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oneforthemunny · 6 months

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tangled tinsel |dom!eddie munson x sub!reader|

prompt: a decoration mishap turns into an oddly festive idea. or eddie just likes to tie you up with pretty things and this one happens to be festive.

apart of my twelve days of dom!eddie masterlist which is located in my munny's merriest masterlist with all the other holiday works :)

contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes. restraints. blindfolds. toys (vibrators). not too mean this time, eddie's more of a soft dom and just a little teasing lol.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch- Can you pick this shit up?” Eddie huffed, a heavy handed snatch yanking down the silvery tinsel that strung across the doorway, wrapping around his forehead for the final time.

“Don’t!” You hiss, tongue clicking in annoyance at him. “Why would you do that?” You rolled your eyes, unamused by his childish outbursts.

“Because I hit this shit every time I walk through the door!” Eddie snapped, the tinsel in his clutches, waving it around furiously.

“Well, pay attention!” You snap back, snatching your cheap, plastic, metallic strung tinsel out of his hands. “You should know it's there. Quit messing all my shit up. You’re just being an asshole now, Eddie, and I’m really over it.”

“I’m an asshole?” Eddie gaped, the ghosting of a scoff filling his tone. “I’m an asshole-”

“-Yeah, you are.” You bark, hooking the tinsel over the small command hook on the wall. “You know it’s there-”

“-You know it’s too fuckin’ low-”

“-Then you fix it.” You throw your arms up. “You can fucking fix it!”

“I didn’t even want it up, and now I gotta fix it?” Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That shit is itchy. I don’t want to touch that. I don’t like having to touch it when it falls in my face, gets all that shiny stuff in my hair. Just move it.”

You rolled your eyes, snorting lightly in mocking amusement. “God, you’re such a baby.” You shake your head. “It’s so itchy, oh no, I can’t touch it!” You shrill in a mocking, obnoxious tone- one you knew made him furious.

“Hey, watch it.” Eddie snapped, a finger pointed your way. “Keep running that mouth, baby, and you’re gonna piss me off.”

“Well, you’ve already pissed me off.” You huff, unfazed by his threat. Slipper clad stomps, muted on the shaggy carpet of the living room, and you fell into the couch, arms crossed. You knew you probably looked petulant, pinched brows furrowed in a frown, nose curling into a snarl.

Eddie stood in the doorway, still, watching you. The tenseness of your shoulders, fury filled huffs that made him wince. He didn’t mean to lash out, he knew you had a hard week. The joys of holiday retail and all their not so very merry goers had left you in a foul mood all week.

You could hear him sigh from behind you, the rustling of the tinsel coming off the hook, readjusting it slowly. “Hey,” Eddie called, voice still commanding but looser. “Look at me, honey.”

A slow roll of your head, nearly bored, and your eyes were on him, still fixed in a narrowed glare. “‘M sorry.” Eddie muttered softly, walking towards you. A calloused hand, warm from the heat of the trailer cupped your cheek gently, thumb swiping over the apples of your cheeks. You turned into his hold, melting in front of him. “I didn’t mean anything by it, alright? I’m just… yeah.”

You nodded, hand sliding up his writs gently. Eddie’s heart leapt. “I know.” You nuzzled further into his touch, lips brushing the palm of his hand gently. “I don’t mean to be a bitch-”

“-You’re not a bitch-”

“-I’m just overwhelmed.” You sighed.

“Thought this was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, hm?” Eddie’s heart ached when you didn’t even grin, just sad eyes that downcasted towards the couch.

There was a pause, filled with the hum of the heater harmonizing with the purr of the washer running. “You wanna fuck around?” Eddie’s head tilted down towards you, pinching your flushed cheek lightly, enough to get the small smile he was craving out of you.

“Yeah,” Your eyes sparkled when they lit up at his, rounded so sweetly already, Eddie thought his knees might give out. “But I don’t want to play mean, Ed.”

“We don’t have to play at all if you don’t want to.” Eddie hummed, thumb grazing the soft skin of your cheek, playfully pressing into your nose.

“No, I want to.” You frowned, Eddie’s thumb smoothing over the crease between your brow. “But I don’t want you to spank me.”

“I was thinking I’d tie you up.” Eddie growled, leaning forward so he hovered over you, curly strands framing his face. “Maybe blindfold you. Bring out your toys.”

Your tummy flipped with heat, thighs pressing together, squirming in his touch. “Yeah.” You nodded. “But not too much teasing. I’m tired, Ed, I won’t last if you mess with me too long.”

“I won’t do it for too long.” Eddie nodded, grinning sweetly. “You wanna go wait for me in the room? Just on the bed, baby, no kneeling tonight. Just grab your blindfold.”

“Which cuffs?” You stood, moving towards the doorway, the one Eddie had just fixed.

His eyes lingered over the tinsel for just a second, a beat too long. “I got them.” Eddie’s tongue ran over his teeth, swallowing his smile. “I’ll get it.”

“Is that too tight?” Eddie asked, finger wiggling between you and the crinkling tinsel, seeing if he could slip a finger through. He was always worried, since the one time you played, early in the relationship, and he tied your hands too tight. Your fingers and palms went numb, neither one of you knew better but Eddie still felt awful about it, always making sure to double check.

“Feel ok?”

“Yeah, feels fine.” You sighed, rolling your shoulders lightly, sinking into the mattress. “Feels kinda scratchy.”

“Yeah.” Eddie snorted lightly, and though you couldn’t see it through your blindfold, you knew he was grinning. “Told you it was itchy.”

“It’s not that bad.” Your lips curled into a sideways grin. “The cuffs are way worse.”

Eddie hummed softly, tongue poking out at the array of toys- your toys. Vibrators, a dildo in the mold of his cock- you’d gotten it for him last Valentine’s Day, though it was more of a gift for you.

His hand reached for the slender, long wand- your favorite. He wasn’t punishing you, after all.

You felt the bed dip, the low groan of the mattress squeaking, Eddie’s hand on your thigh made you jump, spreading your legs apart.

A click, a buzz, and your body tensed in anticipation. You waited for the vibrating, soft silicone to glide over your skin. Instead, Eddie’s curls tickled your thighs, pillowy lips leaving a hot, wet kiss right above your knee. Sloppy kisses trailed up your leg, painfully slow, leaving you squirming and pulling against the tinsel.

He paused, hovering over your mound, breath ghosting over the skin, a pitiful whine leaving your lips. You clenched, trying to still your body from bucking towards him. Eddie smirked, nose tracing the wiry hair just above your slit, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. No tongue, which had you huffing, but he lingered there for a moment.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ pouty on me, baby.” Eddie muttered, lips buzzing against your skin, your body shivering when his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“‘M not pouty.” You sighed, lip jutting in the most adorably contradicting way. “But you said you wouldn’t tease.”

“No teasing at all?” Eddie hummed, his tone light and playful, kissing up your sternum, tongue flattening to lick a long stripe between your breasts. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You whine, body writhing pathetically against the restraints. “This isn’t fun.” You huff, frowning under the blindfold, the same bratty, snipping tone that Eddie knew far too well when you’d play. His weakness.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie cooed gently, teetering on the edge of mocking. “I gotcha. I’ll give you what you want.”

The vibrator brushed over your right nipple, soft silicone head thrumming, tickling the nerves, shooting electricity through you. Eddie circled the nipple gently, dipping down to kiss along your jaw.

“Please…” You panted, trapping a nasally whine behind closed lips.

“Please what? What do you want?” Eddie muttered, lip dragging along your neck. “Tell me what you want. You know you gotta tell me. How else will I know?”

“You know.” You snapped, hips wiggling.

Eddie didn’t move, stilled entirely except for moving the vibrator away from your pebbled nipple. A huffy whine, throaty and desperate had Eddie nearly caving, giving in because he did know what you wanted. He just wanted to hear you ask.

“I-I don’t want it there.” You mutter, body flushing with embarrassed heat, wiggling in hopes Eddie wouldn’t see it on your exposed skin.

“Where do you want it?” Eddie rasped, free hand cupping your boob, squeezing it gently.

“In-In me.” You mumbled,

“In you? In you where?” Eddie smirked, lifting the vibrator. “You want it… here?” The vibrations tickled your mouth, buzzing against your lips.

You writhed, head turning away. “No.”

“Oh, so you want it…” Eddie dragged the vibrator down your sternum, lightly over your slit, grinning at how your hips bucked excitedly. Only, he didn’t press it into your sopping hole, didn’t press it against your clit and bury his cock into you like you’d hoped.

No, instead, he pressed it between your cheeks, the tip buzzing against your tightest hole, leaving your squealing, hips jumping off the bed. “You want it in here?” Eddie grinned, teasing your ass gently.

“No, no, not there.” You shook your head furiously. “Eddie, you-you’re being mean!”

“I’m not.” Eddie feigned shock dramatically. “I just don’t know what you want, baby. You gotta tell me.”

Your lips tightened in a flat line, and he knew you were glaring at him through the blindfolds. “I-I want it in my pussy.”

“In it?” Eddie hummed, dragging the vibrator through your folds, circling your sopping hole.

“Yes- wait, no.” You moaned, head spinning at the sensation. “I want you inside me, and I want you to use it on me. On my pussy.”

“Oh…” Eddie sighed dramatically, finally pressing the vibrator over your clit, smug at the way your body jolted and bucked at the sensation. “I gotcha. See? That’s all you had to say.” He hummed, free hand lifting your left leg up, hooking it over his shoulder.

You felt the head of his cock slipping through your folds, groaning at the vibrations tickling through his own core. “I’ll give you what you want, baby.” Hips rolling slowly into yours, your back was arching off the bed at the double sensations.

Eddie’s free hand on your left hip, holding you into place while he pounded you, full rolls of his hips that punched straight to your core, winding you. The vibrator sloppily circling your clit, making you clench earlier than you expected, nails digging into the tinsel. The scratchy decor digging into your skin, that tiny bit of uncomfortable pleasure, a little bit of pain with the satisfaction Eddie was giving you, heightened by the blindfold. He knew exactly what he was doing, what you needed.

You pulled at the restraints again, itchy and burning into the skin of your wrists, harmonizing with the pleasure from Eddie and the vibrator, toes curling and strangled moans filling the space between you two, sending you over the edge for the first time.

The next two that followed before Eddie finally came, were enough to leave your mind blank. Gone with the frustration of the week, aching from sensation, and wrists rubbed raw from the tinsel.

Eddie let you sleep, after cleaning you up and the post check. You were sleeping hard, cheek squished, drooling into the pillow, wiped out. He cleaned the vibrator, throwing it back with the others. Applied Cortisone cream to the chafed skin of your wrists, doing a double check for any missed damage from before.

He held the tinsel in his hands, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, padding towards the door frame. Eddie hooked one end then the other, pulling tight to secure it up on the walls. Wrenching open the kitchen window, Eddie huffed, shoving the dangling strings of lights you had hung over the windows out of the way. He paused, lingering over the strand, twinkling bulbs on thick, sturdy chords. Maybe next time, I’ll use the light, Eddie thought, grinning to himself, blowing a cloud of smoke out the window.

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tantei-chan01 · 3 months

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Did you know Branch was originally going to be the one Velvet and Veneer had kidnapped? That would be extremely traumatic for him in the mute au since he had just gotten to the point he felt comfortable even singing in front of other people and not running for cover whenever Bridget or Gristle comes by and suddenly MORE giants are kidnapping him and trying to use his talents specifically because he started singing again.

I like to think in that circumstance, Bridget and Gristle would postpone the wedding to support Poppy, but John Dory would somehow still crash some important even they were a part of, that Poppy would still insist on going with John to save Branch and probably be joined by more than a few guests, maybe even Bridget while Gristle stays back (someone has to watch the kingdom and while he may be bros with Branch, he also knows his first Troll friend is justifiably nervous around Bergans and probably gonna have a bad time if he sees him), and the group would not have as many jokes about Brozone still thinking Branch is a baby because A) he isn't there and B) his friends are and while they are all there for teasing their most introverted friend and learning about his past they cannot get over the fact Branch had been left alone for over 20 years with no family and suddenly they discover he had 4 older brothers who all presumably had jeut up and left

I did know about that and agree it would have gone much differently. Mr. Dinkles would have sent some critters to Mount Rageous to delay the performance for as long as possible.

Poppy would enlist the bounty hunters to help them track down the brothers. First, finding John Dory thanks to Delta's help. Him being horrified at the fact of his brother's kidnapping just as he was packing up to go see him and at the fact that he was also traumatized into losing his voice and turning gray and now this will just make it worse. Luckily he has clues that helps the group find the others.

Floyd would be performing in a small town when they find him. He immediately agrees to go with and feels guilty on what he's been informed about.

