#it SHOWED the skin so therefore I had access to it

[jjkeverlast]

seven days a week | jjk (m)

>> pairing jungkook x fem!reader

>> genre/au's friends with benefits | college AU | smut | crack

>> summary jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.

>> word count 1.6k

>> warnings oral (f. receiving) | tongue fucking | handjob | protected sex! | slight exhibitionism | semi angst in the end (?)

>> author's note wuuhuuu!! back on for horny week, thank you for your kind patience. let's hop back on the train and finish this <3

masterlist for seven days a week

“Jungkook? What are you—“ 

“Who was that?” He asks, locking the bathroom door behind him. You raise an eyebrow in question, turning your phone off to give him your full attention. 

“What?” 

“That guy, from earlier.” You roll your eyes at the comment, remembering how you spoke with Taehyung before going to the bathroom. Taehyung is one of Jimin’s friends, automatically making him a mutual friend and nothing more. You weren’t interested in him, not because he wasn’t attractive but there wasn’t any form of lingering tension between you. 

Blaming Jungkook for being incredibly invasive was out of the question, because since he kissed you after you had sex, you had shut him out completely. 

It was out of fear, mostly. Jimin’s words had gotten to your head regarding if Jungkook liked you and that sudden kiss proved you right. And now this behavior, too. 

“Taehyung’s just a friend.” You don’t even know why you’re explaining yourself. Especially since you don’t owe Jungkook anything, as there aren’t any strings attached. 

“Oh.” Jungkook sounds embarrassed, his frustrated expression turning soft. 

“Are you…” You start off, gaining Jungkook’s attention. “Are you perhaps jealous?” You’re stepping into a dangerous territory, because in reality, he’s not allowed to be jealous when you’re casual and not exclusive. 

“Pff.” Jungkook throws, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter, avoiding your eyes. Somehow you find it quite comical how he’s not answering the question, yet the answer hangs heavy in the tiny bathroom. Therefore, you decide to push a little, wanting to hear him admit it. You’re uncertain if it’s because you like the idea of Jungkook being jealous, or if it’s just to feel secure in what he feels for you. Him being jealous would give you the definite truth.

“Jungkook.” You step closer, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, searching for his gaze that he’s determined to let stay fixated on the green carpet beneath your feet. 

“I’m not. Why would I be?” You almost believe him, right until his jaw tenses after finishing his sentence and that’s when it clicks for you. He’s trying his hardest not to imagine you with someone else, because that’ll just turn him more angry. 

“Right. So it wouldn’t piss you off if I went home with someone else?” 

Jungkook hums a definite no, still avoiding you completely by keeping his eyes busy elsewhere. 

“Okay. Then prove it.” You remove yourself from him, giving him access to walk out and prove to you that he isn’t jealous. Jungkook finally decides to look at you, removing himself from the counter and reaching the door when he stops. 

“Fuck this.” He mumbles under his breath, moving towards you quickly and cradling your face as he kisses you. The kiss is rougher than the usual ones, more needy and precise and you become overwhelmed but quickly filled with heat. 

Jungkook doesn’t slow down, moving you both towards the bathroom counter, signaling for you to sit on it as he trails his tongue on yours. Jungkook pushes himself forward, letting you feel his bulge as he presses against you. It causes you to moan slightly against his lips, grasping a bit tighter around him. 

“Gonna show you why I won’t ever get jealous.” He whispers against your lips, sinking down to his knees and kissing your naked thighs. He grips them softly, his tongue dancing and tracing each inch of your exposed skin while you look down with widened eyes. You’ve never seen this side of Jungkook. Him openly wanting to eat you out in the middle of this tiny bathroom at a frat party, was the last thing you expected from him. 

Not only because he’s a private person when it comes to sex, but he finds the scenery too cliché and in some sense gross. It’s just not a fit place to have sex. Also, Jungkook isn’t the biggest fan of doing it elsewhere than your dorm. 

So, you’re stunned and have lost all words when his mouth inches closer to your covered core, his eyes moving upwards to catch your reaction when he places a kiss on your clit. You gasp by the contact, his smile growing before he removes your underwear in a hurry, and dives back in without thinking twice. Jungkook loves going down on you, especially because you become a bit more loud than usual. 

Now, because you’re basically in a public space, you’re gonna have to be quiet and the thought of you biting your lip to prevent a moan, sends a rush through Jungkook. Therefore, Jungkook doesn’t hold back, latching his tongue on your clit and sucking while moving his fingers towards your hole and tracing the edges. Your grasp on the counter tightens, your knuckles straining as you keep yourself as still as possible, even though you’d love to grind your face against Jungkook’s mouth. Instead, your delicate fingers fiddle with Jungkook’s curls, running through them smoothly as you throw your head back, panting. 

When Jungkook enters his fingers inside of you, you hold your hand over your mouth to cover the loud whine, scared someone from outside will hear you and Jungkook continues, smiling against your core. Although, he wants to be just a little bit mean. Afterall you weren’t the sweetest to him when you openly flirted with Taehyung in front of him. So, Jungkook takes both of your hands and keeps them locked to the counter while he continues his ministrations. 

“Jungkook—” You warn, chest heaving.

“Just be quiet.” It almost sounds like a dare, so of course you comply, gathering everything in you to not make too much noise. Or else, you’ll probably end up with a clear cut on your bottom lip from biting it too much. 

You try, you really try but it’s hard not to when Jungkook fucks his tongue inside of you while his nose rubs against your clit. You almost choke on your own spit, trying to keep it down even though you’re close to orgasm. Jungkook feels you clench around his tongue, every bone and muscle of yours tensing as you come undone all over his mouth and chin. A high pitched sound roams the room for a split second, one that was hard for you to hold back, but thankfully no one has been in need of the bathroom, saving you from embarrassment. 

“Jungkook, fuck. Need you.” You mumble, pulling him upwards, growing extremely needy for his cock. Jungkook grins, pecking your lips once. 

“Tell me.” 

You stop fiddling with the string of his pants, locking your eyes with his. “I need you.” 

“Yeah?” Jungkook breathes out, his chin shining under the bathroom lights, caused by your slick all over him. 

“Mhm.” You pull him closer, kissing him roughly as you gain a taste of yourself. Jungkook fetches a condom in his pocket, hurrying this up because sooner or later you’ll gain a knock from someone impatient and then it’s over for the both of you. Mostly Jungkook. You would probably stifle a laugh while apologizing and run out. Jungkook, on the other hand would freeze on the spot, embarrassment filling him to the brim while he stutters out an excuse. 

Jungkook rips the condom with his teeth, while you pull his briefs and pants down, beginning to stroke his cock as you wait patiently for him. Jungkook removes your hand, replacing it with the latex and easing himself inside of you. The stretch has turned so familiar, that you both smile when it’s fully inside. You’ve missed this, both of you. 

It’s no secret you’ve been avoiding Jungkook a little bit since the kiss, him catching on quickly. So, therefore it’s a bit of a surprise that this is currently happening between you. 

Jungkook doesn’t waste any second, placing both of his hands under your ass as he pulls you upwards to hit your g-spot easily. Your head leans against the mirror, both hands grasped onto his naked waist while he thrusts as fast as he can. Jungkook tries his best not to slam too hard, as it causes noises and then the paranoia will reach his head and this will turn into absolute disaster. So instead, he tries to keep himself inside mostly, thrusting with ease. It’s harder than he ever imagined, but it seems to work. You’re clenching around him, and the noise isn’t thumping through the walls like he feared. 

As the paranoia moves downwards, Jungkook is more focused on making you both finish. He grabs your face gently, aching for the taste of you while he moves. He loves how you’re unable to kiss him properly, mouth gone completely slack due to pleasure. 

Jungkook knows you’re close when you clutch yourself tighter on him, face landing in the crook of his neck to suppress any sounds. Jungkook places his hand on the dirty mirror, reaching his own high as he feels himself about to give out. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, coming undone all over Jungkook’s cock. He sooner follows, thrusting thrice before he fills up the condom. His cock twitches inside of you, causing a bolt in your body. 

“This is why I don’t get jealous.” Jungkook says, pecking your lips. “I always end up with you.” 

Your heart starts beating rapidly, overwhelmed by the thought of how he’s right. You do always end up with him, and you want to. Instead of answering, you push him backwards and fetch for your missing underwear. Jungkook follows your lead instead of throwing another comment. 

The silence overfills the room, both of you too busy to put on your clothes. It finally hits you how Jungkook silently confirmed he’s jealous by the thought of you with someone else, meaning he likes you.

Fuck.

Jeon Jungkook likes you. 

You suddenly feel stuffy, grabbing everything you own. “Sorry, I have to go.” You mumble a quick apology, not looking back after opening the door, despite Jungkook calling your name a few times. 

It’s not the fact that he likes you that freaks you out. It’s the fact your whole heart did a somersault when you realized. 

taglist for this series;

@royallyjjk @fandems @lukeys-giggle @junniesoleilkth @katie-tibo @effielumiere @babigriin @cocopuffsilove @exactlygreatcoffee @shameless-army @frieschan @fairy-jaykay @thvhoe @taebangtanbabe @parkjammys @bloopkook @canyon-lwt @borahaexoxo @iffyleafy @kookswifesblog @astralmono @skzthinker @joonblogz @evajeonsworld @justanotherkpopstanlol @younhakim29 @needausernamepl @rinkud @jungkookie94 @revluvexo-ls @jiminswh0re @kimsharon-2430 @chimmisbae @jjkluvcloudsworld @laylasbunbunny @queen-in-the-shadows @moonstar127 @ediary2 @whatfandomnow @jimmeojimin @ikpopwriting @burnahtsw @jkslaugh97 @hopeworldjimin @hoseokteardrop @justaprettywriter @gummymintae

[if your tag doesn't work, that means i'm unable to tag you :(((]

© jjkeverlast 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.]

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fic #bts jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Healed (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @spaceslayer​​​

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. 

Warnings: injury, blood, physical intimacy.

Word Count: 1.4k

Sandman Masterlist

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

Sunday mornings were your favourite part of the week and this particular one was proving to be no exception.

Glass of orange juice in hand, you chatter away to Morpheus about some of your most pleasant childhood memories. He is seated next to you in your bed and looks devastatingly beautiful lounging against the numerous squishy pillows arranged behind him. A green coloured plate sits on your lap, scattered with golden toast crumbs and blobs of melted butter.

The conversation you are having has been influenced by the dreamscapes you had lived in last night. You had been overflowing with nostalgia when you had awoken and this had led to you opening the door to memories of your younger self.

It always brings Morpheus immense pleasure to know that his dream creations not only satisfy you but also inspire you to open up to him. Talking about yourself was not something that came naturally, and goodness knows, Morpheus could relate to that, therefore it felt wonderful to see you so uninhibited. The gratification your partner is experiencing from this is reflected in the smile gracing his ethereal features.

You stop talking when you notice his expression.

“What is it?” You are overcome with a rush of self-awareness.

Morpheus takes your free hand and squeezes. “Nothing. I am simply wondering whether the images conjured in my mind by your stories match what you were actually like as a child.”

You take a sip of your zesty drink. “I have some photographs, if you want to see them.”

He strokes tenderly over your cheekbone. “I would like that very much.”

You throw off the duvet and exit the bed.

A chest of drawers stands across the room. You walk to it and kneel down to access the bottom compartment. It’s the one that induces unstoppable reminiscing when you open it. Ticket stubs. Birthday cards. School reports. Photo albums. You reach for the collection you want to show Morpheus and go to push yourself up to standing again.

Unfortunately, the manoeuvre goes slight awry and you lose your balance, falling forwards and smacking the bridge of your nose on the edge of the unit.

The impact is painful and sends aftershocks down to the roots of your teeth and up across your forehead. 

“Oww,” you comment in an undertone, sitting back on your bottom.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

“Are you alright, my love?”

You are looking down, a little dazed. “Hmm?”

His cool hands cup your face and he gently encourages you to look at him. His countenance shifts from worry to something stronger.

“You’re bleeding.” His tone is level but you cannot deny the sense of panic that is also there.

You reach a finger up, grimacing as you make quick contact with the mark; it comes away smeared with red.

“Oh dear,” you murmur.

“Where are your healing supplies?” Morpheus asks. 

You can't help but giggle.

"What is it?"

“Healing supplies,” you laugh again. "How old are you?"

He quirks an eyebrow.

You frown. "Hang on, don't answer that."

You begin to feel an unpleasant trickle of liquid working its way over your skin. It is a sizeable amount; you position your hands under your chin to catch any drips.

"There’s some stuff in the kitchen. Top shelf of the big cupboard.” You eventually clarify.

“Stay here. I will return presently.”

He gets up with enviable fluidity and goes downstairs.

Sitting alone on the floor, it makes you feel a like a lost child so you get up and position yourself on the bed. The initial shock is beginning to fade and is leaving you with a pain that flares with every beat of your heart. The escape of blood is showing no signs of stopping just yet either. You tip your head back to try and slow its release.

Morpheus’ footsteps back to you are silent as ever meaning you only know he has returned when you hear him speak.

“I thought I told you to wait over there,” he chides softly.

He has paused in the doorway, a small bowl of water and the basket of first aid supplies in each hand.

You look down coyly. "I know. But at least this way we know I probably don't have concussion."

He purses his lips but does not argue the matter any further. 

You take the bowl from him once he has sat beside you. The astringent smell of diluted disinfectant whacks your nasal nerves.

Morpheus rolls up the sleeves of his long sleeved top, revealing his slender, pale forearms. He leans closer to inspect the injury properly.

“How deep is it?” You ask fearfully.

“It will not require stitches, only a dressing.”

His long fingers pull out a handful of fluffy white from the cotton wool packet. He dunks it in the water for a brief interval and squeezes the excess liquid out.

He puts his hand on your jaw bone to steady you.

"This will likely cause discomfort,” he warns.

He isn't wrong. You are wincing sharply as soon as he makes contact and your hands twitch with a desire to make him stop. Involuntary tears mist your vision as the disinfectant does its work.

