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sunderedazem · 2 years

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Crescent Moon Rising - Surrender (WIP)

Okay! This is the full draft section from the Six Sentence Sunday Snippet that I posted earlier. It IS subject to revision, of course, but as for right now this is The Plan!

Context: Corrain is the only member of his crew that is trapped on board the Emperor's Fortress when the mission to Redeem the Emperor goes horribly wrong. He's taken prisoner, tortured, and when the Emperor's Child Force-brainfuckery fails, he's put under Castellan mind-control and given an implanted shock collar. He and Scourge escape a year and a half later by stealing an Imperial Shuttle - and the Emperor's Hand promptly put a Blacklist bounty on Corrain's head. Only, they don't want people to know their pet Jedi has gotten loose, so they falsify the mark. Astayr (BH, LS) takes it, chases them down to Nar Shaddaa - and Kessin (Smuggler, Neutral) is recruited to get them in contact with the Jedi and Republic. They end up meeting on Alderaan- and Corrain surrenders to the Republic by tossing Kira his lightsabers, and my Consular takes custody of him. (Five of my OCs are present at this exchange)

The glow of angry ruby plasma sizzled in the air, one of his lightsabers glowing in Kira’s hands, and suddenly cloying, choking anxiety clawed at the inside of his chest, nauseating guilt grinding his stomach into pulp as the dawning horror broke over her face. She stared wordlessly at the bled blade, and then, as Jun turned to her with a raised eyebrow, he saw the glitter of moisture on her eyelashes, visible even from meters away behind the transparisteel visor of the mask sitting heavy on his face, hiding his identity. At his side, Scourge stood silent, the Force an iron wall about him even as Corrain could feel power crackling through his entire body like poison, burning as it went, the numb fear-fury feeding its advance a knot of pain in his chest. Behind him somewhere, Kessin’s soft inhale of horror echoed the cracking facade his friend- former friend, former Padawan - wore across a trembling lower lip.

He wanted to comfort her, to tell her it was insignificant, an easily-fixable mistake. He wanted to yank his lightsabers back into his hands, draw them both, send the now-reddened lightsaber blades spinning into Scourge’s neck, just to be sure he couldn’t drag Corrain back to that hellhole Fortress and tear him apart again- just to be sure- He wanted to cry, to curl up in a dark corner somewhere and waste away. He wanted it all to disappear, the past year little more than a vivid nightmare, for him to awaken whole and free. He wanted to rage, to break things - fragments of his whole past - into pieces so small they could never all be collected. He wanted to take Vitiate and tear him apart, watch him choke on his own blood - he wanted the everpresent threat to his free will destroyed.

And yet- he knew this haunting rage would only upset Kira. It would upset T7, upset Doc and Kess and Kalvo maybe even Rusk, even if it was only because they knew a version of him that was kind and naive and committed to the Jedi over everything else, rather than this bitter, angry shell. And it paralyzed him, made him doubt himself, even as the familiar cold shadows of the Dark Side called to him, swelling through him like a flood through a funnel, feeding off the terror threatening to drown him. But there wasn’t any other choice for him, not anymore. Not after he’d let the spark in his heart explode into a storm of lightning, not after Vitiate had torn open his mind and dragged out the cruelty and darkness buried so deep within in him, not after he’d been stripped of everything that had made him who he was. Not after he’d been pressed into the mold of a Sith and come out a broken puppet with blood on its hands. Vitiate had to die for him to be free again, and for that he had to be strong. But even his Fall hadn’t freed him from the Emperor - it had only proved he was dangerous, that the darkness inside him needed to be choked off, strangled at its source. And yet - and yet he did not know if he could let go. If he could once again be the person that Master Orgus had trained.

Master Orgus.

He choked on his breath suddenly at the memory, emotion cresting high and tight against the back of his throat. His master, who had tried to protect him from beyond the grave. Who had asked Kaedan to look out for him, who had trained Bengal Morr, the only Jedi that had tried to rescue him. Orgus, who had died trying to shield him from Darth Angral. The man who had believed in him, so fiercely that his spirit followed him into the heart of the Sith Empire and reached for him there, even as he was lost in the dark, eyes glowing yellow. And now Kira, who was looking at the corrupted lightsabers in her hands like her world was falling apart. Kira, who’d defied the Emperor twice and won, who’d thrown away everything she’d known at ten years old. The Padawan he’d been so incredibly fortunate to help train, now a Knight, who had held him while he’d cried after Orgus had died. Kira, who’d stood at his side until he’d fallen to the Emperor’s lightning and ordered her to run. And Kalvonût - the Jedi who had been as his elder brother for so long, carefully helping him through the loss of Master Orgus, gentle even in the face of his grieving anger. The man who had nothing but kindness in his heart, even when the only words Corrain could muster were cruel or despairing. And Kessin, who had sent them stupid holomemes ever since their first meeting on Tython, who had come for him even when he was for all intents and purposes Sith, when they hated Sith more than anything else.