Bruce immediately jumps to save the baby of the family, which Brandy encourages and beats himself up for not thinking of going back for Branch after he found Vacay Island.

Clay can immediately tell what's going on after a few words and immediately packed a rescue bag, refusing to leave his brotherbehind again. Viva tries to keep them from leaving, but Poppy, who's already stressed with worry, shuts that down and tells her that sometimes you have to do scary things if it means protecting someone.

They make it to Mount Rageous, where the critters successfully delay the performance for another day, they find out where they live and sneak into the bedroom to find Branch. He's already lost a large amount of talent and can barely pull himself up. The brothers immediately hug the prison and express worry.

Crimp walks into the room and tries to tell Velvet and Veneer when the bounty hunters restrain her. They convince her to help them expose the two fakes of their crime. The brothers try harmonizing again, but it fails due to unresolved issues. Then Cooper asks if it really was necessary for them to be perfect?

He explains that it was something Branch always told Poppy and others trolls when they stressed out about it. He always says that perfection doesn't exist and that being yourself is enough. Velvet and Veneer walk in and immediately try to capture the trolls. The bounty hunters and critters distract them long enough for Poppy to start singing.

Everyone starts singing together and manages to break the prison, Branch landing in Floyd's arms, clearly exhausted and in bad shape but alive. Bridget bursts in the room with the authorities, Velvet tries to argue that they have no proof only for Crimp to reveal that she had livestreamed the entire thing. Veneer willingly gives himself up to the police while his sister fights the entire process.

They head back to Pop Village to get Branch checked out. Along the way, the brothers finally have a much needed talk with each other and agree that being separated for so long affected them in many ways and decided to work on their family relationship. With the help of licensed professionals.

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year

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Hello! Do you have any advice/resources on how to write sounds? Speaking and singing in particular but also maybe sounds at different volumes and sounds that could be considered "noise."

Describing Sounds Using Sound Words

Description of sound is all about knowing sound-related vocabulary. Here's a mini-list to get you started, but you can do some research to learn more. Also, be sure to look up these words before using them to make sure they're right for the context.

High Volume - blaring, blasting, booming, bray, din, deafening, ear-piercing, ear-popping, earsplitting, full volume, loud, pealing, roaring, sonorous, thundering, thunderous

Low Volume - buzz, faint, gentle, hushed, low, muffled, murmur, muted, peaceful, quiet, soft, subdued, whisper

Noise - cacophony, clamor, clatter, commotion, discord, disquiet, fracas, hullabaloo, racket, ruckus, uproar Pitch and Tone - atonal, discordant, dulcet, harmonic, harsh, high-frequency, low-frequency, mellow, resonant, sonic, soprano, tenor, timbre

Rhythm - beat, cadence, flow, lilt, lyrical, measured, melodic, metered, monotone, pulsing, staccato, stutter, tempo

Sounds - babble, bang, bark, beep, belch, boom, burble, burp, chirr, chirp, clack, clatter, clang, clank, click, clink, clip-clop, clomp, crackle, crash, creak, ding, echo, groan, gurgle, hiss, hoot, hum, jangle, jingle, kerplunk, howl, melodic, mewl, moan, murmur, patter, pitter-patter, peal, plop, pop, purr, rattle, roar, rumble, rustle, screech, shriek, sizzle, splash, splat, swoosh, squawk, squeak, strum, thud, thrum, thump, wail, whimper, whinny, whine, whir, whistle, whiz, yelp, yowl, zing How to Research Sounds - If you're struggling to describe the sound of a particular thing, like "thunder," go to Google and type in, "how to describe the sound of thunder" and look for inspiration. You can also search for things like "horse sounds" or "what sounds do cars make?"

Also, two previous posts specific to describing the sound of singing and music:

Describing Music How to Describe a Singing Voice

I hope that helps!

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

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sprout-fics · 1 year

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I'll Be Better in the Morning

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F! Reader

(Read Here on AO3)

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2.3k Tags: Comfort fic, Hurt/Comfort, Body Dysmorphia, Fluff, Established Relationship, Soft Soap, Oneshot Warnings: TW for body image issues A/N: This is horrifically self indulgent don't look at me

Summary:

Johnny kisses you in the same way a mourning dove sings the dawn. Slow, poignant, tender and somehow remorseful. The feather light sensation of it spills across your tongue in hazy, dusky colors, wraps you within a warm, intimate embrace. You want to drown in it, fall asleep in its comfort, imbue the gentle touch of it into the worn, weary cracks of your soul.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.

You feel your lip tremble, eyes stinging with tears as you try to blink them away. Johnny raises a hand, links it over yours placed on his chest, fingers intertwining as he raises it up, places a kiss across your knuckles. Somehow, you know he loves that part of you too.

There's a weight settled across your shoulders.

Aching, groaning, gnawing at your thoughts. It settles across you like a shroud, blanketing your senses in hazy, muted colors and dimming the world around you. Heavy, it threatens to buckle your nerves, chafes at your restrained composure. The mere reminder of the day's events clogs the back of your throat, draws your arms a little tighter into your sides, stiffens your stance.

You're tired.

It's a hurt that's hard to quell, one that lingers even as you try vainly to ignore it. Summoned by a flash of memory, a glance into the reflection of a storefront, the bags under your eyes as you wash your face, try to regain yourself in front of your coworkers. Most days the weight is lessened, you can carry it in a pocket. Today, however, it lays low across your spine, slouches you forward as you drag it behind you, feel its gravity threaten to immerse you into sorrow.

It harmonizes with the creak of your front door as you at last arrive at home, head drooping, eyes lowered to the floor. You kick off your shoes just inside the door, frowning when they don't automatically tuck themselves neatly away. Just another thing to manage when you don't have the energy to bother.

You want to just curl in bed, forego dinner and curl under the sheets, wish away the worries of the world and hope that, come morning, all will be well again.

"Babe?"

You blink, and it's Johnny's voice that manages to penetrate the dark, chalky grey fog of your mind.

"Babe, that you?"

He's calling from the living room, and you follow the trail of his sing-song voice like finding a lantern in the smog.

"Yeah, it's me." You reply, voice heavy, not bothering to hide the weight there. "I'm home. "

You peek into the living room, taking note of the flashing advertisements on the muted TV. Yet then you arch an eyebrow when you see Johnny...on the floor? Yet then he raises himself up and you realize he's doing pushups as the commercials roll. It's a habit that tugs at your tender heart strings, summons a weary, affectionate smile to your lips as you lean on the door frame.

Johnny manages a single "Hoof-!" as he at least straightens himself, rising to a stand and rolling his shoulders. You trace them as he does, watching appreciatively as the coil of muscles rolls under his shirt before he turns to you.

Your Johnny, bright and beautiful like the sun. He grins at the mere sight of you, eyes melting with adoration. Yet he pauses when he takes stock of your form, slouched against the door frame, eyes tired.

"Bonnie?" He asks then, voice softer, more hesitant. He speaks like a child witnessing something unknown for the first time. Curious, perhaps almost afraid. "What's wrong?"

That does it. Despite your valiant effort you're helpless against that look, his brow furrowing, eyes softening in concern, lips parting with his query. Hot wet tears pool across your gaze, and the hiccup you thought you swallowed comes rising back up again in a choked sob.

You hate this.

You straighten enough to bury your face in your hands, shoulders shuddering and face warming in embarrassment. Johnny's footsteps pace towards you, his voice a soothing balm against your cracked composure.

"Hey, hey, hey." He murmurs, and his calloused hands come and settle across your shoulders. You're tipped forward, into him, cradled against his chest like you're something fragile to the touch, held with such care it only threatens to crack you further. "Shh, it's alright, gorgeous. Just breathe. I got you."

Gorgeous.

You truly sob then, and the way his tongue rolls the endearment without any effort at all, so sincere and genuine you can't help but believe him. He echoes it with no hesitation, absolute adoration of you tucked into him, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you there, safe from everything but the chaos of your own mind.

Shoulders shuddering, you let your arms fall and then wrap around his back, fingers gripping at his shirt as if that alone can ground you.

"I'm sorry." You croak. "I-I don't mean to be such a mess."

"You've nothing to apologize for." He murmurs, and you're taken even further into him, your face raised up by a hand on your nape, guiding you into the crook of his shoulder as he bends over you, forces you up on your toes to meet him.

You cry there too. It's everything about him. Safe, warm, Johnny's touch around you is pure comfort, an indulgence that leeches the sorrow away from you, clears the muddy waters of your heart. Like sunlight spilling through rain clouds, Johnny's voice hushes away the weariness, the grief and the hurt of your tired soul. Here, in his embrace, Johnny feels like home.

There's a hand in your hair as Johnny shifts on his feet. He's backpedaling, bringing you with him, and it isn't long until you're both sitting on the couch. Still pressed into his shoulder, you lean into him, one hand gripping at his shirt and the other curled around his waist.

He pulls you away from him then, hands cupping your face and uplifting him to his beloved, tender gaze.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, and you sigh into the inside of his palm, feeling like you've just dipped your bare toes into a cool, babbling brook.

"It's nothing." You murmur there, but Johnny only clucks at you.

"No, no. None of that, hen." He tells you, turning your face again to look at him. His eyes are serious for a moment, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Yet then his beautiful eyes soften with affectionate worry, and you feel them pluck at the strings of your heart as he speaks once more.

"Don't shut me out. I'm here for you, so tell me what's gotten you in such a state, aye?"

You nod at him, a slow gentle gesture that summons a pleased smile to the tight draw of his face.

"C'mere." He mumbles, and again you're pressed into him, close enough so your cheek rests on his broad chest and you're left hearing the strong, reassuring drum of his heart there.

"I just...had a bad day." You start, sniffling and swallowing a sob. "I was just getting dressed this morning, after you'd already left for the base, decided to try and wear a dress to work."

"The red one?" He asks softly, and you nod.

"I tried it on, it felt comfortable and all, b-but..." You trail off, force down the lump in your throat at the memory of you standing in front of the mirror, watching your face fall. "I just...I hated it Johnny. Couldn't stand the sight."

"Of the dress?" He asks, and there's a note of perplexity in his voice as he tries to understand.

"No." You reply, voice quieter now. Weary, broken. "Of...of me."

Like a dam broken, you shudder long and hard, tears welling once more across your gaze before you hiccup, feel your sobs run over. The weight of it all presses down onto your shoulders, slouching you forward and dragging you down, downwards into the murky waters of sadness.

"Oh hen." Johnny murmurs, and he sounds heartbroken, upset and raw at your confession. That only makes you cry harder, voice cracking in your throat as you cling to him like a mast amidst a gale. "Sweetheart."

"I can't- can't do it, Johnny." You cry, voice trembling. "I try so hard not to let it bother me but I can't stand it, I hate the way I look. I can barely look at myself in the mirror without it hurting."

Johnny holds you as you ramble between your hiccups, his hand stroking steady, smooth circles into your back. He's silent, and with your cheek pressed into his chest you can't see his expression. You try to imagine it's woeful, sad, somehow not as disappointed as your thoughts tell you.

He draws you back then, hands lifting you, and you blink as suddenly you're shifted onto his lap, his hands coming to land on your waist. You pause, swallowing your next sob as you lift your eyes, look into his face.

There's an anguish there you don't recognize, one that threatens to fracture at your already wounded heart. Face pinched, Johnny's green eyes look at you with a sadness you feel reflected back into yourself, an endless prism of grief into each other.

He leans up, and you allow the motion automatically, able to discern his movements like the tides of the ocean against your bare legs. His lips graze over yours just once, and you feel his sigh there before he descends again, a hand cupping your nape, guiding you to him.

"Gorgeous." He murmurs against the corner of your mouth, and it takes strength to not let your cries echo onto his lips.

"Johnny..." You try, voice heavy. "I-"

"Darling." He speaks then, pulling back so you can see his face, the way seriousness overrides the sadness and concern there. "Listen to me."

You do, pausing for a moment to let your eyes flicker down to your lap and then back up again.

"You are beautiful." He tells you, and his voice is sincere as his thumb strokes against your hip. "I wake up every day next to you and thank heaven I get to be the first one to see your smiling face."

He pauses, and you watch his throat bob as he tries to find the words.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.

"Your hair..." He begins, fingers skimming the edges of your scalp above your nape.

"Your shoulders." The hand drifts downwards, tracing across the rise of them.

"Your back." Downwards further still, you shivers as his fingers ghost across the small of your spine.

"Your hips." His palms settle on either side of you, squeezing gently for a moment before unclenching.

"Your thighs, your legs, your stomach, your chest..." He rambles on, taking a moment with each to let his hands feel over the feature, grounding you with his touch, admiring every inch of you. Then he raises himself up, lets his lips skim across yours.