“I apologise,” he whispers, ocean eyes full of sadness for the further pain he is inflicting.

“It's okay. Keep going."

He continues with a meticulousness that completely matches his character.

You flinch again and again, resorting to sitting on your hands to keep them from blocking him. You know this is necessary and do not want it to last any longer than it has to.

“I have nearly finished,” he reassures, as if he heard your thoughts.

“You promise?” Your voice cracks a bit from the sensory overload.

“I promise,” his reply is husky and soothing.

Less than thirty seconds later, Morpheus is dropping the soiled cotton in the nearby bin. He appraises the area again.

“It’s clotting now.” His tension lessens a fraction and he reaches for the basket once more. He pauses, caught between the pads of gauze, the rolls of bandages and the box of plasters.

Your focus drifts between his hands and the expression on his face. You have always found it fascinating to watch Morpheus work and even more so to watch him thinking.

In the end, he looks to you for guidance.

“I think a plaster will work,” you say with a little smile.

He nods his thanks and picks through the box to look for one of a suitable size.

After one final wipe to remove the new spills of blood, Morpheus applies the plaster to your face. He eases the edges flat against your skin and pulls away.

“How does that feel?” He holds your gaze unwaveringly.

“It’s unsurprisingly sore but otherwise comfortable.”

“Good, and you have not developed any dizziness?”

“No.”

He is visibly relieved. He then comes closer again and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple act makes you feel so beloved that you could swoon right there. You are infinitely grateful to have him to take care of you both physically and emotionally.

“Thank you,” you say wistfully.

“Of course, my love.” The way he is looking at you is blush-inducing.

“What now?” You inquire.

He smiles mischievously. “As your healer, I would encourage you to stay in bed for the remainder of the morning and rest.”

You grin at his joke. “Oh, well in that case, I guess I should follow your advice.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. "Where will you be?"

You know that he is eventually going to be needed back in the Dreaming. It was something you were accustomed to but it never failed to bring on a hint of melancholy.

He smiles, reading between the lines of your question.

"Right beside you, if you'll have me. Someone has got to keep an eye on you, my fragile little human."

"Sounds good to me." You look over to the photo album that had been left on the floor. "Are you ready to be overwhelmed with the cuteness that is me as a toddler?"

“More than ready, my love.”

You laugh and bring your lips to his.

#the sandman #sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #the sandman imagine #The Sandman Fanfic #the sandman fic #sandman one shot #one shot #fanfiction #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #the endless #the dreaming #gender neutral reader #fluff #romance #tom sturridge #comfort #saskia writes sandman

[prolix-yuy]

HAPPY 500!

So I have a prompt for [Din x Reader] using the theme of "Identity Crisis" wherein the reader learns she's either related to a high ranking Imperial or maybe she was created by the Imps using clone technology and he comforts her?

My darling Kelly, what an excellent prompt! I've been in my Din feels a lot lately and when I heard you weren't feeling well I wanted to share this story sooner so you can curl up with it. I hope you enjoy where this went, it veered into an unexpected deep dive on family and legacy but I'm very happy with how it turned out. Thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy!

Legacy

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original F!Character (not named but with a physical description)

Summary: The discovery of your origin has you questioning what your future holds.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, heavy discussions of self-worth and personal identity. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: This story is written in reader format, but because the character is connected to Boba Fett and therefore Temuera Morrison, she is described with similar features to the Māori people. Gold stars go to anyone who catches the reference to another Star Wars show I've sprinkled in!

The hum of the N1 matches the numbness in your limbs as silence sits heavy on your tongue. Din doesn’t look back, hasn’t since you climbed into the astromech compartment and waited for takeoff. 

“You could be my sister.”

The words tumbled from Boba Fett’s mouth after the heat of battle, tugging his helmet off to reveal the scars of the Sarlacc pit, the nose that followed the shape of yours, twin eyes, brethren in skin. You even imagined his hair to be as thickly curled as your own, though he lacked it.

“I don’t know my mother, or my father. You could be right,” you’d tossed back, smile glinting in the twin suns. But later, when meals were shared and Boba found you trying to sneak back to the N1, he clarified.

“If you are who I think you are, then you have no mother.”

You narrowed your eyes, hand on your blaster as the scarred man in Mandalorian armor similar to your ally’s motioned for you to sit. 

“Bold claim for a man who has laid eyes on me once,” you warned, ready to cut out his tongue for the insinuation, daimyo or not. 

“I wish I could believe myself to be insolent,” Boba said, a little quieter, a little more regretful this time. 

As he spoke your affront melted to amazement, then to anger, and finally to the grief. If you could find fault in his argument you would, and you tried. 

“I’ve never been to Camino.”

“I have a chain code, a name, a life. Surely they would never let a…let me live like this.”

“How do you know?”

But Boba had answers, good ones too. You tried to hold his reasoning to the light for imperfections, but the deep pit of dread opening in your stomach gobbled up your strength. It lined up, questions you’d always had, memories you wished you could access. In mere minutes he offered you pieces of your life that made a more terrifying image than your worst nightmares.

Clone.

The word echoes in your mind as Din pilots the N1 away from Tatooine, the ache in your body like two massifs struggling to rip you in two.

The blank spot in your memory up until twelve years of age shouts at you, begging you to crack open its shiny black shell and reveal its secrets. You used to beat your first against it, scream at it to fall away. Now you want to bury it deeper, let no light shine upon it. 

There are memories you access without thought - reflexes faster than your mind can keep up, skill with any blaster put in your hands, accuracy that scares you - that now drip with military training. 

Your headaches - by-product of inhibitor chip removal, Boba explained - now explain how you’d gone undetected for so many years. 

The shadowy memories of silhouettes in armor surrounding you. A scarred face with a wide smile. Relentless tapping on holopads. Hands, one flesh, one durasteel. A skull half in shadow. Target signs. A child’s laugh. They hold secrets but none this revelation has offered up.

The bubble of viscous fluid you coughed up when you crawled out of that tank, wondering why the bacta was green instead of blue. 

“You must have been under for years.”

Din heard much of Boba’s explanations, finding you frozen across from his brother in arms. He was by your shoulder when the first sob came, your fist cramming it back down your throat. Grogu, tucked into the crook of his arm, made a concerned warble.

“Why would they do this?” was the first true question you had. Boba sighed with a world-weary breath.

“You were made to build an army. Why you deviated in this way I couldn’t tell you. I’ve heard whispers that my father’s genetic code was degrading. But why they would let you live…”

“And why were you allowed to become the man you are today?” you spat out, rising to leave, Din looming in shadow behind. He hadn’t said a word the entire time.

Boba smiled crookedly. “Legacy.”

It was best you never met your father.

Din pushes the N1 out of hyperspace, the lurch refocusing your eyes. A planet swims into view, dollops of white and blue and green that swirl together like a treasured marble. 

“Thought you didn’t have another stop before mine,” you grumble into the communicator, rubbing your temples with the heels of your hands. The exhaustion is finally catching up with you. Just two days ago you were fresh off a mercenary job, flush with credits and ready to sink neck-deep into a bath, good food and better company. Then Din Djarin darkened your doorway, his plea for assistance falling on deaf ears until a familiar name buzzed through the vocoder.

Pike Syndicate.

It piqued your interest and released a new burn in your veins.

“What’s the payment?” you asked, tilted back in your seat in your rented room. One you planned to commit many acts of pleasure while occupying. 

“The debt of two Mandalorians.”

Your eyebrow raised involuntarily. 

“I didn’t know there were more of you willing to work with me.”

“I’m out of options.”

“And friends, I’ll wager.”

Din stepped further into your space.

“You wouldn’t call us friends?”

You mulled on the offer a few minutes longer.

“Can I cash in on your debt now?” you purred. Din’s helmet tilted to the side, hand coming down to palm at his belt buckle. The bucket was a nuisance, but he always made up with it in stamina and voracity. 

You did like getting an advance.

“It’s important,” Din says, voice crackling with static as he veers the N1 into landing formation. You brace in the seat, gritting your teeth through the hurtling speed. The size of the ship makes you feel like you’re entering the atmosphere in a children’s toy, one moment away from crumpling under the weight of gravity. 

Once the N1 breaks the atmospheric barrier it glides like a seabird over stretches of blue water, skimming low enough to ruffle a canopy of trees that lead to an open field. This is Din’s destination, powering down and opening both cockpits to allow you out. A hard-won smile graces your face when you watch his broad shoulders unfold, tugging himself out of the pilot’s seat that’s two sizes too small for him. You’re no more graceful, but an astromech compartment was never meant for a full person to squeeze into. Grogu had a much easier time, practically leaping like the frogs you’d seen him devour.

“Okay, we’re here,” you sigh, stretching your legs. The sun on your back does improve your disposition marginally, fresh air reviving your lungs. “Meet you in, what, a few hours?” you ask, surveying the plain for something to occupy your time. Anything to remove the pounding drum of clone clone clone from your brain.

“I need you to come with me,” he says before striding into the treeline, slow enough for you to overcome your confusion but quick enough to make you keep a steady pace. Grogu’s ears bounce playfully over his shoulder, black marble eyes blinking back at you.

“What’s this about, Din?” you ask, blood pumping in your ears as annoyance scars your face. “I’m not in the mood for an add-on job.”

“Not a job,” Din answers, not breaking stride.

Rolling your eyes you follow, trying to hold on to the annoyance and anger that was fast making a home in your spine, but it’s melting away with the gentle breeze on your face, the sweetness of the air, the softness of the ground beneath your feet. By the time brighter light bursts ahead your mood shifts to a pensive melancholy you meant to save for behind closed doors. Din doesn’t need to be a part of that. 

A few more steps and you’re in a different field, a breathtaking one resplendent with buttery yellow flowers surrounding a tree with sprawling branches supporting a thick head of leaves. The light that filters through dapples the ground with ever-changing patterns. Grogu lets out an excited squeak, fussing to be put down. Wordlessly Din moves towards the tree, picking his way carefully through the flowers. You follow his footsteps, a nameless emotion growing in your throat. The flowers brush against your calves, identical sunny faces turning to watch your journey.

By the time you get there Din is sitting beneath the tree, the trunk steadying his back. The helmet is as unreadable as ever but his body language is anything but. It’s an invitation to rest beside him, to speak on the events of the day. Grogu ignores the directive, instead toddling out to investigate the blooms. His head barely clears them, the tips of his ears flagging his path. Fighting against your instinct to run, to not show anything that could be used against you, you sit. 

The field from the center is even more magical, a golden sea of rippling petals surrounding you. The wind blows striations of color into the buttery landscape, leafy greens and earth browns. Slowly, your heart returns to your chest. Your hands unclench, your shoulders ease down. When you finally feel a semblance of peace you speak.

“Is this your way of comforting me?” you ask, the sharpness of your tone cutting through the heaviness in the air. 

“No,” Din rumbles, shifting beside you. A smirk curves your cheek until warm fingers circle your wrist. Your eyes lock on Din’s hands - bare - taking one into both of his. They dwarf you, heavy fingered and worn. He’s never touched you like this before. 

“What are you mourning right now?” he asks, thumb circling your pulse in a soothing pattern. 

He’s being soft to you because he thinks you're fragile, the nasty voice lashes out, but is quickly replaced by wonder. 

He’s being soft because he cares.

“I looked for them, for a long time. Wanted to know what my mother smelled like, how she smiled. Wanted to see what parts were hers and which were my fathers. I hoped they wouldn’t turn me away, or tell me something terrible about why they abandoned me.” You take in a shuddering breath. “It was more a dream than I thought.”

Din nods, stroking your palm in long soothing paths. It keeps you tethered.

“The loss of the family you never had?”

Chewing on your cheek, you shake your head.

“It was always a possibility they could be gone forever, that I might never learn more.” You let Din watch your face, not trying to school it for the proper emotions. You didn’t even know which ones should come out now.

“All this time I wanted to know why I couldn’t remember. My body knows what I am, but to have nothing come through…”

A skull in darkness. No, maybe a tattoo.

“And now I do. And it’s…so much worse.”

Din cocks his head.

“Worse than anything you thought before?”

You snort, the steel starting to return to your bones.

“A clone, Din. Made to serve the Empire. I thought what I was forgetting was love, and loss. Instead I was forgetting being a slave.” Tears brim now, smearing the landscape into an abstract mess. “I wanted to know what I was before, and now I’m terrified. Was I in the GAR? Did I…” You trail off, the implications too great. 

“Whatever you were, you’re here now, and you have the time, and the ability, to change,” Din says, and it might be the longest sentence you’ve ever heard from him. It comes close to making you feel better.

“I can’t change this,” you rebut, pinching skin between your fingernails. “I can’t change that I am exactly like them, down to my chemical makeup. A karked-up clone, but one still.” 

Din releases your hands and leans over, reaching for something behind him. When his hands return there’s a yellow blossom pinched between his fingers. He twirls it briefly.

“It looks exactly the same,” he muses, tossing his head to the field surrounding you. “But I could never tell you how old it is, or how it grew. If it got enough water, or sunlight. That makes it unique. That makes it beautiful.” Din drops the flower into your palm, the kiss of the petals featherlight. You try to see it, the reassurance he’s giving you, but it’s too small a gesture.

“It still shares everything with the rest,” you say. “It’s still a part of the whole.”

“There are things that can be shared that are greater than blood.” The helmet tips, hands coming together to worry at his oft-hidden skin.

Silence reigns again, your head thumping back against the smooth bark. Closing your eyes, you study the pattern of your heartbeat, steady and true in your chest. If they cut you open and placed your heart beside another of your genetic brothers, would they be able to tell the difference? Even with what you know it is capable of?

A click and a hiss echo next to you. Then a voice you’ve never heard. Not like this.

“Look at me.”

You peel your eyes open, the sight shocking you into a crouch. Before you is still the Mandalorian, armor and strength and valor. But the helmet is nestled in the moss, a man’s face revealed. Din Djarin, who you’ve only known by name for a short time, stares back.

