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atlantisaurum · 3 years

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Lifetime

At 11pm he was digging up a hole in his own garden. Raindrops shattered on his face, mixing themselves under the tears, not to be distinguished here in the rain some February night in a year preceded by restless hours of isolation and pens in his hands, writing unspoken eulogies whenever he could not sleep. It´s hard to keep track of the order of all the deaths that happened throughout the last decade, all of his life.

Roots as thick as his forearms tormented his way down to a depth to lower the casket in, which he built, hoping it would make him feel less helpless, now, that another soul passed his still young being by. A flash light and an umbrella, held by his only remaining relative, kept him company next to a raging emptiness subsided by inner cries and screams. He had to keep digging otherwise it would be to late to do something, to help, to have a positive part in this inconvenient event in a row of even more inconvenient months.

Hope, first a stranger then a part of his family for 16 years, gone. Wryly and bitterly, he thought: “At least he doesn´t have to endure this anymore.” She cried night and day, crying for someone to give her love and company. His father gave it to her. Is there a place for humans and dogs next to the gods somewhere, anywhere that is not this place? Eternal solace and purity after one injection of sleep? Maybe they will find themselves together at a heavenly equivalent of north shore beaches of Germany in Spring and Autumn. “It doesn´t matter.” Nothing could sooth this loss, this last connection to his father. Sure, there still was the house, three times as old as him, built by his father blood, sweat and tears. It´s just not the same – empty, lonelier even more after his grandmother´s passing. Occupying her old room simply made him colder and his heart more cynical.

Hours passed before he was done digging this testimony of a lost cause, a withered away duo of a family. They lowered the baby-sized casket into the hole. He was silent, only muttering abbreviations of sentences and words as answers in the general direction of his blabbering mother. There are more than two ways to cope with situations like these. He and his mother lingered on opposite sites of the spectrum. One either turns into their parents or into the complete opposite. Both of his parents, marvellous in their own ways, imperfect as every other being as well. He feared to turn out like either of them. Where does one find the balance between obnoxiously loud and forever shut inside ones own head?

Fear and a promise urged his life forward for an unbearable amount of time. Stretched so thin he wasn´t even a person anymore. If one isn´t a person one will forget how to cry.

But he cried, at least he thought so or hoped so. Not crying meant it would kill him at some other point further in the future. He couldn´t bear it. When does it ever stop?

Continuously, every other week or month, he asked himself why he was the person he turned out to be. For these questions, bitter and melancholy answers are at hand but never satisfying enough to keep the doubts and hate from lurking back into his mind. Why couldn´t he accept a shoulder to cry on? It is simply easier to be quite than to explain anything at all. Every book, every last poem, piece of prose has its origins and its far fetched interpretations and general analysis but nothing that is not an exact copy of the authors mind can never fully explain the words felt and written.

Nothing ever will have enough matter to fill a black hole. It will suck in everything surrounding it, turning it into lifeless, non-existent, meaningless and fleeting occurrences. “It doesn´t matter”, he thought again. “My body is real, so is this soon to be covered in unwanted weeds and white wild flowers now filled up hole.” This existentialistic thought scratched at the walls of his head, ripping the wallpaper off and leaving behind but a white space once touched but now an unlovable place for non-permanent acquaintances of his life. Nothing stays, nothing lasts. `This too shall pass.´ But it never really seems that way in these awfully long lasting moments. Tomorrow he would still be existing and had to live the life given to him unasked for and unwillingly lead from crisis to crisis.

Soon, he knows, he would forget the tone of his dogs voice and the vibrancy of her fur in winter. So many memories repressed so he was able to breathe.

At 3am he opened the door of his car, leather gloves on his hands, but he knew his knuckles turned white by the way his hands started cramping after uncountable minutes of just holding onto the steering wheel, not even driving, just sitting, trying not to break down into even smaller pieces. His life was spread all over the globe, one chipped piece at a time. America, France, Spain, Italy, Germany - an endless list of places covered in blood only he could see. There was nowhere to go.

He turned the key around and starting driving. No specific aim, goal or place to end up at – driving simply so he wouldn´t be anywhere any time at all. Constantly moving in order not to linger.

A lightning struck above his head, enlightening the hardened lines of his face. He knew the roads, where they would eventually lead him. Every path has its end, every turn he made unconsciously brought him closer to where his heart needed to be in that very moment, after all of this morbid digging and the cries of his mother still ringing in his ears. A trip he had taken one too many times that led him to the grim realisation that he made a crucial mistake at being a person befriending another one. Taking anything, anyone in particular, for granted. Nothing ever is granted. Everything is temporary, time is fleeting and the air passing every single being by is only a recollection of what had been, could have been and something of what may never be.

The car seemed to shiver as he turned left and drove up the agricultural road, opening the scenery up to see a horizon waiting for the sun to touch its colours and tint it with its warm beams. He turned off the car. The breath he took did not help his lungs to steady themselves. Heavy was the weight sitting on his chest as the tried to open the door and begged his legs and feet to move him out of the car, onto the mushy and dirty field, awaiting the light of the new day to come.

His feet sunk into the dirt, covering his shoes in mud and torn off grass. “It doesn´t matter”, he thought again. “No one ever profited off of Nihilism.” He moved to the front of the car and leaned again the it, feet still on the ground. He needed to feel the ground beneath him, needed to feel the connection to something that wouldn´t die on him. “We´re killing this planet.” But the earth always had the remarkable ability to recover from any form of human interference. Chernobyl, only 30 years later nature recovered, animals repopulated themselves and it is now a fully functional and living place for nature and its inhabitants. But who is a boy compared to the wonders of the earth? Everyone can only ever endure and hope the pain eases. What is the last straw?

Miserable to his core, sinking deeper into the mud, the sun started to rise. Fog appeared at the horizon behind the trees in the forest that was before him. He couldn´t even count anymore how many girls he had taken to this place. He didn´t even know why he had taken them in the first place. To impress, to share, to show sparks of depth that he usually would not let anyone see? He was fooling himself. He took them them just so didn´t feel as lonely as he did now seeing this astonishing view all by himself, wondering why no one stayed long enough to see the sun set again with him. He could never to honest with himself. Lies followed lies followed lies followed by a dead end. So many things had ended when he had tried to fix them. “You cannot keep lying to everyone just because it seems like it is more convenient for you. If you keep lying, you´ll get lost in your lies and might never find your way back to the truth and to those who are sincere”, she had said to him once. “I´m sick of being treated like a secret. Stand for what you do, whom you´re with and why.” How was he supposed to tell the truth if he did not even knew it himself?

Truth is simple once one acknowledges that anything that differs from its pure form will ultimately lead one into a false perception of reality. Reality, just as time, is relative. Factual reality and emotional reality are two completely different things. “I cannot stay here”, he muttered, got back into his car and took off.

#z #mine #short story #m #death #tw

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

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For You: 4 O’Clock

Chapter 3: Secrecy

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

I walked downstairs with the reasons why I shouldn’t be required to attend Donghae’s birthday party pressed on the tip of my tongue.

The Reasons:

I saw Donghae so often that seeing him for a split second at a work party (where he would dash from guest to guest) seemed kind of ridiculous

SuperM was setting out on a world tour at daybreak, and I couldn’t afford to lose hours of sleep. My face was already swollen, drowsy from staying up all night playing Truth or Dare with the guys.

I was still working on the third reason, but it would probably be something along the lines of “What’s the point in going to a birthday party if I can’t even eat cake because of this stupid diet?”

I didn’t get to voice any of my reasons to convince Mom to let me stay home, though, because I dropped my jaw on the floor when I found her sitting on the living room couch. She was still wearing the red tracksuit she wore when she drove me home from the campsite. She wore a pale green clay mask.

“What are you doing?” I checked my phone because if Mom was laying around, I must have been mistaken about the time. Nope, the screen said, I was right. “Donghae’s party starts in 30 minutes.”

She joked, “Oh, you don’t like my outfit?” before registering my unamused expression. “I’m not going, Lei. I’m sick.” She forced the least convincing fake laugh of all time, and I rolled my eyes. How gullible did she think I was?

“Fine.” I plopped down onto the couch next to her, saying, “Then I’m sick, too.” I didn’t go so far as to fake a cough, but I doubt she would have been convinced even if I had been truly unwell.

“Oh, no.” Mom kicked me off of the couch with her (mismatched) socked feet. “You used your fake flu excuse to get out of ‘Knowing Bros’—”

My entire body cringed at the mention of Heechul’s variety show. I loved Heechul, but that show— with great effort, I had managed to have a successful career without appearing on a single episode, and I planned to keep it that way.

“You need to go to Donghae’s party, anyway.” Mom lectured with facts I already knew well: “He’s never been anything but kind to you, so grab his present off the kitchen table. There’s a car outside waiting for you.”

Just to be clear: I wasn’t trying to weasel out of going to the party because I didn’t want to see Donghae or celebrate his birthday. I never would have said this out loud for fear of sounding like a total freak, but I really, really hated work parties. Although the atmosphere was always uncomfortably formal, even for birthday parties, boys (namely, Sehun) tried to blur the lines in strictly professional relationships.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so bothered. Maybe I should have tried to understand that they were grasping at romance the only ways they could— even if it was a fake, pseudo-romance explored in the shadows of an S.M. banquet hall. But I was bothered, and I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to go.

And, more pressingly, I didn’t want to see Taemin again. Except I did. Just not so soon, and not before I could figure out how to thank him for his jacket. Not before I understood why I wanted him to smile (the real smile) at me. Not before I understood why he wanted my ribbon.

Wanting to avoid Taemin wasn’t just cowardly; it was impractical, considering that I would have to see him every day for the next few months on our North American tour. I would have to face him sooner or later, talk to him sooner or later, and there was no point in delaying our next conversation.

I opened my mouth to complain— or least to ask how I was supposed to get home after the party— but Mom had turned her attention back to the paperwork in her lap. Maybe she was genuinely too busy to go to the party, even though it was for work, even though it was hosted on Donghae’s behalf. I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to ask if she was still avoiding Donghae.

I felt like the longer I stayed with her, the likelier I was to ask if she was the idol who never debuted. I didn’t see what good could come from asking, so I ran out of the room, grabbed the small wrapped gift from the table, and crawled into the back seat of the company car in the driveway.

“Damn, Lei,” Lucas whistled when he found me in the corner of the banquet hall where the light didn’t quite reach. “You look good!”

When he tried to pull me into a hug, I swatted him away. “This is why we have dating rumors, Lucas,” I scolded, knowing that he would shrug my concerns away while laughing.

Lucas’s eternal smile broadened as he teased, “If anyone figures out where Taemin got his bracelet, your dating rumors won’t center around me anymore.”

The only comfort was knowing that even if my blush broke through my makeup, Lucas wouldn’t have been able to see it in the dim lighting. “Stop saying that. There’s nothing like that there.”

“That’s what you keep saying.” Lucas raised a disposable red cup to his lips, so his next words were muffled. “But that dimple in your chin— the one that only deepens when you lie— says otherwise.”

Cupping a hand over my chin, I hissed, “There is no dimple!”

Lucas laughed at my reaction, and I realized that he was just messing with me. While these dating rumors were my greatest source of stress, they were just another thing for him to laugh about. I never wanted to be the reason Lucas’s laughter died, so I had to learn to play along.

This was the issue: Lucas understood my point of view; he just didn’t share it, and I couldn’t force him to.

Once he realized that I couldn’t force laughter, Lucas tried to get our conversation back on track. “Anyway, you called me over here to talk about Mom and Donghae. Does that mean there are updates?”

I shrugged and shuffled closer to him so I didn’t have to speak louder than absolutely necessary. “I still don’t know why she’s avoiding Donghae, but she didn’t come to the party—”

My attempts at secrecy were thwarted when Lucas repeated, loudly, “She didn’t come to the party?” He clamped a hand over his mouth when I cut my eyes at him. As he should have in the first place, he whispered, “She didn’t come to the party?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, tucking behind my ear a curl that had escaped my bun. “She even faked some kind of illness. She did one of those lame coughs—” Lucas hacked frailly into the sleeve of his shirt— “Yeah, exactly like that. She’s definitely not sick.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed so tightly that I imagined steam might blow out of his ears from over-exerting his brain. “But why? What could Donghae have done?”

Before I could say that I had no idea, a voice spoke from the deeper shadows, “I can find out if you want.” Sehun stepped into the light.

As I rolled my eyes at the sight of him— the second to last person I wanted to see that evening— Lucas snorted into his drink.

“What do you say, Lei?” Like a character from a movie— some kind of spy film whose plot I couldn’t quite follow no matter how hard I focused— Sehun offered his hand to me. “I’m close to Donghae. I can ask him what’s going on with him and Momager if you really want to know.”

I shook my head at the offer. Dropping his hand to his side, sure to slap it against his black dress pants, Sehun drew his eyebrows together curiously as if to ask, “Why do you always reject me?” The words didn’t have to leave his mouth; he asked them frequently enough while making that face— brows arched more than usual, lips pressed in a thin line— that I knew when they were blaring in his mind.

Unable to bear the silent exchange, Lucas tried to explain to Sehun, “She doesn’t want to owe you any favors, dude.”

I know it sounds cynical, but Lucas was right. Nobody liked to admit it, but in the entertainment industry, nobody does anything for the sake of accomplishing a good deed. Everybody is always looking to get ahead somehow, usually by performing these little favors, and I never wanted to be involved in anything like that— especially not with boys (like Sehun) who only wanted to see how close I would get to dating them.

Sehun rolled his eyes at my cynicism like he always did. “How do you know that I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart, Lei? You know I would do almost anything to make my fans happy.” He smiled at me, and my heart might have fluttered if I harbored the slightest budding feelings for him. As it was, my glare hardened, and I wanted to slap Baekhyun for telling Sehun that he was my bias.

Shaking my head, I brushed past Sehun to find Donghae. I thought that after wishing him a happy birthday in person, I could have justified leaving the party early.

I wasn’t surprised (just disappointed) that Sehun trailed closely behind, asking, “Why am I your bias, anyway, if you dislike me this much? Is it because of my visuals? That’s it, right? I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.”

“As a matter of fact,” I rounded on Sehun, frustrated that he grinned at the attention as he held his hands up in mock surrender, “it’s your eyebrows. I like your eyebrows.”

“Oh.” Sehun laughed, leaning against a nearby table. “So this is what we’re doing? We’re listing what we like about each other?”

“No,” I said sternly.

I knew that the more I resisted, the more he would pursue me. This was a game. I hated it, and I hated that my natural temperament made it drag on forever.

“I don’t dislike you, Sehun, but when you act like this—”

“Like what?” He smirked. “Like the man of your dreams?”

“Like the total opposite,” I replied maybe a little too harshly. The festivities around us died down as some guests tried to listen to our conversation and even more relocated to carry on joyfully without having to hear us.

I always felt bad at this part— when I snapped because I felt cornered, and Sehun stood still, staring at the ground like I had drawn blood. If I hurt him, then why did he keep flirting me? If this wasn’t a game, wouldn’t he get tired of rejection?

If it was a game, it wasn’t fun for me. I didn’t like rejecting Sehun, and I didn’t like that I had to avoid him at events like this, but the fact remained: I wasn’t interested in him like that. I didn’t know how else to tell him. I didn’t like that he made me into this villain— or, worse, this unattainable ideal— just because it made me more interesting to him.

I wasn’t something to chase: I was a person. Why couldn’t he understand that? Did I really have to explain it to him?

Sehun met my eyes when he said, “I won’t give up,” for the thousandth time.

I started to beg him to give up— or to at least stop blurring the lines between fantasy and reality— or to at least outright say that he liked me if that was the problem— but I didn’t get the chance. Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun crowded around the table, so I swallowed my concerns.

“Wait a minute.” Heechul’s gaze flickered between me and Sehun. Dimples formed in his cheeks. “This isn’t the boy I usually see you with, Lei!”

Baekhyun laughed. Nudging Heechul, and, cupping around his mouth as if he was divulging a secret, Baekhyun explained, “This is another one of Lei’s suitors. Apparently she and Lucas are ‘just friends,’ much to the fans’ disappointment, and Sehun is ‘just her bias,’ much to Sehun’s disappointment.”

Sehun and I, at least, were united in the simultaneous rolling of our eyes as Baekhyun and Heechul cackled together.

Sehun promised, “I’ll text you later, Lei,” and stalked away without responding to Baekhyun’s and Heechul’s harmonizing whistles.

Donghae, who had been shifting uncomfortably since arriving at the table, asked the dreaded question, “Where’s your mom?” while Baekhyun and Heechul were too busy harassing Sehun to notice.

Whatever he had done to upset Mom must have been an unwitting accident; Donghae smiled at the mere mention of her. For a second— a split second— I hated Mom for sending me into this situation where I had to break Donghae’s smile by answering, “She’s not here. She, um, isn’t feeling well.”

“What?” Donghae, Heechul, and Baekhyun asked in unison.

Heechul slipped away from the conversation without arousing Donghae’s or Baekhyun’s attention; their wide eyes were too focused on me to notice anything else. I wondered how mad Heechul would be when he drove to my house just to find Mom sitting (perfectly healthy) on the couch, probably watching episodes of their drama without him.

“She’s not feeling well?” Donghae repeated. Tiny dimples formed in his chin as he realized, frowning, “She’s never missed one of my parties before. This one year, she came even though she had the flu, and I had to beg her to go home!”

“It’s very unlike her to miss a work event.” The sadness in Baekhyun’s voice was so exaggerated that I met his gaze anxiously. What was he up to? Mock concern flooded his eyes as he said, “She must be really sick, huh, Lei? Coughing and everything?”

Oh. I realized when the corner of Baekhyun’s lips twitched upward that he overheard my conversation with Lucas. I guess he had already proven through his successful kidnapping plot that he could keep his big mouth shut when he needed too; now, he proved it again by quietly eavesdropping on me and Lucas and using his knowledge to make me squirm.

Note: Baekhyun was dangerous not just because he was cute. He was also sneaky.

Unsure of how to maintain Mom’s lie when Baekhyun knew the truth, I nodded subtly.

“It’s so weird how health can take such sudden turns for the worst.” Baekhyun shook his head and pounded his fist on the metallic navy blue table cloth. “Momager seemed fine when I talked to her earlier—” he paused to stage a dramatic gasp before asking, “You don’t think we’ll have to postpone the tour, do you? If Momager is sick, how can we leave first thing tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow morning?” Donghae’s eyes rounded as they looked to me for confirmation. “You’re leaving on tour tomorrow?”

I nodded, and I would have apologized to Donghae— even though I couldn’t explain why I was sorry— but Baekhyun interrupted by asking, “You don’t think she’s faking, do you? Do you think she had a hot date or something?”

Donghae gasped, “What?”

Glaring at Baekhyun, I answered through gritted teeth, “My mother would never prioritize any date over her work obligations.”

I didn’t expect Donghae to react by dropping his gaze somewhere on the table and wheezing, “I’m more than a work obligation, right?”

“Yes, of course, absolutely,” I wanted to tell him. “You’re so important to us— to me and to Mom. You are a member of the first group she helped debuted, and you have been such a fixture in our life, and you’ve never been anything but kind and—”

Oh. My stomach tied in knots as I understood why Mom didn’t want to come to the party. The knots tightened as I realized how similar Mom and I were. Neither of us wanted to worry about anything other than performing our jobs well. Neither of us knew how to respond when somebody tried to cross that line between colleague and— I don’t know— boyfriend, so we always ran away.

Oh. My heart sank as I wondered if I ever made Sehun frown the way Mom made Donghae frown with her mere absence. I doubted it, but the thought was still sickening. Maybe— maybe Mom thought that Donghae wouldn’t notice her absence among all the other party guests, but that misunderstanding didn’t lessen his very real disappointment right before my eyes. Maybe— maybe you don’t have to try to break a heart.

Baekhyun must have been oblivious to mine and Donghae’s shared discomfort. He rattled on, “Maybe Momager isn’t as virtuous as you, Lei.” Although Donghae and I bore into him with our glares, Baekhyun suggested, lips pressed out in a tiny pout, “Maybe she’s more like the idol who never debuted.”

“This again?” I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes at the ceiling before telling Baekhyun, “I don’t know why you’re so hell-bent on believing that my mom is some failed trainee, and I don’t know why you’re stupid or cruel enough to keep saying it right in front of me, but you’re really pissing me off.”

Storming out of the party after yelling at my leader the night before our world tour was probably the worst thing I had done in my entire career. I knew that even as my pulse sounded angrily in my ears, but I was too angry to swallow my pride and apologize to Baekhyun.

Maybe I thought that the cool Autumn air outside would soothe my temper and enable me to do what would encourage a peaceful tour with SuperM. Maybe I knew that I wouldn’t return to the party no matter how many hours I wasted under the stars, trying to throw away the feelings I couldn’t express.

Whatever I thought would come from running from my explosive emotions, I didn’t expect Donghae to find me. I didn’t expect him to say, wearing the same gentle smile as always (as if he hadn’t been frowning just moments before), “Come on. I’ll drive you home if you really don’t want to be here.”

I stared at him, unable to blink, because those were exactly the words Taemin said by the lake last night before untying my wrists. I stared at him because I was trying to map the similarities between Donghae and Taemin. I couldn’t quite articulate it, but the same thing that made Donghae’s eyes tender made Taemin’s smile brilliant. What was it about them that I couldn’t understand— that I wanted to understand?

Had I been thinking clearly, I might have been able to understand. I might have considered that Mom probably didn’t want Donghae near our house; then, I wouldn’t have accepted his offer to drive me home.

Often, I wonder what would have happened if Donghae hadn’t forced his way past Heechul into the house. I wonder if the truth would have come out some other day— some other way— instead. I wonder if events played out as they should have. I wonder what I could have done differently.

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jacetorress · 4 years

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JACE ISAIAH TORRES ⁏ thirty-four ○ security for lux & elias morgan’s right hand man ○ downtown.