"Those beautiful lips." He murmurs, and when he pulls back he's smiling.

"And there, those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes."

"I love all of them." He tells you, and there's a radiance in his smile that bleeds into you, washes away the dirt and grime and leaves you refreshed, clean and gentle in his touch.

"I love them because you're beautiful, and because I love you." He finishes at last, and when he blinks you see his own eyes are glassy with an affection that threatens to brim them with wet warmth. "I wish I could spend every day just looking at you, hen. I'm so fucking crazy about you I can hardly stand it."

You don't know what to say, lips parted and eyes wide. So, you do the only thing you think of. You lean into him, wraps your arms around his neck and press your shuddering sigh to his lips, feel him drink it down and kiss you the way you need him to. The way you deserve.

"I love you too, Johnny." You whisper, voice fragile and devoted. "I think I love you more than I can ever love myself."

He makes a sound against you, and it hums against the roof of your mouth as he draws back, braces his forehead against yours.

"That will change." He tells you softly, earnestly. "Someday you'll be able to see what I see. I promise, gorgeous."

Then he pulls back, smiles wide up at you, and that shroud of yours lifts away from your shoulders with a sigh, escapes as no more than a dissipating mist in the dawn of him.

"Let's have ourselves an evening, yeah?" He asks, tone returning to his usual affectionate playfulness. "Takeout, your choice. Settle down and watch a movie."

His hand raises to your cheek, and you can't help but smile at him, at your Johnny, the most beautiful and precious gift you've ever received.

"Will you take me to bed after, soldier?" You ask trying to sound cheeky, and when Johnny laughs it sounds like church bells on a sky blue Sunday morning.

"Hen, if I had it my way, you'd never leave my bed." He tells you, voice dipping lower, husky and dragging in his chest. You shiver a little, and it only serves to make him grin wider, bigger up at you.

His face shifts again, and the smile lowers a bit into something more concerned, but containing all the wealth of love he has to offer to you.

"We're going to figure this out, aye?" He murmurs expectantly at you, and when you give him a shy, hesitant nod the grin returns.

"That's my girl." He rumbles, dragging you down once more into his lips.

"My beautiful, beautiful, gorgeous girl."

#johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny 'soap' mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #oneshot #my writing #my fic #reader insert

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naffeclipse · 7 months

Note

I saw all those harpy Penguin posts and was like "I wonder if I could help or add something" when I noticed you wanted a name for it. Idk if you already have one but here is the essence of it I have so far in general.

Cardinal Instinct, or also words or phrases and concepts such as Nature vs Nuture, Core Instincts, Celestial Alingment, Harmonic Convergence.

Cardinal because it means most important or fundamental, and it is an aspect of the Zodiac signs with Cardinal, Fixed and Muted nature's based on the cycles of seasons and their phases of the start, the intrinsic bulk and the transitional conclusion.

It also is a play on Carnal, similar to how Apex Polarity is both a play on the phrase Apex Predator and Polarity with Polar, or maybe even also just with the Poles. It is also a reference to Cardinal directions, which are the defined and known directions on a compass, they are the familiar and known paths that are often taken because they form our understanding of the world and everything in it. But although they are the most formal they are most certainly not the only ways.

This references how Eclipse and PenguinHarpy!Y/N are both following their Instincts but also are in a situation where they are coming into question. They are both trying to care for the babies, but Penguin Y/N shouldn't by the technical detail of them not being Harpies but Orca Mer young, while it makes more sense for Eclipse to be compelled to tend to them. But Eclipse Is also bending the situation when he refrains from just following that direct line of instinct, naturally arriving at the typical bloody conclusion.

While nurture is what compelled our Harpy Y/N to take these 2 baby mers under their wings literally, it's up to Eclipse to either follow the vein straight to the scent of blood at the end or deviate from nature's course and answer in kind. The heart flows both in and out, and it's nature is as entrenched in its deep and darker reaches as it is swathed in the warmer and brighter patterns where the light touches.

But we all know at the end of the day if Eclipse gets what he wants he's taking a birdie home along with the two newly adopted children.

On another note I also did ponder over the concept of Sun and Moon being in the same universe as Apex Polarity, and my interpretation/idea was Sun being a Beluga and Moon being a Narwhal. Beluga fits Sun's personality quite a bit, but I will admit I cannot imagine how the heck you'd be able to fit that goofy-ass horn on Moon. I just wanted to mention this for the mental image of magical sea unicorn Moon and musical sea canary Sun for fun.

I love Cardinal Instinct! It flows well, has lots of thought and meaning behind it, and mirrors the structure name of Apex Polarity! I'd love to use that for the AU title if you don't mind!!! The dynamics of Orca!Eclipse and Penguin Harpy!Y/N are so well defined and explored within a few paragraphs, I'm in awe!

(He's absolutely taking a birdie home along with his babies)

That's so cute!!! A natural musical ability and a beautiful white and yellow tipped tail for Sun, and a majestic tusk for Moon with a tail of deep blue mottled with white markings like stars! I'm pondering some kind of sea shell or maybe even twisting his tusk into a head cap instead of a large canine tooth.

Regardless, these two would be much more mild-mannered with our lovely photographer, though no less interested in Y/N.

Excellent thoughts all around; I'm chewing on your every word!

#inkofheart #apex polarity #cardinal instinct #siren babies #orca!eclipse #harpy!reader #beluga!sun #narwhal!moon

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diorsbrando · 2 years

Text

HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS. ( a. h )

pairing ! ━━ aki hayakawa x fem! reader

cw ! ━━ minors/ageless blogs do not interact. reader is black + thick coded but you don’t have to imagine it that way. basically boyfriend!aki who is very soft for his princess we luv him for that <3 lots of fluff and like…introspective moments? suggestive themes. descriptions of smoking.

word count ! ━━ 3.7k

notes ! ━━ this is an expanded version of this ask & the art used came from this post. ive been wanting to write this for a while, but ive been putting it off bc i wanted to start/work on other things and wasn’t sure if this would even be any good. but the akirot has fermented and here we are <3 i love writing soft love scenarios (i’ve been a sucker for them lately) so this is what this is. i hope y’all enjoy ! REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED!

AKI HAYAKAWA WAS A. . . PERSONAL MAN. he cherished every little thing that he was blessed with very profoundly, and held them close to his heart, where they would be safe within its hardened, cold exterior. he protects these things— these emotions, these ideas, these people—with all his might, because he knew very well, maybe even better than anyone, that tomorrow was never promised.

he values the things he’s received even on a subconscious level, where he doesn’t actively realize that’s what it is: him caring to such an uncanny extent. it was like that with the first cigarettes he ever received from himeno, it was the same regarding his friendship with denji and power—

and it was ultimately the case with you. especially with you, matter of fact.

this explains why the two of you were pressed up against each other in a yearning embrace. aki had comfortably sandwiched you in between the wall and his firm body, while just a few feet away was the front door, where his devil-like subordinates waited outside.

he was very personal about you and the relationship you shared with him, the trust and the genuine connection that tethered both your hearts and souls to one another. he didn’t even want mere glances from the likes of denji and power to taint this special thing he held so tenderly in his big, calloused hands. their teasing of aki being “so whipped” for you fell on deaf ears the moment his closed your door with his foot and his fingers came in contact with your skin.

it wasn’t exactly a lie, he supposed.

the kiss was drawn out. longing, and wistful. it was slow enough for you to savor hints of every delicacy that clung to the walls of his mouth, and he did the same to you, low sounds of pleasure threatening to escape his throat. you tasted the spearing blanket of peppermint that coated the other flurry of flavors on aki’s lips and tongue, like the stale aroma of the cigarettes he smoked an hour ago, and the tangy cocktail he drank with his meal. and you loved it.

the dark-haired male sensually swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, effectively licking off most of the lip gloss you wore. gently, he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, before letting the pink muscle slither in between the barrier known as your lips; you tasted the gloss that you’ve been wearing all night.

you whined into his mouth when aki tugged at your bottom lip again— a little firmer and more yearning this time—and you followed his movements, perfectly in sync with one another. you melted into his taut chest when one of the hands that held onto your waist slipped past the material of your long, fitted cardigan and found its way under your ribbed tank top. his hands felt like ice against your warm skin and caused you to shudder at his touch. his palms gently squeezed and unclenched at your fleshy sides as a way to ground you back to him.

after what felt like an eternity, the rest of the world around you completely muted, aki finally pulled away from the kiss, his forehead dipped slightly to your height and rested against yours. your breathing patterns became harmonized with each other’s after a few seconds.

this. . . moments like these were precious to aki. it was personal to him, and it was all his.

“fuck. . . . . i’ve been wanting to kiss you like that since the moment we picked you up earlier” he confessed in a breathy voice. it was almost unusual to hear your boyfriend be so forward or use expletives so casually—he was usually such a composed man— but you found his words arousing, and you bit your lip to contain the giggle that wanted to escape. perhaps it was that fruity alcoholic beverage he drank, and the four subsequent glasses he consumed afterwards that made him so. . . so—

another chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth pulled you out of your thoughts. and then another a little farther down. then a third and fourth back on your lips. you couldn’t help the loving smile that morphed onto your face, finding his affections extremely endearing.

letting your fingers ascend from his shoulders to the back of his neck, your french tipped fingers numbly scratched at the back of his head. the dull sensation on his scalp was almost relaxing, but it also made his heartbeat continuously skip several beats. if aki were a cat, he swore he would have purred.

“hmm, aren’t you too cute?” you cooed teasingly, earning you a faux irritated roll of his eyes from him. “but don’t you have to get up early for work tomorrow? you and others should get going, it’s getting late.”

your boyfriend let his eyes flutter close, inhaled deeply, and threw his hand back to exhale, a soft groan getting caught in the mix.

“yeah, i do . . . . but i’d honestly rather not go back with those two. working with them is one thing but living with them on top of it is something else entirely. they’re complete pigs, it’s disgusting. and having them in my personal space feels like hell every day.”

you chuckled airily at his childlike complaints, while allowing your other hand to shift to cup his face. “i totally understand. it can be hard, but just take it one day at a time, okay? and be patient with them.” you put extra emphasis on the word patience because you knew how aki could get if provoked enough.

the devil hunter groaned again, letting his head hang until it fully rested on your shoulder. he still wasn’t fond of denji and power being placed under his care or being in his space, but he didn’t mind you in his. matter fact, it’s something he’d grow to crave more and more as the days went by. it was unbecoming for a man like him, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care all that much.

“now go! denji and power are waiting for you,” your voice trailed off and morphed into a more sing-song tone, which aki didn’t find amusing. but still, he sucked it up and stood at his full height with a heavy sigh.

“fine.” if you squinted hard enough, it almost looked like he was pouting. “gimme a kiss first.” he mumbled with a titled head, trailing his hands up and down your waist.

your chest tightened in glee when his already deep voice grew darker, just a little heavier, that you could feel it’s weight on your waist where his hands rested; you were obsessed with his voice, especially when it was unable to conceal his obvious desire for you. happily obliging to his request, the both of you leaned in for a sweet peck, the noise of your lips softly smacking and then finally separating tugging a rare smile at aki’s lips. just as you were about to pull away, aki’s ample hands immediately grabbed the back of your neck and held it in place so you couldn’t move.

“wait, one more baby” his grumbled again, his tone thicker than before. how could you deny him when he looked at you like that and asked so nicely? so, you gave what he (and you) both wanted.

“mmm just— just one more. this is the last one, i promise.”

it was, in fact, not the last one. he’d say ‘one more’ five more times (and you’d give in every single time) before you had to literally pry him off. as you ushered him towards the door, with his hand on the doorknob, he assured you in a soft voice that he’ll come to see you the following weekend, because this week was supposedly going to be very busy for him.

“i’ll see you soon, alright? stay safe. call me if you need anything.” he planted one final, gentle kiss on your forehead. it was his own personal way of saying ‘i love you’.

maybe he’ll work up the courage to actually say those three weighty words one day. a part of him wanted that day to be sooner rather than later.