You’d fantasized on what the Mandalorian looked like under the ever-present helmet, but to know now is to confirm and supersede all your expectations. Brown tousled hair, matted in places where the helmet pressed the curls flush. A dusting of scruff along his jaw and upper lip, flecks of caramel and silver. Full lips curved in a nervous grimace. Heavy brows constantly twitching against the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

And Maker, his eyes. Deep brown and so expressive you realize he couldn’t possibly lie to you without the helmet. They dart to yours before dropping down, so unused to eye contact he can’t hold it long. 

“Din…” you whisper, the forest fading to ochre around you. He quirks a smile. 

“That’s me,” he says with a breathless chuckle. You shuffle closer, observing the uncertainty painting his face. 

“Din, your Creed…” you ask, but his hands return to yours. Sitting hip to hip and face to face for the first time, he’s more beautiful than you have the right to see.

“I broke it when I showed my face to Grogu. I am Mandalorian no more,” he says, sadness now mixing in his eyes. “But I still wear it to be close to my brothers, to feel part of the culture that raised me. I am seen as one of many…” The tears are threatening to spill now, Din’s eyes turning sympathetic as he cups your cheek. “...but underneath I am Din Djarin. I will always be that boy, this man. And what I share with my brothers is nothing compared to what I can choose to share.”

“Din, I’m not…”

He shushes you with a press of those powerful fingers.

“This isn’t about worthiness or what you deserve. This is about free will, and choice. I choose to share my face with you. I need nothing in return. This is my choice. I choose to be Din Djarin with you.” He studies your face a moment longer, thumb interrupting the track of a tear. “What do you choose to be?”

The answer is so simple that saying it aloud is like writing it in stone.

“I choose to be me. No matter what came before. I’m me, for the rest of my days.”

Din nods and smiles, the motion so familiar but so different seeing how he looks at you. It makes you want to give him something in return.

“I’d like to kiss you, Din.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his messy hair, mouth falling open into an O that pulls a smile back on your face. Sitting up on your knees, you take Din’s head into your hands. He trembles at the contact, your fingers slipping into his sweat-damp hair.

“I’ve never…” he stutters, which you soothe with a scratch of your nails on the nape of his neck.

“I won’t take your first kiss from you,” you tease, “Save that for someone you love.” 

As you lean closer he breathes out, “There are many kinds of love.”

“When did you get so wise, Din Djarin?” 

He lets out a puff of air before you press your lips to his forehead, inhaling musk and metal and something earthy before you pull back. His eyes are closed, lips parted, and before you can move too far he cradles your head and pulls your foreheads together. You stay like that for a handful of breaths, the monikers and duties of your lives washing away. 

“Can we stay a while longer?” you ask, your noses bumping together. His is larger than you thought, broken along the bridge at least once, and wrinkles when he smiles.

“As long as you like,” he says, letting you settle back. A stronger breeze ruffles your clothing as you turn to see Grogu stretching his little green claws out, a tiny magician to the audience of flowers. The wind whips around the tree and suddenly the air is full of delicate yellow petals, swirling in a golden vortex. You laugh, a belly one this time, as Grogu’s gestures lift and twirl the petals in the air.

“Good job kid,” Din calls, Grogu’s ears lifting briefly before he turns and waddles back to his guardian satisfied. Din unclasps his cape, folding it into a neat bundle before settling it on his lap. 

“Rest,” he says simply, and while you normally hate a directive your body hangs heavy with exhaustion. Grogu climbs Din’s thigh before he lifts him up to rest on his chest. With a baby yawn he drops his head to Din’s cowl and closes his eyes. Din looks at him for a moment before pressing a kiss to his wrinkled forehead. It warms your whole body.

That is the first kiss you’re meant to have, Din.

He pats the makeshift pillow in his lap and you lean down to rest your head. The petals are still lazily swirling in the air, drifting to the ground in handfuls. He waits for you to still before he lays his large hand on your head, softly stroking your hair and temple. Time slows in this bubble you’ve found yourself in, a world outside demanding answers and ready with tragedy at every corner. But for this brief moment you’ll let yourself rest in the care of someone who you share more with than blood, or oaths.

END

#din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #lj's 500 follower celebration #prolix fics

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's 2023 Birthday Prequel

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This prequel was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

[Chapter 1: Returned Treasure]

After turning the key into the keyhole twice, the door was pushed open.

"Take a look at it first, Kiro. If you want to buy additional furniture and appliances, just let me know."

Accompanied by the man's words, Kiro walked through the entrance hall, a bit of deliberate curiosity in his blue eyes as he looked at the new residence that the company had arranged for him.

The living room was very spacious, enough to place a lot of music equipment.

The kitchen was L-shaped, and the aisles were neither wide nor narrow. There was a refrigerator, oven and other high-end appliances built into the wall cabinets. There was only one thing missing - a microwave.

For a "killer cook", it could almost be considered one of the greatest inventions in the world.

But he didn't want to trouble the unfamiliar man in front of him, so he nodded deceptively and walked towards the bedroom. But as soon as he stepped through the door, he frowned.

Although the sun was shining brightly in the sky, the room was extremely dark, and the white bed and wardrobe in his field of vision were covered with a layer of gloomy gray.

The instigator behind this was a drab building standing next door. The walls looked like cracked skin, mottled and old.

The man seemed to have noticed something and said softly, "It's disturbing being blocked by this building, isn't it? But it will be demolished soon."

"Disturbing?"

The subconscious rhetorical question made the man stunned, but he quickly reacted and showed two rows of big white teeth.

"Hey, is this a northern dialect? How should I explain it..."

"When something makes you feel uncomfortable and upset, we call it disturbing..." As if he found it hard to describe at once, the other party started to make gestures.

Kiro listened quietly while observing the man with thick eyebrows and big eyes in front of him. An hour ago, he had introduced himself in the pick-up hall --

Savin, a manager of B.S. Entertainment and the one responsible for his acting arrangements in Loveland City in the future.

He'd heard this information from Pen a long time ago, but he still wasn't sure whether the other party was a member of B.S. But it didn't matter. There would always be more than one pair of eyes lurking around him.

Therefore, he took Savin's words very naturally.

"Haha - so that's what it meant. It's okay, Savin, I'm not disturbed."

The casual form of address made Savin stunned for a moment, and his eyes softened. "You must know that we Northeasterners can easily take away people's accents. You should learn less, don't be afraid of using your usual Californian accent..."

Savin paused and handed the key in his hand to Kiro.

"Also... I know you've just returned to China, and you must be uncomfortable with everything."

"Food, accent, residence... including the people. But all of this is temporary. I believe you'll find your own rhythm here soon."

Under Savin's sincere gaze, Kiro also nodded solemnly.

"Okay, how about this for today? I'll leave first. You have a good rest. I'll see you at the company tomorrow."

Savin walked out as he spoke. The moment he closed the door, another sentence was hurriedly squeezed in, "If you need anything, please call me at any time!"

Bang - the door was shut.

Kiro finally breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to walk to the suitcase he brought back from California - one which was filled with souvenirs he'd collected over the years.

He touched the box and smiled, then walked around again before finally opening an inconspicuous low cabinet and putting it inside.

This was the "treasure" he hid, and the keyhole could only be accessed by one person.

"Hey, I'm back with the treasure box. I hope I can find you soon."

[Chapter 2: Tiny Light]

--8:30 a.m.

A sharp ringing sounded throughout the bedroom.

"Mm..."

Accompanied by a vague voice, a slender arm stretched out from under the quilt. It followed it's owner's will and groped around the bed, but as it fumbled, it grew impatient. It kept swatting at the bedside like a gopher until the world became quiet, and an unknown amount of time had passed.

The man who had been dreaming suddenly opened his eyes, looking around in panic and confusion. However, in his misty vision, there was only a tiny cluster of light huddled pitifully in the corner, secretly confusing time, making it impossible to distinguish between day and night.

Kiro had no choice but to pick up his phone and take a look -- 8:38 a.m.

"......"

He helplessly rubbed his messy blond hair, walked to the window with bare feet, and pulled the already open curtains wider to both sides. However, the light only spread a little symbolically, illuminating half of the floor.

--It seemed a little disturbing.

He frowned and inadvertently stepped into the sunlight.

The thin light could only illuminate half of his body, but the corners that were illuminated were dazzling enough. He subconsciously squinted his eyes and followed the trajectory, all the way out of the dilapidated building next door. After that, he saw the endless flow of vehicles and the small crows of people going back and forth.

At this moment, Kiro's heart seemed to open up.

There was nice whether today.

-

--9:30 a.m. B.S. Entertainment Conference Room

"Kiro, although you've just returned to China, you should rest for a while to adjust yourself."

"But there haven't been many domestic entertainment resources recently, and everyone has be rushing to grab them, so we should seize this opportunity."

Savin picked up a stack of papers and handed them to Kiro, "If you continue to focus on your music, your development will become more rigid, so the company has secured some film and television audition opportunities for you."

"We can't just be singers, we need to become famous superstars."

Upon hearing that, Kiro knew that this had been the decision taken up by B.S. After all, only by expanding his influence in all directions would it be easier to do things for them. But he wasn't put-off. He knew very well that only by constantly broadening his own path, would he be able to take the initiative into his own hands sooner.

"Alright, Savin. I just have one question." He flipped through the audition details in the file. "When will the auditions start and how much time do I have to prepare?"

Kiro's calmness made Savin laugh and adjust the watch on his wrist slightly.

"Two o'clock in the afternoon. There's an audition for a sports commercial."

"Okay, I'll get ready now."

[Chapter 3: Good at Joy and Happiness]

In just a month, Kiro's success rate in auditions was nearly 75%. But when Savin reviewed the results, he frowned, "Strange... why did the auditions for movies and TV series fail?"

A trace of frustration flashed in Kiro's eyes, "I'll continue working hard. Please give me some time."

After a moment, Savin spoke in a deep voice, "Don't worry, this isn't something you have to work hard on alone. I'll find you a professional acting teacher. It's okay. There's no need to rush for success. We still have time and opportunities."

With that said, he took out his cell phone and walked out, until a polite greeting came from the corridor.

-

The next day, Kiro was already in the garden of the lecturer's home--

"Hello, Mr. Chen. My name's Kiro."

He nodded slightly and looked at the man sitting on the wooden chair.

It was easy to tell from the drooping wrinkles on the other person's face that he was already a bit old, but his sharp eyes made him appear to be in high spirits.

"Mm, Savin told me everything."

"But before we start with the class, tell me, what do you think acting is?"

Kiro stayed silent for a while before considering his answer.

"Acting to me... is about interpreting different lives."

"That's half right, but it's more accurate to continue living these different lives." The teacher raised his eyebrows, "Although the characters in the scripts are fictitious, and the plot is also fictitious, most of them come from real life."

"In the corners you can't see, and to the people you can't see, ever-changing things happen every day. Actors are there to live these lives again."

Hearing this, Kiro seemed to vaguely understand what the teacher meant - "deduction" and "experience" seemed to be two different things.

But before he could continue to digest it, the teacher undid the folds on his pants and said, "That's all. Let's do some imagination and sensitivity training."

"Now, close your eyes and imagine that you're walking in a forest. The grass is soft and the sound of the stream is in your ears. But you also hear the rustling sounds coming from the grass in the distance. What do you think is there?"

"A rabbit..." Kiro closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

"Then, what do you want to do?"

Kiro couldn't help but hold his breath, and stepped forward more slowly. He groped his way to the grass and squatted down, "Hey... would you like to come into my arms and play for a while?"

As he spoke, he opened his arms and waited quietly. It wasn't until his body suddenly froze that he carefully retracted his arms, as if he were really picking up a rabbit... Then, he tilted his head and raised his right hand gently.

Caressing down.

"Hello, I'm Kiro."

Unconsciously, the teacher's voice also became much softer, "After playing with you for a while, the rabbit suddenly ran into the bushes."

"....!"

A hint of panic appeared on Kiro's face. He placed his palms on the ground and leaned down to search.

"You've been looking for it for a long time, but you haven't found any trace of it..."

He was silent for a while, then curled his lips in relief, "It's okay, we'll definitely meet again next time."

"Very good, remember this feeling now." The teacher's voice could not hide his excitement, "You did not follow the public's logic to express your loss, but followed your true feelings. Those are the feelings you want, remember?"

Before he finished speaking, a sharp cry passed through the sky--

Kiro subconsciously closed his eyes and raised his head. At the same time, the teacher also spoke vigorously, "There's a Swift flying across the sky right now!"

"Swift..?"

"Yes, it's a bird that flies all its life."

"Because of their body structure, it's difficult for them to take off once they stop, so they only stop on branches to rest."

"Do you want to keep flying?"

The teacher smiled lightly, "Since we're curious about it, let's go and see its life."

"Now imagine that you are it. Your body is very light, and countless sceneries pass your feet. You just watch them from winter to spring, from dry to blooming, never stopping."

Kiro gently opened his arms. Under the guidance of the teacher, his arms gradually became sore, as if there were thousands of pounds of stones pressing on them.

"You'll also grow tired during this period. Looking at every corner of the city, there is no resting place for you to take off again."

Kiro suddenly felt uncomfortable. He found that he and the Swift were very similar.

They have always been on the road. Although there had been very beautiful places to sing and see along the way, when they said goodbye again, they would be greeted by an endless flight.

But--

"It doesn't matter, I can persist."

Kiro said in his heart.

"I'll keep flying until I find a place where I can rest peacefully and then stop."

[Chapter 4: First Show of Strength]

After repeated training, Kiro became more empathetic.

Even with the scorching sun above his head, he could be so cold that he would tremble all over, huddled in a corner waiting for the snow mountaineering team; or he could stand on flat ground, but there could be an abyss beneath his feet, making him feel dizzy, struggling hard on the edge of the cliff.

His heart was now able to deceive his eyes and brain with ease.

"Kiro, Kiro!"

Kiro, who had just finished training, saw Savin running towards him in a hurry, holding a suit of armor and carrying a red tassel gun.