❝ APOCALYPSE BOY, YOU WON’T DESTROY ALL YOU TOUCH. YOU ARE MORE THAN YOUR DARKNESS AND MORE THAN THE DEATH YOU CARRY IN YOUR HANDS. ❞

⇨ aesthetics ⍮ the scent of fire and gasoline, a tall stature adorned in all-black attire, ghosts of bruises staining calloused skin green, an old punching bag in the corner of an old office, a towering figure shrouded in darkness as they linger in an empty church, bloodied noses and busted knuckles, a scuffed zippo lighter in a pack of marlboros containing only one cigarette, black shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a sly smirk under stormy dark eyes, a sniper on the roof of a deserted building, the roar of a 1967 chevy impala engine, & a crumpled, worn family photo stuffed inside a wallet.

ALOHA !!! waddup, angels ?? it’s me, back at it again with another character bcos i have zero self control so here i am !! i’ll save you all from having to put up with my pointless babbles and get straight into it. as always, pls feel free to hmu on ims or discord ( chrissie.#9606 ) for plots and connections !!

FUNDAMENTALS.

full name. jace isaiah torres.

current age. thirty-four.

birthday. january 2, 1986.

gender. cisgender male.

pronouns. he / him.

nationality. british.

religion. raised roman catholic but no longer practices.

hometown. knightsbridge, london, england.

past residence. oxford, oxfordshire, england.

current residence. downtown, crystal city, united states.

sexual orientation. heterosexual.

romantic orientation. heteroromantic.

education. attended oxford university for a year before dropping out due to his mother’s passing.

occupation. security at violet, & elias morgan’s right hand man.

CONNECTIONS.

birth mother. katherine torres. †

birth father. alexander torres. †

step-father. nicholas carmichael. †

full blood siblings. none.

step-siblings. none.

maternal grandmother. julia monroe. †

maternal grandfather. andrew monroe. †

paternal grandmother. elizabeth torres. †

paternal grandfather. michael torres. †

maternal aunts. none.

maternal uncles. peter monroe.

paternal aunts. lucilee monroe, & miranda monroe.

paternal uncles. benjamin torres.

PROFICIENCIES.

spoken languages. english, & spanish.

negative traits. cunning, unfeeling, arrogant, cynical, & temperamental.

positive traits. astute, debonair, adroit, resolute, & adept.

strengths. sophistication, etiquette, professionalism, resourcefulness, integrity, delegation, honest, strong-willed, responsible, calm, practical, & a jack-of-all-trades.

weaknesses. impulsive, hot-tempered, stubborn, insensitive, judgmental, & by the book.

skills. skilled with firearms and other weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, lock-picking, carjacking, knowledge of automobiles, knowledge of the law, tracking people down, & excellent critical thinking and problem-solving abilities.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, & marksmanship.

APPEARANCE.

eye colour. dark brown.

hair colour. dark brown.

height. six foot.

weight. 70 kg.

build. both tall and considerably broad, he is toned with an evident definition in his muscles.

scars. too many to count at this point.

tattoos. tba.

piercings. none.

glasses. n/a.

prominent feature. sharp, angular jawline.

MISCELLANEOUS.

zodiac. capricorn.

element. earth.

house. gryffindor.

myers briggs type. istj-a.

alignment. true neutral.

enneagram. type five.

temperament. choleric.

intelligence type. linguistic.

character label. the opaque.

past mental disorders. post-traumatic stress disorder, insomnia, & alcohol abuse.

current mental disorders. mild post-traumatic stress disorder, & insomnia.

addictions. alcohol, & tobacco.

vices. lust, wrath, & pride.

virtues. temperance, charity, & diligence.

allergies. n/a.

diet. carnivore.

accent. british.

dominant hand. right.

blood type. ab positive.

felonies. none.

vehicle. black 1967 chevy impala.

BACKGROUND.

TRIGGERS. car accident, death, domestic violence, drugs, violence, blades, stabbing, blood, & murder.

Born into a world of tenderness and light, Jace's arrival into this universe was a moderately placid one. The instant he opened his eyes to the world, he was a cherished and adored baby boy. This was how the young boy assumed his life would continue to play out: showered with affection and admiration, given endless love and support by both of his parents. With his father, Alexander, a renowned criminal lawyer and his mother, Katherine, an equally as esteemed neurosurgeon, the Torres family were respected, affluent and forefront in their community. Always hosting charity events, attending fancy galas, prominent figures at every fundraiser, the Torres' seemed as normal as just about any aristocratic London-based family. One might just say that Jace was destined for greatness — primed for success. Of course, all eyes of the extended Torres family were on the boy, watching and waiting to see how his story would unfold. Would he follow his father’s footsteps? Or his mother’s? The idea of him paving his own path had failed to cross the minds of them all.

From a young age, Jace had been incredibly intelligent and adept, his keen perception proving to extremely surpass that of his age. He was able to captivate others with both his appearance and his capabilities. Those in his company hung off his every word, often discovering themselves enthralled by a charming and sincere young boy. Regardless of his family’s secured position in society and their abundance of riches, Jace never looked for much more than their approval and their devotion. It is perhaps this fact alone that makes the next chapter in his life one of those unbearable moments that seem to live on for the rest of eternity, an emotion so overwhelming that it lingers in your bones until the end of time — rattling them every so often to remind you of the pain. The tenth instalment in the story of Jace’s life is what he would nowadays refer to as the beginning of the end. All of the light and love that he had encountered throughout his life up until that point had only been leading him to the tragedy and devastation that would prevail from that day henceforth. The night that Jace had been sat down by his mother and told that his father had met his fatal end in a horrific car accident was the same night that Jace lost a piece of himself. A ten-year-old boy endured his first heartbreak then. And, unfortunately, the torment refused to cease. Jace’s existence prior to the horrendous atrocity that altered the very fabric of his nature endured for what would now seem to him a fleeting period in time. Yet, throughout those ten years of normalcy, every transient second aided in concocting the basis for all that was to come.

Within the span of a single year, Katherine had found herself in the clutches of what Jace would grow to describe as a vulture; a man of a lower class who latched onto his mother — leeching off her riches while abusing her in the process. Soon, this man, Nicholas Carmichael, became Jace’s stepfather and things only dipped further south afterwards. Nicholas drank copious amounts of liquor, ran around behind Katherine’s back, smacked at Jace for defending his mother and the list went on. He manipulated Katherine, made her pick a side, tore her relationship with Jace asunder. Nicholas was indeed an angry, offhand man who often resorted to acts of violence toward both Katherine and Jace. During this time, and within the blink of an eye, Jace turned hostile and indifferent. It was as if he had transformed into a polar opposite version of what he’d always been — metamorphosing into an alternate version of his old self. Once a sheltered child who knew nothing but warmth and consideration, Jace was soon neglected, discarded and left to fend for himself. It was enough to turn him into a colder, less vibrant boy who soon became void of emotion and attachment. He picked fights with his stepfather for the sheer kick he got out of it, rebelled against his mother and found his once soft heart hardening as a result of years of enduring torment at the hands of Nicholas.

Unfortunately for Jace, he’d stepped out of line one too many times and aged eleven, he found himself sent off to an all-boys boarding school. In one way, he was thankful to be shot of the horrid creature who claimed to be his stepfather. Yet, on the other hand, he spent sleepless nights worried about the mortality of his mother. All in all, though, his time spent in the educational facility was a positive one. He made friends, excelled in all of his classes and extracurriculars. For the years that Jace boarded at the school, his life seemed to be steering him down the right path. Once he graduated, he’d decided to follow the same path as his father: criminal law. He felt it was the right thing to do in order to honour his father. Jace wound up attending Oxford University where he resided in a dorm, visiting his mother on the weekends. However, as all good things do, they come to an end. In Jace’s case, his few years of bliss and contentedness arrived at a rather abrupt halt, taking a severe nosedive. He was nineteen when he learned of his mother’s passing and, ultimately, lost control of himself and of his path in life. He dropped out of university, moved back home and spent many months alone and aimless; desperate to find answers behind his mother’s suspicious death. Of course, Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t even had the decency to show his face at Katherine’s funeral. One thing was for sure, though: he’d walked off into the sunset with the Torres fortune, presumably never to be seen again. The details outlined in Katherine’s autopsy report had been vague and nobody seemed willing to help Jace in his search for answers. Though that did little to deter him from continuing to hunt for the truth behind his mother’s death. Without a shadow of doubt in his mind, Jace knew deep down that Nicholas had been responsible but with no evidence, the idea of justice being served seemed to drift further and further out of reach.

Eventually, after years of fighting and persisting with his mission, Jace was able to uncover concealed elements of Nicholas’ background. As it turned out, the man was involved in gang activity and played a prime roll in drug trafficking throughout the streets of London. Though, still failing to get his hands on any kind of proof of Nicholas’ involvement in Katherine’s murder, a twenty-three-year-old Jace began to ponder if he should continue down this road. Tracking down his stepfather had consumed Jace whole, rotting him from the insides out. For so long he’d been holding onto an immense amount of resentment and wrath that he’d become bitter, hostile and obsessed. He knew it would only end in disaster if he continued to cling onto his vendetta and so for the following year, Jace pressed pause on seeking the truth. At least, until he’d happened upon a new lead that indeed confirmed his assumptions about Nicholas’ role in Katherine’s death. This was the break that Jace had been desperate for — the fuel that added flames to the fire within his belly. With new information and a penchant for revenge, he set off on his previously abandoned purpose.

Admittedly, it had taken Jace months to successfully unearth the exact location of Nicholas and when he did, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the information. Still, he set off for New York City with plans of confronting the man. Part of Jace wanted nothing more than to make his stepfather suffer, to subject Nicholas to torture as appalling as what Katherine had undoubtedly endured. Another part of him wanted to reveal all the little details that he’d uncovered, to tell him he knew what he’d done and watch his stepfather wince in objection and pathetically string one faux apology after another. Neither of these scenarios played out in the end. Instead, Jace’s first encounter with Nicholas after all this time had an entirely different outcome than he’d anticipated. Managing to tail the older man to Lux, Jace decided to linger around outside in the hopes that Nicholas would make an appearance. As fate would have it, only a mere hour had passed and there he was, leaving the building alone; having been removed from the vicinity for hassling one of the dancers. As Nicholas made his way to the back of the club, Jace followed in the shadows. Stood at the edge of the establishment to watch his stepfather from afar, Jace considered the endless possibilities that had entered his mind the second he set eyes on the man who’d destroyed his life.

When Jace eventually approached his stepfather, the look that claimed Nicholas’ face was one of incalculable shock and Jace couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride in how his sheer presence brought about such dismay in the other man. He had to admit though, that it sent a strange twinge of nostalgia mixed together with dejection down the length of his spine. Jace had a collection of cruel words and obscenities he so desperately wanted to hurl the older man’s way. Alternatively, he opted for asking a question that had been haunting his warped mind for almost a decade. “Tell me, Nicholas. Why did you do it? Why did you murder my mother?” The inquiry almost made the other male tumble out of his shell even after he admitted that yes, he had been the one to end Katherine’s life and lacked even a shred of remorse. There was something in Nicholas’ blasé tone of voice that triggered an immediate rage deep within the pit of Jace’s stomach, bubbling and bubbling away, rising up and up until the only colour he could see was red and unfortunately for Nicholas, he was on the receiving end of Ross’ explosion. Moving in a flash, before he knew it, Jace was invading Nicholas’ personal space and the small blade he had been carrying was sunk into Nicholas’ abdomen.

Finally, once Jace had recoiled and his fists that had been balled into the fabric of Nicholas’ jacket eventually unfurled, his dark eyes took in the sight of the elder man’s towering figure collapse to the ground beneath him. Dropping his gaze to his hands, Jace noticed the way that the colour slowly began flowing back into his knuckles that had been white from the thin skin stretching tightly over the protruding bones. Flipping over his uncurled palms, Jace noted the way his hands trembled only marginally less than he expected they would be. It was the shrieking resonating in his ears that brought him to divert his attention toward Nicholas who was writhing around on the ground as a result of his suffering and loss of blood. Jace knew he had to get out of there — that he had to leave before he’d give anyone the chance to flock toward the screams and clap their eyes on his guilty face. As he backed away, watching the actions of his decision unfold, the feeling inside his gut was different than he imagined it would be. He had made the decision to kill Nicholas, there and then in the heat of the moment and it was a gradual and torturous death. A death inflicted by him deliberately, no matter the fact that it wasn’t premeditated. Lacking the desire to stick around and witness Nicholas’ final screech, Jace ran and before he even had the chance to allow any sort of repentance to seep into his body for what he’d just done, a gathering of men stepped out of a dark alleyway in front of him just footsteps away from the scene of the crime. There was something about the way in which they emerged from the darkness that caused Jace to immediately cease in his footfalls and as he briefly surveyed the area he realised there was nowhere left for him to run — there were too many of them and although he tried to fight them off, he was vastly outnumbered.

How Jace had managed to defend himself against the others, able to hold his own and give as good as he got, was beyond him. In the end, he pegged it down to sheer luck. Despite such a fluke, he was far from being out of the woods. Having witnessed the murder of Nicholas and how Jace had been able to stand his ground against the group, the eldest of the group of men had stepped forward to explain that he could use a young man of Jace’s stature and expertise. This was precisely how a then twenty-five-year-old Jace wound up entangled with the Berk-Morgan family. Initially, he was hired as a security for the same club that he’d slaughtered Nicholas outside of. After quite some time as an associate, he befriended Elias Morgan; soon becoming a confidant and someone the other trusted. Of course, the trust was mutual. And this has brought him into the position of becoming Elias’ right hand man. Now thirty-four, with nine years of experience under his belt, Jace is worlds away from the man he used to be. A shell of the man he used to be. Simply put, Jace has resigned himself to the reality that happiness is never going to be an emotion he will feel in his heart. He is closed off and secluded. He is mysterious and holds everyone in his life at arm’s length, afraid to let them in; only permitting people to see what he wants them to see and know what he wants them to know. His life is full of a myriad of memories soaked in blood and torment. A plethora of crooked dealings and immoral acts. But this is his life now and he isn’t prepared to give up the good fight – not after everything he has gone through just to be exactly where he is right now. A fighter has always lived inside of Jace Torres.

WANTED PLOTS.

give me all of the connections from friends, frenemies, enemies, hookups, exes, rivals and everything else in between. added bonus if there’s angst or drama. if you have anything in mind feel free to throw it at me, i’m open to the majority of things and have zero triggers so come at me bro !!

#car accident /#death /#domestic violence /#drugs /#violence /#blades /#stabbing /#blood /#murder /

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morporkian-cryptid · 4 years

Text

Flowers in my lungs

This is a soulmate AU for the ship MorMor, exploring the childhood and their lives up to their first meeting. Beware the feels.

Many thanks to my beta @hiblovesandrewscott for her help and her corrections.

Content warnings: violence, war, school bullying, panic attack, beating up, knife wound, self harm, transphobia. This is not a happy fic, you are warned.

Note: this fic is also available on FFnet and AO3, in French and in English.

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The first time the flowers pierced his skin, Jim was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected it to hurt that much.

“Don't complain,” his father replied. “It hurts you less than it hurts him.”

Jim had plucked the violet that had bloomed on his knee, then he went to curl up in a corner. His soulmate had probably scratched himself by falling. These were things that happened. The pain was bearable - after all, it was only a ghost of what the other kid had to endure. It was mostly the surprise that had hurt him. He was three years old; children were usually older the first time they shared an injury with their soulmate. Jim looked up to the sky through the dirty glass of his bedroom window, and thought of that other child, perhaps on the other side of the world, who was looking at the same sky. He rubbed his bruised knee distractedly. He hoped his soulmate wasn't in too much pain.

He hid the violet between the pages of a book in the house's small library. Then he forgot about it.

Flowers grew more often on Jim's skin than on that of his classmates. He had wondered what kind of life his soulmate was leading, to hurt himself so often. He was wondering if he was thinking about him, like Jim did every time he got hurt.

Tiny violets grew on his arms and legs, on his chest, on his back, and wilted before they could bloom. Although they hurt at first, now they only came with an unpleasant tingling sensation. He knew, by observing other people, that these tiny flowers were blows, bruises, small cuts, wounds that did not cause blood to spill.

Sometimes, entire bouquets of violets exploded in his mouth, in his nostrils or on his face. The echo of pain was overshadowed by the anger that immediately took over Jim's mind. He would have been hard pressed to say whether this anger was directed at the things or people who hurt his soulmate, at him who made Jim suffer in return, or at the children who laughed when they saw him throw up purple petals while choking on his tears.

No one had told him that some flowers stayed forever. Jim was eight years old, and he was sitting at the bottom of his tiny bathtub, furiously scrubbing at the skin of his belly. The scouring pad tore off his reddened skin by small flakes, but the tiny impression of a vibrant violet did not disappear. Eventually it became blurred by the tears of rage and pain that filled the child's eyes. The only thing that comforted him, in a cold and sadistic way, was to know that the other kid would also feel this reddened and irritated skin. The fact that his soulmate had already suffered to give him this tattoo didn't even cross his mind.

It was only a few days later that he gathered up the courage to open up to his mother.

“The flowers that grow when my soulmate gets hurt... is it possible they stay?”

His mother looked at him sadly from the kitchen table where she was cutting up vegetables for the family's dinner.

“It happens, poppet. If your soulmate gets a scar, then so do you. It stays, like a tattoo.”

She set her knife down on the board and rolled her right sleeve almost up to her shoulder, before reaching out her arm. White chamomile petals were inked into her diaphanous skin, symbols of old wounds that someone else had received. Jim examined them for a few moments, before turning his heels and going to lock himself in his room without saying a word. He had often seen his father with his arms bare. There weren’t any scars.

So it was like that, he would keep that small violet forever. He tried to convince himself that it was better to have a flower than a scar. He wasn't sure he believed himself.

Jim was thirteen years old when he began to realize that something was wrong with him. Clearly his classmates had understood this a long time ago - he had always been the target of laughter, mockery, pointed fingers, small everyday violence. He had grown accustomed to these, they almost didn’t hurt anymore. But to feel like he was a stranger, like he was trapped inside his own body, was something else entirely. It was an insidious and treacherous feeling, which crept into the nooks and crannies of his mind that had already been hardened by cold years. He hated the long, brown, almost black hair that fell before his eyes, which the children at school pulled. He hated his chest, which was starting to swell, take uncomfortable shapes and attract the attention of the boys. He hated that slender voice that lacked authority and that no one took seriously. He hated his name, which stabbed him in the guts every time he heard it. He hated this body that wasn't his and in which he was stuck. He hated the flowers and the pain, which reminded him that he was living someone else's life at the same time as his own, and neither seemed to be more pleasant than the other. But the pain, at least, he could reclaim it, control it. He smiled every time he looked at the basic bandages around his forearms, with a cruel and unhappy grin. These flowers, he thought as he pictured his soulmate, you will keep them for a long time.

The beating was a hard but important lesson. That day, Jim learned that if there was a problem with someone, it wasn't with him. And that he couldn't trust anyone.

“Hey, guys! Did you hear that? Jill thinks she's a boy!”

The herd of teenage boys had burst out with a raucous laugh - or rather what they imagined to be a raucous laugh, but in children between the ages of eleven and fifteen, it was more of a hysterical and ridiculous giggling. They were all gathered around Carl. He was the one who was laughing the loudest.

“Let's see if you're a boy, kid. Boys know how to fight.”

That day, Jim learned that love and feelings were worthless, that trust was a lie, and that secrets were meant to be kept to himself. But above all, he concluded that there was nothing wrong with him. He was exactly who he was meant to be, and the problem was not his weird twisted mind, but theirs, too narrow. Bullies attacked weaklings, and those they were afraid of. And Jim was certainly not a weakling.

The event was also a lesson for Carl's friends. Not for Carl himself. He would no longer have the opportunity to learn lessons.

Only after he had run away from his hometown, never to return again, did Jim spare a single thought for his soulmate. Wherever he was, he must have felt the echoes of the lesson Jim had just undergone. Much good may it do him. If Jim ever met him, he would continue his path without further ado. If he was a mentor, Jim would do without him, he could very well learn on his own. A loyal friend? There was no such thing. A lover? Jim clenched his fists. No. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The years went by, and Jim employed them to become himself. A self forged in pain, disillusions and cynicism. Crime was a preordained path for him. His cold and calculating genius could never be put at the service of the common good: it had long since abandoned him, and Jim was never generous to anyone - or anything - who had trampled on him since his early childhood.

Jim's resolution did not waver, but it changed over time. After his escape, he didn’t get any physical injuries anymore, and the mental injuries would not leave any trace on his soulmate. Jim hated the world for that, as he hated it for many other things. Why should he have to suffer his own traumas alone, when that man about whom he knew nothing shared with him every blow, every wound, every drop of blood spilled? And he didn't hold back on that. If in his childhood the purple flowers appeared suddenly and painfully, at least they remained occasional. Now it was almost every day that a violet or ten pierced his skin. Sometimes they were whole bouquets. On those days, Jim clenched his teeth and swallowed tears and pain, silently cursing that fool who put his life in danger every day. He would tear the flowers off in silence and throw them away.

At least the flowers taught him two things. Firstly, that this man travelled a lot. In his childhood, violets only grew during the day, when Jim himself was up, a sign that his soulmate lived on the same continent. Nowadays, they occurred mainly at night, disturbing his sleep or waking him up with a start; but sometimes also during the day. Secondly, that he had a dangerous occupation. Jim would bet on a soldier, or a criminal who was particularly incapable of staying under the radar. In either case, it showed a spirit of boundless stupidity. He wondered why nature had decided that such a moron should be his soulmate.

It was rare, but sometimes the pain became too much for him to do anything but curl up in a corner and wait. At first, he would pray that the other would hurry up and die and leave him in peace. Then he prayed that he would stay alive, that no one would steal his last breath. That one belonged to Jim. Jim would find him, force him to explain himself, then make him pay for all the pain he had caused him. In a slow way, that wouldn't cause any bloodshed.