“you’re the one who needs to be careful, out here killing devils and shit everyday. but anyway, i’ll see ya later, handsome.”

your subtle compliment made aki’s body stiffen for a moment, and you were able to see his ears redden in real time as he exited your apartment.

the fond contentment that surrounded the sword-wielding hunter was snatched away from him the moment the door closed behind his heels, and the crisp, cold air embraced his figure.

denji and power immediately flooded his ears with questions, ones he didn’t care enough to answer. they were too personal for him. as far as he was concerned, they didn’t need to know what went on in his relationship. like second nature, his face returned to its naturally stoic state, and he pulled out a second cigarette and lit it as he walked away from the two devils, who were still pestering him with obscene inquiries.

in that instance, he once again left his beating heart in human form behind on the ninth story of the apartment complex.

one could assume this might have been why aki hayakawa was so frigid all the time. the warmth of your love, of your being in itself that set fire to the blood in his veins, was pulled away from his grasp, causing his skin to harden and freeze in solitude and indifference. it ultimately contributed to overall icy personality, which seemed to be more steely than usual. each time his thoughts pondered on your tasteful figure —even for a moment— or the memory of your honeyed voice kissed his mind’s ear, he would have to stifle of groan of longing and annoyance, because instead of being in your bed, cradling you in his strong grasp, he had to be out here instead: his suit stained with the blood of some repulsive devil creature, dealing with all these. . . people, he thought in vague disdain, and dreading the paperwork he’d have to fill out for makima.

the week seemed to have weights on its feet, with the way it dragged on day after day, ever so slowly. it was too slow for aki and work, as well as his eccentric roommates, were driving him up the wall.

aki’s skin grew too cold, it resembled too much like solid ice, where if you came to close in its vicinity, its frost would bite you. he had been without the warmth of his heart for too long.

this realization would soon lead the dark-haired male to sneak out of his own house in the dead of night, an unfathomable gravitational force deep within his being pulled him to the little slice of heaven in this hell he had to live in everyday: to you.

aki understood the impulsivity and recklessness of his actions and was well aware of the risks of walking around alone at night, knowing that there could be devils lurking literally anywhere. he didn’t care though; nothing else mattered when you were involved. he also knew that he really should be in bed, resting so he can be ready for another grueling day at his job tomorrow.

but he just couldn’t seem to drift off into a dreamless slumber that his body so desperately wanted. not when you lingered and danced in the forefront of his subconscious.

it was an ungodly hour, most likely past two a.m., and lucky for aki, you were awake to feel the buzz of your phone in your palms. your closed laptop laid idle on the desk next to your bed, feeling the crushing weight of an assignment you were dreading lifted off your shoulders as soon as you pressed the submit button. now, you were currently going through your ‘watch later’ compilation on youtube, slowly but surely making your way through the list.

that’s when you saw the notification from your boyfriend drop down from the top of the screen. reflexively, your heartbeat quickened, and your finger twitched as you read his rather straightforward text.

you up? if you are, come unlock the door for me

it’s a marvel how he seemed to know that you were awake at this hour. for all he knew, you could have been fast asleep, enjoying your ride to dreamland.

but you supposed that just proved how attuned your man was to you. it was frightening sometimes, like he knew you better than yourself.

and it would make sense for someone to be in tune with such an important organ more than anything else because of course, it was the one that gave them life and one wouldn’t be able to effectively survive without it.

aki’s began to drown in the sea of his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize that the door was already open, and you stood there waiting for him. your soft spoke snapped him out of the daze he was in. you couldn’t stop the faint, cheeky grin that pulled at your facial muscles the longer you stared at your lover.

if aki leaned close enough and looked hard enough, he might be able to see the hearts in your pupils. something about him coming here in the dead of night— randomly, no less — felt so adolescent. it felt like the two of you were some starstruck lovers in high school that couldn’t stay away from the other for too long. and something about the fact made your body temperature increase.

you noticed that aki’s hair wasn’t tied up in its usual top-knot style. it cascaded freely in dark waved across his face, acting as a shadowy curtain over his lashes. the onyx stud earring’s he always wore glimmered in the refraction of the singular light that hung over their heads in the hallway. his katana was slung lifelessly across his back on top of the black hoodie he wore.

aki’s face was mainly expressionless as he stared back at you, and yet, he still managed to look effortlessly beautiful.

you’d never know that thoughtful stare could prove to be too much for him sometimes. the man found himself quickly tearing his gaze from yours after a few seconds, deciding that your eggshell white painted toes and silver anklet were far more interesting. and they were, because they were so pretty looking. everything about you was so pretty.

he opened his mouth a little to say something, but then immediately closed it again, swallowing whatever thoughts he was going to share. concern briefly flickered in your brow at the minimal action. “aki? is.... everything okay?” you asked him carefully, knowing that he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve or open about anything so easily.

he would need to warm up first to do that.

aki took several moments to reply, and in the silence, his feet took control of the rest of his body and took a step forward. then another, and then another, until he had your back up against the wall, just like the other night. your breath slightly hitched at the memory, your chests brushing against one another.

“. . . everything’s fine. those two just. . . can be so fucking loud sometimes, even when they’re sleeping. can’t stand it.” his voice was rough and full of complaints, but his hands were gentle, finding their way back home on the flesh of your waist, and used it as leverage to pull your hips against his. you could feel the heat of his crotch on yours/

“one of these days, i’m actually going to kill them in their sleep and dump their bodies on the street.” and there it was again, that dip in volume that made his voice sound more like a sensual rumble in this throat. you started to wonder if he was aware of it or not.

the flicker of his intensifying gaze from your eyes to your lips seemed to be the catalyst in the two of your moving your faces closer together. both of you were so close he could feel the air escaping from your mouth when you let out a chuckle. “so dramatic. so...you came all the way here, because they were snoring too loud?” your eyes were lidded now, teasing him with faux offense embedded in your tone as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

aki all but hummed, not caring enough to reply at the moment, because he now became too busy pressing a much-anticipated kiss on your lips. this time, it was saccharine. it was eager, bordering on desperate. but most of all, it was warm. aki sighed and groaned into your mouth, relishing in the warmth of being here with you, in your house, in your arms, thawing the cold barrier that surrounded his veins.

as the kiss grew more fervent ━ one of his hands gliding up the valley of your breast to comfortably latch onto your throat, and your hand that was clasp took root in his soft hair, giving it a little tug ━ neither he, nor you, could suppress the shudder that crawled up your spines.

the need to properly breath soon became too overwhelming, and soon enough the both of you pulled away from one other, panting softly into each other’s mouth, him resting his forehead on yours.

“yeah...” he spoke slowly, trying to remember the question before the two of you kissed; his head was still fuzzy from the sheer euphoria of it all. “they’re....too loud. anyway, let’s go to bed, baby. ‘m tired.”

with one final peck on your lips, he slipped out of your loose grasp and padded his way to your room, with you following after him. you plopped on your bed and got comfortable as you watched your boyfriend maneuver back and forth between your room and bathroom as if he lived here. it felt very...domestic and you had to bite back the grin that wanted to pull at your lips and contain your giddiness.

as you connected your phone to its charger and set it on the nightstand, aki’s taller frame climbed into bed next to you. his clothing was reduced to his boxers and t-shirt, presumably wearing it under the hoodie he arrived in. instinctively, your bodies were pulled towards each other underneath the blankets: your head against the crook of aki’s neck and one hand on his chest, while his lanky, muscled arm was draped across your back, his palms rubbing miscellaneous patterns along your sides and thigh.

“you mind if i smoke a little before we sleep?” he broke the silence that filled your bedroom, remembering to be courteous whenever he came over.

you hummed sleepily, not realizing your own exhaustion as soon as you snuggled up against your boyfriend. “mmm, g‘head, baby. just open the window when you do....don’t want the smell to linger.”

it was amusing to aki that while gave him permission to get up satisfy his smoker habit, you still you nuzzled yourself against him, holding him close like he was your own personal teddy bear. chuckling softly, he slithered out of your grasp and out of the comfort of your bed to grab the pack of smokes and his lighter that were in his hoodie pocket.

remembering that you kept an ashtray in one of the drawers━ just for him; his heart pounded at the thought━ he placed it on the nightstand, and like second nature, pulled a pale white cigarette from its container with his teeth. with a few flicks of his black lighter ━one, two, three ━ the orange flame he’d come to be very well acquainted with sprang out from its plastic cage and kissed the end of his cigarette. wispy, white tendrils of smoke escaped from the end of the cigarette and idly floated into the atmosphere. inhaling and exhaling, as if he were breathing regularly, aki rested his back against the headrest of the bed, and blew out the toxic fumes, letting excesses of smoke lazily dribble past his lips.

the man’s dark, cerulean eyes drowsily shifted from the blank ceiling to your now sleeping form next to him. he took comfort in the way your body gently rose and fell, and the way your facial muscles relaxed into complete bliss, not having a care in the world.

the veiny hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette came to gently stroke the apple of your cheeks, then shifted so he could stroke your soft lips with the pad of his thumb. even in your sleep, you sensed his touch and leaned into his rugged palm. his chest ached and stomach churned watching you do that and God you were just so cute. so pretty and so soft and all his. every time he saw you, he liked the sound of that more and more.

this moment, it was comparable to a husband and wife sharing a bed. the thought made his cheeks and neck burn, almost causing him to choke on the smoke he was inhaling. aki wished all his days could end like this. he wished every day could begin and end like this, until the end of time.

after a few more minutes, aki snuffed out the cigarette on the ash tray next to him, got up to brush his teeth and gargle mouthwash for a second time this evening, and climbed into bed with finality. pulling your figure into his once more. his now warm hand glided up and down the canvas of your spine, and both of your legs became entangled with each other.

this particular thing, his relationship with you, was very personal to aki hayakawa, indeed. he cherished it admittedly more than his own job and he wanted to show you, as well as tell you, how much you meant to him everyday for the rest of his life.

that’s probably why he placed one last tender kiss on your forehead before letting slumber take over, and against your skin he mumbled something that had been weighing heavy on his chest and his mind for longer than he realized.

“i... i love you, princess. sweet dreams.”

aki closed his eyes before he realized your own eye that had peeled open at his thick, sleepy voice, suppressing a dreamy smile at his love confession.

あ tagging ! ━━ @yamaguchism @cyancherub @444yeager @n-agiz @fushisslut @aaphroditeeeee @heartsfrommars @saintblk @h34rt4u @deathskid @nekoriots @hellavile @aitsuki @bunnyyamor @dejwrites @yooniluvbot444 @loyenne @satotokii @enishis @eiflawriting @obitohno @monirei @sanjithesimp @cosmicdoechii @nobodytbh @simeonswhore @sirenh4ll . . . . want to be added my taglist for more works? click here <3

#sailewhoremoon #sosa’s filez 💭#i hope yall noticed all the allusions to aki being cold / the reader 'warming him up' bc shes his heart in human form #and how that connects to his personality━#ahem anyway #aki 🖤#chainsaw man #csm fics #csm x reader #chainsaw man x black fem reader #csm x black reader #black fem reader #aki hayakawa x fem reader #thank GOD i got this fic out ive been wanting to publish this all week #fluff🥰#!mdni #do y’all think my writing is like…bad or not well rounded #idek it’s just a thought

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letmehavemyfictionalmen · 1 year

Text

Star Crossed; Star-Collide: chapter I

Summary: As a bounty hunter, Din has completed his mission, however, he is unbeknownst to the storm that will knock the wind out of him, literally.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

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The Nevarro desert sprawls out before you, a vast canvas of parched earth that seems to stretch beyond the horizon. Endless dunes of golden sand undulate like a sea frozen in time, while jagged rocks jut out like the teeth of some great beast, scattered haphazardly across the landscape.

The winds whisper a mournful song, carrying with them the sense of utter isolation and a haunting desolation. There is no life in this forsaken place, only the vast emptiness of the shifting sands and a never-ending solitude that engulfs everything in its path.

The star above glows with fervor, its radiance spilling over the land, igniting a heat that suffuses every grain of sand. The air trembles with the sun's intensity, the weight of its brilliance pressing down upon the desert like a hammer.

As if locked in a dance with the arid earth, the sun paints the world in shades of gold and ochre, conjuring an austere beauty in the midst of its scorching assault.

You traverse the vastness of the desert, silence reigning supreme, broken only by the sound of sand crunching beneath your feet. The untamed essence of this barren land engulfs you, but you remain unrelenting, unwavering in your quest

The ivory of your Jedi robes glows against the ashen sand, stark and luminous against the muted desert backdrop. The black of your belt and boots adds depth to your monochrome attire, and your cloak, rippling behind you like a shadow, lends an air of mystery to your austere appearance.

Looking every bit of Obi-Wan’s apprentice, A hushed voice travels with the wind, caressing your ears. You recognize it instantly, the familiar timbre of your mentor Obi-Wan.

Gliding alongside you is Beeb, your trusty astromech droid, a blur of orange and white against the beige sand. Its head, round and dome-shaped, swivels with a keen and curious eye, scanning the endless surroundings.

The stillness of the desert is interrupted only by the gentle hum of Beeb's servos, harmonizing with the soft whisper of the wind.

You watch over him with a protective gaze, your heart filling with a maternal sense of duty. "Take care, little one," you whisper, your voice carried away by the hot winds.