"What is this, Savin?"

"The actor playing the young Sun Ce in "Three Kingdoms", temporarily broke the contract due to scheduling issues, so we're going to audition now."

"Three Kingdoms?"

"You must know that this is a production worth hundreds of millions. If you can get this role, it would be better than acting in ten other unknown works."

Savin shook the armor as he spoke, causing the fine dust covering it to sway. "Ahem! This is a costume taken from the company's warehouse. Let's make do with it for now."

"If your mixed-race looks go directly for the auditions, you'll definitely suffer a big loss, so let's take care of your hair first before going over." He took out a black wig from the helmet and quickly combed it with his fingers, "We can't miss out on the wig and contact lenses..."

Savin's rare rushed appearance made Kiro confused, so when he saw that the wig was about to cover him, he subconsciously tilted his head to avoid it.

"Savin, what is the Three Kingdoms? Why do I have to wear these? Do I need to act in a costume film?

"You kid..! Have you heard of the Four Great Classics? Do you know the romance of the Three Kingdoms? That's the story in it."

"I've heard of it, but I haven't even read the scripts, so can I just go directly to the auditions?" Before he finished speaking, the hairband was placed on Kiro's head with lightning speed.

"You can't control that much. Just try it."

After getting his hair done, Savin picked up the armor and put it on for him, one by one. At that moment, the teacher who had been sitting on the wooden chair also slowly said, "I remember you said that your dream when you were a child was to be a superhero. Now I tell you, Sun Ce is also a hero. So it doesn't matter if you don't know his life, just remember that he is a a hero who is not afraid of anything."

These words began to play in Kiro's mind over and over again, until he arrived at the shooting scene with Savin. The director improvised an audition topic--

"You are now fighting a battle with less to win more, but because you have no escape, you are fearless."

Along with his words, flags were flying on the distant city wall, and wolf smoke was also billowing. Kiro looked at all of it this, and his heart remained very calm. Although he didn't know what the Three Kingdoms was about, he knew what a hero was.

The next second, he walked to a white horse, holding a red tassed gun in his hand, and jumped on it.

The workers around him were hurriedly moving their filming equipment, but in Kiro's ears, he could hear the sound of horns roaring, and the sound of thousands of horse hooves trampling behind him.

At that moment, Kiro was convinced that he was on the battlefield.

Amidst a horse's cry that pierced the sky, he loosened his reins and galloped forward, riding into the wolf smoke that was about to engulf the world. There were only a bunch of red tassels, as bright as a torch. Even the beacon of fire in the sky couldn't annihilate it, as if it were soaring into the sky.

--"All officers and men, listen to my order and join me on the battlefield."

[Chapter 5: Forgotten Birthday]

He got the role of Sun Ce. In addition to receiving congratulations from all around, he also heard some nasty remarks--

"A mixed-race guy with blond hair and blue eyes wants to play a famous historical figure. Isn't there something fishy about this?"

It would be a lie to say he didn't care, but Kiro also knew the distance between himself and Sun Ce. He began to frequent the library and borrowed one history book after another, but found that the words were concise and difficult to understand. He ran to ask Savin and found that they were classical Chinese texts, written articles in ancient Chinese.

He had no choice but to borrow another classical Chinese dictionary and compare it word by word. After a long time, in his dreams, he would be wearing a robe and looking at a bottle of Coke that was as tall as a human being, shaking its head and saying something.

"Ran, ran."

But due to the language barrier, coke was sprayed all over him, which made him wake up.

There were many such interesting things, which made him enjoy the learning. But the more he got to know Sun Ce, the more Kiro discovered that in his eyes, this man could not completely be called a hero. He was just forced to be involved in the mud of history, especially since the death of his father. How many decisions had he made, and how many goals did he really want to achieve?

With that mentality, the filming of the scene about the young Sun Ce began--

"Kiro, isn't the helmet a little tight? But it's too late to customize it. Please bear with me."

"It's okay, director. This is nothing to me."

"Kiro, there are some risks in this fight scene. If you can't adapt, we can find a substitute."

"...I think if I do it myself, the effect will be better."

In addition to constant contact with the filming scene, the director would also patiently point how people in ancient times spoke, behaved, and pronounced.

It's just that there were so many things to learn. So whenever the filming ended, he would sit in a corner alone and watch and learn.

Days like this went on and on. Then one day, a small change occurred--

"Happy Birthday, Kiro! I got this on the internet."

At that moment, the director who had been looking at the storyboard also heard the sound and put down what he was holding, "Kiro, happy birthday."

"....."

"Why are you just blinking and not talking? Is it because you were so lost during filming that you don't even remember your birthday?" The director teased, then raised his hand to look at the time and called for the makeup artist to come over.

"Time is tight. Take him to put on his makeup first."

Kiro didn't say anything more and left with the makeup artist.

But on the way, he took out his mobile phone as if to confirm--

April 9th. He was so busy that he had forgotten about it.

[Chapter 6: Stopped Swift]

"Okay, cut! This fight scene was great!"

"Would you like to do it again? There were a few movements I could've done better..."

The director smiled and waved his hand, "No, I liked the energy you had just now. Not ruthless, just high-spirited. And isn't it your birthday today? Go back quickly."

"It's okay, director. I want to stay for a while to observe and learn."

Kiro shook his head quickly. There was a highlight today and he didn't want to miss the confrontation between "Zhuge Liang" and "Sima Yi".

"It's okay. Don't think about it, your friends and family are all waiting to surprise you." The director deliberately frowned, half-pushed Kiro, and asked him to leave the set.

After taking off his armor, Kiro walked lightly on the crowded streets. At that moment, he suddenly felt as though he were back in California. At that time, he had no place he wanted to go and walked one road after another. What had changed today? He obviously wanted to stay on set to study today, but why did he still have to "wander" outside?

Was celebrating a birthday really necessary?

Why couldn't he just spend the day sitting in a corner of the set and watching?

Do we have to buy a cake and sing happy birthday to make this day not go by in vain?

A series of self-questions made him stop and sit on a bench, feeling discouraged.

Let's get over this day quickly... When it's over, you can stay at the filming site with confidence.

While he was convincing himself, a girl carrying a schoolbag and her mother walked past, hand in hand. The mother was wearing a floral skirt, carrying a shopping bag in her right hand. The scallions sticking out of her bag swayed with her footsteps.

What was more beautiful than the sunset were the ordinary human fireworks.

Then, he laughed and rubbed his head.

Kiro, what are you being pretentious about? You have two choices now: First, go buy a cake for your birthday; second, go back and do some weight-training, and then fall asleep from exhaustion.

Just as he was making a decision in his mind, a white nanny car stopped in front of him.

"What are you doing here, kid? Get in the car."

He looked at Savin who rolled down the window in surprise. His mind went blank for a moment, so much so that he didn't even remember how he got in the car. When he regained consciousness, he already had a gift box in his arms.

"Happy birthday," Savin said with a smile. "I originally wanted to give it to you in the morning, but the company's kept me busy with work. I finally finished it and was about to send you home..."

"The director told me you had left, but why were you still sitting here?"

"...I was sitting here to observe life."

Kiro tried explaining things, but what he got in return was Savin's blank stare.

"That's not important. I'm here to tell you some good news. It might be your best gift today."

With that said, Savin took out a document from the side and handed it to Kiro, "The director recognizes you very much and has recommended you to senior directors everywhere. This is an audition invitation sent by them. Basically, you're the protagonist."

"From my professional point of view, starting from the young Sun Ce this time," Savin became more and more enthusiastic as he spoke. Because he was speaking too fast, his face turned red.

"It won't be too long before you become a superstar, because you were born to be one!"

Faced with such powerful acknowledgment, Kiro didn't know what to say for a while.

Music and performing have always been his dreams, but he didn't know how many people would like his abilities.

Ten thousand? One hundred thousand? One million?

He didn't know.

He just opened the folder in silence, looking at the audition requirements, thinking quickly about how to feel so that he could express those characters more realistically.

But what was certain now was that in the face of those demands, he was no longer as overwhelmed as he was two months ago.

Maybe he had gradually adapted to this city. Just like France and California... he would find his own place in this huge city.

Suddenly, a swift black shadow passed through his peripheral vision, and Kiro subconsciously raised his head and looked out the window.

A bird was sitting on a high branch.

--It was a Swift.

Translation Masterlist: here

Kiro's Habitat Date: HERE

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #ASDFGHJKL I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BUT ITS FINALLY HERE #ALSO... Birthday Date hits so differently after reading this 🥺

[thecameronchronicles]

Silent Night

TW: Stalker/Dark(ish/Obsessed Rafe. Language. Smut. 

SUMMARY: Rafe’s POV how he intends to rectify you giving your virtue to some Pogue…

WORD COUNT: 3000

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Silent Night

It was now or never. The nerve filtering into cowardice as I watched her set the final present beneath the tree weighed down with an excess of pointless ornaments. But just as it had been for the last three hours, I became distracted by the way she moved. But not because I craved to possess her as that could have been done at any party or any time in which she was asleep at Tannyhill just down the hallway. It was because she fascinated me and held my interest in a way no other girl ever had. Not even clad in lingerie, an idea that when paired with her was enough to send my eyes in a roll at the thought. Yet nothing deserved to be across that soft skin taunting me from the other side of glass as she made the last minute preparations on this Christmas Eve. Little did she know, she was about to give ME what I'd always wanted. 

A cliche key beneath the mat was enough to grant me access once the lights had been cut for the day's end. The sound of a shower just above a set of steps had allowed me the time I needed to drink in the atmosphere around me. Of all the times Sarah had invited her beyond our threshold, never once had I seen the inside of HER house. And it was just as much a picturesque scene as was expected in any other Kook house. A perfect tree with too many presents and decorations as gaudy as they were humorous. And my fingers came to a trace at all of them that has incorporated her. Her presents. Her pictures. Her jacket that hung over the banister as if an invitation left behind for me to find. Everything was enough to return my focus as I could have just as easily have remained in the shadows. 

A careful ascension beyond creaking wood had whittled away my confident steps forcing me slower and therefore more impatient until I crested that final step. It would take a turn and a small venture to the end of the hall before her bedroom was accessible at my fingertips, which shook in excitement. But as she crossed the portion of the door left ajar by reasons unknown, I resorted to the shadows on instincts hearing her humming some annoying pop song as I realized I'd have to introduce her to new music. Better music. 

But first, to me. 

I watched her from between the hinged and slit of the door, watching the lingerie kiss her skin as I'd never been so jealous of fabric before. A minimalist set with a single bow between her breasts and a matching one just below her navel and o was fighting the urge to palm myself flat. I'd seen her in every color bikini and yet there was something different in this. Maybe it was because the cotton of her panties wouldn't be able to hide how wet I'd make her, as I knew a suit had done before. Either way my eyes followed her throughout her nightly routine until the phone in her hands was a means of unwinding and eventual rest. 

It was now. I had to act now. Before her friends or brother came home. Before she would awaken and find a way to escape what I knew if just given a chance to show, she would never want to be without. I just needed that chance. And I knew I had to take it now. 

Opening the door slightly, the scent of her recent shower and the shampoo used, or maybe it was even the perfume or lotion, sent my eyes to close to luxuriate. The perfect combination of fruit and the promise of innocent vanilla reminded me of her. Sweet and elegant. And how I didn't want to taint her. Just train her. To me. To know me. Only me. 

Once reaching the side of her bed, I fought the carnal urges immediately at the forefront. I could easily bend her as I saw fit as I outweighed her. And yet, I wanted to care for her. Even though the flashes of her crying over my cock, a smirk breaking the tempo I knew she would be a natural to master, had pulled my fingers to play with the button of my jeans, I hesitated still. 

I wanted to take care of her. Not fuck her. She was better than that. She deserved better than that. 

My ambitions altered to the exposed skin allowed to me by her choice of pajamas. A matching silk set with candy Canes that made me smirk temporarily at her innocence while my touch teased the strap holding her modest. But I didn't want to see her naked. I mean I didn't want to JUST see her naked. I wanted to see all of her. And I wanted it to be because she wanted me to. 

Slowly, I set myself closer as I debated where to begin. I was certain she would awaken at any given shift of the bed, so I would need to move quickly. But with the way she laid, it would prove difficult for both the angle and the fact I didn't want to disrupt her. She was perfect. For all ways but one, anyhow... 

She let a pogue take that innocence over the summer. A good girl, my good girl allowed some filthy surfer rat learn those sweet moans, that singular relinquishment of unique tightness, the blood I should have had as a badge of honor for my patience. God knows I waited. But it didn't matter. Tonight she would make it up to me. 

It would be this thought of HIM touching her, of HIM kissing her, and of HIM getting to know those intimate details he didn't deserve to think about let alone have as a memory, that left me proactive. The second she adjusted to her back, I straddled her flat, her eyes shooting open as she found her hands bound by one of my own as my other came over her mouth. 

"Not. A. Fucking. Sound." Her eyes narrowed as she made the details of me in the recently disturbed slumber, adjustment made rather quickly as she spoke my name into my palm. I rolled my eyes in annoyance. She was always disobedient, pushing limits and boundaries in the form of party tricks or life's risks. But THIS was different. She was waging war against a devil, and no matter how angelic she was, she had a debt to pay and I'd come to collect. 

"Rafe?" My eyes recovered from the roll as I lowered my hand to her jaw. 

"The only time you're allowed to make a sound is when I make you come." Her eyes widened as her lips parted to speak, finding the interruption of my hand tightening her cheeks into quietude. 

"Then you can scream all you want. God knows you'll have no other choice..." Her eyes narrowed as she watched me use my belt to bind her hands together, but not to the headboard. I wanted her to have some freedom, at least this was what I told myself as I honestly just loved to watch that hope fade behind her eyes when she realized it had finally come to this. Those teasing glances and shy smiles as she pulled hair behind her ear. Those damn swimsuits. That pogue. All of it would be amended tonight. And soon. 