Of course, many other tattoos had joined the solitary flower on his belly. There was a dozen of them, small and discreet, on his back, arms and legs. The one across his torso was much wider - three thin lines of purple flowers, long and perfectly defined, crossing the two very real scars running across his chest. It had deprived him of all his strength for two full days, while flowers bloomed and wilted relentlessly on his chest. Two other lines of flowers decorated his face. Every morning, he spent hours in front of the mirror, covering them up with makeup, while cursing his soulmate.

Actually, he wouldn't kill that man. He would make him pay, yes. But he intended to take as much advantage as possible of this tool that nature offered him. That complete stranger was supposed to be made for him. Well, he'd use him. He knew he had earned it.

The first flower that grew on Sebastian's skin was a Colombian lily, like all the others that followed. His tutor took the opportunity to tell him about this plant, where it grew, at what time of year, and why it was also called a tiger lily. At five years old, Sebastian didn't care that the flower that had just grown on his hand was a plant of the order of liliales, native to Canada. He was only thinking about the nasty cut his soulmate must have gotten. He found it sad that the first contact he had with that person was through pain. Turning the flower between his fingers, he prayed to heaven that the child who had just been hurt would heal quickly. The pain didn't really bother him. Only the irony of that first contact.

Sebastian had a good resistance to pain. And if he hadn’t, he would have quickly acquired it. His father had clear opinions on how to raise a child: let tutors and teachers take care of knowledge, and teach him good manners by kicking his arse - or beating him with a belt, or a stick, or anything else he could get his hands on.

The first few times, Sebastian thought with pain and sympathy of his soulmate, with whom he shared against his will the blows from his father. Sebastian didn't care about behaving well, but he was trying not to make someone who hadn't asked for anything suffer through these corrections. But over time, he learned that his father didn't need a reason to hit him, and Sebastian eventually forgot about that complete stranger who received flowers when he was receiving blows. All that mattered when his father hit him, was to protect himself to minimize the damage, try to ignore the pain, and then tend to his wounds alone in a corner. His tutors were not there to take care of his body, only his mind, and his mother was as present as his father was loving.

Lily growths were rare, and when they occurred, Sebastian thought of that child who lived far from him, and who seemed to have a calmer life than his own. He hoped that they were happy, and that they would agree to share some of that happiness with him when the two met.

To let off steam, Sebastian would provoke other kids to fight, on the rare occasions when he was allowed to see children his own age. Sebastian was taller and stronger than the others, and won almost every time. These battles were short moments when he felt powerful, when he forgot his weakness under the blows of his father, when pain was synonymous with glory. He wore his first scar like a medal: he was ten years old, and a street urchin had pulled out a small knife during a fist fight and stabbed it into his stomach. The wound was superficial, and healed quickly, leaving only a white line on his abdomen. He knew that the stab wound would also leave a mark on his soulmate's skin. He silently apologized to them, then moved on.

As time went on and the years passed, his father seemed to gradually forget about his existence. He was shipped off to Eton to study, and Sebastian was relieved that he no longer had to live in the family home. He continued to fight with the other teenagers, but as he was a good student, the teachers simply told him off without ever taking any real action.

He was fifteen years old when flower growths suddenly became more frequent, and especially more precise. The first time he felt a row of lilies blooming across his forearm, he was more surprised than scared. How could they grow in such an orderly manner? They didn't even really hurt, he only felt a strange tingling sensation. He reviewed all the ways of hurting oneself that he could imagine, every type of injuries. The realization of what had just happened hurt him much more than the flowers themselves. From that moment on, the rows of lilies appeared regularly on his arms and sometimes his legs, leaving behind them tattoos of orange petal, like a well-ordered flowerbed. Sebastian stopped wearing short-sleeved clothes, and wondered if his soulmate was doing this to punish him for all the injuries he had given them.

He eventually got used to the lines of flower, but nothing had prepared him for the sudden growth of lilies that occurred one day in the middle of a Latin class. A bouquet bloomed on his ribs, spreading under his shirt, and the pain that accompanied it almost knocked him to the ground. The flowers had only made rare appearances in the last years, and the recent cuts caused only unpleasant tingling or slight pain. But this time, the flowers continued to grow relentlessly all over his body as he tried with difficulty to get up, under the shocked eyes of his classmates.

He was used to the pain. It had been with him since he was a child. But he was certain that neither his spinning head, nor his numb limbs, nor his sudden shortness of breath and nor, especially, the feeling of terror and helplessness that crushed his chest came from his soulmate. He felt as if he was reliving the corrections his father used to inflict on him, but worse this time, without being able to do anything to protect himself. His terrified empathy for the person who was actually being beaten mixed with his childhood fears and memories of the blows, and immobilized him completely. He had to be carried to the school infirmary, spilling bright orange petals all the way there.

There, he was told that he had had a panic attack, that it was common when something bad happened to one’s soulmate, that he would get better very quickly, that it would not happen again. Sebastian simply nodded and shivered under his blanket, and said nothing about his certainty that it would happen again.

He wondered what might have happened to his soulmate. No tattooed scars remained, and the cuts stopped. He thought for a moment that they were dead, but finally small benign flowers assured him the opposite, and life resumed as before - Sebastian accumulating wounds, the stranger simply sending him a few lilies from time to time.

Sebastian no longer thought about his soulmate when he was fighting other teenagers. He no longer thought about them when he hurt himself when tripping or exploring the school at night. Nor when he grew up and the injuries became more serious. He had one apologetic thought for them, in passing, when he joined the army. He didn't know if he would ever meet them - probably not, now that he had enlisted. But if he died, at least they would be permanently rid of all the wounds he was giving them. Did the tattoos stay after the death of a soulmate? Sebastian had never thought to ask the question. It was probably an indiscreet question, anyway.

The war gave him new scars, which he collected like medals. He became the best sniper in his battalion, and according to rumours the best in the entire army stationed in India. Sebastian had no doubt that this was true. He had confidence in his abilities. Scars also accumulated on his soul and heart. One can't survive in the army without turning oneself into a weapon, and a weapon doesn't think, it has no feelings. In any case, that's what his companions and superiors said about Sebastian. And that's what he kept repeating to himself, and what he believed. That was the most important thing. He no longer thought of the flowers that the far away stranger received every time his blood was spilled. Although he couldn't help but think of them when tiger lilies sometimes bloomed on his own skin; but it was rare enough not to keep him from his task. He had hidden his sympathy and apologies for his soulmate in a coffer at the bottom of his heart, and it was covered with locks, chains and scars.

Unfortunately, neither the scars nor the army had managed to make him lose his free will, his rebellious spirit or, above all, his sense of honour that was twisted and stunted, but nevertheless as solid as a block of steel. So, when members of his battalion conspired to give away vital information to the enemy, their colonel gave them a first warning, but not a second, and he dealt out justice himself. The court-martial found no evidence of the treason, but it did of the murders. Sebastian avoided imprisonment only thanks to his rank, his reputation, and his father's influence. He would have rather rotted in a cell than see his begetter save his arse, but he was not given a choice. So he returned to London, disgraced, disowned, his self-esteem in pieces but his will stronger than ever. If he was to be a pariah, he might as well be a real pariah. Others than the British army might need his talents, and if the army had trampled him underfoot like some trash that it didn't want to touch, then he would sell himself to its enemies.

For Sebastian too, the path to crime was preordained. And the underworld may be vast and spread its tentacles everywhere, but in the end all roads lead to Moriarty.

Jim Moriarty was walking briskly down the hallway with white, bare walls in the basement of his HQ. Summer, his second, followed in his wake, struggling not to be left behind.

“He says nothing, sir, he refuses to say a word,” she explained. “Not even his name. We haven’t yet moved to harsher methods, we were waiting for you to give the order, I...”

“He attempted to kill me,” Jim exclaimed, stopping sharply in the middle of the corridor and forcing Summer to make an emergency stop. “My orders in this case are quite clear!”

“Yes, sir, but I...”

She hesitated for a moment under the murderous gaze of her employer, then plucked up her courage to explain:

“I thought you might want to see him before he's completely out of it, Sir.”

Moriarty’s dark eyes stared at her for just a few seconds too long to be comfortable. Then he turned on his heels and continued on his way at the same pace.

Some idiot had tried to murder him again. It had not been very frequent lately, most of his customers and competitors had learned that he was, firstly: untouchable and secondly: very resentful. But every now and then there was always a fool to think that they could slip past his guard where so many others had failed, and remove him from the London chessboard. Pffft. So presumptuous. Even if someone were to succeed in ending his life, his network would continue to function without him. Cut off the head, ten grow back. You could kill Jim, but not Moriarty.

This one didn't even get close to him… Actually, he wouldn't have needed it. Jim hated having to admit it, but the man had nearly managed to off him. He had been incredibly lucky that the client with whom he was making a deal placed himself between him and the window at the very moment the bullet shattered it. As for the building from which the sniper had fired, Moriarty had access to its entire surveillance system, like for all the surrounding buildings - a precaution he took before any major meeting, and which had borne fruit since his men had immediately located and intercepted the shooter.

The news should have made him happy, as the shooter would lead him to the employer, and he hated leaving an offence unpunished. Getting rid of a troublemaker would set an example for others. And the attempts on his life, although often badly planned and never completed, at least proved to him that he was important to his competitors. But of course, the violets had to choose that particular day to start growing in bouquets, and even groves, on his bruised skin, sending needles of second-hand pain through his whole body, and plunging his mind into a dark and murderous mood. He needed to take it out on someone. No luck for the aspiring murderer; but in any case, he had chosen his fate at the same time as his target.

The shooter was now in front of him, in an overly lit room in the basement under the HQ. Jim examined him with a scornful eye. He was already in a sorry state, slouched on the chair to which he was firmly tied, his head swaying against his chest to protect his eyes from the burning white glow of the neon lights. Strands of dirty blond hair fell like a curtain in front of his face, and his bare shoulders were covered with bruises and cuts. Jim knew his face was too, and he had confirmation when one of the two henchmen in the room pulled on the man's hair, jerking his head back sharply, his chin pointed in the air and his neck exposed.

The man was surely very handsome under all that blood, bruises and sweat, Jim thought as he dissected him with his gaze. He had a square and well-defined jaw, thick red lips - although that was probably the result of the beating he had received - and his eyes...

His bright blue eyes clashed with his dirty and mistreated face. They shone with a fierce, rebellious glint, but not one of anger or hatred. Jim was used to having prisoners insult him, stand up to him, or try to spit in his face. It only made their end slower and more painful. Those eyes did not express any of that. It was rather a quiet but certain resignation. They were the eyes of someone who didn't care about the beatings and wounds, someone who had nothing more to lose and who knew it, someone who was having fun watching bullies try to snatch bits of information from him, in vain.

Jim returned his gaze.

I will break you, in the end, he thought. I always do.

He approached the prisoner, close enough to invade his personal space, which had already been shattered by the interrogation anyway, but far enough away to show that he didn’t want to touch something as dirty and insignificant as him.

“So you thought it was a good idea to try to murder me, did you?”

At close range, he could see the features of the man's face better. High cheekbones, a broad forehead wrinkled by the lines of age and trauma, and always those blue eyes shining with a calm and quiet resolution, almost mocking him. Jim hated being mocked, especially by someone in an inferior position.

“Well, your employer only sent you to the cemetery. He should have known we would catch you. Dozens of morons have tried before you, and they all met the same end.”

He smelled like blood, sweat and tobacco, with a touch of metal - gunpowder, no doubt. A foul smell, but one that reflected very well the kind of person he was. Under the dried blood Jim could make out older cuts, scars... He held back the reflex gesture of reaching out to his own face, where his tattoos were hidden by a thick layer of makeup. He leaned a little closer to the prisoner's swollen face. His breath stroked the man's tanned skin like that of a predator holding its prey, while he added:

“Unless you got that idea on your own. In which case you're either suicidal or really very stupid.”

“As stupid as someone standing right in front of a non-reinforced bay window without a bulletproof vest?”

Jim froze. He couldn’t see the prisoner's mocking smile, but he could hear it in his voice. If he was to believe Summer, those were the first words the man had said since he had been here.

How could he know he didn't have a vest?

Jim straightened up, shot a meaningful glance to one of the two henchmen, and stepped back a few feet. The man approached with a heavy step, grabbed a handful of the prisoner's hair, and swung a right into his cheekbone.

Jim grimaced as a painful and familiar tingle started. He raised his hand to pluck the flower that had just appeared...

On his cheekbone.

He shot a dumbstruck look at the man tied to the chair. He was short of breath, and the blow had made him groan, but the damn smile was still there. Fresh blood was pearling on his face and trickling gently down his cheek.

By squinting his eyes, Jim could make out the scars under the dirt, the dried blood and the recent wounds. He had one across the bridge of his nose, and another one that went down from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. The prisoner's expression changed; he seemed uncomfortable with the sudden examination he was under, but it might as well have been because of the fetters that held him to the chair stuck to the ground, or because of the multiple injuries that covered his body.

Jim reached his hand behind his back to the second henchman standing behind him, next to Summer.

“Jordan, your knife.”

The man stared at the back of his boss's head, surprised by the request. He wasn't going to....

“YOUR KNIFE!!!”

Jordan shrugged internally and laid the folded weapon in Jim’s outstretched hand. It was unusual to say the least, but if the boss wanted to butcher up a moron who had tried to take him down, he certainly wasn't the one who would try to stop him.

The object made a sinister clicking sound as Jim unfolded the blade. For a moment he observed the reflections of the cold light on the metal, then turned his gaze back to Sebastian. The latter had regained his air of amused resignation, and did not seem at all afraid of being cut in two. He was much more surprised when Moriarty looked down at his own hand and cut a clear X into his palm. Panic began to grow when he felt a handful of crumpled petals popping into the palm of his right hand, tied in the back to the chair. Moriarty couldn’t see them, but Sebastian knew he knew.

“Untie his hands,” Jim ordered in a voice far too inexpressive to really hide anything.

Sebastian did not take his eyes off his tormentor as the man named Jordan walked around his chair and untied the fetters that held his wrists - not the others, of course, and Sebastian would not have time to undo them himself before he got his brains shot out. He didn't even think about it.

Under Jim's dark and penetrating gaze, he could almost feel the locks and chains he had placed on his heart breaking one by one and falling to dust, and the feelings, fear and mostly regret rising like bubbles to the surface. He waited for Jordan to walk away, then stretched his hands out in front of him, palms up. Two clear lines of tiger lilies were growing crosswise in his right hand, and thin rows of orange flowers were tattooed on his forearms.

Jim stood still, motionless, frozen on the spot and his eyes fixed on Sebastian's offered palms, for seconds that stretched like centuries. The prisoner watched his face gradually decompose, his mask of confident calm fall to pieces. Jim finally raised his wide dark eyes, plunging his gaze into the infinite blue of Sebastian's.

“Out!” he barked in a voice that trembled slightly.

The guards and Summer looked at each other. He couldn't be talking to the prisoner, he was tied up, so....

“I said...”

They were all already on the doorstep when the scream filled the room.

“OUT!!!!!”

The heavy door slammed like a sentence, leaving them both alone.

Jim hadn't turned around when he heard the noise, he hadn't even flinched. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Sebastian.

There were thousands of things he wanted to say to his soulmate. Millions of ways he had pictured their first conversation. Billions of first words he had imagined shouting at him.

He...

“I'm sorry.”

Jim froze. He was already motionless, but his heart stopped beating, and his breathing halted.

This wasn't planned. This was not the way it was supposed to happen.

“What? For trying to kill me?”

“No. Well, yes. This is not how I wanted things to go, it shouldn’t have happened this way. But what I mean is… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Sebastian made no attempt to free himself or even to move, except for his hands, which were now resting on his lap. He continued to hold Jim's gaze, and the criminal could see pain in his eyes. A pain that wasn't for Sebastian himself.

“I'm sorry I lived my life without thinking about yours. There came a time when I had to make a choice, and I chose myself. I... I did my best to forget that you existed. I hope you can forgive me one day...”

Fury began to bubble up in Jim's chest. He clenched his fists, the metal handle of the knife painfully imprinting its shape into his palm. It wasn't supposed to go like this. What right did that man have, after all these years, to swan in, apologize, try to win his sympathy, as if he were the victim? As if he were the one who had had a life full of pain, insults and sabotage, leading him to become a monster to protect himself? As if he were the one who had to suffer the wounds of another throughout his life in addition to his own, invisible and intangible?

There were too many things he wanted to shout at him, too many reproaches he wanted to throw at his stupid face, but where to start? With what...

“Your name.”

The prisoner stared at him with unreadable eyes, much too blue in this dirty face lit by a blinding light.

“Sebastian. Sebastian Moran.”

He didn't return the question, but his eyes spoke for him. Jim was trying to convince himself that it was a good thing he recognized his authority, his position of power, but in truth Sebastian's respect and sudden deference were infuriating. He should not answer his questions easily. He should not open up, he should continue to stand up to him...

Since when did Jim Moriarty allow anyone to stand up to him? Or even wanted it?

“Jim,” he spat out in a condescending tone.

Sebastian must already know his last name. He nodded, confirming the criminal's assumption.

“I would never have tried to kill you if I had known who you were.”

He shouldn't have tried to kill him even just knowing he was Moriarty, but Sebastian didn't seem to value his own life very much.

“I don't know my client's name, but he calls himself the Fly. Apparently, he worked with you, but it didn't go well. That's all I know.”

So it was that easy to get Sebastian Moran to talk, after all?

“I can try to help you find him, if...”

“SHUT UP!”

The scream cut off Sebastian's speech. The anger that had been boiling in Jim for a long time was now overflowing, and his eyes looked like two black holes that could have swallowed him in an instant.

“I don't care about that fool. He’s insignificant. But you... YOU...”

With a raging gesture, he scratched through the layer of make-up that covered his cheek, revealing the purple flowers engraved in his skin, exactly where Sebastian had his scars.

“You have been killing me for years, you hurt me, you hit me, you go through life like a punching bag without worrying about the consequences, without thinking that the other person you're doing this to has his own life to survive, his own traumas and wounds to bear... then you give me an "I'm sorry" and you hope that I'll forgive you? That I'm going to put all the pain behind me, that I'm going to forget all the days I spent curled up into a ball in a corner hoping that you'll stop being shot at, or butchered, or hit...”

Jim's hands were flying in all directions, mimicking the blows he had received, while his face deformed to follow the angry words he was spitting out. He barely noticed the tears that were stinging his eyes, but Sebastian didn't miss them.

“I didn't inflict these wounds on you, Jim.”

The smaller man gave him an incredulous look.

“You think I wanted to get my arse beaten at every street corner?” the sniper continued. “Or to be whipped by my father? Or by your henchmen? I suffered them as much as you did, these blows, more than you, even. You got flowers and dulled pain. I got blood and scars.”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but Sebastian didn't give him time.

“All the wounds I have given you, I have suffered them just like you. And you? Self-mutilation and surgical operations. Choices. That you made.”

The tip of the knife Jim was still holding was suddenly pressed under Sebastian's chin, forcing him to raise his head. He didn’t look away from the criminal, challenging him silently to finish this. Let's see if he was able to make that choice too.

“The wounds I received, Sebastian,” the criminal snarled in a voice colder than deep space, “I kept them to myself. Otherwise, your soul would be covered in flowers just like my skin. And I didn’t get a choice.”

Jim's face was only a few inches from Sebastian's, who still held his gaze. They remained facing each other while the seconds ticked around them. Then Jim stood up, moved the knife away from the sniper's throat and walked a few steps back into the room.

“Now that I have found you, I don't intend to let go of you,” he said in a perfectly controlled tone. “This stupid concept of soulmates better work.”

“Excuse me?”

Sebastian raised an interrogating eyebrow. Jim turned around and looked at him like he was a complete moron.

“You're supposed to be made for me,” he explained in an impatient voice. “To help me become the best version of myself. To… better me.”

He spit the word out as if he thought the idea was stupid, and gave Sebastian a condescending look. The latter had regained his calm and amused expression, but nevertheless he seemed intrigued by Jim's comments.

“You are aware that the concept of soulmates is supposed to be reciprocal, aren't you?”

“Supposed,” Jim replied. “But I don't normally comply with the rules.”

“These are not the kind of rules you can break.”

“You underestimate me, Sebastian,” Jim replied in a cold and impatient voice. “In order for me to bring anything to you, I would first need to value your life in any way, which I do not. You're just a tool, nothing more. And I intend to make the most out of all the injuries I had to endure before I found you.”

Sebastian gave a light chuckle, which quickly turned into a bloodied coughing spell. Jim turned to him and stared at him.

“So... I am a tool, absolutely unique and made for you, for which you have suffered traumatic injuries... but I have no value in your eyes?”

Jim frowned. That idiot was way too perceptive. Well, at least it meant he wouldn't get bored by his side.

Why had he thought "by his side" as if it was obvious?

Why had his heart warmed up thinking that Sebastian wouldn't be too unpleasant to be around?

No... would be interesting to be around.

Jim slammed the door to the foreign thoughts that were beginning to creep into his mind, and walked fast towards the room’s door, which he opened with an abrupt gesture. Summer and the two henchmen were waiting in the hallway, their faces consumed by anxiety and confusion. Summer's eyes shone a little brighter when she realized that her boss was still alive, and surprisingly, that the prisoner was still tied up.

“Untie him, heal him, make sure he's presentable,” Jim ordered his henchmen dryly. “Find him quarters to live in and some clothes that are not torn or bloodstained. And have him brought to my office at six o'clock sharp. Not a minute later.”

He didn't even wait for confirmation, before dropping the knife on the ground and walking away into the hallway with big strides. The guards looked at each other, then looked at Summer. The woman hesitated only a moment before barking:

“You heard him! Come on, hurry up!”

Sebastian sat in his chair, still tied up, and watched them busy themselves with an amused smile on his lips. He didn't know what he had landed into, but the collaboration with Jim Moriarty was going to be full of interesting developments.

#mormor #jim moriarty #sebastian moran #soulmate AU

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Text

[As Carewyn headed out to the Courtyard, she couldn’t help but feel her resolve slipping away.