For them, he could try. He could try to be the person he once was, for their sake. He had to.

“...Kira?” he said, hating the uncertain tremor in his voice and the grating muffled sound that his mask overlaid on each word. She looked up from the lightsaber then, flicked the blade off and let the deep ruby beam of plasma disappear. Across the soft plain, Jun paused, and Master Kaedan cocked his head to the side, both visibly confused by his focus on the young Knight. But she just shook her head, hooking his surrendered lightsabers onto her belt, eyes still wet even as she laughed, voice thick with grief.

“...Did…did you do this? To my master’s lightsabers?” she whispered then, the dark azure of her gaze pinned to the eye plating of his mask. At his side, Scourge stood silent, true to his word that he would say nothing of Corrain’s choice, merely watching. The cold metal in the back of his neck burned, a reminder of the price of defiance. A price he’d pay over and over again, if it meant he could do something to undo what had been done to him.

“The Emperor did,” he answered, voice still tremulous and faint, and on his other side he could feel the waves of horror of Kessin’s dawning realization. “He broke the kyber crystals, bled them so I wouldn’t have anything left of who I once was. And then…he…he broke me too.”

It was now or never, and so he reached up, hooking gloved fingers under the lip of his mask and pressing the release catches. Cool Alderaanian air stung his burning gaze, chilling the dampness of tears on his cheeks into frost as the seal broke. Churning fear bubbled under his skin, the crackling draw of the Dark tugging at him. But- they deserved to know. Kira deserved to know. Satele too, and Kalvonût. And so, hands shaking, he pulled the helmet over his head, letting long white hair spill free, and dropped the mask onto the soft soil below his boots. Scourge clicked his tongue in mild disapproval, shaking his head irritably. But there was a certain begrudging admiration there too, deeply hidden in the dark burn of his presence in the Force.

“I suppose we never could snuff out that last little spark of light in you, Jedi, no matter how far you Fell,” the Sith scoffed, ignoring the sudden shock rippling off the Jedi across from them, and the mild surprise of the Mandalorian hunter watching them from the trees, horror mixed with relief and joy evident in their expressions. Kaedan in particular looked stricken, the ashes of his promise with Orgus blowing away in a cold Alderaanian breeze. And then Kira took a shaky step forward.

“Corrain?” she called, uncertainly, recoiling slightly when his gaze met hers, once-grey eyes poisoned with golden yellow. He flinched on instinct, tension pulling on his every muscle, cloying terror creeping up the back of his throat again. Since when had he flinched at shadows, and feared the Jedi?

“...I’m sorry I took so long, Kira,” he forced out, blood pounding in his ears. He blinked as the mountainous horizon blurred - another frigid arc curved down his cheek. Kira’s face was a sudden smudge, all the emotion currently pent up inside him finally starting to boil over, escaping. The frigid burn of the metal implants against his spine ached then, and he had to fight back a wave of raw dread, irrationally expecting pain to explode through his head and down his back, searing him from the inside out. The air felt thin suddenly, weak, like there wasn’t enough oxygen saturating the atmosphere. “I-I’m sorry…I c-couldn’t-”

The clack of heavy weaponry being put away suddenly echoed across the plain, the Republic soldiers - Deitente? Was that Havoc Squad? - all holstering their weapons at a gesture from their leader, her feline blue eyes bright with understanding, and then Kalvonût strode forward, raw compassion like a sun shining from behind his face, so bright he had to duck away. The Sith Jedi reached out slowly, movements deliberately lethargic as if to give him time to pull away, and as he set both hands on Corrain’s shoulders, gentle and grounding, a soft curtain of peace and stillness fell over the chaotic roaring in his ears. He choked on his own breath, the panic and grief and pain rising in his chest clashing with Kalvonût’s gentle aura, friction vibrating in the air between them. He could feel the sparks starting to form in his palms, shadows gathering to cool his blood.

“Kalvo- I-”

“It’s all right, Corrain,” he said gently, and after a few slow heartbeats Kalvonût gently pulled him in, wrapping both arms around him protectively. The shadows at his back wavered- dissipated- and then broke, and Kalvonût’s presence around him swept warmly into the void at his back. “Breathe. You’re alive. And you’re safe now.”