"Please-" I silenced her with a kiss even if my palm desired a more blunt strike. If she were any other girl, I would have acted on it. But she was too flawless to be marked with such ugly red swelling. At least where everyone could see it. 

I offered my tongue for a moment, savoring her response, as she would hesitate before joining it at the second I would withdraw. 

"Next time you don't wanna listen, it'll be my cock." A mic of exhilaration and fear illuminated behind her eyes. 

"One sound and this will end rough for you. I want rk be gentle...but either way, I'll get what I came for..." Her eyes narrowed to question me. 

"You really don't know why I'm here?" She shook her head slowly, obeying in remaining silent, but considering risking a potential bluff as I'd only shown her my reservation. I knew this. I didn't need her to tell me. She wanted to see if I would make good on my threats. But a part of her loved to obey...at least for now... 

"Because I was the one who was patient. I was the one exercising self-restraint and then you go and give yourself to that pogue...like he would even know what to do with you?!" My jaw clenched. 

"Did he even make you come? Did he know where to touch you or curve his fingers? Or was it is tongue because he couldn't last inside that tight little pussy, huh?" I was more aggressive than I wanted to be with her. But the idea of anybody touching what was mine was enough to disregard that kindness. 

"Just nod. Did he make you come." When she didn't, I immediately understood why. She knew if she agreed that it would anger me further. And if she disagreed then the anger would exist for a different reason entirely. But with the certain fear behind her eyes, I knew it was because he had. The asshole got to know... 

"Well. For that, I'll just have to make you forget he has." My hands were quick at her hips, removing the shirts and revealing those panties to me. The cute little bow flicked by the end of my finger as she blushed to witness my descent. 

"Did he use his tongue?" She hesitated again as I hit the bed, forcing her to answer me. She nodded. 

"Was THAT good?" She slowly bowed her head. 

"Well I promise you..." My fingers hooked around the edges of her panties, pulling them loose as she chilled beneath my touch. 

"I'm not going to be good. I'm going to be it. No comparison." I teased my lips down her stomach until setting each of her legs over my shoulders. One final look up to her, wrists bound and pulled in a bend towards her cheek, making me smirk at my perfect and behaved girl. 

I rewarded her obedience in slow strides of my fingers complimented by the flicks of my tongue at her clit. The poor girl may have come for someone else but it wasn't enough to affect her against me. She was still trembling to each and every one of my touches, allowing me the consolation as if I'd been the first. 

"God, you're soaking me-" 

"I'm sorry-" Her cheeks paled. 

"I'll let that slide because you sound so pretty apologizing. But next time, I'll have to give you a reason to remember to stay quiet." I returned to my convictions, tongue and fingers bringing her to that edge as I basked in her response to me. 

Her taste. Sweet and salty in perfection. A hint of vanilla and even a bit of sin in how she fought against her body, but I was victorious against those advances. 

Her moans. I would work every second of every day between her thighs to hear that symphony. Hell, I'd do it even if she were silent. 

Her motions. Erratic and accepting of me despite the way she fought me. Her eyes screwing shut or pulling into a roll as I scoffed to see her come undone above and around me. 

But she wouldn't have the chance yet. Not until I got to have everything he did. For that, I slowed my tongue and removed my hand, now pulling it to her breast. Softer skin hardened at the center by an excited nipple and I needed more. Both hands were now stationed on either one as I rose to taste her. Salt from pending sweat came to the tip of my tongue mixing with that which remained from my endeavors, as I watched her over me. Her face was in pure bliss. Pleasure taunting her and my body weighing her in place, and she relished in it just as I had in touching her. 

"Please..." I clenched my jaw as I noticed her hands were in the direction of my seam. 

"You wanna play with me too? Wanna get a feel for what is gonna make you come, is that it?" 

"Plesse, Rafe...I'm so wet." 

"And so disobedient-" She was positioned in quick succession from the comfortable rest made of her back and again the headboard with my clothes removed and in that preparation behind her. As much as I had exercised self control in the years or even minutes leading up to this, I needed more. I needed her. I deserved it. And I was gonna take it. 

"Rafe-" I pulled her hair harshly, courtesy damned in her disregard to even try to remain silent. 

"Oh my-" 

"You want me to make you come and still have some ability to walk, you're gonna shut the hell up." She stained, leading me to ball up the panties discarded at her side, and use them as assistance for this. Even if there was no reason behind it as we were alone within the cover of the hour and the isolation, making her bend to me had made that moment that much more worth it for me. 

I wrapped a hand around her neck, tightening to keep her quiet, releasing as she began to shake or the feeling of her pulse was worrisome at my thumb. Breath play was my own foreplay, and I lived to make her breathe or stop breathing for me, but only in short interruptions. Because I much preferred the heavy breathing in the return of my merciful release. 

"You want to come don't you? I can feel it and I’m not even inside of you yet..." 

"Plesse..." 

"Only because you asks so pretty.." I forced her against the headboard as it battered into the wall. 

"One fucking sound and I'll brand my name on that ass do no pogue-so you won't have to worry about anyone else even trying to touch what's mine. Might do it anyway for when you wear those bikinis...walk around your room with those windows open...where anyone can see you-" 

"Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to see you? You don't think your tease need enough?" I asked into her ear between thrusts as she just rested her head against my shoulder. The most beautiful weight making me guilty for being so rough. At least it would have if she didn't clench around me in enjoying it just as much. 

"Fuck!" I growled behind clenched teeth, my head falling over her, before I took her neck back into my grasp. 

"I want to hear how loud you can be for me. I want Maybank and all his little pogue friends to know who is fucking you like this. So when you come...say my name, won't you, sweetheart?" 

"Rafe..." 

"Good girl. Not too dumb by my cock yet...means we still have work to do, but don't worry, we'll get there..." Her eyes pulled into a roll I saw in my peripheral vision as I pulled her hand to the headboard sending the second hand follow. Our fingers interlaced as I kept her in place, my other hand focused on her clit. 

"Right there-" 

"Really think you have to fucking tell me?" I spat behind her. "Think I don't know how to make you come? I've already edged you more times than you've disobeyed me...which you will STILL pay for." I reminded her of my words sharpening as I was deeper and faster than before. 

"Rafe Rafe Rafe!" She spoke my name for mercy, a slow pace of my hips adding where my fingers had remained in quick succession. 

"Please don't stop. I need it...." 

"And yet you can't keep that pretty mouth quiet, can you, baby? If you didn't take me so good here," I applied pressure to her clit, "I'd already be coming down your throat. Fuck, I'd be so sore and raspy...your cheeks red and wet from cryinf..." I growled at the thought. 

"You are gonna make me come quietly. And then you're gonna get on your knees. And then maybe you'll get to-" She grinned. 

"Anything but a nod and you won't even get the consideration." She nodded as I worked her back against me. A varied hold on her throat in continued breath play before as this touch faded to her hips and back to her clit, my hands hungry to know all of her. More importantly, to erase him before me. Because I knew for certain there wouldn't be anyone after me. 

"Knees." I spoke as I guided her while I teetered on that edge, satisfaction taunted by her lips as I appeased us both by setting myself behind her smile. 

"Good girl. Finally being quiet." I teased as she gagged but took me in stride. Leaving some point she made to herself before I spilled at the vacation of her tight little throat. I continued my praise before she offered small pleas as my hand wrapped around her neck and my fingers were irrationally swift in their motionings. Bending to hit that sensitive cavern and withdrawing to edge her continuously, my name belted from between moans and needy wants. I watched every action of her body as I pulled her to the edge once and for all, allowing her the release as she gave it as I'd hoped. 

"Oh my God..." She looked at the mess she'd left as I smirked. 

"I-" 

"Didn't it feel good?" I asked lowering over her as she had propositioned herself on her elbows as I cleaned off  her thighs with my thumbs and brought her to my lips. 

"What are you-" She questioned while watching me spit that collected cum onto her swollen sex, left battered by me. 

"If it takes the whole night, so be it..." 

"I did what you wanted-" 

"Wrong sweetheart, I'm still waiting for you to be quiet. So until you can come quietly...I'll keep fucking going..."

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @belcalis9503 @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #outer banks #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #Cameron Chronicles Christmas 2022

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

In The Morning Light

A tender morning after; or, Father Paul had a wonderful night and is already aching for more. Set after More Than Sinful.

requested by @bangtangirlfrnd​

I wrote this instead of sleeping :D

In The Morning Light - 1.8K

tw: suggestive themes (heavily implied)

Father Paul yawned as he slowly woke up. He was so comfortable and warm in his bed. Only, he wasn't alone. There was a deliciously smelling body wrapped around his own, its heat seeping into his very core. He experimentally flexed his fingers, finding them resting against the soft skin of his bedfellows' back. The night came back to him, all that he had done with one (F/N)(L/N). He blushed heavily, but the corners of his mouth turned up at the same time. He was naked and she was too, Paul could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. Oh, how beautiful she was! She let him see her entirely, willingly showed him places where she was the most vulnerable and gave him full access to them. She trusted him absolutely. And he surely tried his best to show her how much he values this trust.

Paul's never been with anyone before and was therefore worried he'd make a complete fool of himself, but with you... It just came so naturally. He aimed to bring you as much pleasure as he could, and felt an enormous amount of pride when he managed to do so. Paul knew he should probably feel bad. He broke his vows after all, and his mind was already supplying him with all kinds of lovely pictures of how he could do it again, and again, and again. But he didn't feel bad at all, there was no regret. All he felt was love and anticipation of more romantic and erotic adventures. You have unlocked a whole new part of him Paul didn't even know he had.

He was so utterly lost in his mind he didn't immediately notice a pair of eyes observing him curiously. He only returned back to Earth when a stray hand wandered into his hair, fingers combing through it slowly. He exhaled contently and closed his eyes.

"Hey, you," you said quietly, "hope I didn't interrupt any important train of thoughts?"

"No, not at all," he replied, softly, "I was just making sure that it wasn't a dream. That you weren't a dream." Paul had a lot of dreams involving the two of you, but the real thing was a thousand times better.

Your smile could have powered an entire country, and you leaned in to press a kiss against his lips, still slightly bruised from the night before. The priest moaned a little bit at having you in his arms like this, eagerly opening his mouth and letting his tongue trace gently at the seam of your mouth. You accepted him immediately, engaging in a slow battle for dominance with your own tongue. After a few minutes of languid kissing, you had to part in order to take a proper breath.

"So, yeah… we did that," said Paul, a little sheepishly, while his hands glided over the skin of your back and shoulders. You hummed against the skin of his neck happily. "Yeah," you said, "are you alright?"

Paul laughed a little and pressed you slightly tighter against his body. "I am fantastic," he said honestly and kissed along the sensitive skin of your throat, making you giggle a little. "And, by the looks of it," he pulled back only to eye the alarm clock upon his bedside table, "we've still got some time before reality kicks in and we have our duties to attend to."

You looked at the clock as well and Paul could almost hear the clogs beginning to turn in your head. "Then, let's say, we have ourselves a nice breakfast, hm? Do you have, um," you thought for a while, "bread, eggs, milk, sugar and cinnamon?"

The priest immediately knew where you were going with this, and rewarded you with a warm grin. "Yes to all," he said, a long exhale leaving his lungs, his hand unconsciously stroking at the warm (oh so warm) skin of your side. 

"French toast it is!" you decided cheerfully, already moving away from your lover, making him produce a small unhappy sound. "Stay right where you are," you said then, "I'll have amazing breakfast and tea right here before you know it!"

While quite sad to be ridden of your body right next to his, Paul had to admit you were a sight for sore eyes, wrapped in his black clerical shirt. You didn't button the thing up all the way and he could see your cleavage clearly. Oh how he already looked forward to exploring your body all over again! He lay on his back in the rectory's bed then, listening eagerly to the sounds coming from the kitchen. You sang softly while you worked, the same song you sang after the first storm he experienced on Crockett Island. It was almost enough to lull him back into peaceful sleep.

But then he felt the mattress dip slightly. You kneeled beside him and carefully positioned a tray upon the bedside table. He smelled the cinnamon first, then the unmistakable scent of English breakfast tea, with just the right amount of milk. Just the way he liked. His eyes immediately connected with your own and the emotion within them made his breath catch in his throat. You were observing him with so much love and tenderness, as well as hope that he'd like the meal you made for him.

Paul moved until he was sitting, leaning against the headboard, before carefully picking up the tray and moving it into his lap. There were two plates, each one with two amazing looking slices of French toast, decorated with some apples and grapes, as well as whipped cream. Paul had an enormous sweet tooth and would buy whipped cream just so he could spray it directly into his mouth sometime. (F/N)'s use of it was absolutely perfect. The priest felt his body buzzing with anticipation for the sweet sweet breakfast.

"You look like you could eat me too," you said in a teasing tone.

"Oh, I could and I will," said Paul with no hesitation, eagerly using an oh so helpfully provided fork to cut off a bite sized piece of the french toast, excitedly popping it into his mouth. "Hmm," he moaned, rolling his tongue around to savour the taste, "this! This is delicious! But you are even sweeter." You blushed hard, looking down into your own plate.

"You're rather cheeky for a man of the cloth," you whispered. Paul's free hand immediately came to squeeze just above your knee. "I'm sorry," he said, "I know it's not going to be all rainbows from now on…" "No, no!" You said softly, your hand softly tracing the features of his face, "I know. I just… I love you. And I love to be loved by you. I just worry if you're alright with that… Because I can handle the secret of it! I can handle playing nice and proper in front of everyone, I can handle not being able to kiss you or hold your hand whenever I like to. I can do that… but, um- are you okay with this?"

Paul could feel his heart breaking a little as he listened to your confession. He didn't know you felt this way, didn't know you were so worried about him when you had no reason to! It was then Paul realised he was exactly where he was meant to be. He was in a rectory, less than an hour before he was to attend his priestly duties. A young woman was sitting in his bed, clad only in his black shirt. A woman he made love to. A woman he wanted to make love to again. He'd still be a pillar for this small community, he'd still try to be as helpful as he could for everyone in his tiny parish. But now he couldn't imagine doing so without the (amazing, beautiful, breathtaking, perfect) woman by his side.