Beeb zips back to your side, emitting a joyful chirp that resonates with the purity of a bird's song happily. Your lips curl into a crescent moon of joy, a twinkle in your eye as you witness Beeb's playful antics.

Beeb swivels his dome-shaped head, emitting a series of chirps and whistles that resemble a curious inquiry. ‘Mama, where are we going?’

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, as if carried on a breeze of mirth at Beeb’s innocent query.

Patting his metallic head and rubbing it as in a way to ruffle his hair gently. "There is a child, Beeb. We must rescue him from the Imperial Remnant." Your voice imbued with unshakable resolve.

‘A child! I get a sibling. That means R2D2 won’t tease me for being the youngest.’ Beeb lets out a series of excited chirps, almost child-like in nature. His head spins around in every direction, as if searching for the little one himself.

A beam of happiness spreads across your face at Beeb's enthusiasm, feeling a sense of warmth in your heart. It's been a long time since you've seen anyone so purely happy and carefree.

It reminds you of your own childhood, before the weight of the galaxy was thrust upon your shoulders.

"I know, Beeb. He's quite the special little guy. I can't wait for you to meet him." Your words are punctuated by a gentle laugh.

The little droid chirps with excitement, his movements quick and sprightly. You follow closely, trying to keep up with his energy as he rolls ahead, leading the way.

The endless expanse of desert still stretches out before you, but Beeb's child-like enthusiasm brings a sense of joy to the journey.

Together, you press on through the harsh terrain, Beeb's infectious happiness making each step a little lighter, each gust of sand a little more bearable.

Through the cacophonous streets of Nevarro, Din strides with a solemn gait, the metallic plates of his armor echoing a rhythmic beat that echoes through the throng of people.

The bustling market envelops the city streets, stalls brimming with wares to behold. Each vendor calls out to passersby, their voices echoing through the narrow alleys as hurried feet beat a steady rhythm on the worn stones beneath.

Din threads his way through the thriving market, the polished metal of his armor gleaming in the scorching sun, capturing the attention of every passerby.

Undeterred by the chaos of the busy market and the looks he receives, Din strides forward with a sense of purpose.

His attention remains steadfast on the task at hand, his thoughts consumed by the mission that has brought him back to this bustling city.

Din treads deeper into the maze of Nevarro's streets, slipping between shadows and darting through sunlight, his every step deliberate and steady as he navigates the twisting alleys.

As Din rounds the corner, his gaze falls upon the entrance to the clandestine Imperial facility, nestled amid the bustling Nevarro market. But in his periphery, a lone rubbish bin catches his eye, discarded and forgotten in the dusty shadows of the narrow alleyway.

Gazing into the dusty bin, Din beholds a heartbreaking sight - the remnants of the child's floating pram now shattered and broken beyond repair.

Din's heart sears with fiery pain, his gaze fixated upon the shattered remnants of the child's once safe haven. The pram, once a symbol of hope and protection, now lies destroyed, its pieces scattered amongst the filth and debris.

Regret grips Din like a vice, squeezing his heart with a brutal force as he recalls the moment he surrendered the Child to the Imperial Remnants.

His fists coil and release, a surge of guilt overwhelming him. A sense of failure seizes his heart, a heavy burden he bears as he paces the alley.

His mind whirls, seeking a solution to the wrongs he's allowed to befall the innocent. A plan he must devise, a way to redeem himself and rescue the Child from the hands of the Imperials.

A burden of guilt crushes his heart as he comprehends the peril that the Child faces. He senses the urgency to act, to save the innocent one from harm's way.

Filled with righteous fury and a burning desire for retribution, Din sets off on a path of vengeance.

For the Empire's cruelty to the Child, they will pay a fee. A debt that only he, the Mandalorian, can claim.

Prostrate atop a terrace, far removed from the grasp of the Imperial agents, Din steadies his gaze through the Amban sniper's lens, locked on the looming Imperial stronghold.

A soft touch to his helmet's earpiece and the mechanism within it hums with life, carrying distant conversations to Din's ear.

Static echoes in Din's ears, as he moves the sniper lens, trying the locate the Child, however, as he scans the base, his attention is drawn to a new scene unfolding before him: the thermal image of the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing.

Their voices, distant and distorted, crackle through his comms. He adjusts the frequency, tuning out the static until the conversation between the Imperial client and Dr. Pershing fills his ears like poison.

"I don't care." The Imperial clients travel through Din's comms. "I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it."

The Imperial agent's orders blare through Din's comms, their cold and callous tones cutting through his heart like a blade. "I don't care. I order you to extract the necessary material and be done with it." they command as if the life of a child is nothing but a mere trifle to be disposed of at will.

For a while, the voices fade into the hiss of static, the words drowned in a sea of white noise.

With a gentle twist of the knob, Din awaits the return of the conversation, the static hum slowly dissipating, and the sound of voices filling the air once more.

The doctor's voice breaks the silence, his words dripping with obedience, "He has explicitly ordered us to bring it back alive."

"Finish your business quickly, as I no longer can guarantee your safety." The Imperial Client's words travel through the air, a warning of imminent danger.

The beskar helmet conceals the furrow on Din's brow, perplexed by the Imperial Client's cryptic words.

No longer guarantee the safety of the doctor? What is the Imperial agent talking about? Who was this threat that shook the resolve of this hidden Imperial base?

It fills Din with an unknown sense of relief as he realizes that the Imperial agents fear something to the point where they longer feel safe hiding here. For if they fear something enough to flee, then perhaps the Child may yet have a chance at survival.

Thoughts race through Din's mind as he surveys the scene, his voice muffled by the helmet that conceals his emotions. "What are they afraid of? Who is this threat?"

"It is I, they fear, Mandalorian."

A tense stillness grips Din's form, as a distinct hum, like a shrill electrical buzz, reverberates through the air behind him.

Amidst the chaos of his thoughts, a moment of reckoning grips Din like a vice, and he curses himself for his lack of vigilance. His eyes, once sharp and alert, now narrow with anger and frustration, as he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

With steady hands, Din relinquishes his grip on the rifle, previously trained upon the Imperial stronghold. Silently, with calculated precision, his hand glides downward, towards the leather holster secured to his left thigh, where the blaster rests within its sheath.

With quickness unmatched, Din draws his weapon from its sheath, rolling onto his back in one fluid motion. From this vulnerable position, he trains the weapon on the looming figure standing behind him, ready to defend himself against any threat.

Confronting him is a presence, tall and imposing. The figure is draped in flowing white robes, the starkness of which is accented by a contrasting black belt.

Behind them, a cloak of the deepest black dances in the wind, as if daring anyone to challenge the power of the one who wears it.

The figure holds a weapon that Din has only heard in a hushed tone, spoken in reverential tones and remembered with reverence, for those who wielded it were lost to the purge, gone without a trace.

The once-forgotten weapon, now in the possession of an enigmatic form, is wielded with practiced ease and lethal finesse, each hand brandishing one of the glowing blades.

Din offers gratitude to the stars above, for the knowledge imparted by the Armourer, which he now recalls as a child, the different variations of the lightsabers.

The Mandalorian's gaze fixates on the left hand of the figure, beholding the double-bladed lightsaber glowing in hues of royal purple, while the right-hand holds a dual-phased lightsaber emanating a vivid green radiance.

"A Jetii." Din's lips part, his breath caught in his chest as he beholds the figure before him, a being of power and ancient wisdom.

"A Mandalorian." The words uttered by the figure are infused with a sense of serenity, a voice of balance and control.

The voice of the figure reaches Din's ears, and a sudden realization dawns upon him. This is no mere figure, but a woman of immense power, her words carrying a weight that stirs something deep within him.

A shiver runs down his spine, as he realizes the magnitude of his opponent - a Jetii, armed with weapons of deadly prowess. He knows he stands no chance against such might.

Din's senses flare with a sudden urgency, and his body responds with a lightning-quick roll, narrowly evading the Jetii's sudden lunge. His muscles tense, his reflexes honed from a life of constant danger.

The graceful and deadly strike of her dual lightsabers slices through the air where Din had been just a moment before. The sound of the humming blades echoes off the surrounding structures, a symphony of danger and death.

Din's heart races with adrenaline as he quickly springs to his feet, his own weapons at the ready. He knows he's outmatched, but he refuses to go down without a fight.

Din regains his footing with a graceful sway, his blaster at the ready, aimed at the Jetii. Yet her movements are too swift, her form too lithe, as she sidesteps each shot with poise and ease, the double-bladed lightsaber a blur of purple, effortlessly blocking his every attempt.

Din grunts as he swiftly steps back, creating distance between himself and the woman. With fluid motions, he draws his amban rifle/spear from his back, ready for the woman's next move. As she lunges towards him with her green lightsaber, Din expertly parries her attack.

Din charges forward, his rifle at the ready, but the woman is too quick. She leaps over him, somersaulting in mid-air, and lands behind him. Before he can turn around, she delivers a swift kick to his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Stepping forward, the woman's words are sharp and unforgiving. "You are a Mandalorian, revered warrior. Family is paramount to you, younglings are precious to your kind. I have respect for your way of life, but I must ask, why did you surrender the Child to the Imperials?"

Din tries to stand up but he is still disoriented from the kick. He glares at the woman, anger simmering within him. "That's none of your business," he growls, his hand hovering over his holster.

He doesn't know who she is or how she knows about the Child, but her words hit him hard.

The woman narrows her eyes, her lightsabers still ignited. "It is my business when it concerns the safety of a child. The Jedi are the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, even though there are only two left, it is our duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Din grits his teeth and slowly pushes himself back up, his eyes never leaving the Jetii. "It's complicated," he answers, his voice tense.

The woman tilts her head, her eyes probing. "Complicated," she repeats, a note of skepticism in her voice.

"I am a Mandalorian. Our code of honour includes fulfilling one's obligations and completing jobs. I was obliged by my creed to finish the job." Din tries to reason but knows that even the Mandalorians don't leave children behind.

The woman's stance stiffens, her body a seething cauldron of rage, emanating a fiery aura. "Your creed should also include protecting the innocent, especially the young. You know as well as I do that the Imperials won't treat that child kindly. You had a chance to make a difference, to save a life, and you chose to ignore it."

Din's head droops in shame, the weight of the woman's words crushing him. He has fallen short of his Mandalorian code, failing to protect the youngling. "I... I know. I was wrong," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have to make it right. I have to get him back."

The woman's lightsabers fall silent, their deadly hum fading as she deactivates them. Din's gaze follows as she gracefully returns the weapons to her belt, then lowers the hood that had obscured her face.

And wow.

Din's heart quickens its pace as the woman lowers her hood, revealing her face at last. But it is not just her physical beauty that holds him captive. In her eyes, there burns a fierce intensity, a wisdom that he has never before encountered. 4

Her gaze pierces through him like a blaster bolt, and he feels a strange stirring within him, a stirring of awe and admiration.

It feels like she is seeing straight into the depths of his soul. A captivating aura emanates from her, enveloping Din in a trance-like state.

At this moment, all of his thoughts, concerns, and fears seem to vanish, leaving him lost in the hypnotic gaze of this enigmatic woman.

Din's mind goes blank as he gazes upon her, forgetting the conflict that had brought them face to face. The way the light dances around her, the gentle slope of her features, the spark in her gaze - all of it blends together to create a breathtaking portrait that he cannot help but be captivated by.

Her voice echoes in Din's mind, her words piercing through his thoughts like a sharp blade. He feels the weight of her gaze upon him, and he struggles to maintain his composure. Her presence is like a force of nature, commanding his attention with ease.

As she speaks, he finds himself lost in the rhythm of her words, the cadence of her voice like a soothing melody. He tries to focus on what she is saying, but his mind is distracted by the beauty of her being. The way she speaks, the way she stands it's as if he's in a dream that he never wants to wake up from.

'You're not a boy anymore,' he reminds himself, 'you're a bounty hunter, a Mandalorian.' The words echo in his mind, a mantra to steel himself.

He musters all his inner strength, fighting against the temptation to be entranced by her allure. He forces his mind back to the present, determined to cast aside the alluring distractions and attend to the matter at hand.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make it right," Din declares, his voice filled with a deep-seated conviction.

The woman nods a sense of understanding in her eyes. "I believe you," she says softly. "But words are meaningless without action. If you truly want to make it right, then you must find the Child and bring him back to his own kind, where he will be safe and learn more about himself."

He nods, determination setting in. "I won't let him be hurt."

The woman regards Din for a moment, before extending her hand out to help him up. "Good," she says, motioning to the Imperial Base with her head. "Because we have work to do."

Din feels a wave of gratitude washes over him at the woman's words. He had been so sure he was doing the right thing by handing the child over to the Imperials, but now he realizes the gravity of his mistake.

