he could (some were completely foreign to both of you) and not looking too annoyed when you peppered him with questions.
“Are you noble?” he finally asked when you walked him from the structure back toward the forest. “You’re very well read.”
“I like books,” you answered with a smile. “My father taught me to read at a young age and I never stopped.”
It was a half answer and a full truth, satisfying enough for him because he nodded.
“I’m in town for a few more nights,” he looked hesitant, clearing his throat nervously. “If you’d like to stop by the inn?”
Excitement sparked in your chest.
“I’ll see what I can do,” you promised, a big grin on your face that was decidedly not very ladylike. “Who should I ask for?”
“Stephen,” he replied. “Ask for Stephen.”
(—)
“I can feel Amora’s magic,” Loki stated, pausing in the tunnel and looking around. “How certain are you of those wards?”
Stephen’s hand reached and lightly touched one of the intricately carved runes in the tunnel wall. He paused, his expression moving from its usual frustration in failing to recognize the pattern to surprise.
“They never faltered when I tried experimenting,” he assured the prince.
“And many Master Sorcerer’s before you have tried completely sealing the castle,” you added, finally lowering your hood to look between the men. “It’s impossible. The runes are very old magic.”
Loki said something, but you didn’t hear him, instead you were taken by surprise when Stephen turned and flipped the amulet around your neck around to study the runes carved into the back.
“By the Gods,” he murmured, holding it up to the wall. “It’s seidr.”
You looked between the two symbols. Nearly identical with a few alterations, likely given a difference between the spells, but the base characters were perfect copies.
“Impossible, seidr was eliminated before this castle was built,” Loki insisted. “My grandfather completed the task and died before Arthur Stark even dreamed of this land.”
“It’d explain why traditional magic can’t touch it,” you pointed out.
“And why you can navigate the cave system so flawlessly,” Stephen reminded you. “We’ve found wings and sub-tunnels that defy geological principals…”
“Then it’s a promising omen,” Loki stated firmly. “We continue on with our task, remove Amora and reclaim the kingdom.”
(—)
“I can’t stay for long,” you explained a few days after your initial meeting. The ball to celebrate the new sorcerer was that evening and your maid had been nagging you all morning about getting a proper bath and dressing done for the event.
She’d heard the sorcerer was quite the looker.
Gods if you cared.
“I’m due to leave tonight as well,” he replied quietly. “I wanted to give you something to remember me.”
He handed you a book, “The Complete History of the Vanir Valley”.
“I might have uh, borrowed it from Kamar-Taj before I left,” he explained sheepishly. “It’s a very good book and it mentions this region and some of the more ancient history involved with it. Given your knowledge of the geography and geology…”
You clutched the book to your chest, absolutely moved by the young man’s kind gesture. Despite only knowing him a little over a week, you’d come to respect and enjoy his company on your adventures. He’d even met Nat, who admitted she enjoyed his sharp wit and jokes- a rare acknowledgment by the hardened thief.
“Do you have to go?” you asked quietly. “There’s so much more to explore…”
“I’m due to report to my next assignment,” he kicked at a nearby stick. “I’ll write. You live near the village? I’ll send a raven when I arrive.”
“I’ll miss you, Stephen,” you mumbled, trying to blink back a few tears. This stupid boy was the first person who hadn’t looked at you and completely rejected your intelligence. He listened and discussed philosophy and magic and history and science and…
He was leaving.
“Our paths will cross again, I’m sure,” he stated with a curt nod, pausing, unsure what to do with himself. He settled on leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your cheek, his face burning bright red when he pulled away. “Goodbye.”
He murmured your name like a soft prayer before starting back down the pathway toward the village.
The entire time you knew him, Stephen never admitted if he knew you were the princess the whole time or if it had taken him by surprise as well.
But the moment you saw him enter the ball room, you had to hold onto a nearby table to stop yourself from tumbling forward in shock.
Master Stephen Strange.
“You didn’t tell me you were the new Master,” you challenged, catching him by the elbow once introductions had been made and he was mingling between rounds of dancing. You guided him toward the edge of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks and whispers being shot in your direction.