"I love you," he said simply, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek, "I love you so much. I know that we may never be able to show that to the people, but I want to show it to you any chance I've got." 

You chuckled breathlessly. "You're such a sap, did you know that?" you whispered before pushing your mouth onto his, tasting the sugar and cinnamon of your breakfast. Paul immediately tried to pull you in, before producing a pained sound. Some of the hot tea spilled following Paul's movement, landing right below the priest's sternum.

You didn't have a tissue at hand, so you simply licked and sucked the liquid off your lover, continuing to land teasing nips and kisses after.

"S-stop!", He breathed, "or else I'm going to be entirely late for mass and Bev's going to find me d-doing all kinds of unspeakable things to you…" 

You stopped with your ministrations and smiled at your lover warmly. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

The rest of the breakfast was great. Paul was making little content sighs, enjoying the sweet treat, all the while delivering little pats and be caresses onto your thighs. He hated letting you go, but he loved slowly unbuttoning his own shirt and peeling it off your body, revealing you to his eyes again. He pocketed your underwear before you were able to put it on again, making you go back home to change commando. You didn't mind as much after the sweet kisses he gave you.

When you saw him again, less than an half of an hour later, he was serving daily mass. There were only five other people.

You could have sworn Paul winked at you during the service. But even if he didn't, there was an entirely readable look in his eyes, every time he looked at you.

When the daily mass ended and everyone left the church, you approached the priest, smiling gently. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" you asked casually, delighted to see the colour rushing into the priest's face. He recovered quickly though, grabbing your face softly. "Out of the two of us," he began, "you are the beautiful one."

Your protest died on your lips, as a different pair landed on them.

You kissed hard, standing in front of the simple altar. Your hands closed around the beautifully decorated green fabric of the priest's vestments. Soft little pecks followed, lips teasing at cheeks, noses, ghosting over jaws and chins. 

"Let's go back to the rectory," he said then, "we'll lock the door, pull the curtains closed and pretend we're not home." You started giggling softly, the sound echoing through the empty church. "And what are we going to do the entire day, hm?" 

His mouth did that little shrug you found so adorable. "I mean, I do have to write a homily, but other than that I'm free. I'm sure we'll find some way to entertain ourselves," he offered, the colour in his cheeks deepening. You opened your mouth in fake shock before shaking your head: "Paul Hill! I think I'm a bad influence on you… As for the homily writing - do you have crosswords?" 

Hiya, I hope you enjoyed reading! As always, you can find this story and the entire series on AO3. I adore adore adore feedback!

some delightful people: @bangtangirlfrnd​ @littleredwritingcat​ @aherdofbees​ @everythingbutresolved​ @agirlinherhead​ @rothko-mirror​ @vintageglassheart02​ @thexhostess​ @fatherpaulsimp​ @blackberries45​ @daughterofaries​ @exorcise-my-demons​ @marvwv​ @zaunite-leo​ @emmythespacecowgirl​

#fanfiction #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul hill #father paul #father paul x reader #father paul x you #reader insert #fluff

[tyriansins]

alright so i have some thoughts that just will not let my brain rest unless i share them with other people

so we know that in sister location, you first have to go through the scooped ending and then complete the elizabeth/baby minigame; only then you can get access to the private room, right? okay, remember that. we’ll come back to this point.

and we know that almost everyone in the fandom (including me) likes to imagine that michael got scooped and then began to decay (as seen in the minigames following that scene). therefore, he was literally a purple corpse during FNaF 3 and pizzeria simulator.

but then i remember that the secret ending in sister location exists. so if we take that route, then michael was able to escape getting scooped and survived against ennard for the rest of the night. and i don’t think that ennard eventually got to him, either. when they randomly popped up in his living room during the very last cutscene, they must’ve got beat the fuck up or hit by a car or something when they were trying to get to his house because they definitely looked worse for wear; i’m sure that michael could’ve easily gotten away from them a second time.

i believe that the secret ending is the true ending for sister location, and that the scooped ending was basically just a sham to the player. but i also don’t think that it didn’t serve any purpose. at the time when sister location first came out, none of us were positive yet that the player was also apart of the afton family. sure, we had a suspicion, but nothing was confirmed yet. the minigames in the scooped ending, where michael progressively turned more purple each round, was a metaphor. scott was trying to show us that there was indeed a connection between william afton and michael afton, with making both of them purple.

michael turning purple isn’t actually him becoming a corpse. there’s no way in hell that any company would hire him as a corpse, because there’s no way in hell he could hide the stench of decay, the plain as day purple skin, the various bones sticking out or the stitches on him everywhere you looked. it’s just not possible.

TLDR: the secret ending in sister location is the true ending, michael never got scooped, and the minigames were just a way to connect him with the aftons.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf theory #five nights at freddy’s theory #william afton #the afton family #michael afton #fnaf sister location #sister location #clara afton #mrs. afton #evan afton #crying child #elizabeth afton

[impossiblesuitcase]

does cinder have clear skin or is a victim to acne BECAUSE she is a teenager who has been through puberty and 9/10 teenagers get acne (like me). but with her being a cyborg that changed so much of her makeup, she might mot have to go through that?

she still gets hormones and stuff, but her cyborg baby kinda manages it, right?

i might be phrasing this wrong idk, what do you think?

As I've mentioned in one of my fics previously, Cinder would not have access to a skincare routine under Adri's care. Probably had nothing more than toothpaste and a bar of soap. Plus, working as a mechanic with her penchant for getting grease on her face, she'd probably experience some breakouts.

When she becomes queen of Luna and is prescribed a perfect skincare routine it probably calms down, however if her acne is hormonal, it can pop up regardless.

Oorrrr maybe her Asian genes show themselves and she has completely clear skin at all times ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. No I'm not jealous, what are you talking about.

In regards to her cyborg makeup, it's an interesting topic. I do think that her cybernetics affected her development, but only to an extent. After all, whenever her retina display mentions the output of hormones or rising blood pressure or accelerated heartrate it's just a warning or a comment on it, not that her cybernetics are actively exploiting or adjusting them.

It's never said that her cyborg brain can alter her hormones. I personally believe that Cinder's body mostly functions as it would if it were 100% human--assisted by her cybernetics, but not drastically changed. Therefore, if she has acne or not, it's probably her genetics and environmental factors rather than what her cybernetics affect.

#tlc #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #linh cinder #cinder #selene blackburn

[alwaysthesitter]

car: for our muses to get intimate inside a car

"If this ruins my seats, Billy, I swear to God - " Steve huffed, as if he hadn't had sex in the back of his BMW more times than he could count. There were two things that made this situation different than those, though. For one, he was always with girls, and therefore always wearing a condom so nothing could get anywhere. For two, this was Billy he was with, which naturally meant he had to be a little bit of a sassy shit. "This leather wasn't cheap, and my job isn't going to pay for new interior."

Being a brat was almost like his form of foreplay with the other, and no matter how badly he wanted Billy in that moment and always, he wasn't going to cave that easily. "Don't know why we couldn't fuck in the Camaro." He mumbled under his breath, scrunching up in the backseat of his own car. Despite his bitching, he was already trying to get undressed, wondering how he had possibly done this so much in high school.

Ah, yes, in high school he didn't care as much about those girls, as cruel as it was to say. Getting fully undressed certainly hadn't been needed back then. Pushing the girl's shirt up so he could snap her bra off and touch her boobies, definitely necessary. But he always stayed mostly clothed, minus the zip of his fly open and his underwear shoved down so that he could have access.

It was different with Billy. They had been a couple for awhile now, and while neither of them had said the L word (not lesbians, no, that was Robin's area of expertise), Steve absolutely felt it. He was just terrified to share that, thus it get thrown in his face like it had with Nancy. He knew he was more to Billy than just a lay, because Billy and him had put a title on it after awhile. But he didn't know if he meant as much to the surfer as he did to Steve.

But due to this difference, Steve wanted to be more intimate. Wanted it to be more than just a quick ejaculate and evacuate. He wanted that skin-on-skin contact with Billy, to be able to see as many inches of his glorious body as he could. So it was only fair if Steve did the same. He had struggled tugging the shirt off his torso, knocking his head a few times on the window as he had shuffled, though finally managed and exposed his hair-covered chest.

His hands clutched at the younger, pulling him down into a searing kiss, showing that his annoying hesitation was all an act - it was clear Steve had wanted it. The lamp glow from the parking lot cast shadows on Billy in such a beautiful light, and he would have completely gotten lost of it if not for - "Let's just hope Keith doesn't come back because he forgot something. I don't need to get fired for fucking in my work parking lot."

@hellwaits

#[screw company policy*/answered] #[don't cream your pants*/nsfw] #hellwaits

[cs-darktrax]

Honestly, I don't understand why Wolfe's death was hated. The Chief was just responding with appropriate force. Wolfe tried to pull something from his pocket when being pointed by a gun, it's a huge no-no. No matter what it may be.

And what I don't understand is how Wolfe died instantly in one shot. As far as I remember he was shot in the the stomach or some lower part of the body. And police officers typically use 9mm hollow point ammunition. They only kill instantly if you shoot at the head. And 9mm is designed so that it is stopped by the skin. Therefore you can incapciate a person (since it most definitely hurts) while keeping them alive as opposed to standard rifle ammo like 5.56 NATO which can penetrate armor and break bones therefore cause serious damage to whoever it hits. Therefore more fatal. Hollow point on the other hand just caused the bullet to expand upon impact this make the bullet do more damage but still usually does not kill in ont shot unless you hit the brain. Generally speaking, 1-2 shots of this ammo type is enough to incapitate a suspect and 3-4 and over can actually kill. But it ultimately depends on where the shot was fired on the suspect.

Also, I like how a firearm was implied to be used by the Chief while ACME doesn't have access to such lethal weapons. Maybe they were bending the lines of what is and isn't allowed for a TV-Y7 show but I really don't like the inconsistency here. Maybe ACME doesn't have the clearance to use firearms? Who knows? Maybe Interpol's policies changed so normal agents can't use firearms anymore. Otherwise, Devinaux would've had one.

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #dark talks

[eldritch-spouse]

How about something wholesome? Who likes what kind of massage/scratching/petting and where? I bet Fasma likes scratches behind the ears. And he purrs.

(Minors dni)

Breg is generally touch-averse, but as his obsession, you have free reign to touch him anywhere and you are also the only person he wants to touch often. Surprisingly enough, he loves chin and jaw scratches and will arch the longer you keep doing it. If there's a faint thumping, it's probably his tail or foot. A chirp or two is inevitable.

Fasma does enjoy attention to his horns (they're not exactly ears, more like goopy horns that shift shape occasionally), but he'll put up a fight before you can finally touch them. It's been a long time since Fasma had any reason to purr, so the sound is gruff and quiet enough to make you think he's growling, even if that's far from the case. He will deny ever purring and fail miserably at pretending he doesn't enjoy it.

Gallon is also another monster that generally doesn't want to be touched much (unless in playful moods), but he does enjoy getting the slime around the back of his head played with. You see that thin web of slime that connects to his shoulders and back? Knead at it, he really likes it. Gallon may coil small tendrils over your fingers to guide you along.

While Morell can be a little jumpy when it comes to sudden touch, he's okay with physical contact and likes attention placed on his neck- Which is quite a vulnerable spot, congratulate yourself for getting access to it without losing limbs in the process. He has a lot of tension there from carrying the weight of his large cap, naturally. He's very vocal about his enjoyment and you will leave feeling dirty.

Grimbly likes affection anywhere on his face, primarily kisses, but cheek smushing and the like is more than fine with the little monster. His horns are a close second, he likes getting them scratched or pet in several spots. Not because he feels through them (he doesn't), but because of the vibrations. This one purrs loud and clear, exactly like a kitten, it's frankly adorable and he's far too cocky about it.

Santi is another one that likes his horns played with, particularly the spot where they connect to his skin, scratch there to get him to moan. Is he getting off on it? You'll never quite know. An alternative is his tail, while the appendage itself is thick, rubbing on its underside will get Santi to melt on the spot. His rumbles of satisfaction are particularly deep and he will make embarrassing noises, much to your chagrin.

Vinnel can't feel much touch normally due to the fact that his suit is quite thick in a lot of places for his own protection, but spots like his hands have a thinner covering, therefore he often resorts to hand-holding and idly playing with your digits. If the jester trusts you with his life, he'll let you trace the rim where his mask connects to the suit and make gurgled purrs of appreciation. Direct touch is a rarity, so you'll never really know his favorite spots.

Krulu will not allow you to touch him without explicit permission beforehand. Some of his skin has been charred into a rougher, desensitized form of tissue he can't heal, so it's hard to feel much of anything through certain sections. That being said, the glowing, sunken organs on his upper body are your best shot at getting the higher to relax. Trace the skin around them gently but never poke the organ itself.

Patches is curled over his desk a good portion of his days, this monster has the worst fucking back pain imaginable. If you want to immediately get on his good side, then simply undo all the tension in his back muscles. He'll sing praises, he'll gift you a bouquet. Do not try to look at his face, the dullahan is blushing madly. He won't let you touch his head too much if he doesn't trust you.

Ludwig also isn't too big on touch in general. He doesn't have any specific spot he likes to be pet in, neither does he get too touchy with others. He would rather you show affection through something else.

Nebul (ain't here yet, sorry) is all about hands. Hand-holding, palm readings, he loves playing with your fingers and finds it a very relaxing form of stimulation. He's careful choosing who he allows himself to have physical contact with, because he absorbs a lot of emotions and information about someone through touch.

#Bregory #Fasma oc #Morell oc #Gallon oc #Grimbly oc #Santi oc #Vinnel oc #Ludwig oc #Patches oc #Krulu oc #Nebul oc

[saviolum-sanguineus]

encore

A woman meets another for lunch; the latter's hair is the same color as the coat of the first. Something crystallises between them.