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Upon request, here is a rec list of BL fics with realistic, imperfect sex. These fics might include sex scenes that have real life occurrences like awkwardness, teasing, insecurities, arguing, tiredness, or the sex just not actually being that sexy. If you enjoy this rec list, please be sure to reblog this list to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Folded Up All Pretty (Fit Into You) | Explicit | 5655 words

“Missed me?” Harry laughs into his mouth, and it ought to be awkward with the way Louis’ tongue pushes at his teeth and the stretched out corners of his mouth, but really, it isn’t.

2) “Let Me Put On A Show For You, Daddy” | Explicit | 5812 words

Harry and Louis didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they adopted a kitten.

3) A Virgin To That Money | Explicit | 7366 words

AU. Harry and Louis are broke university students who hate each other and make a sex tape. (In which Louis gets fucked a lot, Harry can't find the camera, and the road to falling in love is different for everyone.)

4) Rated R | Explicit | 7635 words

Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry's family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues.

5) Keep These Memories For Ourselves | Explicit | 9593 words

Harry's a professional photographer and he can never keep his mind off of different ways he can take pictures of Louis. Louis can be a bit camera shy, but Harry finds a way to build up his confidence and get him to relax in front of the lens. Louis discovers just how much the camera loves him.

6) Gnossiene | Explicit | 11276 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis sets a challenge for himself; it gets a bit out of hand.

7) Let's Take the World By Storm | Not Rated | 14656 words

Harry lifts his head off Louis’ chest to look at Louis’ face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know, but our sex life feels a bit boring, ‘sall,” Louis says, completely avoiding eye contact. “Boring.” Harry says flatly. He doesn’t say anything more, and Louis looks up to see that Harry seems to be mulling it over. “Yeah, boring,“ Louis says, and keeps talking before Harry can pipe up. “I mean, think about it. We’ve been dating since X Factor, and now things are starting to drag a bit. We don’t even have the time for handjobs anymore, much less actual sex.”

8) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

Note: There are heavy mentions of BH.

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

9) A Grocery List Pinned In Blue | Not Rated | 19839 words

AU. after eight years, Louis finally has everything he's wanted. except for Harry.

10) Fumbling In The Dark | Explicit | 21599 words

Louis is straight, Harry is not. They still shag a lot.

11) Let Me Carry Your Weight | Explicit | 28633 words

Louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. On his journey to better himself, he meets Harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

12) So Much We Didn’t Say | Mature | 53584 words

Harry’s near fatal accident exposed the cracks in his and Louis’ eleven year marriage. A serious error in judgement by Louis shattered it completely.

13) I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart) | Explicit | 55844 words

Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

14) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63000 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

15) Baby Heaven’s In Your Eyes | Explicit | 120878 words

They couldn’t be more different if they tried. Louis Tomlinson is 17 years old and in his last year of the most prestigious private school in Doncaster. If there’s one thing that completely annoys him, it’s that there is a poor community college right across the street.

Harry Styles is 19 years old, and (once again) in his last year of college. He goes to community college in Doncaster. He never shows up to classes and if he actually bothers to, he’s either high or drunk; sometimes both. His skin is littered with tattoos and if there’s one thing he absolutely hates, it’s the snobby students attending the private school right across from his.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#blp #fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #realistic sex

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the-knife-consumer · 2 years

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Hhhmg Villainous hcs!!

starting with Demencia bc i love her smmmm 🦎

Super online all the time. Leet speak. Emoticons. Rawrs and X3 s.

Beats the hell out of Flug on Smash Bros. Or any other video game. She mains Greninja khchkkhh

Feels lonely and doesn't know where to direct it or how to ease it so she tries as hard as she fucking can to have a crush on Black Hat.

cupioromantic, ace :))

100% a scalie

She/it

Was busted for petty theft, graffiti, and nearly mauling people when she was 19. After escaping prison with the blood of several guards on her hands, knowing that she could never live peacefully again and would be hunted for the rest of her life, Black Hat approached her with a job offer.

Hair is naturally a dark green. She dyes it neon, and it grows incredibly fast (if it was cut down to a pixie cut, she'd have it back to full length in about a week)

Her hair, even though it has no nerve endings, still causes her pain if its crushed/chopped off (what with it functioning as an extra limb)

Buff but not from lifting weights. She'll pick up 5.0.5. And tote him around. Take bear to go get ice cream 🥺 breaking out of straight jackets probably added to it as well.

GOES BONKERS OVER JET SET RADIO

Giant gir plushie. Insert your text here. (A TON of gir merch. Shirts, keychains, pins, etc. She has never watched iz)

Peeling apart those sour belt candies and putting them in a bowl filled with monster

Do not do this.