Accepting the woman's outstretched hand, Din rises to his feet, his heart still racing from the intensity of the fight. He looks at her with deep appreciation and nods in gratitude. The woman takes a step back, giving him space to retrieve his weapons from the ground.

As Din's hands reach for his rifle on the ground, a flicker of movement catches his attention from the corner of his eye, and his muscles tense as he recognizes the source.

Din's gaze follows as an astromech droid BB-8 unit rolls out from its spot, and over to the woman. Her smile shines like a sunbeam, casting a warm glow over everything around her. She kneels in front of the droid and tenderly pats its spherical head, a gesture that seems to radiate with pure kindness.

Din's eyes narrow, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features as he observes the woman's interaction with the astromech droid. His gut churns with a deep-seated distrust of the machines, borne from past traumas and scars.

The weight shifts on his feet, his body poised like a coiled spring, ready to strike if the droid were to make any sudden moves.

The woman senses Din's unease and rises to her feet, turning her gaze toward him. "Don't worry, Beeb has been with me since I was a child. He is on our side." she says reassuringly, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Din remains skeptical, but the woman's words give him pause. He relaxes slightly but keeps a watchful eye on the droid. "I've had my fair share of run-ins with droids. Can't say I trust them much," he admits gruffly.

The woman nods in understanding. "I understand, but please know that I built him myself and imbued him with the same spirit of loyalty and honor that I strive to embody. He has been with my brother and me through the toughest of battles. You have nothing to fear from him, Mandalorian."

Din considers her words for a moment, then gives a curt nod. "I'll take your word for it, but if that thing tries anything funny, he's getting a blaster bolt to the head."

The woman chuckles. "I wouldn't expect any less from a Mandalorian. But I assure you, Beeb is on our side."

As if sensing his hesitation, Beeb lets out a series of friendly beeps and chirps, rolling closer to Din and nuzzling against his leg. Din glances down at the droid, surprised by the show of affection.

The woman smiles knowingly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "See? He's harmless."

Din grudgingly nods, still unsure of the droid's intentions. But he knows that he can trust the woman and by extension, Beeb. For now, at least.

Approaching him with confidence, the woman strides towards Din, her height just slightly shorter than his own. As she draws nearer, she speaks her name with a voice as soothing as a gentle stream and extends her hand for him to take, a gesture of respect and greeting.

Din takes a moment to compose himself before taking her hand, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm as they shake hands. He quickly withdraws his hand and takes a step back, surprised at his own reaction.

The woman raises an eyebrow, noticing his sudden shift in demeanor. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

Din shakes his head, trying to push aside the strange sensation that lingers in his hand. "No, nothing's wrong. It's just that...I don't usually shake hands with strangers."

The woman chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I understand. But I hope we can become more than strangers, Mandalorian."

"Mando. Call me Mando." Din says finally, the word rolling off his tongue with a certain weight.

He can sense the woman's surprise at his response, but he remains firm. He has learned to keep his true name hidden, even from those he trusts.

The woman's gaze locks onto Din's, and as she speaks his name, it rolls off her tongue like a sweet melody, a word to be savored and cherished. "Mando," she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of reverence and admiration.

A stirring sensation dances in Din's chest as the woman utters his name once more. He's never heard it spoken with such curiosity and esteem, and the sound of it from her lips sends shivers down his spine.

"Shall we go, Mando?" With a graceful motion of her hand, the woman gestures toward the direction they should take.

Din nods in understanding, feeling drawn to her enigmatic presence. "Lead the way," he says, a subtle hint of admiration in his voice.

With steadfast purpose, the pair sets out on their journey, each step resolute and unyielding. Their goal is clear, a daunting challenge ahead, as Beeb follows along faithfully. Their mission: to rescue the Child, to keep the Imperial Agents at bay, and to ensure the youngling's safety at all costs.

Tag list: @babygirlrex0504 @alienated-green-tea @fatima-marisa @dindjarindude @sharin1806 @ruthyalva96 @avengersfan25

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

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theboytatu · 6 months

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on my youth - wayv: a review

it's not often that i look forward to an album as much as i did with this one tbh, so it was a little hard to accept the song description SM dropped for on my youth before it was released. "low tempo emotional hip hop ballad" is definitely not what i look for in kpop/cpop (this term will be used interchangeably sorry to the way is cpop purists following me) and i immediately let my expectations drop to nearly zero when this came out. SM has had a very, and i mean VERY hit or miss year - probably a combination of the hybe/kakao takeover fiasco and industry-wide creative exhaustion - for all their idols, with long-awaited comebacks missing the mark abysmally or simply putting out subpar "fine at best" insipid music.

wayv's last (and only) full album was released in the midst of the 2020 lockdown - a time so different in every aspect but specifically in the kpop world it feels like it could have been a lifetime ago - and after their 9/11, lineup changes, months of delays and two mini albums with mixed results, it's safe to say this album was make or break for the group. with that lengthy foreword out of the way i am very happy to inform that wayv not only delivered - they surpassed all my expectations and managed to deftly execute what was in their case their most awaited comeback ever. here are my highlights from the album:

on my youth

like i said, i really didn't know what to expect for an emotional hip hop ballad but this song packs a punch like few other low tempo title tracks do. it seems to hit every mark for a minor key progression - the slow start, the build-up, the emotional first verse being delivered beautifully by xiaojun's superb ability to emote, along with a really nice, kinda muted instrumental that consists of piano, some synths and a restrained percussion.

it even manages to deliver on the required second verse slow rapping about how people say we're too young to know better - thanks to yangyang's personality shining through on these verses the shtick manages to go from cheesy to enjoyable, and even hendery allows himself a moment or two of true sincerity in his rap.

the chorus is a welcomed switch-up with a catchy hook that quickly becomes an ear-worm. it's the perfect balance to make this song go from b-side to title track material. the final chorus has an amazing instrumental climax that matches the grandiose, emotional vibe of the song's theme and it translates amazingly in the performance video's choreography.

overall this song might be top 3 wayv's title tracks depending on who you ask. for me it's definitely up there and i actually love the english version better because well, you can tell this was originally meant to be an english language song. i give it a 9/10 (and i famously hate slower songs)

poppin' love

a lot of people would say that this should've been the title track and they might be right. i'm not sure what the artistic direction for this comeback was built around, but the emotional title track was definitely picked for a reason over a more conventional, easy sell like this one. but this one is not only an easy sell, it's yet another hit that proves wayv is the best and most 90s boyband coded group in kpop right now - because they are perfect for it. they fit the vibes and the sound in a way that few, if none, other current groups can pull off without feeling gimmicky.

the chorus is sultry enough to keep it in the r&b territory but the added hip hop elements keep it super energizing. it's like if love talk and nectar had a baby. the selling point for me is the added harmonization they included in the refrain of "you're the only one" and it's so cool. it feels like the entire song is tightly built around the bassline and the high melody of the chorus - at 3:05 minutes it gives you the exact amount you need of everything. nothing lags behind and nothing fizzles out too quickly. it has enough grit to stick your hands into while reimagining the classic boyband elements enough to keep you on your toes. a HIGH 10/10 from me.

rodeo

this song is just bonkers. is it that groundbreaking or original? not really, but it manages to make it feel soooo exciting it's like i've never heard a dj snake beat drop in my life lmfaooo 😭 the vocals are crunchy enough to give me asmr when putting on my headphones. the instrumental while very basic edm still punches in with some cool drums - but of course the star of the show is the bass drop.

referencing lil jon in this should be enough to give them an award tbh. like this is giving nct 127 unserious club banger in the best of ways.... and they still hold it down with their own personalities. this is not markyong going crazy with himalayas, this is yangdery showing they can pull off subunit songs (and winwin is there too i guess) while doing whatever in the recording booth. rodeo is just a VERY enjoyable kpop rap line playground and trust that i will eat it up every time it comes on. 9/10

moonlight

there are songs that can be amazing when you play the album, and there are songs that you just instantly know will be superior if you hear them performed live. moonlight is the second kind, and the entire vocal structure is enough to make me want to see wayv at a concert at least once in my life.

the chorus is insane. the stacked vocals give it a depth that is almost cinematic and i do need to give kun, ten and xiaojun their tens for this accomplishment, but specially kun. sure - xiaojun might be the most technically gifted vocalist in the group and i am in love with his tone, but this song has kun all over the foundations. i dont have the stems for the track but i can bet my life that kun recorded at least five layers for that chorus. his tone is so distinctive i can almost only hear him during the high points of the song.

anyway, this song is super pretty. it's just gorgeously designed. i actually wish it was a vocal line only song because the compulsory rap additions do not fit with the rest of the atmosphere at all. still, this gets a 10/10.

lighthouse

when i heard this the first time i wrote "wayv outsold both exo AND shinee for ballad of the year at sm" and i stand by it. again, this style is just classic boyband slow tear jerker and they execute it perfectly. i'm a notorious hater of ballads in kpop and yet not only can i sit through this every time i put on the album, i actively seek it out. like holy shit, this only happens with exo for me.

the song is very straightforward - a heartbreak song about missing the girl they lost. but it's so well made it just works perfectly. another point where wayv need to be praised is their ability to emote. xiaojun specially is amazing at this - you can hear the yearning in his voice. i actually think ten has also learned from him because he comes across just as sincere in this. (kun does famously stiffen up which is not an issue here but still, xiaojun carries this ballad for sure). the instrumental is very cozy and i like how the whole track is designed to sound as if they're singing from just slightly behind you. 9/10

#wayv #this review is so fucking long lmfaoooo #idc i had so much fun doing it this album truly has THEE most replay value

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starfyhero2 · 2 months

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The Indie Underground AU

So y'all are familiar with underground music scenes? In this au, the idea is taken more literally. Originally founded by the Almighty Trollmir and some of the ancient critters, the Indie Underground is a haven for the misfits and outcasts of the tribes, as well as smaller genres and sub-genres in the troll kingdoms. Now, did I mention that the Underground is sustained with the help of Trollmir's magic? More info under the cut regarding those two new troll ocs and why Poppy and Branch look like that!

(I'm gonna say right now though, that this au is probably gonna be my most complex/dense one yet, probably even beyond the upcoming harmonic heroes au; this story is taking some old ideas of mine from past aus I made outside of this fandom)

So, there are various kinds of citizens in the Indie Underground:

-monochrome trolls: trolls that were born gray, but otherwise is like any other colorful troll; the techno troll pictured above is a Monochrome Troll by the name of Monna!

-robot trolls: with the assistance of magic, trolls have been able to engineer robots not only with self-awareness, but some of these robots also harbor the souls of trolls that perished 'too soon'. The robot funk troll is named Shelly!

-acapella trolls: normally mute trolls that wear face masks pretty much all the time. They are the experts at making sounds with their voices and bodies. They love to provide backup instrumentals to other's songs, but maybe you'll be lucky to get one to sing...?

-alt. rock and grunge trolls

-trolls with physical abnormalities for their tribes (feral trolls fall under this category)

-the general outcasts

-trolls that went gray (note: the leaders of the underground have been trying to invite branch for years but for some reason something always happens to the invite...)

-trolls that prefer a different lifestyle than what's acceptable to their tribe

Monna and Shelly were originally designed to be Broppy adopted children but then I realized that there's something much more fitting for those two that I have in mind!

As for the hand signs Monna, Poppy and Branch are making: it's a common symbol for the trolls of the underground to use. Basically, their motto is: "When you call, we'll always be there." They're the definition of a community coming together like a big family.

Now why does Branch look like a monster?

Now there's quite a bit of plot-related reasons, but basically:

-the place Trollmir resides is basically the 'Heart' of the magic in the troll kingdoms, north of the classical mountains

-over the years, she would select specific trolls to take on the role of Light Keeper, trolls that hold the power to protect their world and to guide their people in times of crisis; it's also a way to help protect the sacred Heart

-Poppy, Branch, and a few others were identified to have been given the title, alongside the magic associated with it

-Poppy was also given the role of the Mediator: she's an expert healer and magic user and has the ability to see Biosouls (I'll explain them another time), she’s also able to ‘control’ Branch in his Attacker State (a major reason as to why she's primarily wearing blue), and make sure he doesn't get too animalistic or feral.

-Branch, instead of the Mediator, was instead also given the role of the Attacker: he has the ability to not only see Biosouls but can transform into a powerful beast. While in this 'attacker state', he can't really physically speak, but thanks to a bit of telepathic magic, Poppy can hear his voice in her head, so to speak. He can somewhat control himself as a monster, but is more prone to go berserk. Other than that, his job is to be able to protect his gf.

#trolls #trolls indie underground au #trolls poppy #queen poppy #trolls branch #trolls oc #feral branch #heads up for the wall of text under the cut!