“You didn’t tell me you were the princess,” he countered, a smirk on his lips, eyes wandering toward the dancers moving across the floor.
“You already knew, you must have,” you narrowed your gaze suspiciously at him. “‘Our paths will cross again’, that was nonsense then?”
“Would you like to dance?” he offered an arm, already pulling you toward the dance floor. You relented, continuing to badger him while he hummed and didn’t directly acknowledge your accusations.
“Admit it, you knew!”
“The roasted duck is incredibly tender, is that a regional recipe or how the ducks are bred?”
“The cook marinates it for two days,” you answered briefly. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Your father mentioned your last Master called you simple?”
“In so many words.”
“Their loss is my gain, I have a phenomenal collection of books you can read if you’d like.”
“I’m not letting this go,” you started back, asking him about the collection in detail, and eventually, letting it go.
Your new friend was now your tutor and companion within the walls of the castle, as well as outside of it.
You weren’t one to tempt the fates too much.
(—)
The path into the castle from where you had entered had three break off points. One lead to the hall by your quarters, the second led to the throne room and the third led down to the kitchens.
For obvious reasons, the three of you decided on the kitchens, hoping to slip in unnoticed with the general chaos outside the castle.
Before exiting the security of the tunnel, you paused, fingers drifting over the stone walls, praying their security and strength would somehow leech into you.
“I didn’t know it was you,” Stephen murmured, leaning into your shoulder while Loki scouted ahead.
“What?” you blinked up at him.
“The ball,” he explained quietly. “When I first arrived, you asked if I knew and I didn’t. I was just as surprised as you were.”
Dumbfounded you turned to face him, chests nearly pressed together from the small space.
“You acted like you had,” you scowled at him. “I was furious for months.”
“I know,” he frowned sympathetically. “But you were so impressed, because truly, you hid it well.”
“Aside from being well read,” you challenged and he shook his head.
“There are plenty of non-royal nobles who can read a good book,” he countered softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I was transfixed by such a stunning creature with an equally stunning mind. Would you believe me if I said it was love at first sight? I almost turned down the post.”
“Will you two quit it and get a move on?” Loki hissed back into the tunnel. “It’s clear.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“Gods, I’m glad I didn’t either.”
(—)
13 - a surprise
(--)
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din/cobb/luke with “does that feel good?” & either 33 or 34
34. for our muses to try a new kink together
Anon, you are challenging me in the best way! This is my first threesome fic in years so I hope I've done it justice! Some light wax play under the cut, folks. The prompt comes from this list and I have one more to do tomorrow.
“Does that feel good?” Cobb croons, leaning over Din to set the candle back down. Luke is on his knees at Din’s hips, pressing sucking kisses into the skin on his thighs. He’ll dart in occasionally to keep Din hard, but right now he’s focusing on the tease.
Din turns his head slightly to listen to Cobb better. The blindfold is covering his eyes completely, he turns with each new sound to glean their meaning. “It feels good,” he whispers, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. It’s cute and Cobb leans down to give him a soft kiss.
This is new, for all three of them, and Cobb is so proud of Din for suggesting it. He’s already so sensitive, skin unused to general touch that is probably on the border of too much, too soon. But he’s smiling and he moans softly when Luke flicks his tongue against the head of his cock. The candle burbles quietly beside his head and Cobb grins. He reaches for the second one, a pack of three bought from some fancy shop in the inner rim. Vanilla, chocolate, and lavender-scented, sweet and familiar and warm.
Cobb traces his fingers down Din’s side slowly, stopping just below his ribs and tilting the candle oh so carefully to drip onto his skin. The man hisses and Luke presses a soft kiss to the inside of his groin, nosing at the hair there.
“Tell me how it feels,” he implores, leaning up to kiss at Din’s chest. Cobb puts the second candle down and drags his hand down Luke’s naked back. He moves over to suck a mark into Luke’s skin, making it sloppy and loud so Din knows what he’s doing.