YEEPERS NOT EVEN TWO CHARACTERS IN THIS IS LONG

The rest under cut :3

Flug ✈️

Has absolutely lost his shit at Bh for tormenting 505 before. Busts into the office and makes bh remember what it was like to be in hell.

Struggles with being in the air after crashing as a pilot for a high class airline (had a passion for science, but it was interrupted by piloting) He was the only one who survived. Approached by Black Hat with a job offer shortly after.

Because of this, flying to missions puts him on edge and he's quicker to lose his temper. 5.0.5. Is good at calming him down most of the time

Despite his past he loves building model planes and still studies aviation.

Would draw what i think he looks like w/o his bag but. Eghh i'll do it later

Had a parakeet named Cloudy. Demencia ate it.

He/him

He has extremely strong prescription lenses in his goggles. Mans blind.

Lets 505 doodle little flowers and hearts on his bag 😌

Yk how in the shorts,, the device that makes the most horrifying thing you can imagine,, and all he could manage was an oozing sandwich. And how the device that makes the most important to them thing was bh?? Yeah he's not really afraid of him anymore outside of having his bones snapped. Completely desensitized to the paranormal bc of the chaos he's constantly exposed to.

Just chairs moving and knives flying out of the knife block and glasses shattering and he's just. "damn i guess the boss is angry again" one day brushing off everything is gonna get him killed ngxngx

Marie squid sisters his beloved

Black Hat 🎩

Incredibly weak by demon standards. Very weak

Smooth like smooth shark. If you see them have scales no they dont

Smells strongly of almonds (haha get it bc cyanide smell like almouhng)

Eye covered by monocle just doesn't work. Used to be helped by it, but over time they went completely blind in that one

Speaking of. HATES eye contact. Part of the reason they're constantly scaring the shit out of people is to make sure they won't stare at them.

Fucking refuses to be shorter than other people. Will wear heels if necessary. Will turn into giant horrifying mass if necessary. Just hates being short (even though they are reasonably tall) , especially compared to lowly clients.

Commonly refers to themself as 'we'

Exiled from hell for fucking too hard (KHXGKCHKC but no, they were exiled because they were considered a disgrace)

They/he/she

Was mean to 505 a few times. Flug's wrath shocked them so much that they never got they courage to do so again.

Honestly enjoys being out of hell (aside from dealing with idiots). Scamming people is fun

Girl help i cant fucking swim

Wears hats to cover up the fact that their horns are just. Nubs. Not even slightly intimidating

Has paw pads but not exactly??? They aren't soft they're more like sandpaper. Designed for climbing/tearing up stuff

Gets up later than everyone else because they're cold blooded. They need to be near a heater or in the sun for a bit before they can actually start their day.

Can barely change color. Stays in the range of deep grey/purple though

Weehee this is what happens when im bored

Hope u enjoyed my babbling session ❤️

#knife's brain puke #villainous #demencia #dr flug #black hat villainous #violence cw #canon typical violence #dont really have any for 505. i mean not at the moment

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hyuukais · 3 years

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FOOL: They Winnin’

You’ve pretty much shared your life with Beomgyu. Best friends since you met as kids, you now manage the school’s boys volleyball team to support him as he plays. Though it seems you’ve fallen quite hard for the team captain, Choi Soobin, Beomgyu can’t help but fall for you. Or in which Beomgyu continues to chase after his childhood crush.

Word Count: 865

Warnings: Author has a swearing problem so please be wary of language.

Masterlist

Previous - Next

Loud yells echoed through the gym. Whether they came from the court or the stands was hard to distinguish. The sounds of heavy panting and smacks of the ball were a lot easier to tell.

It was the final set of their game against SM. Everything had come down to a tie at the moment and it was obvious how hard the teams were working to change that in their favor. Taehyun shouted across the court to Heesung, who dove to receive the ball. It got tossed back to Yeonjun in front of the net. His hands flew into position as if to set, and his feet left the ground.

“BH had scores another point with a successful setter dump from #09, Choi Yeonjun.” The announcer spoke. You erupted in cheers from the sidelines.

‘One more point.’ seemed to be the collective thought; Whether good or bad for their team. Tension thickens in the air as the teams once again line up in formation on the court.

From the time the ball is up everything feels so slow. Huening is able to receive the serve. It bounces off his outstretched arms back over the net. For minutes the ball continues to fly from team to team; Quite mesmerizing how many twists and turns fuel each hit for the ball to ultimately end up back on their side of the net in two seconds.