When Penny had first explained her problem with Beatrice, Carewyn had been rather sympathetic -- after all, she adored Jacob, and being separated from him was still an open wound for her. And to a degree, the Haywood sisters’ situation was almost worse -- even when Jacob had started keeping more secrets when Carewyn was younger or, hell, when Jacob and she didn’t see eye-to-eye in the Portrait Vault, Carewyn never once thought that Jacob didn’t want to be around her or disliked her for some reason.

But on the other hand...Carewyn couldn’t help but feel a little bitter, too.]

At least your sister’s here, Penny. Even if she’s not talking to you, at least she’s here and at least you know she’s alive and safe. I know you miss her, but...at least she’s not throwing herself into danger and you’re helpless to stop it...

[Pushing those meaner, more selfish thoughts down as best she could, Carewyn took a deep breath and strolled across the Courtyard. As she glanced around, she heard a familiar voice call her name.]

Andre: “Carewyn!”

[It was her ex-boyfriend (and still rather good friend), Andre Egwu. He beckoned her over, his body language visibly urgent.

Carewyn strode over to him.]

“What’s going on? I’m supposed to be looking for Beatrice...”

[With a nod of his head, he indicated a corner of the Courtyard, where Ismelda and another girl were chatting.

It took Carewyn a minute to realize -- ]

Beatrice?

[Carewyn blinked, visibly taken aback.]

“...Wow...Penny wasn’t kidding. She is unrecognizable.”

Andre: “I know, right? She’s been...’Ismelda-fied!’”

[Andre glanced over at the two, frowning in thought.]

Andre: “Gotta say, though -- I’ve never understood the ‘hair-over-one-eye’ look. It has to make it hard to see much of anything...”

[Carewyn crossed her arms.]

“I guess it’s supposed to evoke ‘mystique.’ Though I would think you could evoke that better with a fashionable cloak.”

Andre: “(with a grin) Or a nice smoky eye -- diggin’ the new make-up, by the way.”

[Carewyn smiled off-handedly.]

“Just thought I’d try something different.”

It helps hide the bags under my eyes a little better...

[Carewyn turned her focus back over to Beatrice and Ismelda.

Honestly, the situation didn’t look as bad as she’d envisioned, from Penny’s description. Beatrice and Ismelda were both smiling as they talked, clearly engaged in conversation. It didn’t look like Beatrice was acting angry like Merula or reckless like Ben. Carewyn had never really gotten on with Ismelda, of course, and she didn’t really love the thought of Penny’s little sister finding enjoyment in other people’s pain the way Ismelda did...but on the face of things, the two looked to be in a rather pleasant mood.]

I hope they are...after what happened last year...after taking so long to get Beatrice out of that Portrait...I want her to be happy.

[Andre watched Carewyn out the side of his eye as she watched Ismelda and Beatrice.]

Andre: “You all right?”

“...Yeah...”

I told Penny I would talk to Beatrice, so I suppose I jolly well have to. I just wish I knew what to say...

[She glanced at Andre.]

“I’ll be right back.”

[Putting her courage to the sticking place, Carewyn uneasily walked over to Ismelda and Beatrice.

As she approached, Beatrice looked up at her, her expression visibly confrontational. It made Carewyn falter, suddenly unsure of what to say. All of her thoughts just kept cycling back to regret and apologies -- but she knew full well that was no start to a conversation.

Carewyn was yanked out of her trance by Ismelda’s cold voice.]

[Carewyn’s expression instantly hardened, gaining its usual perfect, level attitude.]

[The irritation and disdain in Beatrice’s voice startled Carewyn.]

“What?”

Beatrice: “I know you’re close friends with my sister, Carewyn. I’m sure she’s told you all about how disappointed she is that I’m not walking around like a ‘Mini-Penny’ again...”

[Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.]

“No. She never said anything like that.”

[Carewyn didn’t love that Ismelda was standing right there listening to this conversation. She could feel her dormmate’s black eyes boring into her face even if Carewyn wasn’t looking at her.]

“...She just said that...you went through a dramatic change over the summer...”

[Ismelda cut Carewyn off very abruptly, and it made Carewyn shoot her a very cold look despite herself.]

“(Mama-Bear-mode activate!) Beatrice was trapped for an entire year thanks to the Portrait Curse -- I think I’m well within my rights to worry, Ismelda. Anyone would have trouble coping with something like that...”

[The image of Jacob trapped in a portrait in the Cursed Vault rippled over her mind.]

Ismelda: “(scoffs) Well, I’m not here to help anyone ‘cope.’“

Then maybe you should back off.

[Carewyn bit that nastier, growling thought back.]

Beatrice: “Penny is the most popular witch at school. Doesn’t she have enough people trailing after her, without me?”

[Beatrice’s sentiment made Carewyn’s heart ache.

Really, she had to admit -- there was nothing that wrong with how Beatrice was acting, as far as she could see. The Hufflepuff second-year had gone through a really traumatic event, and Carewyn knew first hand how much something that abrupt and scary could change a person. Jacob’s disappearance had shattered who she had been completely, and it’d taken her a while to rebuild from that. She knew it had to be frustrating for Penny, not to be able to interact with Beatrice the way she used to...but from the sound of things, there seemed to be some baggage between the two sisters that wasn’t being properly addressed.]

There’ve been times I resented Jacob, for getting so in over his head and making me put things on hold to try to help him -- but even then, I never avoided him. I never took out my feelings on him. How can Penny and Beatrice ever make up if Beatrice won’t talk to Penny?

[The image of Jacob Disapparating before she could stop him from leaving played again in her mind.

The Haywood sisters didn’t know what they had...]

“(primly) ...I...don’t have any problem with how you look, Beatrice. It’s not my style, but...well, I’m not wearing it, am I? And honestly...I don’t even care if you’re spending time with Ismelda. We may have our differences -- but you’re more than entitled to make your own friends.”

[Carewyn purposefully refused to look at Ismelda at all as she said this.]

“But...I know for a fact that Penny wouldn’t have a problem with either of those things either, if you’d just talk to her. You’re her sister, Beatrice -- of course she’s going to miss you. I daresay Penny could care less how many admirers she’s got, as long as she knows you’re there.”

I know I would. If Jacob was here with me and safe again...it wouldn’t matter if the whole world hated me...

[Beatrice gave a low scoff.]

Beatrice: “Sorry, Carewyn -- but the only way Penny wants me there is if I go back to the way I was, and that’s not going to happen.”

[Carewyn once again felt a sympathetic pang in her chest as Ben’s words echoed back in her ears.

“What Rakepick did to us in the Cursed Vault...that kind of cruelty and betrayal from an adult we trusted...it changed me. It’s changed you too, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

Despite herself, some emotion showed through on her face, and Carewyn bowed her head in an attempt to obscure it.]

“(softly) ...I know.”

I know you can’t go back. None of us can. Nothing...nothing can go back to the way it was...nothing can ever be the same...

[Both Ismelda and Beatrice seemed a little surprised by Carewyn’s reaction. Even though her gaze had shifted, the Slytherin Prefect, when she spoke again, sounded more like her usual self -- self-assured, stoic, and paragon.]

“I know you’re not going to change -- but that doesn’t mean that your relationship with Penny has to be over. Whatever problem you’re having, I know Penny -- “

Beatrice: “(interrupting more harshly) I don’t have a problem! I’m just...trying something new -- and I wish everyone would just let me be.”

Ismelda: “(dryly) You’d think students at a wizarding school would be more open-minded.”

[Carewyn felt the urge to hex Ismelda’s mouth shut, but she refused to fancy acting on it.]

Beatrice: “(cynically) I totally agree with Ismelda.”

“Beatrice...”

Beatrice: “(tiredly) Carewyn...just stop. I’m done, okay? I don’t want to talk to Penny. And you can tell her I said that.”

[Carewyn looked at Beatrice with concern. She struggled to think of something to say, but before she could, Ismelda cut in again.]

Ismelda: “She said she’s done, Cromwell. So run along.”

[Carewyn shot Ismelda another sharp glare.]

"Don’t prod me.”

[She glanced at Beatrice with a much sadder expression, before exhaling through her nose heavily, turning on her heel, and walking away, leaving the two alone.

Andre met up with Carewyn again as she passed the fountain.]

“Like a trainwreck.”

[Carewyn sighed heavily.]

“This whole thing is more twisted than I thought. I thought the issue was just about Beatrice struggling with what happened to her last year, but...there’s a lot more baggage there...and I don’t think all of it’s unjustified. And I hate to say that, given that it’s targeted at Penny...”

[Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, landing on a cobblestone to the left of Andre.]

“...It’s wrong for Beatrice to just shut Penny out like this -- I mean, you can’t expect anyone to make amends after a fight if you don’t give them the chance to try. But at the same time, I don’t really know if Penny’s accepted how much things have changed.”

[Andre considered Carewyn, his black eyes rippling with sympathy despite his grim expression.]

Andre: “Something you know from experience, I suppose?”

[Carewyn looked up at Andre, surprised. He gave her a weak smile.]

Andre: “Well, I mean...I reckon when your brother disappeared, it had to have changed a lot, right?”

[Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.]

“A lot”...no...it changed everything. Both times...it changed everything...

[Her eyes once again drifted down to the ground, but she determinedly kept her voice offhand and strong.]

“Mm, yeah, but...this is different. Regardless...I can’t go back to Penny having made no progress.”

Andre: “So what do you plan to do?”

[Her red lips spread into a wry smile.]

“...and I know just the person to talk to about how to do that.”

[Andre raised his eyebrows.]

Andre: “Does his name rhyme with ‘Farnaby Dee?’”

[Carewyn giggled lowly as she strolled past Andre out of the Courtyard, waving backhandedly to him and humming a little ditty to herself.]

“Time to see Barnaby Lee~...”

((OOC: XDDD Goddamn it, Andre, now I want to write a whole version of “Sandra Dee” all about Barnaby. Your fault, Andre -- your fault!!))

#carewyn cromwell #andre egwu #beatrice haywood #ismelda murk #roleplaying #gameplay #hphm #hogwarts mystery #barnaby lee #penny haywood

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niksixx · 5 years

Text

Axed 5

This was only supposed to be like one part but now it has 5??? Y’all I’m so glad you love this and continue to want more☺️ Enjoy the drama😏

Pairing: The Dirt! Nikki Sixx/Axl Rose x Reader

Description: Part 5 bishes..with Nikki’s, Sheila’s and Y/N’s point of view 😊 (I told y’all there would be three😛)

Warning: This is very raw. This is very deep.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

This chapter contains events that may be triggering for some readers. If you have experienced miscarriage or are not able to bear children, please read this chapter at your own risk and cautiously. (Nothing graphic is mentioned.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A light, feathery touch on his forehead jolted Nikki awake. When he came to, he blinked twice, heart hammering in his chest.

“Y/N?”

“Not quite,” the nurse giggled, bending closer to his face. “Although people do tend to confuse me with my little cousin.”

“Sheila?” Nikki croaked. “W-What are you doing here?”

Perched on the side of the bed, Sheila clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m your nurse,” she said softly, frowning. “Nikki, you’re lucky to be alive right now. Wanna tell me what happened?”

Sadness clouded his features. “Not really, Sheila. If we’re being truthful, I’m kinda pissed I’m still alive.”

She crossed her arms, exhaling loudly. “Does this have anything to do with Y/N? Because now, if I’m being truthful, I saw the news about her and Axl’s engagement. And if I remember correctly you two were together a month ago.

It has everything to do with her, Nikki thought. Clenching his teeth, Nikki closed his eyes. “She let Axl kiss her right in front of me. I dumped her. They got engaged two weeks later.”

Sheila glared. “Does she know you tried to kill yourself?”

“I’m sure her fiancée told her,” Nikki spat, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his chest.

Sheila’s face contorted as she adjusted her weight on the bed. “Axl,” she chuckled. “My darling ex-boyfriend. Y/N always did have a thing for him.”

“Not helping,” Nikki grimaced. “He came to my apartment looking for Y/N’s necklace and I shot myself after he said she still loves me.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “So instead of trying to win back your woman, you attempted suicide. Seems practical,” Sheila lightly smacked his arm. “Nikki, what were you thinking?”

He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t.”

Scooting off the bed, Sheila adjusted her scrubs before pulling the blanket up to Nikki’s hips. “Well, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. Right now, you have some time to think about what you’re going to tell my cousin when she gets here. And if you want to know what I think, I think this whole thing is bullshit. Do you know she called me the night before you dumped her?”

Nikki shook his head. “No, what for?”

“She wanted to take the next step with you,” Sheila muttered, drawing her lip between her teeth. “But Y/N is stubborn and impatient and she wanted what she wanted. Do I think she wanted Axl to kiss her that night? No. But after he proposed, she probably saw the life she could have. And she took it.”

“And she didn’t want to wait for me,” Nikki concluded. “I wonder how she’ll react when I tell her I bought a fucking ring.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Immediately after leaving Nikki’s room, Sheila stomped down the hall, eyes blazing as they landed on Axl, sitting on a bench. He stood up and took a step forward, then stumbled backward as Sheila’s hand connected with his cheek.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Sheila whispered sharply.

Rubbing his face, Axl snickered. “I see nothing’s changed, sweetheart. You’re still feisty as ever.”

“Marrying my fucking cousin?” Sheila laughed cynically. “What’s your game, Rose?”

“I sense jealousy,” Axl taunted, eyes dark.

“You have lost your damn mind. Y/N is a person, Axl, with real human feelings. And you confused her that night at the bar,” Sheila said. “You don’t love her and you never did. You used her affection for you to manipulate her. You promised her exactly what she wanted. And you knew she could give you everything I couldn’t.”

“I see nothing wrong with that,” Axl retorted, fists clenched.

“You don’t mean it!” Sheila growled, stabbing his chest with her finger. “You and I both know that. Whatever grudge you have against me, don’t you dare use my cousin as a way to get back at me and make me feel even worse about myself. Don’t you dare.”

“Sweetheart,” Axl murmured, stroking Sheila’s cheek. “Not everything is about you.”

Sheila raised her hand again. This time, Axl caught her wrist just in time. They glared at each other, eyes blazing, before a soft voice interrupted.

“Sheila?” You asked, stepping forward. Sheila and Axl turned hesitantly, Sheila’s hand still in Axl’s grasp. “Axl? What are you doing?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking between your fiancée and your cousin, you tentatively stepped forward. “Sheila, why are you at the hospital?”

She motioned to her scrubs. “I’m working here,” she answered. “I’m uh, Nikki’s nurse.”

Face paling, you flashed back to the minute Axl had called you from the hospital as Nikki had been wheeled into surgery. “Is…is he alive?”

“He’s fine, angel,” Axl assured, dropping Sheila’s wrist. “Go on in and see him.”

Your feet propelled you forward, stopping at the door before turning your head slightly to the side. Sheila and Axl went back to arguing and even though you were too far away to hear, just by Sheila’s facial expressions, you knew it wasn’t good.

As you stepped into the room, your heart sank immediately as Nikki shot up, eyes sharp enough to cut through you. “You have no business being here.”

If one thing stayed the same, it was Nikki’s stubborn personality.

“Nikki, please,” You didn’t want to argue. You didn’t want to fight. As wrong as it was, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl in that hospital bed and fall asleep in his arms. “I didn’t come here to do anything other than see if you were okay.”

“Which gives me the impression that you care about me,” Nikki laughed. “Don’t screw with me, Y/N. Take Axl and go home.”

Angrily you stepped forward. “Did you even fucking thank him for saving your life?”

Nikki shrugged. “He didn’t save me. The surgeon that plucked the bullet from my chest did.”

Your face hardened. “You are beyond selfish, Nikki Sixx.”

Nikki’s lips thinned. Swallowing, you prayed you hadn’t said the wrong thing. “Let’s talk about people who are selfish, Y/N. I can think of a few names, but you’re at the top of that list. Why did you really agree to marry Axl, hm? I’m sure you feel something for him, but there is no fucking way you love him more than you love me. You love the idea of marriage. A family. A big house with a yard and a pool. But you didn’t want to wait for me, wait until we had our lives figured out. You want things when you want them. We’ve only been together for two years and you wanted a ring on your finger so desperately. Why? Was my love really not enough for you that you needed a label?”

Angry tears slid down your cheeks as you listened to Nikki. Were you angry that he was scolding you? Or because deep down, you knew he was right?

“And you know what’s even worse?” Nikki’s laugh was empty. “I was working so hard to give you everything you wanted. I’d been looking at houses for weeks, you know. I talked to a contractor about adding a pool big enough for a family of five in the future. Hell, baby, I even bought a damn ring for you to use when we were ready. But I wanted us to be stable before we took that next step. And you couldn’t wait for me. You couldn’t wait for us. And that,” Nikki breathed, weakly pointing a finger at you. “Is the most selfish thing a person could do to someone they love.”

You winced as if he’d slapped you across the face. And truthfully you wished he had. Maybe it would’ve knocked some sense into you, made you see how awful you’d been to him. He was right. You were selfish. But was it greedy to want to have the most incredible life with him? Be his wife? Show him off to the world as yours?

Biting your lip, you hesitantly sat on the side of Nikki’s bed. To your surprise, he welcomed you. “Nikki, I…I just wanted to have a life together. I never meant to pressure you.”

Nikki’s eyes softened. “It really doesn’t matter now, does it?” With a sigh, he shimmied his body away from yours. “I’ll always love you. I’ll always care for you. But seeing you with Axl and being around you right now hurts more than the bullet did. You need to leave, please. I appreciate you coming to check on me, I do. But you’re getting married and I’m…I’m trying to heal. And I can’t do that if you’re still in my life.”

There was nothing left for you to say. With a nod, you slinked off the bed, lightly pressing a kiss to his forehead. You offered a small smile, hoping he’d return it, but Nikki shook his head sadly.

In the hallway, tears fell down your cheeks as fast as a freight train. You let out a strangled sob into your palms and then jumped as a hand touched your shoulder. Looking up, you frowned at Sheila.

“He doesn’t want me in his life,” you whispered.

“I don’t really blame him,” Sheila replied. “Can you?”

You shook your head. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

“Then why did you let it?” Sheila asked, agitated.

“Excuse me?”

“You do realize that if you hadn’t let Axl kiss you that night you wouldn’t be in this position?” Sheila replied, stepping back. “I mean, really what the hell were you thinking?”

“Sheila, you are in no position to lecture me about men,” you shot back. “You fucking used Axl for his damn money and then left when you got bored.”

Sheila grimaced. “Wait…that’s what he told you? That’s what he told you when we broke things off years ago?”

“You mean he told me the truth?” You asked, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, yeah he did.”

Sheila shook her head. “That’s not what happened, Y/N. He lied to you.”

Crossing your arms, you gave Sheila a look. “Then what really happened, hm?”

Sheila went quiet. You did a double take as a tear slipped down her face. “I found out I couldn’t have children.”

Your lips parted, chest heaving. “Sheila, no…”

“He was so hurt…so…angry,” Sheila whispered, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I couldn’t give him what he wanted, Y/N. He wanted a family back then.”

“So he left you,” You confirmed, disappointment etched in your face. “Sheila, why didn’t you ever tell me this? You let me believe you used Axl for his fame. Why?”

She shrugged, pointing to the bench. You sat with her, arm around her shoulder. “Letting you think I was a gold digger was better than you believing I was weak.”

“Listen to me right now, Sheila May. You are not weak. Not at all. You are so fucking strong. I just wish you would’ve let me be there for you.”

Sheila nodded. “I know,” she blew out a breath, reaching to squeeze your hand. “Y/N, what are you doing? Nikki loves you. So damn much. That man wanted to give you the world and beyond. That’s the difference between Nikki and Axl. I’m scared that Axl is playing with you, toying with your head to hurt me. He…” Sheila sighed. “He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t really want the same things you do. But that man,” Sheila pointed toward Nikki’s room. “Would do anything for you. This is one big clusterfuck and you need to fix it before you marry the wrong man. Because let’s be honest, when you close your eyes and picture the altar, who do you see?”

And when the image of Nikki appeared in your head, that was all you needed to know.

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papergirllife · 5 years

Text

The Story Of You And I.

Lee Taeyong ( One Shot- Part 1 )

Warnings : Angst, smut, slow burn.

You and Taeyong went way back. Since the both of you were 7 at the 2002 Seoul Fashion week for your mom's up and coming fashion label.

When you met him, he was working as a child model for your mom's brand.

" Hi I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

" I'm Taeyong. Who are you? "

"I'm Ms Kim's daughter. Your one of the models for this show aren't you? "

" Y-Yeah."

" Let's be friends from now on. "

"Okay."

You didn't know why you picked him out of all the boys there to make friends. Maybe it was because of his big googly eyes or his cute bouncy self waiting in line to be dressed.

The both of you became close friends. Always chatting at the backstage of every show. He even signed a contract to stay on with your mom's brand.

As you got to know him longer, you knew more about him. He was a rich family's son, he's mom was once a famous model back in the 70s' and married a wealthy business man. Their family owns Lee Insurance Inc. and even a law firm.

As he got older, his father wanted him to learn up the ropes of the business world, at the age of 12.

He never liked the corporate world, too shady he always said. Thankfully he has a sister who enjoyed business. So the responsibility didn't weight on him anymore.

As Taeyong and you grew, the both of you started developing into teenagers. His eyes were still big, but held a sense of mystery. His jawline sharper. Shoulders broader.

You hadn't changed much, not as much as he did. You started cutting down from snacking as you fall into the phase of wanting to keep yourself fit. You started a gym membership and enrolling dance classes.

You still remember staring at yourself in the mirror at age 15, admiring the curves you developed from your hard work.

Taeyong wasn't blind. He saw the way you changed. No longer that cute little girl who said hi to him at his first catwalk.

One day at the age of 16 the both of you were trapped in one of your mom's studio due to heavy snow fall as you were helping Taeyong with his measurements.

You got bored, so you started sketching some designs on your notebook after your mom taught you how to.

" Do you always bring along your sketch book and pencils wherever you go?"

" Yeah. So that whenever I'm inspired I'll always be able to draw at once. It's really important to me. "

" Thats so artistic and cool."

" Thank you. "

You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. You have never been complimented much in your life. Being a famous designer's daughter means you rarely have sincere friends. Taeyong was the closest to you among all.