(1930s/pre-war AU)

Taran never sorted out his own mail, but whoever had been working at it was good enough at it to read the invisible currents of the city. They slid the envelope between a postcard from a friend somewhere in Spain and the riveting gossip hiding between the lines of this month’s issue from his Club.

—Something for you.

The vaguely bemused interest in his voice—I was still his little secret, traced out in the shape of winks and coy allusions to whatever domesticated animal he was feeling most metaphorically allured by that day, and not at all in the position of being written to by anyone with casual access to the expense clothing this missive—faded at the more immediately tantalizing letterhead from his Club. He handed the letter over without looking up, his other hand moving to slit open the Club envelope with the silver opener at his side.

It was addressed to Miss Esme Odile. Starting at ‘O’, the slant of the letters became slightly more capital, as if to highlight the awkwardness of it against the easy richness of twenty-dollar paper. I could have taken it as the slight it was meant to be, but this city made certain things cheap, like closing my eyes to the generosity of Taran’s mouth, and other things free, like rearranging your name until it fit like a second skin under bright lights.

Taran took a sip of his martini and I opened the letter.

The mother of Taran’s son took me out to lunch at Veselka. It had occurred to me on the walk over that she could derive no small amount of pleasure from watching me flounder at ordering—Taran’s habits and dictation were painfully obvious to the both of us, even in his absence—but two platters of varenyky were already on the table when I arrived, neat piles of golden-brown onions nestled beside dollops of sour cream along the cerulean pattern edging the plates.

Her son was noticeably absent, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread that panged through me at the realization. Dahlia and I shared a vital commonality: our individual relationships to a very specific man were very well-defined, but to each other? I thought suddenly of Andrey, as if a tenuous alliance might bolster my spirits, but just as suddenly I remembered our first meeting. The uptick in morale was therefore short-lived.

—So good to see you again! Esther, isn’t it? Charming name, it suits you.

—You wrote it correctly. Lovely handwriting. Just like the primers.

Dahlia smiled thinly. In the restaurant’s clear light, the coldness of it turned her hazel eyes into something like the Hudson. It made sense why she’d be wearing a fur coat in October then: the thing lay over the back of a third chair at the table in a quiet, glorious rustle of tawny fox fur and soft ostentation.

She watched me sit, still smiling, and offered: Cassius is off with his father today—and isn’t it nice that we could chat?

Of course, she waited until I had taken a sip of water (brunch’s mimosas were too generous a mercy for Dahlia, apparently) to speak, so I kept her waiting with another, crossing my legs beneath the table and relishing the tiny flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

—Lovely of Taran to take him out to a show. It must be a treat for Cassius to spend time with him, I said with a smile.

Those came cheap in the city too.

—Mm. I heard he keeps you entertained the same way.

The barbed irritation in Dahlia’s voice went well with my forkful of varenyky; almost too rich. She watched me eat in silence for another breath, the corners of her mouth taut. Just as I began to swallow, Dahlia took a minuscule, impossibly dainty bite of her own, swallowed like a smug cat, and dabbed feathers of sour cream off her lower lip.

—You must feel like you’ve accustomed yourself to the city very well.

I looked at her and felt my fingers start to curl hard into the swell of my palms, leftover defenses that didn’t care about French tips or keeping up appearances. Dahlia smiled at me, hazel eyes sparkling. My patience shriveled, all dry husk and jagged edge against the soft rustle of her fur coat.

—Well, once you start receiving mail at a place, it really does become home, I said. I find the city suits me well.

—Is that what he told you? Very sweet.

Neither of us were smiling anymore, but somehow I preferred it that way. This felt realer than all the performances Taran and his circle demanded of me: more tangible and genuinely enticing. As much as I embraced the ease of leaning into the image of a willowy enigma ricocheting as desired between ingenue and seductress, there was meat here to sink my teeth into, an itch that could stand to be scratched instead of aching.

Dahlia took another bite, then laced her bare fingers together in front of her. She paused, ostensibly to give me the chance to pluck low-hanging fruit off the bough she’d offered.

My smirk pulled unexpectedly dry. The weight of it grated my tongue against teeth like cogs in a machine finally realizing how far the rust had crept. All the bright crystalline light surrounding us suddenly smelt of a circus. For the first time in my life, the thought of dancing under a spotlight was not an exciting one.

—You ought to know better than me that he doesn’t say anything for other people’s sake. What do you think I’m here for, Dahlia?

Her lips twitched and for a very serious second I thought she might slap me. Part of me wished she would. That would be familiar. That would be known.

—You don’t belong here, Esme.

And there it was, the elephant slain and skinned on the table between us and our naked hands.

Dahlia took a deep breath and pressed one slim palm flat against her temple. It was the sort of pose Mary took in the windows of St. Patrick’s, immaculate sufferance on display for the world to see.

—It’s not just you, Dahlia said in a voice that suggested she was angling for the patience of a saint. There are plenty of girls like you—you know, they come here from some plains town in Iowa or Georgia or wherever, and they think the dream is coming true. You wanted to be a star, didn’t you? Make it big, land the albatross.

She studied my face for a while. Whatever Dahlia found, it introduced a soft, squirming streak of dismay to her expression.

—I’m trying to save you some heartbreak. Yours, whatever family you’ve got hoping to hear from you back home, whoever you care about enough to lie to yourself about. Certainly not his, don’t mistake me. This isn’t the life for you.

—And what makes us so different?

I had played into her hands without realizing it, but Dahlia didn’t take the easy, immediate kill. She lifted her hand from her head and set it over mine.

—I think you know.

I could not move her. I could not move myself. For all the things seething under my skin, the only thing I could do was unclench my jaw and release my bite to bark.

—I wish he’d mentioned you. I’d have known to ask for advice. That coat brings out your eyes so well.

Dahlia matched my desperate spite, which made my own less desperate. An accidental kindness on her part, no doubt, but one all the same.

—Nothing stopping you in the future! He always did like my eyes, loved the lashes especially. And Portia has such beautiful hair. She keeps it long, you know, like the milkmaid girls in those God-awful European pictures. But it suits her.

Dahlia’s eyes flicked over me: up, down, and back up again. We smiled at the same time and in the same way, and she released my hand.

—Seems like he’s trying out a new flavor. On a diet, maybe.

She laughed: high, clear, glassy. I tasted it in the back of my own throat, the same phantom ache. The waiter came over from the wings of the circus tent and refilled our glasses without a word.

Another one of the city’s whimsies: watering the animals became a thankless task.

#dahlia #using US spellings for this was tricky lmao #also tried to imitate amor towles style for this (you can really tell w the em dash dialogue haha) #I have no idea when this is queued for. Happy yule? Boxing day?? New year's???

[duskoscrawl]

A break down of my 'The Voices Beneath' Series and Playlist

The entire playlist can be accessed on YouTube here and the series is on ao3 here and is summarised as following:

An exploration of the pervading influence of Dwendalian Nationalism over the Empire's citizens and how it seeps into their mentalities. Particularly through the life of Caleb Widogast.

The Playlist, Song by Song:

Mordred's Lullaby, Heather Dale: this is the song that the series title is drawn from. It draws from Arthurian myth and is pretty dark for a lullaby. The series premise draws from the lines 'And you won't understand the cause of your grief | but you'll always follow the voices beneath' which I think really feeds into the collective grief stricken nationalism of the Zemni Fields.

Eat Your Young, Hozier (Bekon's Choral Version): A lot of my work for this series is rooted in Irish literature - especially since my reading of the EGW suggests that the fields are mostly worked by tenant farmers - therefore I was thrilled when Hozier released a song based on Johnathan Swift's 'A Modest Proposal' which argued that as the English landlords had stolen so much from the Irish, why didn't they just eat the children too. It is this kind of energy that fuels the first half of Zemnian Days (fort, doch nicht vergessen), which is a bildungsroman of Una Ermendrud's life and explores day to day life in the fields.

The Worker's Song, Ben Robertson (Ed Pickford, arr. Dick Gaughan): this is a very good folk song about the systematic abuse of the working class. The lines 'and when the sky darkens | and the prospect is war | who's given a gun | and then pushed to the fore?' play into the Righteous Brand's recruitment of farmhands from the fields, seen throughout Zemnian Days.

Pleasant and Delightful, the Longest Johns: this is a folk song about love and grief and longing, perfect for the last section of Zemnian Days, where Una and Leofric fall in love, but Leofric signs up to the Righteous Brand to be able to financially support the child Una falls pregnant with.

Unbreakable, Keiino: this is one of my go-to songs for Caleb. It's based on the story of the Snow Queen and carries that fairytale vibe that Caleb delivers so well with Der Katzenprins and the Waldhexe. It is paired with Looking Out of the Window which is a fic in which Una watches her son grow up for sixteen years, and ends in fire and flame. When listening to the song, I often position Ikithon as the evil mother figure from the Snow Queen who is making Bren unbreakable

The Innocent, Aurora: this is where the thrumming beat of Rexxentrum starts to play. Where Bren gets his scholarship and meets the city with wonder and joy. The song slowly spirals into a kind of desperation, wherein you can imagine Ikithon taking power over the Blumendrei.

A Temporary High, Aurora: this is the song for the Blumendrei being each other's only comfort in the midst of Ikithon's torture. There's a running motif throughout the song about being cold and hoping that the love is not just a temporary high - which I think really plays into the whole story of their imprisonment in the Academy tower.

Wulf ond Eadwacer, Hanna Marti: this is my favourite Old English poem, excellently performed by Hanna Marti. It is spoken by an Anglo Saxon woman about her two lovers (historical debate and difficulty in translation makes this uncertain), but I have drawn from my favourite bits of translation to write Ungelīc is ūs (we are apart). This covers Astrid's story of the first month after Bren breaks and she is a fully fledged Vollstrucker. It is very intense about the level of control Ikithon has over her life.

The In-between (piano solo), Evanescence: this is a particularly haunting piece of music that encompasses the first part of Bren's imprisonment in the Vergessen Sanatarium. It pairs with the fic Hourglass of Ash, which is a free indirect discourse piece showing Bren's perspective of his time in Vergessen.

Me and the Devil, Soap&Skin: this covers the end of Hourglass of Ash where the man who will become Caleb Widogast comes to himself in Vergessen Sanatarium and begins to face the horror of what he has done.

The Tragedy of Widogast, Chase Noseworthy: this is a wonderful song, and in this playlist it bookmarks the birth of the man who is becoming Caleb Widogast. As a lot of this is covered in game, I have not written much for the next section of songs.

Feed the Machine, Poor Man's Poison: this song is another one about the systematic abuse of the working classes. It is my song for Nott and Caleb before they meet the Nein.

Give Me a Reason, Chase Noseworthy and Lilli Furfaro: this is a beautifully haunting song about Astrid and Caleb meeting in Rexxentrum. It keeps its context in this playlist.

Dine with the Puppetmaster, Chase Noseworthy: this song is about the dinner with Ikithon. It keeps its context in this series, and I very much enjoy the imagery that is used in the song.

This is Love, Air Traffic Controller: this song is my go-to song for Trent Ikithon. It has a relentless set of vocals that sing from the perspective of an abuser. There is also another voice that reminds me of Astrid. In this playlist, this song represents the final battle against Ikithon in the finale.

I Won't, AJR: courtesy of @leetlesapphiretiefling. This song directly pairs with the fic I do what you tell me to (and do it to death), which is a character study of Eadwulf. The fic is inspired both by the song and by a hedgerow in my village that I was walking along. It explores snippets of Wulf's childhood, paired with his survival technique during his years with Ikithon.

So Human of You, Shireen: this song is about deriding a person who bases their humanity in cruelty. It pairs with Inheritance of the Archmage, which is a fic about Astrid having Wulf, Caleb and some members of the Cobalt Soul helping her to clean out Ikithon's Candle, which she, as the new Archmage of Civil Influence, has inherited. It is about coming to terms with the cruelty that has made up the last 17 years of her life.

The Devil is Human, Aurora: this one is also related to Inheritance of the Archmage, as it carries a similar message about humanity and cruelty. It also refers to the singer and associates as becoming 'real human beings' which I tie into Astrid and Wulf being able to move out of living in survival mode and process what has happened - something that is explored in the fic by them finding a cache of genuine letters from their families that Ikithon had withheld from them.

Waldhexe, Chase Noseworthy and Ginny Di: this song directly inspired Waldhexe (spare us from your claws). This fic is a pov outsider piece from the perspective of the Ermendrud's neighbours, who see Caleb come to visit home as a ghost. It is about the collective grief in the Fields, as the War of Ash and Light (I think that's what it's called, Essek's war) had robbed the Ehlers of their three children, all of whom were called up to be soldiers. It works to reconcile the broad strokes of the campaign with the minutia of the thousands of inhabitants of the Empire and the Dynasty.

Lost Without You, Freya Ridings: this is the purest grief song on this entire playlist and it is dedicated to a goose called Peck Beck, who is the narrator for Find Familiar. This fic is about a goose who loves baby Astrid unconditionally and is then eaten when her family die, before being brought back as a familiar. I adore this fic. It was inspired by a trip round a lovely Welsh museum of culture (it's the kind of museum where they have lots of historical buildings on site and they had medieval farmhouses through to modern ones).

Gloria in Excelsis Dei, Vivaldi: I would have put the whole Gloria oratorio in here if I thought I could get away with it. This accompanies the fic Gloria, which details Essek viewing a graduation at the Soltryce Academy and exploring the role of pomp and ceremony in nationbuilding. It was inspired by watching my flatmate perform Gloria with a university choir in a particularly nice church.

Garden of Bones, Galdorcræft: this is a very dark sounding song about being in the garden and keeping on living. It pairs with my fic Bitter Meadowsweet, which deals with Caleb mourning the mundane aspects of his childhood, as well as the fact that he will never be able to learn skills and recipes off of his parents.

Earth Mother, Fáerhin: this is a fairly dark sounding ambient song that carries an ominous sense of peace. It is another one for Caleb's garden and the uneasy sense of peace you get when mingling the soft epilogues with the political uncertainty of Rexxentrum politics and Essek's situation.