Taehyun takes hold of the ball, sending it cross-court to Yeonjun. Once again Yeonjun stands in position to set, this time thrusting his hands backward with the ball in tow. Suddenly Soobin, Beomgyu, and Kai start forward ready to strike. The volleyball goes up; Anonymity follows as to where it will land, who it will go to, and if it will finally settle the score. Within the moment, each member jumps at their own pace when the ball comes, it lands upon Soobin’s palm. In a quick sweep of Bin’s arm, the loud slam against the squeaky gym floor sounded. The game was finally over.

The bleachers roared. Everything seemed frozen on the court when the team finally processed their win. Immediately Yeonjun screamed in triumph. He clumped the team together in his wide embrace, members off-court running in to join the mass. They jeered and celebrated loudly in the pure bliss of the win. Jungkook had run in happily to join and congratulate them. You decided to celebrate with them as well, jogging onto the court only to almost be tackled by Beomgyu.

“We did it!” He shouted, tightly gripping your shoulders. His face adorned by a smile radiating pure happiness.

“You did!”

Gyu’s hold on you moved, pulling your body flush against his in an even tighter hug. The sudden grasp winded your lungs. You couldn’t even return the hug because his arms trapped yours in the embrace and then he began to shake your body as though he was vibrating from excitement.

“No, you’re all sweaty! ” To the best of your restrained ability, you lightly smacked your hand against his thigh.

His hold seemed to tighten in relation “Too bad.”

♡ ♡ ♡

The bus rattled down the highway quietly, headlights tearing through the darkness. Most of the boys had already passed out from exertion, limbs falling all over each other in the rows. Hushed whispers filtered in and out of silence; Snores also appeared every once in a while. A few phone lights lit up from those that were still awake. You were one of them.

Beomgyu snoozed peacefully in his place cuddled against your neck. Cute little huffs left his mouth from time to time as he shifted around in the seat. Over the hour or so, your hand had gravitated into his, squeezing it unconsciously. Moonlight was flickering through the diminishing tree line casting a luster through the windows. It illuminated Beomgyu’s face in a pale, white glow. He seemed so calm, your hand gently graced his face. His cheek twitches at the touch; the top of his eye fluttered slightly but he didn’t wake. The sight sent shocks to your heart.

“What did do to deserve a crush as cute as you?” The sigh slipped through your lips as you twisted your neck to press a small kiss on Beomgyu’s forehead. “Especially one who likes me back.”

Suddenly, a sharp breathe sounded from your neck. Oh fuck. He was awake. He heard that fuck. I’m not prepared to tell him yet. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gyu wiggled around a bit before settling again. He was trying to play that off as him moving in his sleep, but you had spent enough time with this boy to tell. No way he wasn’t awake. No way he didn’t hear that.

“Hey, Gyu. You finally awake?”

His body tensed and stretched, still faking his awareness of the situation, yawning dramatically. “Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry about overtaking your shoulder.”

“No, no. It’s, uh, okay.” Your body couldn’t force itself to even face Beomgyu, instead, you were staring out into the black nothingness. We’re… about an hour out, if you wanna get more sleep.”

“Nah. I’m awake now. By the way, were you talking?”

“Uh… nope. Must’ve been a dream or something.”

“Yeah...must’ve.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Author: you know life’s bad when you have to search up ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to find a word to describe moonlight. Also, can you tell i have a slight obsession with cats yet?

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redhoodedwolf · 4 years

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Prompt: They both keep asking each other out but thinking the other one is rejecting them and lydia has to like banshee scream some sense into them or something

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Stiles scoffed, tossing the lacrosse ball back up towards the ceiling and catching it narrowly before it smacked him on the nose on the way down. “Not going on a date,” he said, somewhat bitterly. It’d been over three months since the last one of those and he’s starting to take it personally. Is he no longer attractive? Did moving in with his dad while he goes through surgery recovery really demote his worth?

Derek was quiet for a moment, probably engrossed in his bestiary research again. When Stiles turned onto his side on the bed and glanced at him, he caught Derek’s eyes flitting back down to the book. “I see,” the werewolf said a beat later, no emotion readable in his voice.

Stiles continued to stare at him, mostly unabashedly, noting how Derek’s fingers curled over one corner of the book, the shadows his dark eyelashes cast over his cheeks, his shoulders bare underneath a tight white tank top.

“I am starving,” John Stilinski complained, and Stiles had come to expect this complaint every evening after physical therapy, like clockwork.

Derek, his physical therapist, chuckled as he lowered Stiles’ father into the living room recliner, removing the crutches from his hands. “You did good work today, it’s to be expected.”