You looked up from the sketch book to see Taeyong's face only millimeters away from yours. His eyes focused on your lips. With a pounding heart, you closed the gap between the two of you.

Everything was well for a year. Both of you were the sweethearts of the weekly tabloids. The power couple netizens would call the both of you. Until everything fell apart.

At one of your girl friend's new year's party bash. You were supposed to go there with Taeyong, but you suddenly had a headache from the amount of work from school and work. So Taeyong texted you that he wouldn't go as you weren't going to be there.

You were going to fall asleep until your friend Yeri called you.

" Y/N, Y/N. Open your messages right now. You won't like it, but it's the truth and I didn't want to hide it from you. "

" Um. Okay? Hang on a sec. "

When you opened Yeri's chat, there were two blurry photos, you clicked into them and your heart dropped.

It was Taeyong and some random girl making out. You exited your chat with Yeri and opened Taeyong's.

' I'm breaking up with you. '

You hit send and proceeded to block his number and all the other forms of social media accounts.

A few weeks later, the tabloids caught wind of the break up and even caught a photo of Taeyong and some girl kissing at Starbucks.

Taeyong and Y/N, Lovebirds No More? Who's Taeyong's New Mystery Girl?

Y/N's nasty heartbreak, Taeyong's Break For Freedom.

The Similarities Between Y/N and Taeyong's New Darling, Rosé.

Throughout this break up, only Yeri was there, helping me move on from my first love and heartbreak. Passing me tissues and eating tubs of ice cream together.

2019.

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae! "

" Yes? "

"We're short of one of our main male models, he suddenly called and said that his aunt was in critical condition at Jeju. So he flown out of the city and won't be participating in all of our shows. "

" Hurry find a replacement. Any decent model will be fine for today until we find another permanent. "

" Yes, Ms Bae."

You can't screw this up. This is the first time your mom gave you full reins of the company. You had to ace this one way or another.

You were adjusting a model's clothing when you heard a voice that made you drop the pins in your hand.

" Y/N, long time no see. "

You still remember his voice, even though it got deeper as he matured.

" Taeyong. "

You greeted him in a hardened tone.

" Cut the crap. What are you doing

here? "

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae. He was the only decent model available at such a short period of time. "

Your assistant didn't dare looked up to your face, fearing that you might fire her on the spot.

" Get him dressed Nancy. "

" Yes, Ms Bae. "

You looked at Taeyong like he was trash, well technically he is to you but not literally. And you really needed a replacement model.

" Y/N, don't you remember all the happy memories we shared? "

You ignored him and started picking out his runway attire.

" Mr Lee, what is the size of your waist? "

Your assistant asked.

" Ask Y/N. She knows. "

" I don't keep trash in my head. Tell her yourself. "

Taeyong sighed. You sneaked a glance at him. He still does that making his lips straight frown whenever he's frustrated.

It's time you forgot about him Y/N, you told yourself.

" Size 31. "

He took the pants from your assistant to change behind the veil.

" Are you okay Ms Bae?"

Nancy whispered.

"It's been 4 years plus now Nancy. I'm fine. " Or that's what you keep telling yourself.

Nancy seemed a little bit relieved at what you said event though she wasn't entirely sure you were speaking the truth.Suddenly someone called.

"Nancy, Nancy! We need your help with one of the model's measurements. "

You took Taeyong's clothes from her hands and beckoned her to go. She left with a little bit of uncertainty on her face, but didn't dare to question her boss.

Taeyong finally stepped out from the veil, looking smart in the pants you designed.

" Here. Change into the button up first, then the sweater, finally the coat. "

You passed every article of clothing to Taeyong but he didn't take it.

" Dress me. "

" Stop playing games Taeyong. Time is ticking. "

" What sort of games? You did this all the time back when we were kids. "

" I'm not your friend or anything anymore, so get dressed on your own. "

Instead of listening to you, Taeyong plopped down the stool, mindlessly looking at his fingers.

After a minute of no sign of movement from him you took matters into your own hands.

You began to unbutton his shirt rapidly and put on the shirt for him, buttoning the buttons.

Taeyong had a surprise look on his face, he didn't think you'd actually do it.

When you undressed him, you saw the changes on his body. He was much more built than he was last time. Small knobs and cervices at his once soft stomach. You were careful to not touch him.

After you finished adjusting the dress shirt, you forced the sweater over his head, fingers accidentally knocking onto some part of his face.

" Ouch! You used to be more gentle when you dressed me backstage your mom's shows. "

" Let the past stay the past. " You said as you dumped the coat on his face.

" Do that on your own, or get a fling to do it for you. "

You scanned him top to toe to see if anything was wrong. Until you spot his Nike sneakers.

You weren't going to be Prince Charming for him. So you called Nancy and told her to switch tasks with you with a pair of size 9 from your latest collection.

The show was starting soon, you double checked the attendance and the paper and magazine companies.

You could feel a headache forming thinking of the gossip columns eating on the drama that's going to happen tonight.

Ex Lovers Reunited?

What's Happening Between Taeyong and Y/N? Taeyong casted in Y/N's First Full Fledge Collection.

Just mother freaking great.

Everything went smoothly during the beginning, no mismatched clothes, no ruckus outside the venue.

You took a peak from behind the curtains. The columnist and VIP customers seemed to be enjoying it.

" Ms Bae, Ms Bae. "

Nancy called you interrupting your thoughts.

" Yes? "

" Right after Taeyong's wrap up for the runway, it's supposedly your turn to greet and thank the guest. "

Shit, I forgot. A could sense an oncoming disaster.

" Right, yeah. Just let me get changed and I'll be right out. "

You changed into a pair of black skinny jeans and black sweater, to not distract the audience from the clothes worn by the models.

I stood behind Taeyong to wait for my cue. He suddenly turned around and looked at me in the eyes.

" No good luck kiss like when we're 17? "

"You lost that right when you lost my trust. "

For a while Taeyong really looked hurt. I could have been imagining it, don't get your hopes up Y/N , it'll just break your heart again.

When Taeyong walked the runway, heads turned and jaws dropped. Of all the models to grace my brand they didn't expected him. Especially for the closing scene, but there wasn't anyone else under my belt that could pull of such an outfit.

I could see my guest started whispering among themselves. Some frowned, some smiled, some had cynical looks on their faces, like they expected you to fall back with your most popular ex.

When Taeyong came back, it was your time to shine.

" Thank you so much for coming to the show. Customers who would like to make purchases may raise their hand, an employee with an iPad would be of assistance. Once again thank you and goodnight. "

You bowed and returned to the back end. You started helping your staff pack up the equipment, but they all dismissed you midway claiming that they could finish up by themselves.

So you decided to pack up your belongings to head home to prepare for the after party.

After keeping everything, you double checked your belongings and found that your sketch book wasn't present.

You started panicking, the sketch book held many ideas and sketches for future references.

" Ms Bae you should head home to prepare yourself for the after party. "

" I know Nancy, but I can't seem to find my sketch book. "

Nancy's eyes became saucers, she knew how important that book was to you.

" I'll help you ask all the staff, you have to head home to prepare first, it's your first after party Ms Bae. "

" Okay, thank you Nancy. Contact me if you find it. "

#nct smut #nct taeyong #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct u scenarios #nct u imagines #nct u taeyong #nct angst #nct aus #nct fic #taeyong smut #taeyong fluff #taeyong scenarios #taeyong superm #nct imagines

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redtutel · 4 years

Text

Rewatching Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

Although I have vague memories of the Episode III promotional material, this is the Star Wars movie where I truly was a part of the hype. December 2015 was a magical time where everyone was just...loved Star Wars. And it created a meme and parody culture that was just as wholesome as the original trilogies. None of that cynical and nitpicky, or in extreme cases sexist and racist, Star Wars fan culture we’re dealing with today.

So much like the first Avengers movie, the magic surrounding its release will make it impossible for me to judge this movie fairy. But I don’t care. I’m still very attached to it. Will this be the viewing where the magic wares off? Or will I find myself considering this better then the film it pays homage to. I’m excited to find out.

Seeing a brand new “A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far, Away” and an opening crawl in theaters was just awesome.

“Will not rest until, Skywalker, The Last Jedi, has been destroyed,” Hey, Foreshadowing! I know there’s a ton of debate as to what was or wasn’t planned in advance for this trilogy, but still.

The First Order is Space ISIS/Neo-Nazis, and Leia leads an army to fight it. Pretty simple. I don’t get why people get so up in arms about how little the politics are explored in this movie. It’s probably a side effect of just how lore heavy Star Wars got after the original trilogy.

The opening shot of a space ship completely covering a moon. A new take on ironic Star Wars imagers. A pretty good summary of this movie. But I feel like such new takes make up for just how many recycled plot points this movie has.

The opening action sequence is the first time in years Storm Troopers have been intimidating (Clone Troopers and Stormtroopers are two different things). It’s pretty impressive. It’s a great way to establish how evil the First Order is.

Finn’s introduction is so impressive. A Stormtrooper who in his first fight, completely looses the will to participate in war. We may never know about his friend he saw die, but despite that, we still understand why he lost his will to fight. It might be a bit awkward for Finn and Poe’s friendship if they ever find out Poe shot Finn’s old Stormtrooper friend.

Kylo Ren stopping a laser with the Force. An awesome new way to use the Force. And I love Poe’s quip “So who talks first?” It establishes Poe as a fun, jokey character, which is why I don’t get why people got upset about his sense of humor in Last Jedi. He’s the sort of character that uses humor to relieve the tension of any situation he’s in.

J.J Abrams made this movie to be watched blind, and I really wish I could (but I saw spoilers before I watched it). Where is Luke? Who is this new Sith? What’s the backstory the old man hits at? There’s a good Stormtrooper? He talks off his helmet? Who’s this girl in the desert? I’d love to discover these things for the first time all over again.

I’m found of robot characters that go against their programming. Finn’s not a robot, but the beginning of his character arc has that concept. He does not believe in this cause, and he fights war terrifying. And he wants to escape.

Anakin was a slave, Luke was a farmboy, and now we have Rey, a scavenger, all alone in the world, just tying to service. She quickly establishes herself as incredibly tough, but also a bit cute.

Of all the protagonists Rey’s backstory is the saddest in my eyes. While Luke had a happy but boring life with his aunt and uncle, and Anakin had a hard life but a living mother, Rey has had to fend for herself since she was a child, holding onto hope that one day her parents will come. She was all alone in the world. But now that’s going to change.

I don’t take any sides in the CGI/Puppets debate, but seeing puppets in a big Hollywood blockbuster again is pretty nice.

BB-8′s so cute. I have too much R2-D2 nostalgia to consider him my favorite Skywalker Saga droid though.

Rey’s relationship with BB-8 establishes that although she’s a survivor, she hasn’t let it harden her heart. She’s willing to help BB-8, and although she wants him to be on his way, she still won’t sell him off (despite being tempted to)

...Poe’s technically the Leia archetype in this movie. This tough rebel who got captured by the villains, and who sent a droid with something important.

The Finn and Poe escape scene has a lot of great dialogue. I’d argue some of the best banter in the series. It’s a pretty good action scene too.

Of all the characters, I like how Finn’s take on his archetype the most. He’s the Han Solo, the deuteragonist who wants nothing to do with the battle, and joins for selfish reasons, but in the end proves to be a loyal friend and hero. But unlike cool and collated Solo, Finn is nervous and cowardly. But that makes his eventual bravery and loyalty all the more satisfying.

I don’t know if this is true, but I’ve heard Poe was originally going to die, but Oscar Isaac was so great they kept the character alive. I do believe keeping them separated is for the best, seeing how it makes sure Finn stays around for as long has he does.

Early on we establish that Kylo Ren is abnormally obsessed with Luke Skywalker, to the point where Gnearl Hux questions him.

Finn and Rey’s friendship stars off pretty rocky, but even then they have some good chemistry. At one point Finn’s all beat up, and he asked Rey if she’s okay. He may not be very good at it, but he’s trying to be a gentleman.

I love how the Millennium Falcon gets called garbage. It’s a funny bit of irony, concerning just how sacred everything else from classic Star Wars gets treated.

The first Millennium Falcon chase is another great action sequence. Rey and Finn are figuring things out as they go along, and BB-8′s being cute. And in the end they’re very impressed with each other. Characters becoming friends tough action sequences is a favorite troupe of mine.

Everything from Finn and Poe’s escape to meeting Maz Katana has nothing to do with a New Hope, and thus is a very underrated part of the movie. Although the tentacle monster scene is kind of forgettable.

Both Finn and Rey have no last name. They’ve never had any sort of family before. Heck, Finn didn’t even have a real name until just a few hours ago. They’re nobodies trying to find themselves, which sets of their arc that carries over into the next film

Kylo Ren destroying the console establishes him as short tempered for the first time. He drops his stoic facade and shows his true colors. Kylo looks indimiateing, but deep down he’s an insecure manchild trying his best to inhert a dark legacy. I’m found of this character, as well as similar characters like Berkut and Shiguraki

Did BB-8 give a thumbs up or a bird? The world will never know.

Rey keeps her guard up around people she doesn’t know to well, but she has a very soft and kind side as well. She’s pretty aggrieve to Finn early on, which is probably why....certain people, dislike her. Women and aggression tends to lead to backlash, after all.

I love how Finn slips in a bit of Stormtrooper knowledge. It comes in handy a few times in this movie. Some could say it should come up a bit more, but I think it’s used enough.

“Chewie, We’re Home” What an iconic line. I can still hear the applause.

Seeing Han become the Obi Wan archetype is a very unique direction for the character to take. And he handles the role very well. Harrison Ford may have been sick of this character, but he still brought his A-game. I love that Rey admires Han more for his smuggling than for his war heroics. And it’s very sweet seeing Han admiring just how much Rey knows about piloting. It’s a very sweet father/daughter relationship. In hindsight, Rey and Han don’t even need to be related for this relationship to be this good. Rey lost her parents and Han lost his son, and they can’t help but see each other as a means to fill those voids, even if they deny it to themselves.

The events of the original trilogy are legendary to these characters, which make the “It’s True, All of it” line so cool. It’s pretty interesting how chronologically, the events of one trilogy are legends to the characters of the next one.

Seeing Han be exactly how people remember his is pretty cleverly deconstructed. In-Univse it happened because he needed to escape from the pain of what happened to his son. And now he’s at the point where there’s nobody left to swindle.

Whenever Rey’s in trouble, she’s always the one to get herself out of it. This is definitely meant as pushback to the fact that in so many things, women always need help while men can aways get out of a situation by themselves. And I’m all for it. It’s great to see a woman be this strong, but she’s not flawless. After all, she shuts people out and is struggling to accept the fact her parents are never coming back.

Snoke even says “Last Jedi.” Even in this movie, Snoke is convinced that Luke is the hero of this story, and will stop and nothing to stop him. It is interesting that they introduced the Emperor archetype in this first movie, although maybe it was a sign that he wasn’t actually the big bad of this trilogy.

“It the hands of your father: Han Solo.” And the audience gasped (unless they got spoiled first. It’s one of those things we can never un-know). Although if I have to nitpick, I’d be nice if we found out alongside Finn and Rey.

I love that the space chess still looks like stop motion.

Rey doesn’t see herself as the hero. Just the delivery girl. Even Luke saw himself as trying to save a damsel in distress. But though this journy, she becomes a hero.

"Luke felt responsible. He just, walked away from everything.” This was established in this movie? Why did it take until Last Jedi for people to react to that plot point?

“I didn’t know there was this much green in the whole galaxy” I love that line. It’s so endearing!

Finn reminds me of Usopp. A liar and a coward, but someone who will always do the right thin in the end. He’s my personal favorite sequel character

“Women always find out.” Han has a ton of great lines in this movie.

“I’ve already been away too long” She’s so convinced her parents will come back she won’t even leave her planet for a few hours.

With Maz Katana, we’re back in a New Hope. I’m found of this character. It’s fascinating to see someone who’s Force Sensitive but not a Jedi. And she offers some great advice to Rey and Finn. I’d love to see her in the next season of Clone Wars.

Kylo Ren sees Darth Vader as the hero, the dark as good, and the light as bad. But he has regrets, and lakes the discipline and fidelity of Darth Vader. Of all the characters, he’s the one most desperate to fulfill his archetype.

“Though the ages I have seen evil take on many forms. The Sith, the Empire, today it’s the First Order.” “If you live long enough, you see the same eyes in many different people.” Of the the sequel’s trilogy’s biggest themes is that history repeats itself. But despite that, it’s still important to fight evil whenever it arises, instead of just sitting back and letting it happen.

It never occurred to me before, but Finn’s cowardliness might be the lingering effects of his brainwashing. Although he does not believe in the First Order’s Ways, he was still convinced all his life that they’re unstoppable, which is why he wants to run instead of fight. I also like how he’s admits the truth, instead of there being this “liar revealed” thing.

Finn and Rey have truly become friends at this point. Instead of just running away, now Finn wants Rey to come with him. As far as he knows, she’s the only friend he has, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to her. Meanwhile, Rey doesn’t want Finn to leave, because he’s one of the few people in her life to stick with her for this long. If he leaves, he might end of like her parents, who never came back.

Wait...how come nobody was demanding to know Finn’s parents. He was taken from a family he’ll never know after all. How come people accept that Finn’s parents don’t matter, but insist that Rey’s does?

Seeing Rey connect to the force for the first time (outside of the piloting and scavenging skills I assume she she used them for subcoinsously before the events of this movie) is really impressive. We get flashes of her past, as well as Luke’s past and Kylo’s past, and even hear the voices of Yoda and Obi Wan. ok She’s getting her first glimpse at the Force that binds everything together, and she’s terrified of it. It’s also yet another divination from the New Hope plot, which is very welcome.

I forgot that Rey being Force sensitive was once a spoiler. How time flys.

I really hope Obi-Wan appears in Rise of Skywalker. He spoke to Rey when she connected to the Force for the first time, and I’d love to see that expanded upon.

“They’re never coming back.” A lesson Rey, and the audience, finds difficulty accepting.

“The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.” Such a great line. It’s a great summery of Rey’s arc, and I imagine people with difficult pasts can relate to it.

Maz tells Rey and Finn exactly what they need. Rey need to learn to move forward, and Finn needs to learn to fight for what’s right.

Why does the lightsaber choose Rey? I guess her midichlorian count is just right or something. It doesn’t really matter, and I personally find the idea that the next hero can come from anywhere inspiring.

...Come to think of it, Luke’s the only protagonist who isn’t just some rando.

“Why is Maz so interested in Rey” Probably because of her strong connection to the Force.

Rey rejects the saber. Classic rejection of the call. Can you blame her, after that vision?

The First Order sees the Republic as weak and dishonest. Seems straightforward to me. Maybe people were underwhelmed because Neo-Nazism didn’t get as much attention as it did just a few months later.

Starkiller Base. It’s cool looking power-creep. On one hand, since we don’t know anyone from those planets, it’s not as impactful as what happened to Alderan. But then again, we actually see people on that planet die. So It’s a bit of a mixed bag overall.

Finn’s not going to leave until he knows Rey is safe. How touching.

TR-8R. I miss that meme.

Seeing Poe’s triumphant return is pretty great.

Seing Rey’s trying to fight off Kylo Ren with a gun is very tense. This the the first time she looses a fight in this movie. Seeing someone so strong get captured really raises the stakes. This is where they first meet. Their relationship is standard Hero vs Villain in this movie, but things are going to change a LOT in the next one.

Despite how scared he is, Finn still rushes in to try and stop Rey from being capture.

Seeing General Leia for the first time is awesome. Han and Leia’s reuinon is so touching as well. C-3PO’s back to disturbing Han and Leia moments as well, which is pretty funny.

Seeing BB-8 and Finn get reunited with Poe is also very touching.

Finn is helping the Resistance for the sake of Rey. He’s not quite a hero yet, but he’s getting there.

So the movie did established R2-D2 had the map in his back-up data in the actual movie.

Han and Leia went back to what they know best after the loss of their son. It’s such a tragic moment.

Kylo almost has the depth in one movie that took Vader two or three movies to get. I feel like that should be discussed more often.

Kylo’s face is removed to reveal...a normal person. Ben didn’t get any external injuries to turn him into Kylo Ren. It was all manipulation

Rey takes on the Leia role when capture, and Finn briefly takes on the Luke role, But when she frees herself they go back to being Luke and Han, respectively.

Even in this movie, Rey and Kylo are using the force to get to know each other, although mainly on accident. Maybe that’s where Snoke got the idea in the next movie.

After seeing Kylo using the Force, Rey decides to use it in order to escape, although she’s a bit hesitant to do so. It takes her three tires to do the Jedi mind trick, after all. I do wonder where she heard about it. Maybe she figured that if you can read minds, you can change minds.

Rey is a very fast learner in any situation, be it piloting, shooting or using the force. Maybe it’s her midichlorian count.

Starkill base makes very little logical sense, but its still a very cool concept, and seeing day turn into night serving as a ticking clock is a very cool visual.

“No matter how much we fought, I always hated watching you leave” “That’s why I did it, so you’d miss me.” All these years later, and that still have such great chemistry.

“That’s not how the Force works.” I love that line, but people misuse it.

Finn is doing something very heroic, putting himself on the frontlines and disabling the shield. But he’s only doing this for Rey. Despite that, he stays true to his word and disables the shields. I love seeing him stick it to his old boss. It’s a fun moment.

The Rouge One “Womp” is even in this movie! How did I never notice it until after Rouge One?

“As Long as there’s light, we’ve got a chance” A classic symbol, but one that still works.

Seeing Rey and Finn reunited is just another very touching moment. “We came back for you.” For the first time in Rey’s life, somebody actually came back for her. I love how Rey describes how using the force to escape was “Something I can’t explain, you wouldn’t believe it.” In general I love how the Force is depicted in this movie.

“We’ll meet back here” No! That was their last moment together!