Din groans, tugging at the restraints on his wrists. “It stings, but it feels so good. Knowing that the hurt will come, but it won’t last and you’re both here to make it stop.” He licks his bottom lip, opens his mouth so Luke can kiss him.
Cobb hums and reaches up to Din’s collarbone, the right one where the first little pool of wax has dried. He uses his nails to pry it up, peeling it off slowly, watching while Din pants against Luke’s mouth. “You like that?” he asks, breaking the wax in half so he has a little more to take off in a moment.
Din nods, swallowing hard so his adam’s apple bobs. “Kriff that feels even better,” he breathes, opening his mouth imploringly.
Luke shoves Cobb towards Din and grabs the last candle. He toys with the flame for a moment, dancing his fingers around it, pupils blown wide. Cobb stares, entranced for a few seconds before leaning down to kiss Din hungrily. His fingers find the rest of the wax on his collarbone and he peels it while their lips move together.
Luke leans into both of them and drips wax along Din’s arm. He bites his lip while he does it, concentrating to make sure it doesn’t run too much. When he’s satisfied, he puts it back down and presses kisses to the skin on one side of the small river.
Cobb pulls back from Din to watch Luke, reaching out to pinch a bit of skin. Luke flushes and he looks up at Cobb, blinking slowly. “Sorry, Din’s just…” he gestures with one hand.
“Very turned on and it’s leaking over,” Din supplies with a little laugh. He wiggles his fingers, inviting Luke over for some more kisses. Cobb shakes his head fondly, going back for the first candle. Another little pool and then more peeling, dropping the flakes onto the bedside table.
Din pants through it, cock still hard despite it being relatively neglected. Cobb stares at it for a moment, palming at himself. Luke is steadily grinding against Din’s thigh while they continue to kiss lazily. Well. Cobb needs something to do with his mouth too, and they can get more use out of the candles later.
He shuffles down the bed, slapping Luke’s ass while he goes. Cobb settles on his knees, bending over to suck Din into his mouth. The man in question grunts at the contact, lifting his hips just enough which makes Luke groan. Cobb’s hand curls around his cock and he matches his strokes to his movements on Din.
Luke finds a trail of wax to peel from Din, his other hand working at himself. He peels it slowly, pressing it back down every so often to make the sticky sensation last a little longer. Din just moans, anything coherent being lost in the arousal he feels. His arms are straining against the cuffs, but he’s not begging to be released, so Cobb assumes he’s doing okay.
Cobb hollows his cheeks and groans in the back of his throat. He’s close and he pulls off just enough to clear his throat. His eyes are a little damp and his voice is a little wrecked when he opens his mouth. “Want me to cum on your face, darlin’?” he offers, squeezing his cock tightly.
Luke pulls back from Din’s mouth and his eyes are bright. “I’ll finish you, baby, while Cobb does that.”
Din nods, huffing out a confirmation through his swollen lips. Cobb and Luke shuffle around each other to switch places. Luke leans back down to finish Din off, still stroking over himself. Cobb has often wondered if the force makes him last as long as he usually does. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, and leans up to pump his cock over Din’s face.
Din opens his mouth a little, tilting his head back. He pants out moans and moments before Cobb cums, relaxes into the bed, clearly riding his own high. Cobb grunts and directs his release onto Din’s face, panting his cheeks and nose. He slumps over a moment later, reaching up to push the blindfold over Din’s eyes. Luke moans behind him, flopping next to Din in a few seconds. He lazily reaches out to rub his spunk into Din’s skin.
The three of them breathe heavily for a few minutes, Cobb and Luke bracketing Din in. Luke eventually raises his hand to undo the cuffs, letting them drop to the bed. Each of Din’s arms finds their hands, wrists getting soothed from where they were being dug into. And eventually, Cobb leans up to blow out the candles, sighing in delight.
“Well, I think that one was a success,” he murmurs, looking at his partners.
Luke nods enthusiastically while Din offers him a tired smile. “Next time we go to that shop, we should get the edible kind.” He winks at Cobb’s delighted laugh and settles back into the bed.
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