“What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Derek ignored the nickname, which Stiles knew five years ago would have garnered even his father the Hale Death Glare. “You’ve got good bones, Sheriff, and they’re healing nicely. In a couple weeks we’ll try to get you walking without the crutches--”

“As long as you continue doing your daily exercises,” Stiles finished Derek’s thought as he brought a healthy plate of fruits and vegetables out from the kitchen to settle onto the table next to his dad’s chair.

Derek nodded at him, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Stiles felt the words tumble out of his mouth, “We should go get dinner. Together,” he tacked on when he got control of his mouth again.

Maybe doing this in front of his immobile father wasn’t the best choice, but needs must?

Derek’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked away from Stiles over to his father and then back to Stiles. Derek cleared his throat, and cast his eyes downward. Stiles pursed his lips.

“We--You shouldn’t leave your dad. He’ll need the pork chops you’ve been defrosting for dinner tonight to help revive him.”

Stiles felt a frozen smile on his face and a similar coolness in his stomach. “Right. Forgot about those.”

Danny arched an eyebrow when Stiles slid onto a stool at the bar, and before Stiles could utter a greeting, asked, “Does Lydia know you’re here?”

Stiles blinked. “Um, no? She’s in Boston? Do I need her permission to drink? I’ll have what’s on tap.”

Danny’s eyebrow looked far more judgmental, but he moved to grab a mug for Stiles’ beer and filled it. “I ask because she’s been asking me to keep her up to date with your... shall we say movements here. I don’t think she expected you in a gay bar at night when you could be with someone else.”

Stiles scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “And who could that be, my dad?”

“Was thinking younger, more scruffy, more fangs,” Danny shot back with, and Stiles’ beer suddenly went down like lava, drying up his insides and instantly draining the life from him.

“No. No, that’s not...” Stiles shook his head, unable to finish.

Danny made a noise, and Stiles looked back up at him.

“Weird. Ran into someone at the grocery store last week, and all he, ehem, they, if we’re still pretending here, talked about was helping you, and why you were in town, and if I had seen you recently.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face. “He’s my dad’s PT, okay? I’m home for my dad. That’s what he cares about. He made that pretty clear.”

Danny refilled his mug without Stiles asking for it, and it made a dull clanking when the full drink hit the bartop. “You asked him out?”

Stiles took the mug into his hands and said nothing.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, I know how scarce FMLA time is, even for me, I have no idea how much they give you fancy FBI operatives--”

“They’re actually surprisingly good about it,” Stiles interrupted, a puff to his chest. “That, and they know if they ever want me back, which they do because they need me, then they’ll give me what I want.”

“You have such a confident attitude when it comes to your job,” Danny said, as if his statement had a double meaning. “Expect a call from Lydia tomorrow.”

Stiles was in his room the next morning, glad for his foresight the night before to not drink himself into a stupor he hadn’t found himself in since college, window open to let in the morning breeze and the sound of Derek’s voice as he stood on the front porch, talking into his phone.

Derek was early for his dad’s appointment, so Stiles had no qualms about making him wait. He wasn’t ready to face him yet, not without waking up a bit more and removing the images of dream-Derek from his brain.

“Look,” Derek said abruptly, and the sudden clarity of his voice caught Stiles’ attention. “I’ve already gotten a no, okay? I’m not such an asshole as to ask twice.”

Stiles couldn’t see him and didn’t want to move closer to the window, in case Derek heard or sensed him eavesdropping, so he moved about his room as naturally as possible, pulling off his sleep pants and dressing in fresh jeans.

“I don’t know what Danny told you, but--”

Stiles stubbed his toes on the leg of his bed, so he missed the rest of Derek’s sentence as he cursed up a storm mentally and shook out his foot to try and stop the sharp pain.

“We can’t all be special like you.”

Stiles collapsed onto the edge of his bed. He’d barely caught the words coming from Derek, they’d been spoken so gently. Stiles swallowed thickly. Who could Derek be talking to that garnered such respect and tenderness? Maybe Cora?

The doorbell rang downstairs, and his dad called, “Derek’s here!” from the kitchen, meaning “get the door for me I’m finishing up the last of my exercises that I promised I would do yesterday but never did.”

Stiles pulled on a shirt and raced down the stairs, opening the door for Derek in record time. “We should just get you a key to the house,” Stiles half-joked.

There was a look on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t read. He also couldn’t tell if it had to do with his phone conversation or seeing Stiles.

Derek glanced up behind him and said, “Your phone is--” he paused and shook his head. “Your dad in the living room?”

Stiles stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind them. “The kitchen, I think? I just woke up.”