Ben and Han’s confrontation is another utterly fantastic moment. Ben is tempted to go back to his father, but he’s too devoted to Snoke’s teachings. On top of that, he feels like it’s too late to go this far. He figures that to get rid of these regrets, he has to kill Han Solo. I love how the sky gets dark, leaving red as the only light source. It really makes Ben’s lightsaber stick out when he kills Han. And yet, Han still touchings the check of his son, showing that even despite this, he still loves him. Instead of letting the past die by killing his father, Kylo is left more conflicted than ever.

Meanwhile, Rey lost a chance to have a father yet again.

The snowy forest at night is such a great setting, and leads to an awesome lightsaber fight. Rey gets knocked out, so Finn has to protect her with a lightsaber duel. Kylo is beating himself, increasing his pain to increase his dark power. Finn puts up a valiant effort, but in the end, he gets knocked out, and Rey has to save him. But still, he bought her time, and gave her the strength to use the force to stop Kylo. Seeing Rey grab the lightsaber for the first time using the Force is just awesome. She’s barely holding her own, but true to the character, she’s a fast learning. Meanwhile Kylo is still injured, and maybe a bit worn out from fighting Finn. At the cliffside, Rey is at the ends of her seat, but when she trusts in the force, she manages to beat Kylo after he overpowered her during the rest of the movie.

Finn ends with the movie more devoted to Rey than the Resistance, but he still proves himself to be a loyal friend and a hero. I was worried about him for the two years between Force Awakens and Last Jedi

There’s no words between Leia and Rey. They both just know, Han is dead, and they both loved him. And that’s enough for them to mourn him together.

But in the midts of dealing with the loss of Han, there’s is hope. Specifically, the New Hope.

Seeing Luke for the first time in this movie is such a fantastic cliffhanger.

Overall, I still love this movie as much as when I first saw it. It’s got great action and effects, the new characters are some of my favorites in the series, and the old characters give some of their best performances of all time. Sure it messed with a happy ending, but I’m still investing in seeing how characters old and new are going to try and get that happy ending back.

#star wars #star wars rewatch

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seasonofthegeek · 6 years

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Ladrien June, Day 6: Ice Cream

Today’s drabble is dedicated to @dblmagus to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have a fantastic day full of great things. <3

Days 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6:

“I’ll give Andre props. He definitely has the whole magic of love thing down,” Adrien remarked, taking a long lick of ice cream. “I kinda want to believe him.”

“I could see you being a believer,” Ladybug teased. “You’ve got that sweet naivety about you.”

“Rude. I’m a very cynical and hardened man, thank you.”

“Pardon me,” she grinned. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You’re forgiven. Also thank you for calling me sweet,” he winked at her before biting into one of the scoops. “Can you tell me something about you?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I know you can’t, like, tell me your real name or anything, but what do you like to do when you have free time?”

Ladybug snorted. “Free time? What’s that?”

“Come on, surely you get some down time.”

“I do,” she nodded. “Uh, I usually spend it helping my friends take care of their kids.”

Adrien nodded, not sure what to say in response.

“My best friend,” she frowned, lowering her ice cream as her appetite disappeared, “she used to follow me around a lot when I first became Ladybug. She had this blog and was always trying to find out who I was and it was really hard.”

“Alya Cesaire.”

Ladybug froze. “Right. I shouldn’t say anymore. That was stupid.”

Adrien shifted, looking out over the city from the perch she had swung them to. “This might not mean much, but you can trust me, ya know? I wouldn’t tell anyone your secrets. I just...well, I researched everything I could when I got the part so I know about the accident with Alya.”

She nodded stiffly.

“She still runs the blog, doesn’t she? I know she can’t get out as much but it’s really active with submissions and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Ladybug replied softly. “She still runs it and loves it. I don’t really understand honestly.”

“I’m guessing you don’t actually show up to take care of her kids as Ladybug,” he prodded.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

Awkward silence fell between them as Ladybug’s ice cream melted. She finally let it free fall, watching it splatter on the ground.

__________________________

“Remind me of the events of this afternoon the next time Nino gets that damn fond look in his eyes and starts talking about wanting another kid,” Alya groaned, tilting her head back against the headrest of her wheelchair. “I swear I think they were possessed today.”

Marinette laughed tiredly and stretched out on the couch. “There had to be something in the air. They were both full throttle. And Kieran is usually so chill. She was more wound up that Zoe.”

“The painting activity was nice though. I think they liked that one.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to keep it in the arsenal. I think Zoe’s speech therapy went as well as it could too.” Marinette closed her eyes. “Just give me a minute and I’ll go get our lunch ready.”

“You can take five minutes if you tell me about him,” Alya grinned, curling her tongue behind her teeth.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“You know my wonderful husband doesn’t keep anything from me so you may as well fess up. I’ve already researched Adrien to death anyway.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sometimes,” she grinned. “I hear you go see him just about every other night.”

Marinette frowned. “Yeah, I think that was a mistake. Last night I almost told him all about you before he mentioned he knew your name from the Ladyblog.”

Alya shrugged. “I don’t really have anything to hide here, Mari. And it isn’t that farfetched that you would still be visiting me as Ladybug all these years later.”

“Since I’m the reason you’re in the chair,” she murmured.

“Stop it. We’re not doing this again and you know that isn’t what I mean,” Alya snapped. “I’m in this chair because Hawkmoth is a punk ass bitch but whatever, I became even cooler. I’m Oracle, baby.” She grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean it. Snap out of it or I’m going to yell and wake up the girls and tell them Aunt Marinette is taking them to the zoo for ice cream and bags of sugar.”

Marinette groaned, covering her face. “Speaking of, I took him to Andre’s last night.”

“And?”

“There’s no and.”

“Come on, did you have matching ice cream?”

“No.”

“Okay, but was it corresponding? Like his ice cream represented you and your ice cream represented him? It had to be. I have a feeling about you guys,” Alya nodded confidently.

“Of all people, I feel like you aren’t one who would believe in Andre’s supposed ice cream magic.”

“Excuse you, I knew I was going to marry Nino as soon as our ice creams matched.”

“Funny, I remember you saying you knew you were going to marry him when you saw him in a swimsuit for the first time,” Marinette replied wryly.

Alya waved a hand. “Be that as it may, I still believe in all kinds of magic.” She moved her chair forward so she could pat Marinette’s leg. “I don’t want you to close yourself off. You deserve happiness.”

Marinette nodded, deflating visibly. “I should talk to Luka, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably be a good move. He’s been dying to ask about it but can’t bring himself to go through with it. He’s come by a few times on your patrol nights with ridiculous music excuses but Nino said he doesn’t really ask about you.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward. We’re in a good place.”

“Sometimes you have to get a little uncomfortable for a bit so you can move onto something better. Whatever you decide, you know I’m here.”

Marinette smiled. “You’re the best Oracle ever.”

“You better believe it.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

#ladrienjune #ladrien #ladybug #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #marinette dupain-cheng #oops I drabbled again

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crimsonrevolt · 5 years

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Congratulations Jenny you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Isaac Bones

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Jenny, I can’t explain how excited I was to hear you were planning on returning to us! Your application for Isaac blew us away, and we’re so happy to be welcoming not only another Bones sibling, but you back into the family; your way of capturing his voice and explanation on how he views the war and his family life are so thought out and we know that he’s in good hands with you. Welcome back! *Your faceclaim change to Oliver Jackson-Cohen has been accepted

application under the cut.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Introduction: Jenny, 24, She/her, back in the good ole EST

Activity: 7-8/10, I’ve moved home from school and am applying to jobs, so I’ve got a good amount of time on my hands.

How did you find us? OG Crew <3 But originally through the Harry Potter RP tag.

Anything else? I’ve missed you guys so so much <3

IN CHARACTER

Desired character: Isaac Louis Bones

+ Isaac -> “he will laugh”, of Hebrew origins

+ Louis -> “renowned warrior”, of German and French origins,

Birthday / star sign: 10 March 1950 / Aries

Occupation: Isaac used to be a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, but transferred to a desk job after his sister’s abduction in order to become more involved with war efforts.

Faceclaim: Oliver Jackson-Cohen, or Dan Stevens if he doesn’t fit.

Reason for chosen character:

I had been contemplating Isaac even before I had to leave before. At first, I loved the idea of having siblings on different sides of the war, and having to manoeuvre the complications that came with that. However, now with the latest plot drop and the change to Amelia’s character, this brings a different, but still very intriguing plot should someone come and pick her up! More specifically to Isaac, I have yet to play a character like him. I’ve tended to stick more to lawful good or lawful evil characters before, so playing someone who falls mostly into the chaotic good category is something that would help me broaden the realm of characters I right, and helping me personally grow as a writer.

Having spent the first part of his life an only child, Isaac has had to make adjustments ever since the birth of his sister. So much that it became second nature to him for a long time. He’s had to supress a lot of his discomfort and internal discord because of this. This has created a very guarded, almost two-sided character: the jovial, loving and devoted son, and the hardened, cynical soldier. He works very hide to keep these two sides from ever meeting, or revealing themselves at the wrong time. With the recent change in his sister, this is becoming increasingly hard for him, though he is questioning whether it’s time to show both sides to his sister, as a sign that the two could possibly live in harmony.

Preferred ships // Character sexuality // Gender & Pronouns: Isaac is male, preferring he/his pronouns. He is bisexual, biromantic, with a slight preference for women. This is a vague label, but he prefers not to label anything these days, as romance is far from his priorities at the moment. Barring the right person, that is.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER

Trait expansion:

✓Jovial

Despite throwing himself into the war, Isaac loves the rare times were he and his friends let loose. He loves finding ways to lift peoples’ spirits when the time called for it, loving finding the individual ways to crack each persons’ smile. While he could tend to seem ruthless, those close to him know that for the most part, he could be a teddy bear, one of the most loving people you could have on your side.

✓Clever

Isaac’s father often teased him that he was going to end up in Ravenclaw, something he was actually quite proud of, despite ending up in Gryffindor. He was always the kid who found more creative solutions to his problems, sometimes to the awe of his younger siblings. His mind looked at things differently than most people would approach things, something he never let anyone train his brain otherwise. This is what led him to become a curse breaker in the first place.

✕Irresponsible

No one ever pegged Isaac for prefect or head boy. While he took his studies seriously, he was always known as someone who liked to push boundaries and do his best to get away with breaking rules. Once he gets an idea in his head, he has to see it through or the thought continues to eat at him until he does. He’s gotten a better handle on this as an adult, but recent events have started to drive him back into his old ways.

✕Cruel

For the most part, Isaac is warm and caring. This, however, does not extend to his enemies. When faced with someone who stands against him, a switch flips in him, and he can show a side of him his loved ones have never seen. Until recently, that is. His rage directed to the war has caused him to lash out, letting people see this darker side to him. He will stop at nothing to get revenge on the people that have hurt his family.

Headcanons:

Isaac was terrified when the realisation hit him as a child as to what being an older sibling meant. He loves his siblings to death, but the pressure he built on himself seemed to be heavier than that which others put on him. He could never let them see any other negative sides of him, never wanting to sway their beliefs as children. He’s had to cultivate a fine line now as adults, trying to lead by example and get them on his side, while also attempting to make sure they kept their own minds.

(alcohol tw) Due to the stress of the war, Isaac has developed a problem with alcohol addiction. He’s been able to keep it under wraps, but now with everything that has happened with his siblings, its begun to spiral a bit out of control. This has also seen a rise in his more violent side against the deatheaters, and has put him in some rather dangerous situations. Its most important to him, however, that he is able to hide it from his sister as to not put more strain on her.

Christmas is his absolute favourite time of year, because it’s one of the few times he actually allows himself to enjoy more than a moment of jovialness. Even during the war, he’s gone out of his way to make sure that the holiday remains important to his family, and makes it a time for them to relax and let loose, when he’s become much more serious other times of the year.

An old, worn teddy bear sits on a high bookshelf in his flat. This was the first toy his mother had ever given him, and aside from his first toy broom, the most important. Though he never tells anyone, this bear brings him a sense of comfort, a reminder of a life that was far simpler than the one he currently lives.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Do you think it is more important to be feared or loved? Which would you rather be?

“I think it’s actually good to have a balance of them, depending on who you’re talking about,” Isaac replied after a moment. “Loved by the people you care about, feared by the people against you. In the context of war, fear is definitely preferred. Peace time may yield a different answer.”

What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I didn’t do enough to help win the war. That’s pretty much the reason I joined Aversio, to make sure I was legitimately doing every possible thing to save the people I love and care about, no matter what risk it entailed.”

If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it!

“A potion to speak a different language when needed would be insanely useful, especially when curse breaking. Definitely would have gotten be out of some rather… unpleasant situations.”

What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Family versus cause. Especially when it comes to my sister,” he reluctantly replied, running a hand nervously through his hair. “We’ve not always seen eye to eye on this war, and it’s been incredibly hard at times.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

Nothing has made Isaac happier than to see the change in his sister’s beliefs after being rescued. Having his sister fully on his side now lights even more of a fire within him, and he is more invested in ever in being the thick of the action. Seeing her in action at the Quidditch World Cup, he felt a swell of pride in his chest. While his loyalty to Aversio has never faltered, with his sister by his side, his ferocity towards the cause has grown tenfold. Once his brother was found and better, perhaps the two could help him see things the way they do.

Isaac is insanely grateful to Marlene, for forging ahead to find his brother. Despite his gratitude, and that his brother was found, this also causes inner turmoil for him. He becomes guilt ridden that he was more focused on Aversio work than doing everything he could to find his brother, making it two siblings he was unable save himself. This could potentially lead to a distance between him and his siblings.

WRITING SAMPLE

Routines are too monotonous.

The itch was only growing stronger, sitting at his desk.

Fresh out of school, he had been ecstatic to get a job at Gringotts. The job allowed him to work around the world, never staying in one place too long, and being the cool older brother who brought stories home for Christmas. He could also work, and also be useful to Aversio by being covert in finding information.

That all changed when Amelia went missing.

He, as well as his parents, believed he needed to stay closer to his family, to the heart of the fight. He felt like he had failed as a big brother, and as a fighter, that he could not keep her safe. And he needed to do whatever he could to fix that, even if it meant spending monotonous days sitting behind a desk, rather than being in the thick of things.

That was saved for after work, with the pent-up aggression and drive border lining into dangerous territory.

You’re wasting time behind this desk.

Then the day came that finally broke the work rut he had fallen into. The most bleak, boring day broken by a more than welcome owl flying through his office and landing directly in front of him on his desk.

He almost didn’t believe it when he read the paper it offered him. Not because he did not want it to be true, but because he wanted it to be true so badly it felt like a dream. A dream that came with the risk of not coming true.

She’s actually alive.

Without even uttering a word, he raced from his desk, disappearing in the swirl of his cloak and the familiar pop sound. Once they heard, they would understand. They had had to deal with him for past year, anyway.

You should have been the one to find her.

Arriving at the hospital, he was hardly even able to utter her name before he was whisked off to room being circled by a number of people. Some he recognised, some he had never seen before. Luckily, the resemblance in his face was enough for people to part and let him through to the doorway. His foot had not even crossed the threshold when he heard a familiar voice, filling him with both relief and an odd sense of dread.

But you weren’t the one to find her.

But there she was, right as he stepped in the room. He had dreamed of this moment, all of images and scenarios now flashing through his mind with each step. As his green eyes met hers, his mind quieted, focusing on all of the changes and familiarity in front of him.

And it’s all in her eyes.

There was no way of knowing what she had gone through, but the result was clear as day as he looked at her.

He had always seen her as a kid, even when he knew she had joined the fight. No matter how long she had been an auror, she would always still be his baby sister. The age gap was initially to blame, but he still had not been able to fully accept that both of his siblings were now adults and in the same fight he was. It was only that moment, finally, when Isaac saw a woman standing in front of him, and not the little girl he remembered.

She’s seen more than you could dream of.

“‘Melia,” he was finally able to breath out, a true smile reaching his face for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thank Merlin.”

They were going to fucking pay.

#accepted app #isaac bones

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sad-af1121 · 6 years

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Sleeping in (One-Shot)

Summary: Weekends were meant to sleep in, yet Sebastian had a hard time last night, not getting an ounce of rest since you’ve been teasing him. He should be used to it; you were his girlfriend who loved doing it because he got hard every time. But this time, you didn’t do anything about it and went to bed. Seb couldn’t just lay there and suffer, so he took the matter into own his hands. Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2075 Warnings: SMUT, mutual masturbation, language, some dirty talk, NSFW gifs A/N: This is my submission for Caro’s Wonderland Writing Challenge! I had fun plotting this fic out and I’m happy with how it turned out. Shout out to my bf for helping me and being an inspo. My sentence prompt was “Is that too much to ask?” Thank you @sanjariti 💕

Feedback is welcomed 💜

Sebastian loved sleep.

If it was tampered with, he was the grumpiest dork of ‘em all.

Today, he laid in bed, wide awake with the covers off his body. He was clad in his usual night attire, shirtless with boxers. His piercing gray-blue orbs stared at the mute cream wall, knowing nothing was going to phase. It was just an act he’d do whenever he was lost in thought, last night’s events replaying in his mind. He couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning from the lack of rest and the abundance of tension. He awakened multiple times during the night, trying anything to get himself comfortable but it was no use.

Exhaustion coated his face as his mind ran a thousand miles.

And yes, he was grumpy.

What wasn’t helping most was the fact that his cock was hard as a rock, pressing firmly against his thigh, throbbing and straining. He thought about removing his boxers, to relieve some of the pressure. But then, he’d get the urge to stroke it and he didn’t want to. Not unless you did it. Only yearning for your touch.

A touch that always set his body on fire.

You teased him a lot before going to bed; arousal rolling into the next day. Your words, lasting stares, and touches lingered in his head. You wanted to have some fun, get him riled up and needy. You aimed for all his weak points, whispering dirty things while rubbing the bulge with tenderness. Being in one of your “moods” turned you into a little shit, behaving inappropriately while getting the fun out of it.

In Sebastian’s eyes, you were the cutest, most precious woman he ever came across yet, whenever you were lust-struck and playful, he would lose control and focus. Something about you being his was like a drug, turning him on without much effort. It was how his body reacted to you and he wasn’t complaining. He treasured the hunger and desperation you set out for him, longing for the precious intimacy with you.

Sebastian recalled that way your eyes peaked through your thick lashes, batting at him like a spell with the most honeysuckle tone that ever left your plump lips. Your delicate fingertips skimming across his heated skin only drove him closer. He restrained himself from pouncing on you, knowing you were the one in control. He couldn’t touch you, and if he did, you’d stop altogether.

Unfortunately for him, that’s what happened last night, and Sebastian regretted the moment he leaned in to kiss your tender lips, humming to your taste of your tongue. He was sure you were going to relieve the ache in his length as you were getting needy too, your sweet scent flooding the room as you straddled his hips.

But he was met with nothing.

If only he listened.

Groaning with frustration, Sebastian turned his head, dark eyes roaming over your sleeping form and watching your chest rise and fall peacefully. The sight was stunning, never tearing his eyes away until you stirred in your sleep, muttering incoherent words before dozing off. A light chuckle fled from Sebastian’s mouth as he shifted his body to get a good look, propping his head on his hand.

He knew you wouldn’t be too happy if he woke you up, especially on a weekend. Sleeping in was a must in your household. It balanced from the lack of sleep you’d gain from the chaotic week of work and life. However, like any boyfriend who wanted payback for what you did, a devious light bulb went off as Sebastian’s lips curled into a gruesome smirk.

He was going to get what he craved, rather you liked it or not. Getting a taste of your own medicine would be good.

“God, I’m gonna get an earful after this.” He snickered quietly, biting his lip to hinder his cynical tone.

His free hand hovered over your bare shoulder before sliding down to your breasts. Sebastian’s long slender fingers fanned over your taut nipples that poked through the flimsy fabric of your tank top. The pads of his fingertips circled around the sensitive bud, eliciting a shiver that coursed throughout your body. He watched as you inhaled deeply, sighing in bliss then returning to sleep.

Seb felt the heat in his cheeks grow immensely as his cock twitched, hearing a soft moan push pass your mouth, guessing your nipples must have been sensitive. They harden instantly, rising to his touch before he kneaded your breasts in the palm of his hand. The softness of your mound against his rough hand intoxicated his senses, reluctantly rolling his hips, never encountering your backside. He showed the same affection to the other, going back and forth then ran his calloused hand down your stomach and onto your thigh, groaning silently when you push your ass against his cock. It pulsated uncontrollably, blood rushing to his tip as it screams for release.

He wanted to moan out loud but was keen on being quiet. Trapping his lower lip under his teeth, his hand sustained to follow the curve of your ass, giving it a good squeeze as he let go a labored breath.

You moved again, humming tenderly, and rolling your body to lay on your back. When you feel something broad against you, you shift away from it, settling back down. Sebastian froze, waiting to see if you’re up or not. The fear of you waking up bubbled inside him, afraid you’d laugh and not give him satisfaction.

He anxiously licked his lips, eyeing your clothed cunt as his urge to touch there increases. It was crazy how nervous he was, as if he was a child again, putting his hand in the cookie jar. Cautious about being caught.

Well… this was a different type of cookie.

After a few seconds, a gentle snore erupted from your chest, alerting him you’re still knocked out.

He couldn’t help but bring his hand over your pussy, nudging your clit through the fabric of your panties. His lips mockingly curl at the corner, watching you whimper and sigh lightly, your chest rising and falling much quicker now. It was starting to build up the faster he rubbed your clit, fingertips pressing firmly against the little bud of pleasure.

Your legs spread further apart, kicking off the covers, and making you fully aware of your senses now. You know this is Sebastian’s doing and don’t bother to open your eyes. Deciding to play along, you rolled your hips, brows ceasing as the friction becomes satisfying for your liking, craving for more.

“What’s wrong, baby? Hm? A little too much for ya? Thought you can handle this since you did the same thing to me last night.” Sebastian growled, scooting his body closer to you to rub his beard against your delicate neck. It shot electrifying waves of ecstasy to every nerve.

You quivered, his tone dropping a few octaves, loving how his beard felt on your skin. So soft yet rough. Memories of him going down on you flooding your mind, leaving pleasurable burns behind and mind-blowing orgasms.