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yeoszee · 6 months

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In the Whispering Embrace of Rain

In the sanctuary of her twilight chamber, she emerges as a wistful nymph, entwined with the hushed cadence of raindrops pirouetting on her window. The rain, a tender confidante, graces her haven with liquid sonnets, each droplet an ephemeral stroke in the silent poetry of her solitude.

Yet, amidst this lyrical ballet, a nuanced hesitancy surfaces—an ephemeral reluctance to embrace the thunder's turbulent entrance. The storm's thunderous exclamations disrupt the delicate choreography of raindrops, an unwelcome interlude in the orchestrated serenity she cultivates. It's not a fear but a preference for the mellifluous refrains of rain that weave tales in muted whispers.

In the heart of her refuge, she invokes a ritual—a cup of coffee, more than a mere libation, a ritualistic elixir of warmth and introspection. The aroma, an olfactory tapestry, drifts through the room, a prelude to the silent symposium that ensues. With each sip, she immerses herself in the profound hush, allowing the coffee to become a tacit companion to her contemplative musings.

Movies materialize like dreams on her screen, casting a subdued luminescence upon the walls of her sanctuary. Characters metamorphose into spectral companions, their narratives entwining seamlessly with the rain's melodic undertones. Her room transforms into a clandestine cinema, where tales unfold in harmony with the rhythmic dance of raindrops.

She is not merely a spectator but an alchemist of her own aesthetic tranquility. The rain, coffee, and cinematic whispers are not mere constituents; they are vessels of introspection, each contributing to the eloquent tapestry of her existence. In this poetic convergence of rain, coffee, and quietude, she discovers not merely a physical space but an ethereal sanctuary—a haven where she is both the scribe and the protagonist, and the delicate beauty of life unfolds in every drop, every sip, and every frame.

As the raindrops persist in their celestial dance, her room becomes a sanctum where the external world dissolves into a spectral tableau. Here, she is not solely a girl who adores the rain; she metamorphoses into a guardian of the delicate interplay of rain, coffee, and cinematic reveries. In this sacred space she has conjured, she is the curator of an aesthetic opera, where the elements harmonize into a symphony of serenity, and her heart echoes the poetry of solitude.

#writing #poetic #words #wording

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idontknowreallywhy · 9 months

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Tried but failed to reach a conclusion on what I’m loosely calling the paint mystery but the majority of the chapters have deviated so wildly from any kind of plot that I may have to rethink whether it’s a story or just a collection of scenes.

Unrefined, unedited previous bits for reference:

Bit the first

Bit the second

Bit the third

The interlude after the third where I lost control of the characters and everyone went a bit nuts

Now, Bit the fourth which was supposed to be the end but that still eludes me… ALL the thanks to @astranite @womble1 and @sofasurf for the beta reading and suggestions and encouragement and to the Thunderfam generally for being a friendly safe community to practice a new thing within.

Light

A rush of harmonics drowned out Two’s steady hum as her sister raced up beneath her and barrel-rolled overhead before shooting off into the Californian twilight. Virgil watched as her vapour trail angled up, up, up and over backwards before taking a steep dive and spiralling back towards where he and Gordon watched in various shades of amusement and baffled awe.

“How is he still conscious?” Gordon murmured. “I’d be either sick… or dead. Ugh… nope, definitely dead.”

Virgil watched as his elder brother steered the rocket plane into the vertical zigzag he recognised as the signature move of the ‘Vomit Comet’ Scott had piloted for the trainee astronauts during his 6 month NASA secondment from the Air Force.

“He doesn’t have a… normal relationship with G force, Fish, you know that.”

As if to prove the point, One screamed past them, spinning, and doubled back to overtake at a distance which set Two’s proximity sensors blaring.

Again.

Virgil cringed and covered his ears.

John’s wry smile materialised in front of them.

“Aunt Val is going to be inundated with emails from the alien spotters again isn’t she?”

Virgil snorted. Then sighed.

“Should we… you know, rein our dear flyboy in a little?”

There was a delighted snicker in the background as John coughed uncomfortably.

“He couldn’t doooo it” came the familiar singsong voice of Virgil’s digital niece. John, who now appeared to be heavily focused on brushing non-existent dust from his baldric, frowned slightly.

“I did open a comm with him, yes.”

“And?”

“He was… whooping, Virgil.”

It was Gordon’s turn to snort. He looked up from his tablet where he’d already accessed the usual conspiracy theory websites to check for new flying saucer sightings over Arizona.

“What, Scott? Pfft, seems unlikely”

John raised an eyebrow and patched in the audio from One’s cockpit.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat as he was accosted by a sound he hadn’t heard since his brother was a teenager. Warm, hearty, unfettered laughter punctuated by… yes, that could only be described as a whoop… and then an elated giggle.

Virgil was aware that to most people sound didn’t have colour but it was second nature to him. Scott’s usual speaking voice was a familiar steely blue, rich and dependable. It could deepen to almost navy if he was angered or concerned, or gain highlights of cerulean when he was amused or speaking affectionately. Now it was as if an arc of blazing summer sky was overlaid on the late evening clouds ahead of them, marred only by the static effect of the comm. Virgil was overwhelmed by a sudden longing to hear his brother laughing properly, truly, untainted by digital interference and simultaneously afraid the opportunity to do so would never arise.

Nobody moved, not waiting to break the spell. Then One did it for them, as her pilot pushed her into yet another feat of aerobatic madness and her own burning white squeals of delight muffled those of the man at the controls.

John muted the feed. Virgil releases the breath he was holding and swallowed, glancing at Gordon whose jaw had almost parted company with his face, his tablet hanging from a limp hand, his mission of winding up the ufologists forgotten.

It was sobering to realise how infrequently a website tracking the rare and precious phenomena of happy-carefree-Scott would be updated. He met John’s eye and inclined his head. He couldn’t intervene either. Drop kicking a puppy would be less morally questionable.

“How’s his fuel?”

John’s gaze shifted upwards as a graceful sweep of his left hand obviously brought up some kind of display and a swift flick of the right closed something else down. Virgil was momentarily distracted by the image of his elegant brother conducting a symphony orchestra from space, his attention snapping back as he noticed the slight furrow in John’s brow.

“Low, I take it?”

“At this rate he’ll drop into F tank in about 10 minutes. Which will get him home if he flies in a straight line…”

“If.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s F tank when it’s at home?” Gordon had abandoned his tablet and was observing his elder brothers’ with overt curiosity.

John rolled his eyes. Virgil bit his lip and radiated guilt. Scott had never been told about that particular upgrade to his ship and it always made him uneasy to keep such a secret but the secrecy was necessary for it to work as intended.

“Gordon you have to swear to keep this to yourself… but you remember all those times when the paragon of caution that is our big brother has reassured us his fuel supply was “Fine” when One was actually running on fumes?”

More like the distant memory of fumes in some cases. His little brother of course knew all too well because he’d flown enough missions himself to take fuel to whatever godforsaken location Scott had stranded himself in.

“Well… Brains and I installed a little extra tank about which the fuel gauge is ignorant and so is One’s primary pilot.”

Gordon appeared to ponder this for a minute.

“Won’t that just make him believe he really can fly on fumes?”

“Precisely what I said” John threw a hand in the air. “I had suggested a flow rate limiter instead, so she can’t do more than Mach 6 once the gauge gets below a certain level”

“But that’s slower than the Big Green Mom Bag!”

“Oi!” the Mom Bag’s pilot objected “But, yes. Can you imagine what his reaction would have been if…” Another screech of scram jets announced One’s return from who knew where and she decelerated with a shudder to match Thunderbird Two’s more sedate pace, flying above and just a nose ahead with her pilot looking down at them and flipping a cheeky salute. Virgil nudged the comms open again:

“Having fun, you big show-off?”

Scott’s hologram appeared, all shark-like grin and wildly dilated pupils. Virgil found himself leaning back into his chair, slightly intimidated by the intensity of his sibling’s manic expression.

“Well?! What are you going to PLAY?!”

Three younger brothers performed a perfectly synchronised double-take.

“P-play?”

“The concert, short stuff! What are you going to play in the concert? You should play that one that that goes ba-da-da-da da da ba-da-da-da da da da dum…” and then One was spiralling off again in a roar of jet engines, her pilot’s hologram blurring into incomprehensibility from the vibrations and leaving his younger brother blinking in confusion.

He shut off the comm before it gave them all a headache. At some point prior to the spontaneous post-tornado-rescue singalong in the school hall, their old teacher Ms Knighton had accosted Virgil and persuaded him to be the guest soloist at a benefit concert she was already planning to fundraise for disaster relief in their hometown. ‘Persuaded’ wasn’t quite the right word. He wasn’t aware that he’d actually been given any kind of an option. The woman was a tidal wave of organisation and he’d been well and truly swept along.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it anyway. He’d not played in front of anybody but family since their Mom had passed and he hadn’t planned to either, for all that the idea gave him a tiny flutter of anticipation. He’d been meaning to send an apology citing work commitments later that week.

THIS was what had got Scott so excited?

He squirmed guiltily as he’d begun to theorise that his renowned flirt of a brother had encountered an old flame during the course of the evening and that was what had caused the adrenaline spike. But, it seemed Scott wasn’t celebrating for himself at all. This vanishingly rare level of joy from his big brother, was on HIS behalf?

He suddenly pictured Scott sat in the front row of every little school performance, even the ones Mom couldn’t get to. He’d always put the constantly jiggling denim-clad legs down to frustration at having to sit still and listen rather than climb and run but then… maybe that wasn’t it at all?

There was the gift of the electronic piano… and that time his brother flew back from college to talk round his father who’d objected to Virgil’s nervous suggestion that maybe he could do joint honours music alongside his engineering degree. Granted, when he realised IR on the horizon, Virgil had changed his mind and decided to keep music just as a hobby but thanks to his brother, it had been HIS decision to make.

Now he thought about it, he couldn’t think of a single occasion when he’d sat and played the lounge piano where Scott wasn’t either at dad’s desk, on the sofa, or leaning against the body of the instrument chatting or just watching with a fond smile.

Scott had been his cheerleader at every step.

“Earth to Viiiirg!” Gordon leaned over and poked him in the side of the head. “So what are you going to play then?” Virgil smiled awkwardly and rubbed away the sudden excess of water in his eyes.

“Guess I’d better figure out what “ba-da-da-da da da” is.”

#thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #thunderfam #john tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #the paint mystery #Flyboy!Scott #Music!Virgil #Synesthesia!Virgil #Thunderbird One has a Fine Tank #thunderfluff

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90percentstudios · 7 months

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hi denny!!! i was wondering, how do you decide on shifts in hue for people who transform between cool kids and losers? like, i understand that cool kids are brighter and losers are duller, but is there a process to deciding the specifics? such as cody's purple-y skin tone turning more of a dark brown when losered/averaged.

it can differ based on the character, but usually i want some commonalities between a character's cool kid and loser color palettes. for example, i tried to make it so cody's cool kid and loser forms had some things in common:

as for how i specifically choose colors, i'll eyedrop from a pre-made color palette here and tweak the colors if needed:

so if i'm designing a god, i'll eyedrop from the top row, for cool kids i'll eyedrop from the second and so on.

i'll usually figure out the outfit first and pick a skin-tone that looks natural with it. sometimes that means fiddling with the hue/saturation controls in photoshop until i get something that looks right. for example, cody's purple-y skintone is shifted so it appears warmer (more yellow/orange) and more desaturated as a loser.

in this case i tried to adjust the skin-tones so they'd harmonize with the muted yellow on his loser outfit, or the bright purple on his cool kid outfit.

i don't do the exact same thing for all characters though. this is a pretty subtle example but pb's skin-tone as a loser is more pink.

anyway i could go on and on about the color choices for each character but hopefully that gives you an idea on where to start! thanks for the interesting question, i love color theory :D

#cool kid cody #character design #90% denny

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thedensworld · 9 months

Text

Lover | Kim Mingyu

Almost Parted But We Hold On

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!reader (ft. Non biological brother!Joshua)

Genre: angst, fluff, romance, established relationship, series

____________________________________

With every passing year, your love story painted new strokes on the canvas of time. Their journey was a melody that harmonized their lives, a rhythm that resonated with the ebb and flow of their individual pursuits.

As you continued to leave an indelible mark in the world of fashion, your name became an anthem of creativity and innovation. Your artistic direction and editorial finesse turned every project into a masterpiece, and your influence grew like a symphony building to a crescendo. The world applauded her, and the spotlight that once seemed blinding now bathed you in a warm glow of recognition.

On the other hand, Mingyu's acting endeavors flourished with a brilliance that matched the constellations in the night sky. He embraced the challenges of new roles with the same passion that had driven him in his music career. Movie scripts and drama offers fell at his feet like petals, each role a testament to his talent and versatility. His performances moved hearts, and accolades followed him like loyal companions.