Derek glanced at the hall clock that proclaimed it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. He licked his lips. “Long night?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Went out for drinks,” he answered a beat later, spotting his father in the kitchen, crutch under one arm and trying to bend to reach something in the fridge. “Dad, would you let me get it, please?”

“I would if my son didn’t come home in the early hours of the morning, thus sleeping past any kind of respectable time, to help me eat something before my PT appointment. Hello Derek,” his father greeted, smile on his face wavering before he asked, “Everything okay?”

Stiles turned to see Derek’s eyes on the floor as he nodded. “All good, Sheriff. Let’s get you squared away.”

Stiles used the appointment time as a reason to escape and get groceries. Halfway to the store, his phone sprang to live, vibrating up a storm in the cup holder. He let the call ring out, but then whoever it was called back immediately. With a sigh, Stiles pulled into the closest parking lot which happened to be for a bank and reached for his phone. He’d assumed it was work calling, but Lydia’s name was flashing on the screen, declaring several missed calls from earlier in the morning as well. He’d recalled Danny’s warning from the night (this morning?) before and groaned, loudly.

When the phone rang again, he picked up immediately. “Yes, strawberry goddess?”

“Are you with Derek?”

Stiles glanced in his rear-view mirror to double check (hey, it had happened before) and replied, “No, he’s at home working with Dad. Why?”

“Where are you?”

Stiles was starting to get a headache. “On my way to the store. Pulled into a parking lot because you called.”

“Good. Switch to FaceTime.”

Stiles knew it wasn’t a question. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, unenthused, until Lydia’s face appeared before him.

“So, what did Danny tell you?” Stiles asked, wanting to get this out of the way.

“Stiles, you look sad,” Lydia said with a “tsk” in her voice.

“Not exactly swimming in roses here in good ol’ BH, hon.”

Lydia smiled sympathetically. “You miss work?”

Stiles rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah? But this is way more important. And it’s been good family time. The SanFran branch is close but not close enough.”

Lydia nodded. “I know. But you should be making the most out of your time. Like not shooting yourself in the foot.”

Stiles squawked indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Danny told me, at least,” She flipped her hand back and forth, and Stiles noticed something gleaming on her fourth finger.

“Lydia, are you engaged?!” Stiles shrieked. Some lady coming out of the bank glared at him and clutched her purse tight to her chest. How dare she, he worked for the FBI.

Lydia huffed and examined her left hand. “Yes. All the more reason for you to stop shooting yourself in the foot so you can bring a date to my wedding. You’ll be my best man, of course.”

“Of-of course. I’m-I’d be honored. But, wait...” Stiles shook his head, reorganizing his thoughts. “I’m not shooting myself, I’m putting myself out there and getting rejected. I’m...getting shot at. Metaphorically.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if his connection froze or if Lydia was just holding the “Stiles is an idiot” look on her face.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, in warning.

“And he calls me special,” Lydia murmured under her breath, face finally breaking.

And that. That pinged a bell in Stiles’ brain. “You were the one on the phone with Derek earlier?”

“Yes, telling him about my upcoming nuptials and how I was hoping to use Hale land to have the ceremony and reception on. And about his choice in date.”

Stiles watched Lydia smirk, and it was still scary even pixelated. He tried to think back on the little he’d overheard from the call. But putting it into context didn’t make sense. Because then Derek would have been meaning that he’d asked someone on a date, and got turned down. Not impossible, but improbable, especially considering his character growth since Stiles was in high school.

A sick feeling settled into Stiles’ stomach when he remembered what else Derek had said. “Did... he asked out--”

“Yes, Stiles,” Lydia said with a relieved sigh.

“Danny,” Stiles choked out and slumped back in the seat. Of course.

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Lydia hissed, and Stiles slid his gaze back over to the phone to see Lydia practically seething. “I will scream. I am about to scream. Just go get your stupid groceries, go home, talk to Derek, and then call me.”

“So he can let me down a second time? No thanks,” Stiles grumbled, but she did have a point about the store.

“You are a disappointment,” Lydia said before abruptly ending the call, which stung a little, but Stiles knew she didn’t really mean it.

Derek was at his car door when he got home an hour after leaving and helped to bring the bags of groceries into the house. He even helped put them away in the kitchen, not uttering a word the entire time. It was weirding Stiles out, but not enough to tell him to stop. The job was done in more than half the time.

“Your dad is taking a shower. Don’t worry,” Derek added, when Stiles opened his mouth, “I’ve got ears on him. He’s perfectly steady, using the shower chair and everything. Just didn’t want another sponge bath from his son.”

Stiles scoffed, unable to look at Derek for more than a second without feeling jealous. “They aren’t a cake walk for me either.”