“Fuck Sebastian.” Your scratchy breathless voice slipped out of your mouth as you writhe under his touch.

“Bet that pussy’s nice and wet. Needy for my big cock, huh? Tell me, baby. You enjoying this? I’ve been a good boy for the past week and this is how I get awarded?” He desperately said, tone dipping low.

You don’t say anything back, mouth running dry as it became difficult to speak.

“Shit… c’mon baby. Please touch my cock. I’ll do anything you want; I’ll be your good boy and be still. Please, please, please... Don’t you want me to be a good boy?” Sebastian begged, rubbing your clit faster as his hips rolled against yours. He knew he shouldn’t be doing anything to his cock right now, but the ache was too much to bear.

Your slick began to seep through your panties, coating your cunt, thighs and Seb’s fingertips. He looked down, groaning to the sight of your ruined panties as he slowed down the pace and ran his fingers along the imprint of your folds.

“All you gotta do it touch it, sweetheart. C’mon, just stoke it…. Is that too much to ask?” He whispered innocently, looking back up at you, lips parted and swollen from the number of times he sucked on it, suppressing his impulse to snap.

“Oh my god.” You moaned at his needy manner before opening your eyes to look at his crotch, gasping at the sight of his length. It was protruding, perfectly outlined and desperate. Your flushed skin reached up your neck and up to your ears. Sweat began to form on your chest, thighs, and pits as the moment became overwhelming.

Without warning, you aimed to grab his cock, groaning to how firm and swell it was before pumping it. Sebastian let out a hoarse groan, resting on his back but never removing his hand from your swollen clit. You pushed your hand under his boxers and pulled out his angry red cock, whimpering to its purple shade.

“Jesus, Sebastian… You really need to cum huh?” You breathed, looking up into his nearly black eyes.

Sebastian doesn’t respond, writhing from your actions as you stroke his cock faster and faster. At this point, it was like a race to see who’d cum first. And you knew Sebastian would; he’s been craving for it since last night.

“O-oh fuck.” You exhaled with a squeak, nipping your lower lip to elicit pain. You were close and needed to steer your mind elsewhere because you weren’t ready to cum yet.

The room was filled with desperation, heated moans and whimpers bouncing off the walls as you two laid in bed, jerking each other off. Hearts thudded wildly, making you both light-headed, drained almost. Yet you two were racing to your orgasms, building stamina and friction. Your hands began to ache, the soreness adding a pleasurable sting.

Before you knew it, strings of hot semen shot up in the air, landing on your hand and some on Sebastian’s stomach, creating a pool. His orgasm triggered yours as you followed behind, moaning out his name as your back arched and legs closed in around his hand. The intensity of your releases coursed through every nerve, toes curling and stomachs filling with exciting warmth. Heavy breaths and whimpers broke out of your mouths, the dryness on your throat and the sweat on your brows added to the impact.

Sebastian’s tongue darted out to lick up the saltiness across his lips, humming in ecstasy. You lazy ran your hand up and down his torso, calming him as he turned his head to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

Once both of your orgasms washed over and regained enough energy, Sebastian grinned heavenly, eyes languidly blinking as he nudges your side.

“I needed that SO badly.” He chuckled, kissing your neck again until he reached your cheek.

You grunt, moving away from his affection. “Don’t touch me. You couldn’t wait till after I woke up?” You panted, opening one eye, and raising a brow.

“Well excuuuuse me, I’m not the one who left me with blue balls last night.” Sebastian playfully argued back.

“Aww, cry me a river.” You mocked, slowly falling back to sleep as you snuggle against the covers again.

“Yeah let’s see how that goes when I tease your pussy and not do anything about it.” He grumbled, leaning over to grab his wipes from the nightstand.

After he cleaned himself and discarded the wipes, he returned to bed with a fresh pair of panties.

“Baby, clean yourself up.” He threw the panties at you before plopping down on the bed.

When you don’t move or respond, Sebastian leaned over shoving you lightly and whispering, “Baby, wake up.”

“What!” You snapped with a grouchy attitude.

“Don’t hurt me! I’m a fragile boy!” Sebastian screeched back, falling back on the bed as he covered his face with his hands for protection.

Your eyes fluttered open, curiosity and amusement etched on your face to find your boyfriend pulling up the covers over his face.

“Wh-what? Sebastian.” You laughed out, rubbing your eyes.

“Don’t judge me.” He murmured, pouting his bottom lip before you tugged on the covers, giggling and attacking him with kisses.

Mornings were always an adventure too.

PERM TAGS: @thatawkwardtinyperson @jezzula @finallybreathee @plumfondler @atari-writes @angryschnauzer @badassbaker @papi-chulo-bucky @amrita31199 @cumonbucky @soldatbarnes @random-fandom-girl2000 @lostinspace33 @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @rda1989 @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt @melconnor2007 @feelmyroarrrr @iamsooooohappy @elaacreditava @broken-pieces @ms-potts-to-you @hardcollectiontrashworld @i-kneel-for-king-loki @hufflevirgoclaw @charliexowrite @valkyeries @saharzek

FIC TAG: @3brosangel @ruby-white-rabbit @chrisevanshh @retroasgardian (thought you’d guys would enjoy this <3)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan smut fic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x reader smut #Smut #caroswwc #writing challenge

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konohagakurekakashi · 6 years

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Writing Prompt: Kakashi's views/musings on Tsuande's early days as Hokage.

[Writing Prompt Accepted-Thoughts on a Leader]

'A leader is best when people barely know that he exists, when his work is done and his aim fulfilled, they will say- we did it ourselves.' Said datum never rang more true than for that of the Hokage, a Fire Shadow, looming over both his enemies and his subordinates as both a wise, firm regulator and a potent power of military cogency for his daimyō. It was something Kakashi understood since the simple age of four, something all Konoha shinobi and civilians understood; which is why though the position was respected, it was never coveted once you were past your ambitious Genin phase and the weight of the ninja profession finally sank deep within your very fibres and roughages.

For all intents and purposes the Professor and Minato-sensei was all that Kakashi has ever known in the form of a leader and both served as his paradigm and daily reminder that though he might be at the forefront of the mission rankings--he would never be a real leader in comparison--a fact that he was generally content with and accepted, for he was fashioned to follow orders to the letter, not give them. It was proven on his very first mission as a Jōnin and remained unremitting in his failures to break through his former Kohai’s walls, his charges’ hatred and self-misgivings or to keep his sensei’s legacy safe from the missing-nin (Akatsuki, Jiraiya-sama called them) so intent on the young Jinchūriki’s capture.

In his sorry state, head throbbing due to the effects of said former Kohai’s dōjutsu and Tsunade-sama’s earlier prodding. It was crystal clear that he lacked Sarutobi-sama’s astute way with words or the Fourth’s insight and Fūinjutsu skill. Should he have had either perhaps things would have gone differently, if only by a margin. A bitter sigh before a hand rose to rub at his pulsing lid, the action willing away the many thoughts coiling within his mind, as well as the incessant sobbing of both Gai and the nursing staff seeping across his threshold. It had been exactly four days since the Sannin made her unexpected return and pulled him from the miasma left by the Tsukuyomi. Since then the Hatake’s surroundings have been fraught with nothing but noise-The kind that Icha Icha Paradise could not drown out.

Another sigh, before Kakashi shifted within his stiff hospital sheets, lone hue flittering towards the lit hallway upon the sound of a chair leg splintering against a far-off wall. Testing the stretch and ripple of his muscles, Kakashi floundered, before bare feet slipped onto tile; his mind drifting to the induction ceremony looming just around the corner and what it could mean for Konohagakure no Satō. Kakashi has after all known the Senju for most of his existence and knew first hand that if he did not possess the qualities of his former teacher, then neither did she possess the former qualities of hers. With a torrent of apologies resounding about the hospital, Kakashi murmured a low ‘gomen’ of his own, before he stepped towards the window, his shadow spanning ahead of him as if eager to disappear into the night and away from all the ruckuss. Settling on the idiot excuse of Mnr Ūkki being cold, lonely and in dire need of a proper bedtime story; Kakashi followed after, effectively cutting his stay short and not feeling the least bit repentant for the water pitcher that was sure to expire due to his empty bed.

The next time the Hatake fixed his calculating gaze upon the form of the the Kunoichi, it was from his slumped position behind Kurenai and Asuma. It was a bright balmy day, despite the fact that the village was still in its reconstruction phase and the Sandaime has just been laid to rest. The Many shinobi gathered about him had their own gazes fixed upon the Hokage Tower as the Godaime finally lifted her hat of office. All of their hues though strained with the effects of the Chūnin Exams also ignited with a hint of optimism, of expectation and the Hatake felt his fingers twitch within his pockets and his lungs constrict--Because despite his cynical views on the shinobi system and the acidic bite of fear that that inherent optimism, that Will of Fire will one day be snuffed out; he couldn’t help being somewhat optimistic himself, even as the Kunoichi’s lip twitched and her russet stare hardened into one of determination once she pitched the Hokage Hat into the soft breeze and over the sea of her clamouring soldiers.

Maintaining that sliver of optimism was an entirely different undertaking, however.

Tsunade was not a conventional Hokage, her brash actions and talent for stepping on toes cementing the silver-haired Jōnin’s earlier assessment. Where Sandaime-sama was always cool and collected and prepared to listen to the grievances of his council and his subordinates; Tsunade in turn was quick to anger, her vast travels having done nothing in dampening her passions. Kakashi had it on good authority that the administration budget had all but doubled due to a constant lack of office furniture and accessories and he knew from being the intended target of one too many medical journals that she did not tolerate his ‘grievances’ and what he thought of as his ‘endearing’, little habits. Yet it remained a pleasant surprise when he almost walked in on one of the Godaime’s impromptu meetings with her council (more than three hours late for his own mission briefing) and found her to be unchanged in her beliefs and adamantly refusing to be swayed by the advisors' stern warnings. Though he respected them as one would respect anyone of age and skill, the Hatake could never accept the council’s rationality and the way they seemed to act on things behind the Professor’s back. He well remembered the way Danzō tried to veer him into betraying the Third and his two avid supporters were on the vanguard of those vetoing against him keeping Obito’s eye after the events of Kanabi. So it was only natural that Kakashi chose the slanted nook below the Hokage’s window as his favourite reading perch from thereon after. --Birds of a feather, hmm.

It was also from that sunny perch, the tiles warm and chiselled beneath his sandals, that the Hatake came to know that even though the Medic held none of the traits he came to associate with that of a Hokage, she instead held a plethora of other peculiarities he now welcomed in that of a village leader. The Senju for one was fiercely loyal to her subordinates and their dreams, evident by her unwillingness to label his student turned avenger a missing-nin despite it being the logical course of action, electing instead to put her faith in the capabilities of the younger generation time and time again. She never begrudged her Shinobi for missions gone awry (a notion which would have been welcomed in the time of his father) and rather showed genuine relief each and every time they came back from a mission alive and in (relatively) one piece. She was more than adapt in seeing underneath the underneath and knitted their skins back together on more occasions than he cared to contemplate--but it was her uncanny ability to push her militia past their usual capabilities and into avant-garde scenarios altering dangerously from the usual pairings and team formations, to obtain the best of outcomes for that of her village. She did not care and at the same time cared too much. Her near abysmal buckets of empathy rivalling even that of Naruto and reaching far past the borders of the Fire Nation to that of smaller settlements and the rival nations alike.

Yes the Godaime had her fair share of unhealthy customs, but as Kakashi made his way through the deserted twists and turns of the village, calloused fingers wound tightly about the ankles of one of Tsunade’s many debt collectors who managed to sneak into the village as a tatami merchant, Kakashi was hit with the sudden, jarring realization that the Kunoichi was more his leader and Hokage than that of Minato-sensei with his impossibly short tenure, or that of the infamous Professor combined. Taking a moment to tilt his head back and peer up at the hoary glow of the moon, the Hatake affirmed with a low grunt in his throat that he would follow any and every order from the last Senju even if it meant demeaning his skills to that of a watchdog. Not so much due to his duties as a Shinobi of Konoha (Kakashi was nothing if not a loyal, effective tool) but because he really wanted to.

Despite the lethal flick of her fingers and her persistently loud persona, Kakashi believed that she was adamant in carrying forth the First’s Will of Fire, Obito’s will- and despite her custom to lecture him on immaterial things and avoid some of her more dismal duties as a Kage, Kakashi knew that she was someone Rin looked up to and would strive to be like, had she still been alive. So it was with little effort that the Hatake heaved the groaning loan shark up and into the guard booth manned by Izumo and Kotetsu, a low chuckle barely concealed as a cough cutting through the chirp of crickets as the two Chūnin spluttered and rolled sideways to avoid the desperately flailing limbs. Trusting the two to take out what remained of the trash; Kakashi then proceeded to head back the way he came whilst thumbing at the ragged ends of the IOU rumpled within his holster. The past was in the past. Comparing the living to the deceased would bring him nothing, least of all answers. The best that he could do was to pull his weight and hope that everything else would fall into place. If it meant changing his Paradigm to that of the Godaime—well, he could live with that.

#Senjutsunade; KonohagakureKakashi; Hatake Kakashi; Senju Tsunade; Godaime; Part I Timeline; Writing Prompt; Naruto; In which Kakashi is a me

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starwarsnonsense · 7 years

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The Last Jedi Trailer Breakdown

* Please note that the following breakdown contains some potential spoilers for the movie - they’re mostly based on inferences and rumours, but you probably want to skip this post entirely if you’re spoiler-averse. *

I’m exhausted (I woke up way too early to watch that trailer!), but I knew I couldn’t rest until I had done this. There is so much to unpack here, so you’ll have to excuse me for omitting some things (mainly space battles) and skimming over others.

I’m sure I’m wrong with a good chunk of this, but this is all meant in good fun.

I hope you enjoy my first stab at breaking this baby down - if you think it can be improved or spot anything that needs to be corrected, please let me know.

Kylo on the observation deck of the Supremacy, Snoke’s Mega-class Star Destroyer.

DIALOGUE: Snoke - “When I found you, I saw raw, untamed power. And beyond that, something truly special.”

There is obviously a big debate over who Snoke is speaking to here. It could be either Kylo (who we mostly see images of as this dialogue is being spoken) or Rey, and I think that’s the point. The whole purpose of the trailer is to stress that Kylo and Rey are in eerily similar positions and occupy the same space in the Force, and the dialogue simply reinforces that. Rey and Kylo are both characterised by their raw power, and they are both considered prodigies.

I’m also loving the obvious call-back to Attack of the Clones here - the shot from that film shows Anakin contemplating his mother’s fate (he has just had a dream of her being tortured by the Sand People), so if they’re really pursuing a parallel here it’s possible that this shows Kylo thinking of his mother too.

Kylo leading a platoon of stormtroopers onto Crait. This shot is particularly interesting, as Kylo was previously unaccounted for in the third act of the film - we now know that he’s part of the First Order’s assault on Crait. Yet again, we find a parallel to the prequel trilogy here. This shot is a very clear parallel for the one of Anakin leading stormtroopers into the Jedi HQ on Coruscant:

In Revenge of the Sith, this is the shot that prepares us for the massacre of the Jedi. It’s possible that Kylo is going into Crait to wipe out Resistance scum (TM), but if they’re truly going for the reverse Anakin route it’s equally possible that he’s about to do something more surprising.

Kylo bowing before Snoke in his throne room, and reaching down to pick up his lightsaber (perhaps a new-and-improved version, given the uncertain fate of his saber in TFA) as the Praetorian Guards look on. This is likely to be one of the first scenes in the film, and it’s presumably Kylo being called before Snoke to explain himself after his defeat and the destruction of Starkiller Base. He is probably humiliated by this experience, as we see him throwing his helmet against the wall in anger later (see below).

I don’t have anything smart to say here except that Mark Hamill has the most amazing WTF face.

DIALOGUE: Rey - “Something, something inside me has always been there. But now it’s awake, and I need help.”

This line establishes Rey’s vulnerability and position in relation to the more established Force users - she is overwhelmed by her own power, and knows that she needs help to wield it properly.

Rey exploring Ahch-To, and finding herself inside the tree/cavern with the ancient books (which were first seen in the previous trailer). I’m guessing she’s been left alone here and is trying to find answers for herself.

Rey has some serious skills and Luke knows it. The point of this little montage is clearly to demonstrate that Luke is made to face up to the sheer extent of Rey’s power, and he isn’t even remotely happy about it. He is frightened and troubled by what he witnesses.

I find it profoundly amusing that Luke appears to have been buried beneath the timbre of the temple.

In all seriousness, this is somewhat surprising as the composition of Rey’s vision in TFA had implied that the massacre at the temple happened in Luke’s absence, with him returning to face the horror of it. This suggests something far more sudden and unexpected, possibly implying that it was some kind of random or rushed event rather than the product of a carefully formulated plan.

Han said that Luke’s apprentice (i.e. Ben Solo) “destroyed it all” in TFA, and this makes me wonder if that explanation is more literal than we had previously imagined - it’s possible that instead of deliberately murdering his fellow pupils, some kind of traumatic or shocking event triggered Ben’s innate power and caused him to lose control and destroy everything surrounding him.

This kind of cataclysm would explain Luke’s fear of Rey - he would consider Kylo and Rey ticking Force bombs waiting to go off and cause massive damage. It would also offer a good explanation of why Kylo turned to Snoke after the incident at the temple - his uncle would be appalled by and terrified of him, and would essentially cast him out into Snoke’s waiting arms.

MARK’S FACE IS AMAZING.

DIALOGUE: Luke - “I’ve seen this raw strength only once before. It didn’t scare me enough then. It does now.”

To me, the subject of this dialogue is very clear. Luke has just witnessed the extent of Rey’s power in the Force, and it reminds him powerfully of Kylo. He implies that he didn’t respond as he should have to Ben (specifically, he didn’t take his capacity for harm seriously enough), and swears he won’t make the same mistake with Rey. This is clearly the source of his reluctance to train her. In the books Luke has a rather hippy-dippy attitude to redemption and the will of the Force post-ROTJ, but he has clearly been made hardened and cynical by his experiences with Ben.

Rey looks hurt and confused, presumably by Luke’s rejection of her and the saber. Rey is clearly on the edge of the island here - it almost makes me wonder if she has fallen (or possibly even pushed) off the ledge after handing Luke the lightsaber, and is pulling herself back up. It’s a very weird position without context.

What an awesome beauty shot of Kylo’s eyes and gorgeous chocolate locks. ‘Nuff said.

DIALOGUE: Kylo - “Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.”

Unless he’s speaking to a mirror, it’s most likely that Kylo is talking to Rey here. Rey was obviously hung up on her family and Jakku in TFA, and I can see Kylo saying something like this to her in an attempt to help her move on.

Kylo preparing to hurl his helmet against the wall in the elevator outside Snoke’s throne room. As I said above, it would seem that he’s upset/angered by whatever Snoke told him.

This is a long centrepiece sequence and it’s clearly meant to be a ‘will he, won’t he’ moment. Kylo is piloting his TIE Silencer in the battle of D’Qar and is evidently poised to attack his mum’s ship. We know he doesn’t take Leia out here because she is also featured in the Crait scenes, which happen in the third act (the battle of D’Qar is situated firmly in the first act). The specifics of what happen are obviously less certain - he could not fire at all, deliberately miss, or be distracted by enemy fire. So many choices!

The Falcon being chased by TIEs on Crait. Chewie and his porg pal appear to be in the cockpit for this chase - it’s unclear whether there’s a co-pilot around at this point (whether Rey or someone else).

Poe and co being evacuated from D’Qar during the First Order’s attack on the planet.

DIALOGUE: Poe - “We have a spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down.”

It’s neat inspirational dialogue from up-and-coming Resistance leader Poe - it may be an allusion to Finn, since he could well be the ‘spark’ of doubt that destroys the loyalty of the First Order’s troopers (by representing an alternative path and shedding a light on the corruption and hypocrisy of the FO hierarchy).

Finn and Phasma facing off. This is a scene that has been hyped for a long time, and was first rumoured an age ago by our friend Bothan Spy on Reddit. It looks like Finn and co have done some serious damage during their infiltration.

Luke looking even more pissed than before. It’s possible that this shot is related to the Bothan Spy rumour of the exploding hut (the rumour is that Luke is angered by a conversation Rey and Kylo are having without him in a hut, and blows it up in retaliation), since it could show the aftermath of that (you can arguably see rubble in the background, though it could just as easily be weathered masonry).

DIALOGUE: Luke - “This is not going to go the way you think.”

I’d guess this is a warning to Rey. He sounds very angry and stern here, as if she has disobeyed him or is threatening to disobey. This is a major reach, but it’s possible that she is defying him by going with/helping Kylo and Luke is warning her against it.

Ice foxes on Crait. They seem to be retreating into the Resistance hanger bay.

Leia waiting by the gate to the Rebel base on Crait - it looks like she is waiting for someone, and this could potentially match up with the shot from the BTS reel where Rey approaches Leia on the same planet:

(Note that the costume Leia wears is identical, as is the ground.)

Rey falling in the water on Ahch-To and encountering the skeletons of some peculiar alien beasties.

Luke Skywalker being creepy af, watching a soaking-wet Rey from the mist (I know it sounds kinky like that, but that’s literally what’s there). He looks very ominous and judgemental here, and certainly doesn’t seem ready to give a helping hand.

DIALOGUE: Snoke - “Fulfil your destiny.”

As before, this could be addressed to Rey or Kylo. I would lean towards Kylo, since I can see Snoke playing the destiny card with him because of his Skywalker bloodline.

Finn taken prisoner during his infiltration of the First Order.

The First Order forces massed. I suspect they may be gathered here to witness Finn’s execution, though that is an educated guess.

Snoke torturing Rey with the Force. He looks absolutely hideous here, and the torture Rey is going through looks agonising - you can see Praetorian guards in the background, and we know that Rey and Kylo fight them at some point. The fight scene(s) with the Guards may come before or after this scene, though it’s impossible to say more than that. The revelation that Snoke and Rey meet is, by itself, a big deal.

I AM DECEASED.

DIALOGUE: Rey - “I need someone to show me my place in all this.”