In their dynamic world, it could have been simple for their paths to stray, caught in the chaos of their separate fields. The endless demands, high expectations, and fame's allure might have driven them apart. Yet, like stars drawn together, their bond grew stronger. Amidst busy shoots and shows, they found comfort in late-night talks bridging continents. Mingyu's set stories mingled with your fashion triumphs, crafting a shared tale. Your connection was more than a thread; it grounded them amidst success's whirlwind.

Once-daunting distances were now milestones on their journey. Time zones turned to opportunities for intimate confessions and shared laughter. Screens dissolved in their words' warmth, reminding them that love defies space and time. Every milestone deepened their understanding. They celebrated not just achievements, but the sweat and sacrifices behind them. Cheers from fans were joined by their hearts' silent applause, celebrating each other's strength.

Amid fame's waters, you became lighthouses for one another, guiding through storms. Amid camera glimmers, your love remained a steady beacon.

As chapters turned, your love story remained their anchor. Through ups and downs, careers' peaks and valleys, your unity stood firm. Your tale proved that two souls could intertwine journeys with unwavering devotion.

As the world gazed upon your journey with awe, you both continued to ascend to new heights, shattering barriers and kindling inspiration in the hearts of many. Yet, amidst the applause and conquests that surrounded you, the intricate world you had constructed remained hidden—a world woven with threads of love, trust, and mutual understanding. In an era often consumed by the glorification of individual feats, you served as a living embodiment of the axiom that unity is strength. Your story bore witness to the fact that a love tended with unwavering care and devotion could indeed conquer any obstacle.

As the sands of time flowed on, your love story metamorphosed into a beacon of hope and inspiration. Through dazzling splendor and trials that tested your mettle, you emerged not just as partners but as confidantes and soulmates. The symphony of your love, composed of shared triumphs and the sweet strains of mutual growth, continued to resound, each note echoing the commitment that had carried you through every page of your extraordinary journey.

Amidst their bustling world, a sudden twist of fate shattered the tranquility they had woven.

"I'm going to be promoted," you revealed to Mingyu. Your once-muted expression transformed into a radiant smile as his arms enveloped you, embracing not just you but the magnitude of your accomplishments. His eyes reflected your pride, mirroring the years of toil and dedication that had brought you here. His mind raced with plans for your celebration, crafting visions of themes, guest lists, and a carefully curated menu. The promise of your promotion party, resplendent in all its grandeur, enveloped him with excitement.

But then, like a gust of wind altering direction, you dropped another piece of news. "But I have to move."

The euphoria on Mingyu's face wavered as your words sank in. You explained that your new role, that of Chief Executive for South East Asia's branch, demanded your presence at the central office in Singapore. It was a role you had long aspired to, a goal that had consumed your efforts in the fashion realm for over a decade. Mingyu understood this aspiration, this dream carefully nurtured over years, but the reality of your absence hit him hard.

His smile dimmed, the sparkle in his eyes momentarily fading. Behind the veneer of his expression, an internal struggle waged. The facade he wore concealed the emotional turmoil he felt at the prospect of separation. He had tasted the bitterness of missing you during short business trips; how then could he fathom enduring extended absence? Balancing a burgeoning acting career with the challenges of a long-distance relationship loomed as an overwhelming task.

You could discern the subtleties—the smile that failed to reach his eyes, the vulnerability he tried to mask behind his cheerful front. It was a nuanced interplay of emotions—a mix of euphoria over your hard-earned promotion and the heartache of leaving your comfort zone. Your roots had grown deep in Seoul over nearly five years, a tapestry woven with beloved family, cherished friends, and Mingyu—a special presence in your life. Mingyu had probed into the reasons behind your initial move to South Korea, sensing that there was more to your decision than mere education.

"I didn't have strong family ties back in my hometown," you confided. "Leaving them behind was easier. But being here, the warmth from my mother and Josh, it's a different kind of attachment."

His teasing question about his own attachment drew forth an affectionate response—an intimate kiss accompanied by a nod that spoke volumes of your connection. Mingyu's initial bashfulness gave way to a playful protest, his request for a heads-up before future displays of affection revealing his tender nature.

"Say something," you urged, seeking to bridge the gap of his silence after revealing your decision to move. His shrug and the way he nestled against your shoulder hinted at the maelstrom of thoughts within. His lips formed a slight pout, a visual representation of his internal turmoil.

Taking a deep breath, he bared his emotions. "Honestly," he began, "I'm overjoyed for you. Your promotion is a testament to your dedication, and I couldn't be prouder." His fingers found yours, intertwining with them as he conveyed his unwavering support.

With his other arm, he pulled you nearer, ensconcing you in an embrace that radiated both reassurance and earnestness. "But it's also a bitter realization that you'll be leaving. I believe in you, I truly do. I've seen you manage time and priorities—I've experienced your effort to make space for me even within your packed schedule. Yet, I'm going to miss having you close, being able to hold you like this," he confessed, his arms enveloping you in warmth and security.

You returned his embrace, holding onto the moment as if to freeze time itself. In this shared embrace, a profound kinship blossomed, transcending the need for words. Amidst the uncertainty, you found solace in each other's arms, emotions merging and fears confronting reality.

Sitting together on the couch, a sense of serenity enveloped you. The touch, the warmth, the profound connection—all converged into a singular moment that seemed to stretch infinitely. In a world dominated by ambitions and responsibilities, you treasured these simple, intimate instances. An unexpected intrusion, as Min entered the scene demanding a late-night snack, broke the spell momentarily.

However, the interruption only highlighted the value of these stolen moments. Mingyu's arms remained steadfast around you, embodying the unwavering support and love he had consistently offered through every twist and turn of your intertwined journey. Amidst the unpredictability of life, his embrace remained a constant, reminding you of the enduring strength of your connection.

One more captivating aspect of your personality is your boundless love for surprises. It was as if the exhilarating shock of the surprise you pulled off two weeks ago—the revelation of your promotion—wasn't enough. Building on that thrill, your unexpected visit and the subsequent announcement nearly sent Mingyu's heart into overdrive.

"What? You can't be serious!" Mingyu's eyes widened to a comical extent as you nodded, your smile a brilliant testament to your achievement.

The sheer incredulity in his gaze was matched only by the disbelief etched across his features. As you stood there, radiating an undeniable sense of accomplishment, his emotional roller coaster showed no signs of slowing down. With a profound sigh, he surrendered to the weight of the news, his expression a blend of bewilderment and astonishment. It was almost as if he struggled to reconcile the image of you—his girlfriend—being without a job.

Playfully, he attempted to reason away the situation. "Did you hit your head somewhere and accidentally submit that resignation letter?" he joked, attempting to mask the significance of your decision. Your resolute headshake only emphasized that there was no jest involved.

You couldn't help but share an infectious, childlike enthusiasm as you hopped onto his couch. "I'm free!" you exclaimed, your sheer joy contrasting vividly with the undercurrent of concern on Mingyu's face. His arms encircled you, lifting you gently from the couch and allowing you to melt into the cushions beside him. Amidst his own bewilderment, he cherished these lighthearted moments, even if the situation demanded a more serious outlook.

Intriguingly, you had just handed in your resignation letter, willingly departing from a dream you had pursued for over a decade. Yet, your countenance exuded liberation and unbridled happiness. This paradox left Mingyu grappling with a flurry of thoughts—how could you be so carefree about parting with a secure job that you had fought so hard to secure?

His mind raced as he watched you, searching for the essence of your choice in the way your emotions danced across your features. What was the driving force behind this unexpected decision? What profound realization had propelled you to make such a daring move?

In response to his silent inquiries, you began to unveil the intricate web of thoughts that had led you to this pivotal juncture. Weeks of soul-searching, contemplation, and introspection had converged to unveil a poignant truth about your future. The questions you posed to yourself—regarding your genuine desires, cherished values, and dreams yet to be realized—culminated in a singular, resolute conclusion. The once-alluring position of Chief Executive Area was politely declined, a choice that sprang from your longing for fresh horizons and an uncharted chapter beyond the walls of Byoré.

"So, what comes next?" Mingyu inquired, his eyes reflecting a curiosity that matched the gravity of your choice.

An arch of your eyebrow preluded your response. "Me? Oh, I've planned to bask in a state of perpetual slumber, indulging in whatever culinary delights I desire. I envision myself spending leisurely hours snuggled up with Min and making daily visits to this very house," you revealed, a playful glint in your eyes.

Amidst the spectrum of emotions that danced between you, there was one thing about you that never failed to capture Mingyu's heart—your love for surprises. Even after the whirlwind of the past two weeks, where you revealed your promotion and graced him with an unexpected visit, you still had a propensity for catching him off guard.

In that moment, the truth crystallized: you had willingly walked away from a dream job that had been your life's anchor for over a decade. The twist wasn't in the act itself, but in the manner you did it—with an infectious smile and an aura of liberation. This abrupt departure from the norm left Mingyu bewildered, his mind spinning with a whirlwind of questions. What had sparked this transformation within you?

Mingyu's sigh encompassed both amusement and concern. Your plan sent up an SOS signal in his mind—a signal of a plan-less existence that contrasted his own life driven by purpose and ambition. How could someone flourish without a distinct direction? And how could he reconcile being in a relationship with someone who had intentionally relinquished stability to embrace moments of leisure?

Breaking through the light-hearted chatter, you bared your soul with emotional honesty. "I've thought about it deeply, and the idea of leaving you is unbearable. The depth of my love for you makes the mere thought of parting agonizing," you confessed, the sincerity in your voice casting a tender spell.

Mingyu's heart softened visibly, his emotions stirred by your candid sentiment. "Thank you, baby," he murmured, his gratitude palpable. Yet, he couldn't remain passive. "But let's retrieve that resignation letter! You need a job to stay vibrant and passionate. You can't just float through life," he implored, seizing your wrist with an earnest intent to whisk you out of his apartment.

"Noooooo!" Your response was accompanied by a playful whine. Mingyu pressed on, insisting on hearing your plans for the future, while you firmly resisted revealing them. You shared your theory that voicing your goals made them more elusive.

"Tell me!"

With a sigh of reluctant surrender, you relented. "Alright. I've been in discussions with the Dean of Seoul University's Art and Fashion Faculty. They're enthusiastic about supporting me in creating my own magazine, along with the prospect of teaching Fashion Communication and Journalism. I've also confided in my friends about my desire to establish a magazine centered around eco-lifestyle." Your words flowed with conviction, and Mingyu's growing excitement became evident, a testament to his endorsement of your extraordinary plan.

"We're already halfway there, with a team composed of fashion students and my colleagues. We're in the middle of preparing to pitch our proposal to stakeholders," you shared, your voice a blend of determination and unwavering purpose.

Your declaration was charged with confidence, and Mingyu couldn't help but chuckle, amused by the fervor in your voice as he absorbed the intricate details. He had often observed your tendencies toward impulsivity, your innate knack for diving headfirst into uncharted waters. This had previously fueled his apprehensions about your decisions, including your recent resignation.

His supportive stance was articulated in his words. "Count me in, without a doubt. Your plan is compelling, and I'm ready to be your staunchest advocate. Need an investor? I'm all ears. However, don't mistake my involvement for lack of seriousness. Even though I love you, this is still a business," he warned, his playful tone underscored by a hint of solemnity.

Your laughter bubbled forth in response, a joyful expression of your gratitude for his offer. "That's precisely why I hesitated to tell you initially. I genuinely appreciate your offer, sweetheart. However, I'm wary of any misconception that I'm pursuing your financial resources," you explained, addressing his concern with sincerity.

Mingyu's chuckle was accompanied by a gentle rebuke. "Let's look at this from a positive angle—it could potentially become a family enterprise down the line. Enough with worrying about others' opinions. You're no longer just a former fashion editor; you're blossoming into a genuine businesswoman," he asserted, his mentor-like role interwoven with his boundless affection as he gently guided you, his heart brimming with care.

A playful plea found its way to your lips. "Just promise to be our model, alright?"

With a grin, he acquiesced, "Though I must warn you, my rate card might be a bit extravagant."

Laughter mingled with shared affection, filling the space with a harmonious symphony of delight. The twists and turns that destiny had orchestrated were nothing short of remarkable. Mere weeks ago, the specter of a looming long-distance relationship had cast a shadow. Now, you stood on the precipice of a new journey—unemployed yet committed to crafting your own magazine. Through every twist and turn, the common thread remained: your unbreakable devotion to those you held close. In the end, the purest joy was found in the embrace of loved ones, an unchanging constant amidst the ever-shifting tides of life.

#mingyu imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagine #mingyu recs

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