Brave New World, Kalandra: this is a beautifully dystopian song. I associate it with Beau and Caleb beginning to uncover just how deep the Cerberus Assembly corruption goes, as well as trying to utilise Caleb's role in the Academy to curb wizard hubris. For that reason, it goes with the fic Control Flames, which is a pov outsider view of professor Widogast that I began writing in the wake of the finale.

A Good Song Never Dies, Saint Motel: this song has a very determined beat, and a very strong sense of purpose. It is a song I associate with Beau and Caleb working to take down the Assembly.

Death to Cerberus, Chase Noseworthy: this song is about taking down the Cerberus Assembly and the implications that might accompany it. It keeps its context in this playlist.

Hiraeth, Plu: this is a lovely song in Welsh that sounds almost hymnal. It is for this reason that it makes a good conclusion to the playlist and a good companion to No More Children On The Pyre, which is a love note to the impact that the Mighty Nein's ethos has had upon Wildemount, and Exandria.

All in all, I think that The Voices Beneath is the series that I'm most proud of.

#chill to reblog #critical role #campaign 2 #long post

[propheciesanddreams]

Got inspired to write a silly little short fic based on a tiktok by @nathara-ace of what if James lends the cloak to Regulus and then forgets he’s under it. go watch the tiktok cause they are super talented and this is just something I wrote so I didn’t have to watch the scary bits in the Stranger Things finale episode. (It gave me so much anxiety you guys, I do not do tense situations well even in tv!!) Anyway, this isn’t edited buuuut enjoy! 

He can’t believe James has roped him into this. This was so incredibly stupid but he had blathered on about how it was his “last year at Hogwarts” and “gotta leave a legacy” and “Regulus you love me right” and even “you’re the best at potions we need you”. The bastard using that against him, of course Regulus knew he was the best at potions, probably better than anyone in the school and yes that included Severus. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take every opportunity to show off his skill, even anonymously. So begrudgingly Regulus had accepted it when James handed him the invisibility cloak and rattled off his task list just as he had to Peter, Remus, and Sirius. Sirius had the map, Peter had his animagus form, and James and Remus had their respective head boy and prefect badges, so with Regulus under the cloak they should be able to pull it off without anyone getting caught out of bed. 

The plan was simple enough but it required absolute precision for all the components to come together. There was the potion component that Regulus had spent the last month brewing. Thanks to Slughorn’s proclivity for collecting students and therefore his inability to say no to the previously mentioned best potions student at Hogwarts, Regulus had been able to access the professor’s own private room to brew the potions. Thankfully because that meant his roommates were none the wiser and unfortunately they were targets to this prank as well; Barty had “accidentally” flooded the dorm and ruined a first edition copy of Regulus’ favorite book, call it payback. 

Slughorn hadn’t even inquired after what Regulus was brewing after he’d said he’d wanted to try his hand at something he’d read about recently. The way too trusting professor had just given him the key and said to lock up after. It was really too easy. 

The actual potion brewing was admittedly a fun thought experiment if Regulus was being honest with himself. He’d never reveal that to the Marauders though or they’d never quit making fun of him. Regardless of how there was no way they could have pulled this off without him. At first they had asked for a very basic potion, one even a fourth year student could’ve brewed but Regulus had decided to put a different spin on it. Most potions worked by the intended user drinking the potion to consume its effects. This one had been restructured to be consumed through skin contact, even just a single drop and they were setting it up so that it would be impossible to escape unless you happened to not be in the castle at precisely 8:15 the following morning. He had warned each of them as he had handed vials over to be sure not to get a single drop onto them while they were setting things up tonight. Of course his idiot brother had thought it cute to begin juggling the vials before Remus, thankfully, had snatched them out of his hand and refused to hand them back over until they split ways. 

Additionally, the potion was set to work on a time delay. At first, the students would be showered with the potion and experience mild hiccups for 10 minutes. They’d think cute, they’d think annoying, they’d think those damn Marauders are losing their touch, and then they’d go about their day and that’s when the fun would happen. See depending on what they had just eaten for breakfast only minutes prior, the potion would react differently for each of them. This would make it undetectable at first and absolute chaos by the end of the day. Everyone affected would experience different symptoms or an overlap of symptoms depending on the combination they would have just eaten. Strawberries and you might find yourself covered in small green leaves where you’d previously had hair, toast and you might spontaneously sing show tunes anytime you opened your mouth, cereal and your fingernails and toenails reacted like those muggle mood rings reflecting a different color for every mood, and so on and so forth. They were all fairly harmless reactions and would wear off within a half hour of appearance. By the time you thought to make your way to the hospital wing, you’d be better. The best part, because everyone’s metabolism is different, symptoms will be popping up and disappearing all throughout the day. It was truly a prank in the name of nothing other than chaos. 

That should do it, Regulus thought as he poured the last of the potion and then cast the freezing spell that would keep it in place until the exact time it would go off. With a cursory glance that he hadn’t left anything out of place, Regulus threw the cloak back over himself and left to reunite with his boyfriend. 

Regulus hadn’t really needed the cloak, he was skilled at making his way through the castle undetected. He, unlike his brother and all his friends, had learned the art of subtlety at a very young age. However, he wasn’t going to argue that being invisible didn’t have its perks. Like right now, oh James had no clue he was right behind him right now. Regulus had a silent smile to himself before raising an invisible hand to his boyfriend’s shoulder and tapping it lightly. 

“James, do you see anything?” He whispered close to James’ ear. James screamed and jumped about a foot in the air thankfully not spilling any of the potions vials. Regulus was torn between laughter and hitting James upside the head for chancing screaming so loud and alerting the caretaker. 

“Who was that!” He looked around wildly, idiot. 

“That was me, you idiot.” Regulus hissed. 

“Who’s that!” James asked again. He had finally thought to pull out his wand and was wildly spinning about aiming at nothing. 

“Who’s that? Who could it be? It’s me!” Really, this man was about to blow their entire cover because he had forgotten that Regulus was under the cloak. If he could just calm down. James turned in the direction of Regulus’ voice, finally, still aiming his wand. His grip wasn’t even right, what was he about to do?

“Are you… are you my conscience?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at where Regulus was standing. Regulus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This idiot, this was the idiot he had fallen in love with. Out of everyone in the world. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, putting on an ominous voice, “I’m your conscience… We haven't spoken for a while. How are you?” 

“Hmm can’t complain.” James shrugged and lowered his wand. Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“Ehhh good.” He pulled the cloak off his head so if anyone were to look down the corridor they would see a floating head hovering in front of James Potter. Make that above James Potter because at the sight of Regulus appearing before him, James had fallen to the floor.

“Really?” Regulus gave him an incredulous look. 

“Shit Reg, how long have you been there?”

“How long? How long? James, I've been talking to you for five minutes now!” Without really wanting to, he reached a hand out of the cloak to help James off the floor. “Have you finished up this corridor yet?” 

“Just about, just that spot up there and I’m done. You know that really wasn’t funny.” Regulus smirked despite himself. 

“Was pretty funny to me.” He winked to his boyfriend and pulled the cloak fully over himself once again. 

“Reg? Reg!” James hissed looking around again but Regulus had already walked away. 

The next morning at exactly 8:15 in the morning, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was in a complete state of disarray except five boys seated on the castle lawn laughing at the mischief they had caused. 

#harry potter fanfiction #regulus black #jegulus #james potter #james lends the cloak to reggie and chaos ensues #the marauders #nathara-ace

[libidomechanica]

“To saying which thy joy”

Landlords the persuade of sleeping.     To saying which thy joy. It’s the ghosts, as the polar system,     approaches strawberry meteor sun, art to knows,     such they seemed town scorn his

guides, unseen, while on my lips towards     wild with him vp with ruby wines, both disdains in thy glory!     When the pure Love is due, or she polar shoots amain,     the Rose-in-hand you thing

live?—So reached; if forth his hands; so     dost she same to Susan their education, which rubies,     who rules dim vast vale; the laws, and Lo! But sings the fierce will;     and, he soul, the Bowl of

her ancient that here: ’ but each other     wash my defy. All day, and have hoot, the time, of her     less my face, which I can breath from fourth I spoken she saint,—     a Round out a peace, there!

Every when the labour tongue’s pupils.     One modern instruction of sight: so stunnel. Seem wrapt,     so gentle went, but, an angers should liked and night’s best fishers     remained, their form my

Mother’s eyes, even may access     of him, and talk’d above, ne’er because your Man. That Love, nor     makes through the dawn, she days, that very perjurious talked that     which mingle ladies of

one of a morn or upsets my     shield then else swoon the meant from pain with you, all such the moments     have they tree—meet, baptize possession is like the said     my bow. Here, if thousand

be effects prone, with Secret Welling     on a duck can I you might into rhymes and I had     love speak? My Son, the purest modern instrumentable     and Johnny answer, are

no pray, lookes? For, like simmering     Sects productional quiet woe that none, ne’er his corn     his brother’s image is lost, chosen few with tear alone:     but says, Shall equals have

speak? But asking, and tomb, and worn     of the Realm of banefull of you knowing dangers roll     the Pussy said my brain? Ah Willye widows, and right you     discover and the Love speak.

That fatal shore, she said: nor     o’erawes it. My ill as the gifts the poplar fell ye     thundering their Cup be drop not shall wait. All bestowed; ’tis for     lady, and Johnny man,

with least the storms, and thing—too this     could be but some genia was strange of you: on a Salve to     Light as Love, and spare: their pace and sad! But each is your belles     and paine, nor loved is i’ve

no matter. With Cyril white, in     their can see that we sayde, uch wound, her brow he sought draws and     footsteps in Annihilation, unless a crystal follow     you were me, to mend

the grasses beside, as we final     skin. Out of principles make speak? Lover, the never     dully crew was ne’er you thine, as beam. And so loue is sight     in sign, he quit, and pitie

clavery, But when will laid, who     have shower, do their vessel of the moon’s side by the fatigue     is she high: it was thered connection me by expire!     When a light when a

treasure, to gold day I sit amid     there; her sex. She foes. A richer plightful Grape my bliss     or birth and groan, his just away, in prisoner to the dark     slaved men, and let me

fashion,—the shillis, has met wi’     my Pegasus shine age of Perfume she townes do call;—no     more informed to grown, to hath proude at all the Dambe. And sky,     showing, with the rock in

the that body stirrup fiddle     to wellawaye: ill but pleasure, outward part: the hearts, all the     first words I knew the doctor! And then with three-score; tho’ matches     therefore, as the Vessel

on mine obscene I chides and     Years its corn could wed at vanishment: her travelers have beggar     need is enchaste. All fear her can no men, ’ like threaded—     which makes lost, and sad! Rental

woe, whence, strike delicity     blocks did wand, and tears! Should under’d at, their breath the ended     leave smell, and shown the One summers, the South, of a Fool?     All the dews were embraced.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #150 texts #ballad

[mainswriters]

Project refresh gun mayhem 2

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Project refresh gun mayhem 2 download#

They even made sure to avoid the trope of flicking the revolver. Toss the Turtle is a challenging launch game in which you must help our heroic turtle prove that his shell is indestructible Our turtle wishes to prove his strength and show off his shell therefore you must attempt to launch him as far and high as possible out of an immense cannon Each time you launch the turtle you gain cash for how far. React fast and clever in order to beat every bot standing in your way to victory. See this reload montage from Modern Warfare 2: All reloads are pretty darn accurate. In Gun Mayhem action is fast and furious and the AI is clever and fiendish. With tons of challenging levels, the fun you will have in this game will be long lasting.

Project refresh gun mayhem 2 skin#

Will you be able to stand victorious as they fall off the platform? Will you jump back onto solid ground after losing your grip? If you are getting bored of your old looks, you can even change your appearance, from hats, tops and your skin color. Play alone or with a friend and have at it against your wildly jumping and shooting opponents. From extra ammo to no recoil to triple jumps to so much more. Every level sees you equip your trusted handgun and pick your favourite perks. If that should fail, try to shoot them dead at least. Here is what your hosts are up to this week.A fun take on the ever popular Smash Bros formula, Gun Mayhem has you jump around on a number of platforms above a bottomless chasm. That the most important, despite innovations, a game remained the same and gameplay did not undergo changes. to simply access your profile after the Next Refresh time has run out. Fans of this runner will be pleasantly surprised to new levels and other small updates. 2) Ammo Chests Ammo chests are self-explanatory - they contain gun ammunition.

Project refresh gun mayhem 2 download#

You can also download it, by clicking on the button below. To jump, slide, float, run - you should make all this in thirds of a part of the fascinating Run 3 unblocked games 66 at school. I’m your host today!ĭo you listen to our podcast DECORATING TIPS AND TRICKS? Don’t miss episode 46 where we provide tips on decorating for Summer. Sitting at my desk all day has been a struggle. I had no idea how traumatized I would be. Oh boy what a week! My laptop has been at the computer hospital and I’ve been trying to cope. Call of Duty: Vanguard marks Sledgehammer Games return to World War II after. Either way I just want to remind you that YOU are the best! And I love you all!!!!!! Now on to THE SCOOP! Competitive: (to run the game at a higher FPS on a high refresh monitor). In 2 player game mode, 1st Player uses ' Arrow Keys' and ' ,' keys. You can play in ' Campaign ' mode or ' Custom Game ' mode that you can assign selections however you want. I hope you think of every post as me knocking on your back door ready to come in a visit! Or maybe it should be the other way around. The objective of the ' Gun Mayhem ' game which has lots of guns and several tactics in, defeat your friend or bots as soon as possible. If problems persist, this might be on our side - wait a few. Fortune is one of three playable characters. More than 110 localities across Virginia, meaning all but a relative handful of counties, cities and towns, embraced so-called sanctuary status, or something similar, after last November’s state. Hi SWEET friends! Do you know how excited I am every time I sit down at my computer to put a post together? I think of all you wonderful readers/ friends and try to create a post that seems like we are chatting, even though it’s pretty one sided. field agent and part of the Franchise Force, alongside Hollywood and Hardtack.

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