Now, there has been a lot of chatter about this moment. It is clear that the shots of Rey and Kylo are from different scenes - my bet would be on the shot of Rey showing her speaking to Luke early in the film (probably when she is explaining herself to him), with her line potentially linking up to her earlier plea. I think that the full line might look like this:

“Something, something inside me has always been there. But now it’s awake, and I need help. I need someone to show me my place in all this.”

What must be said, though, is that I don’t think they would mislead us to the extent of tricking us to believe that Kylo is extending his hand to Rey when he is actually offering it to someone else. This trailer, as far as I’m concerned, is about establishing the key relationships and conflicts of the film. And a thread running through it all is Rey’s desire for help with her nascent powers, and Luke’s bitter resistance to offering her this support. So you have a vulnerable young woman who is desperate for guidance and a sense of place and purpose. The trailer shows Luke refusing to offer her any of this - instead, Kylo steps in to fill the void and offers her understanding and support. The scene with Kylo is likely to be from later in the film, and it could either represent a real event or a vision.

#the last jedi #trailer talk #rey #kylo ren #star wars #breakdown #star wars: the last jedi #luke #luke skywalker #poe dameron #leia organa #finn

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storytaeme · 6 years

Text

my wish list – taegi

Taehyung received the perfect Christmas miracle when he won a giveaway from his favorite camboy, sugar_d, who was willing to fulfill his wish list.

taegi week 2017 – taehyung x yoongi

❅ Prompt: Wish List

❅ Elements: Smut | Camboy AU ↪ smut includes fingering, dildo, and camsex

❅ Word Count: 4,271 words

❅ A/N: Un-proofread lmao cause MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! it is still the 24th somewhere so i made it :’) anyway this is a quick smut, hope u like it!

Congratulations, kimchifriend! You have been selected as the winner of sugar_d’s holiday giveaway. Please respond promptly to this message if you are available next Thursday at 9PM KST for the appointment. Otherwise, I’ll be selecting a new winner. I hope you can make it, sugar!

Taehyung had never won a single thing in his entire life. All the shitty lotteries he’s joined in college, whether it be mini-mart scratch-offs or useful prizes during club events, all his raffle tickets seem to lead him to a dead end. Now, Taehyung might be a little reckless, but he only invested in things he truly, truly liked.

Like sugar_d’s regular show which costed him a good chunk of his paycheck but was worthwhile considering how relaxed he felt after every viewing. Sure, it included a fuck ton of wrist jerking on his side, but whatever it took to get him off, he would do it. Graduating college and being on a full-time job that paid generously yet took up a great portion of his daily life meant that he could barely find time to unwind and, you know, get his sex life back on track. Porn helped sometimes, but the huge dicks and forced moans had begun to wear out.

Hoseok was the one that led him to stumble upon this man’s show. It was sort of funny really. Taehyung had been cynical of the whole concept, had laughed at Hoseok for paying monthly to watch people get themselves off in front of a camera.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

While Hoseok subscribed to the standard plan of his favorite camgirl, Taehyung had unconsciously clicked the premium button in his moment of weakness with trembling knees. He hadn’t even considered dropping the subscription anytime soon.

So, every Wednesday after work and Sunday after doing the usual house chores, Taehyung would whip off his sweats, settle back comfortably on his bed, and prop open his laptop. Then he could beat himself off, slick sounds bouncing off the four walls without a care.

When sugar_d announced that he would be having a giveaway, Taehyung knew that the chances of him winning were slim to none. It was a charity thing—the more you donated to him, the higher the chances of winning. Taehyung had bought one balloon raffle on the site since he didn’t have the heart or rationality to purchase more. He had his own bills to pay after all. One balloon raffle against the millions of others. The odds smacked him in the face.

However, that was what startled him about the email. For so long, he stared at the words printed on the screen, scanning over every line and curve and wondering if this was some sort of prank. Did he really—

In his moment of crisis of deciding whether he should reply and risk his dignity, another message popped up.

sugar_d: hey there! i know the site sent you an automated message but figured i’d send you a personal one to wish you a congrats for winning my giveaway!

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Taehyung let out a holler which prompted Jeongguk just a few feet away from him to jump. “Fuck, Guk, I won something. I actually won something!”

“Uh, congrats?” Jeongguk looked at him, puzzled, and returned to his game.

With trembling, excited fingers, he typed in his response, mouthing the words to himself to make sure that it sounded right.

kimchifriend: hOLY SHIT!!!! thank you so much??? i’ve never won anything in my life but this is like the goddamn lottery ty @Jesus

The typing bubble appeared for a little while, disappearing, then reappearing. Taehyung wondered if that had been too much of a response for something as small as a camboy private show giveaway. While waiting, he quickly clicked the confirm button to accept his gift and the notification celebrated his win with confetti on his screen.

sugar_d: pffft, sorry, i was laughing too hard to type. but i’m glad you think so! i see that you’ve confirmed. i’ll send you a list of things i won’t do, and so please don’t request any of those. if you want me to prepare things ahead of time, do send me your list! it’ll be a two-hour long show so buckle up, big boy

Taehyung was going to nut so good.

When the day arrived, he had managed to kick Jeongguk out of the apartment for a good two hours so he could comfortably relax without the risk of Jeongguk walking in on him with his meat in his hand. Not that they hadn’t seen each other’s dicks before, it just seemed safer to avoid any strange possibility of sexual tension between roommates.

sugar_d, who usually went by Suga, had given him a Skype account to add days ago, throwing in a kiss emoji that shot an arrow right through his poor, little heart. Taehyung had worked on adding him, but despite all that he knew about the science of the body and nature (biology major problems), he wasn’t the best at handling technology. Thus, when the time came that Suga called him on the program, he clicked the accept button and—

Holy fuck, his poor dick.

As requested, the guy was all dressed up in the prettiest babydoll that Taehyung had purchased for him. It was white to complement his milky skin with pink lace trimming. The skirt fell halfway down his thighs to continue to the stretch of his thin legs. He was kneeling on the bed, hands placed elegantly over his creamy thighs. His hair was a little messy, looked fucked out before they even began. His lips—fuck, they were glistening tantalizingly.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself, pushing his face closer to his screen as if he could get a better look that way.

The chuckle that followed from the man on the other side had Taehyung’s dick twitching. “Hello, baby.” Taehyung wanted to cry. “I thought you wanted to be anonymous, but you’re pretty cute.”

His brows knitted in confusion at that until he searched the screen to find his face in a small corner of it. Oh shit, he forgot to turn off the camera. Taehyung fumbled around, flushing in embarrassment, “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to be a weirdo or anything, I know you don’t want to see faces. I’m new at this whole Skype thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Suga grinned, gummy teeth and crinkly eyes. Taehyung was in love. “I don’t think I’d mind watching you, if you don’t mind that is. I’ve never seen people react live to my shows so it would be a nice change.”

“Y-you want me to keep my cam on?”

Suga smiled, winking, “Only if you want to, baby.”

God, yeah, he definitely wanted to. A small part of him called him pathetic for imagining Suga to be some sort of boyfriend material that he was having camsex with. So sue him, he could let his imagination live if he wanted to. “Yeah,” Taehyung licked his lips, “but I can’t guarantee I won’t have, uh, a reaction.”

“Is it bad that I kind of want to see you play with yourself?” Suga’s pearly whites caught his bottom teeth, eyes looking up softly at the screen.

Taehyung felt all the blood rush south to press his hardening dick against the seam of his sweats. He wished he had put on something more attractive but he had on a ratty university tshirt and a pair of worn-out sweats. He hadn’t been expecting to be putting on a show for Suga in the first place. “I’m—shit, I’m really hard right now just from hearing you talk.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Suga laughed, “so just to confirm your small list here, which by the way, I was expecting to be longer and more extreme.” He dangled a sheet of paper in front of the camera that printed down everything Taehyung had asked for. Taehyung hadn’t gotten the chance to get down and dirty with anyone with full-blown kinks so he wasn’t quite sure what to throw into the list. “I’m kind of grateful you kept it simple.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting to win so I just… didn’t think this thoroughly.”

Suga grinned again, leaning forward to give a close up of his pretty face. God, Taehyung was so, so in love. “Don’t worry, baby, your list is perfect. It’s everything I can do so I can make sure that I give you the perfect show.”

“I think anything you decide to do will be perfect,” Taehyung blurted out then proceeded to blush. Why was he trying to do smooth pick up lines? Taehyung wasn’t smooth pick up lines. He was smooth and suave hidden in a full package of awkward and clumsy.

The man paused on screen, his face flattening to an expression akin to surprise. “That’s cute,” he finally said, amusement lacing his voice. “So, baby, are you going to play with me?”

Taehyung swallowed thickly and ignored the sudden throbbing in his pants. “C-can I?”

“Mhm,” Suga hummed and began to tease the thin strap of his little dress. “Show me what you got.” Taehyung inhaled sharply and nodded, pushing his laptop back a little and pulling down his pants. When Suga laughed, he looked up in alarm. “You’re not much of a tease, are you?”

“No, sorry,” he laughed, “more of a direct kill kind of guy.”

Suga grins, letting the straps drape around his arms. “I like it, it’s refreshing. Now come up, baby, let me see your cock.”

Taehyung nodded and sat back against the pillows, laptop in between his legs so his cock could be seen.

“Wow,” he let out a whistle, lips curling into a slow lazy smirk. “You’re so hung, God, bet you’d fill me up so good. Your cock is so thick.” The man licked his lips, which in turn had Taehyung squeezing his shaft to stop himself from jerking it hard and fast.

“Y-you think so?”

“One of the thickest I’ve seen, baby,” Suga drawls, slowly hiking the skirt up his thighs. Taehyung’s lips parted as his eyes focused on the tantalizing skin being exposed bit by bit. It was almost hypnotizing the way his small fingers drew the fabric upwards, higher and higher until Taehyung could see the hint of another layer of clothing covering his privates.

Taehyung wished that he could be there, catch that fabric between his teeth and tug it up himself. It was a tempting offer and Suga seemed very keen after seeing his dick—but then again, that was the way he worked. He teased, pulled and pushed, until all his viewers were tossing online money in his direction. Suga was one of the big pullers in the site, raking in thousands with one go that allowed him to purchase more toys and lingerie to please his audience. Other times, he survived on donations for pretty things that he could use during the show, like roleplay outfits and pretty panties.

He was the best crowd pleaser.

Even then as he let the hem fall over his thighs again, all Taehyung could do was miserably throw his head back and let out a pained moan. Suga giggled, a cute lilted tease, “Don’t you make the sexiest sound? You sound like this every time you get hot and bothered, baby?”

“Mmph,” Taehyung whined, “yeah, always like this.”

“Why don’t you boss me around? You know I like a man with authority.” Suga bit his plump bottom lip and coyly twirled his finger around the string of his dress. This was what Taehyung had placed on his list. Fuck.

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers tightening around his dick, “Slip that thing off, doll. Take it off for me.”

Suga nodded and tugged the thin silk up. It looked so smooth and neat, sliding up his skin all too easily before finally lifting up to his stomach. His stomach was soft and pudgy, a cute thing that added to his innocence. However, that certainly wasn’t the aspect of him that caught Taehyung’s eye. His cock, hard and leaking, was peeking off the top of his panties. A pair of cotton white ones.

Holy shit. Taehyung could practically feel his eyes roll back as he uncapped his lube and drizzled it all over his cock.

“Sorry, baby,” Suga said, looking far from apologetic, “I played with myself a little earlier. Got myself a little messy.” As if to make his point, he pressed his index finger against the tip of his cock and raised it up, letting a string of precum that connected his digit to his length stretch. Even in the shitty connection, Taehyung could see the line. His lips parted almost instinctively, tongue practically salivating for it.

“I-I can help you with that,” Taehyung gulped, eyes still glued on how fucking fantastic Suga looked with with the panties pressing his cock up against his stomach. It was such a pretty little thing. Although he had never seen the man live, Suga’s cock looked much, much smaller compared to Taehyung’s. Not that it was a bad thing. Taehyung most definitely could work with it and might even have a thing for smaller cocks. There was something almost endearing, almost taboo about the size that had his mouth watering and throat drying.

The man looked up at him from his lashes as he nudged his hips forward a little. The action creating a friction that dragged his panties back slightly, tightening it around his hips. Fuck, what a sight. “Yeah? You think so, baby?”

“Yeah, sugar, I can try,” Taehyung rasped, gritting his teeth as he worked his cock slower. He couldn’t go too fast. If he came quickly, it would be so, so embarrassing. “How about you turn around and pull those panties up more, hm? Want to see it in your ass, doll.”

Suga squirmed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Turning around, he slowly bent over, taking his time to allow Taehyung the opportunity to appreciate that unblemished ass. Christ, if he were there, he would’ve wanted to imprint his handprint on that snowy skin, would’ve nibbled on the skin until the back of his thighs were littered with purples and blues. The pretty boy gave a small shudder when he tugged the fabric up between his cheeks, grazing it over his tight hole. He even went as far as to push it aside and give Taehyung a glimpse of that puckered opening.

Taehyung’s tongue absentmindedly poked out as if seeking out that opening. God, he wanted to eat that ass. “Y-you’re so gorgeous,” he stammered nervously, wrist still flicking to stroke his cock. “Get your lube, doll, I want to see you open yourself up for me. Can you do that?”

The man didn’t even blink before he quickly reached for his lube and drenched his fingers in it. He rubbed his fingers together before arching his back more, sticking his ass towards the screen. Fuck. Then his fingers ghosted over the entrance, his body shivering at the coolness of the gel as he teased the rim with a single finger. Taehyung moaned painfully and circled his fingers around his cock, stopping his level of libido that was climbing much too fast.

“D-do you think I’m pretty?” Suga asked, throwing a sultry, sweet look over his shoulder. It was both adorable and sexy, the combination lethal when Taehyung was already biting his knuckle to hold back his sounds of pleasure.

“You’re fucking beautiful, pretty,” Taehyung breathed, the oxygen barely making it into his lungs. The world seemed to crumble around him in this heavenly bliss when Suga finally pushed a finger in—one miserable finger. The hole tightened around his finger, sucking it in. Fuck, his ass must be so, so tight. Taehyung could imagine how his tongue would feel inside there. He could probably stroke every inch of his wall and swirl the muscle around and have the man writhing underneath him within minutes. It was torturous to see Suga dance a finger around the rim, dipping it every once in a while but never fully fingering himself. “Come on, doll, don’t tease me like this,” Taehyung protested weakly.

He’d be lying if it wasn’t doing wonders to his dick. Suga finally showed some semblance of mercy when he slipped a finger in and then added another. The blonde pressed his face deeper into the sheets, letting out a curse when he started to slide his digits in and out. Taehyung wished he could record this moment, how fucking incredible he looked. His fingers seemed to be swallowed in, vacuumed into the thick skin. It wasn’t long before Suga was shuddering, fingers stuttering in his ass. Taehyung watched him curl his fingers inside of himself, the tips of his fingers scraping his insides.

“Fuck, fuck, you look so good like that, sugar,” Taehyung choked, eyes slamming shut as he pushed away the urge to fucking come. He wasn’t even halfway done and Taehyung was already on the edge. “B-but I don’t want to come like this. Turn around for me again, on your knees.”

Suga whimpered but did as was told. And—fuck, Taehyung didn’t think it could get any better. However, the contrast between the purity of the pair of panties against the tip of his reddened cock, dripping with come rolling down and staining his underwear, might just be the death of him. What a wonderful death that would be.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung clenched his jaw, “how are you so beautiful, doll? God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ sexy and sweet. Whoever’s fucking you must be having the time of their life. Bet they get to enjoy that tight ass whenever they want.”

“N-nobody—” Suga’s breath hitched “—nobody’s fucking me right now. I just play with myself, it gets a little lonely.”

Taehyung’s lip quivered. Christ, this man really was going to end him. “Nobody, doll? God, you’re so pretty you deserve to be fucked good every night.”

“Wish I had that,” Suga moaned.

“Bounce on your fingers for me, doll. Fuck yourself like how you’d imagine me fucking you,” Taehyung instructed in a grunt. Suga followed his orders religiously, lifting his body up and dropping back down. His lips parted every time he sank down on his fingers, the long digits slipping inside and generating electricity that coursed through him. Taehyung drank in the sight, memorized every inch of Suga’s smooth skin coated with a sheen layer of sweat that was barely visible in the camera. It was pretty nonetheless to see him glisten from time to time underneath the lights.

“Hnng, fuck that feels so good, so tight—aah, I c-can feel it,” Suga whined, finding the rhythm to his movements and exerting enough source to build up the bubbling pleasure inside of him. Taehyung himself could feel flame lick up his skin, setting his entire body alight with thrill at the sight of the pretty boy. “Fuck, w-want your cock inside me instead,” he groaned, head lolling back as he relished in the utter deliciousness of the sensations.

Taehyung cooed, pupils dilating as his gaze traced over the man’s lithe frame, “You’re so pretty, doll. Look at your cock dripping so wet for me, what a good boy.” Suga let out a small, satisfied whimper at that. “God, what a gorgeous thing you are. I bet you’re always like this, hm? Always so wet for any guy who gives you a little attention?”

Suga’s body tensed up and an apology was already hanging on the tip of his tongue but the man was already releasing a loud moan from his lips. Whines that had fire igniting in every inch of his body escaped his throat, had Taehyung shifting himself and fucking his hand faster.

“Y-you have your toy, sugar?” Taehyung choked, eyes still wide to take in every bit of Suga. “Do you have a cock there with you to fill you up?”

The boy nodded quietly, face scrunched up as if he was deeply hurt. Taehyung was on the same boat, he supposed. The incessant throbbing of his cock was beginning to hurt and all he wanted was that sweet release. But he wanted to make the most of his time with Suga while he could, even if that meant he had t to endure a major case of temporary blue balls.

When Suga finally pulled out the object, Taehyung could already feel the come rising in his dick. Holy shit. The thing was thick and tan, might even rival Taehyung’s. It was the perfect size and, without being instructed to do so, Suga stuck the silicone into his mouth.

“F-fuck,” Taehyung cursed under his breath, moving forward to get stare at Suga better as he took the toy deep into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip, he spat on it so he could move his fingers along the length. His eyes squeezed shut as he shoved it deep into his throat, nearly gagging on it. It really was such a pretty sight. Suga sucked on the thing like his entire life depended on it, taking almost the whole thing into his mouth and stroking the rest. Taehyung’s cock twitch with his imagining that it was his own length that Suga was swallowing. “Baby, please,” he begged pitifully, “please just—shit, just fuck it. I can’t—I don’t think I’ll last any longer.”

While before Taehyung felt in complete control of the situation, able to tell Suga exactly what he wanted, he was left a pleading mess in his hands at that moment. It was everything he could ever picture and more. He’s seen Suga take things into his mouth before—popsicles, lollipops, dildos, you name it—but it was different when he was doing it in a one-on-one show with a toy that looked almost identical to his dick. It was intimate, a private moment shared between the two. It really wasn’t fair to his dick nor his heart.

Suga, fortunately enough for the sake of his aching member, grinned wickedly and agreed. “How do you want me, baby?”

“On your back, lie on your back,” Taehyung panted desperately, twisting his fingers around his tender length. The friction provided some relief but it wasn’t enough, it really wasn’t. He wanted to see Suga come undone before him, needed it to reach the full extent of his climax.

The blonde laid down and slid his panties off, flicking them aside carelessly. Taehyung could only watch as he slowly pushed the toy inside of him. Every inch that fit into him provoked a whine or a squeak. He observed not so quietly as moans of his own tumbled from his lips. He jerked his cock, tugged it, squeezed it. Suga pushed the makeshift cock inside of him, nudging his hips so he could move it in tempo with his hand.

He kept fucking himself over and over, the cock had him whimpering on the bed, cock dripping a mess all over his sheets. Taehyung couldn’t breath, his breath choking up in his chest at the sight. His brain was going all haywire as he tried to control what remained of his self-restraint.

“Fuck, just like that, doll,” Taehyung grunted, thrusting his hips up. He could practically taste sex in the air, painting the picture of his cock sliding into the pretty boy in his mind. “Fuck yourself all good for me. Make yourself feel good. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, holy fuck.”

“Mm, hnnng, just like t-that,” Suga stammered to himself, pushing his body down against the dildo. “F-feels so good, wish it was actually you—shit, aaah—wish it was you fucking into me right now.”

“Me too, doll, me too,” Taehyung breathed, “fuck, I’m gonna come. M’gonna come so hard for you.”

Suga’s lips parted as he adjusted his position so he could see Taehyung. “Do it, baby, wanna see you spill all over your fingers. I want to see you—”

Before he could even finish, Taehyung was already pouring all over his hands, his wrists that had grown tired slowly doing to milk the last of his orgasm. It was a deliriously incredible high, a peak that had him muffling his groans into his voice. Taehyung let his head hit the back of his bed with a thump. “A-are you going to come with me, doll? Why don’t you do it? I-I wanna see you all over your hands, over your sheets, wanna know how fucking good it feels to get fucked like that.”

With a few more strokes, Suga was coming all over his stomach, panties still pushed aside and ripped at that point. It was a gorgeous sight and Taehyung swore that he could hear angels singing in the background.

“T-that was a good session,” Suga muttered afterwards, crinkling his nose as he wiped off the remnants of his desire from his body.

“Yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat. His hand was still sticky but he couldn’t be bothered to move to clean himself up. He was feeling thoroughly fucked out without even doing the fucking. “Happy holidays, I guess.”

Suga snorted, “Happy holidays.”

sugar_d: hey, I know this is kind of weird but you wanna do that again sometime? Free of charge

sugar_d: just that i had a good time last time

kimchifriend: um??? Dude yes???? I mean im gonna keep subscribing to ur shit but a private show with you im always down

sugar_d: great :)

sugar_d: the name’s yoongi btw

kimchifriend: nice to meet ya, im tae

#bts #taehyung #yoongi #taegi #taegi smut #bts smut #taegi scenarios #taegi fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #taegi17 #HAHAH I STILL HAVE TO WRITE VMIN BRB

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