“I’m not dating Danny.”

Stiles stopped rolling the empty plastic bags into a large ball and tossed it onto the counter, wound-up bags spilling in random directions and expanding very slowly.

“I didn’t ask him out either. I wouldn’t--” Derek’s voice faltered, and Stiles look at him truly for the first time that day. Derek’s shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted. “I wouldn’t do that to you, unknowingly or knowingly.”

“Um.” Stiles was now feeling like the idiot Lydia looked at him like.

“Lydia texted me, said you thought I’d asked him out, but I didn’t, I barely see him, he’s only working here before he starts grad school--”

“I know,” Stiles said, needing to do something with his body before he went into a complete shock. He was lost, which didn’t happen much these days.

Derek didn’t look any happier; in fact he looked even more upset, though his emotions only played out in the crinkles on his face and the slope of his torso. “Of course, yeah, I mean you spent all night with him so...” Derek trailed off.

Stiles started to catch on. “Yeeeah,” he responded, slowly. “Because he was bartending at the bar I went to last night. Contractually obligated to stick around and make drinks.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “But then who did you meet for drinks?”

Stiles raised his hands up. “Nobody? I mean, there were others there, but it was a Wednesday night, dude, not exactly popping.”

“So you’re not dating Danny?”

Stiles scoffed. “No, Danny is out of my league and I am not his type.” He swallowed before adding, “You are, though.”

Derek nodded once, then again. “Oh. So it’s just me, then. I see.”

“That’s great. Wanna show me the picture?” Stiles asked, reaching out to settle a hand on Derek’s arm and squeezing the muscle. “I feel like we’re working with different cameras here.”

Derek’s eyes fell on Stiles’ touch of comfort, gaze trailing up his arm and finally landing on his face. “Lydia is getting married,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Stiles said, because it was good they agreed on something.

Derek stared at him, took a deep breath, and said, “And I want to date you.”

Stiles’ grip on Derek’s arm tightened. He forced back the stupid smile that wanted to overwhelm his face and said on an exhale, “What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind? I haven’t. I asked you on a date. You said you weren’t interested.”

Stiles pulled Derek a step closer to him, eyes wide and head shaking. “Uh, no, I would never do that, besides it was you who turned me down, remember?”

Derek took hold of Stiles’ wrist and pulled him even closer, their chests touching. “I think neither of us have been working with a full deck here.”

“You’re mixing metaphors now,” Stiles warned, and knew Derek could hear the way his heart was tripping over itself by the tightening of his grip.

“No, you used one metaphor, and then I used one. No mixing, yet,” Derek challenged, pale eyes flitting all over Stiles’ face before his gaze was landing below his nose.

“I think I am starting to get why Lydia wanted to scream in my face earlier,” Stiles murmured, lips close to brushing Derek’s as he rocked forward.

“I kind of want to scream now.”

Stiles and Derek jumped apart to see an amused and wet-haired Sheriff in the kitchen doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

“Dad, you are the worst,” Stiles declared.

His father gave him a look.

“Oh, go do your alphabet foot exercises,” Stiles shot back, snagging Derek’s wrist and pulling him past his father and into the hallway. “I’m going to ask a second time, Derek, and I know not taking no for an answer is so high-school-Stiles but I think this time I can make an exception.”

Derek was grinning at him, teeth on display, and Stiles tilted forward to kiss them, but realized halfway through the motion how weird that might be.

“Will you go on a date with me? And be my date to Lydia’s wedding, whenever that is?” Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. “Please don’t say no,” he whispered. “You are so my type.”

Derek raised his chin and kissed him, which was fantastic, but not an answer. Stiles moaned his disappointment into the kiss, but didn’t pull away because he was pretty sure Derek was more of an actions-guy anyway.

He was definitely good at the physicality part of physical therapy, Stiles could quickly attest to this.

#sterek #fic #eternalsterek #mine #anjalibutch

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unsteadygalaxy · 3 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 12

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

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12. give me a piece of your heart

A quick note: I have the Pathfinder's Quest book and I finished it today (Feb 2nd 2021)! It was mind-blowing and amazing and SO, SO GOOD. Unfortunately, this fic can no longer fit into canon because of what we find out about Bloodhound. Don't worry, I won't be spoiling! I had a story set up for them before I read the lore book, and that's the story I'll be sticking to. Maybe one day I'll write some canon things, but for now, this story is no longer canon-compliant. Part of me is sad to have all the answers, but hey! That's what makes canon-divergent fics so fun :)

Elliott practically flies down the street towards the Legends’ apartment complex, bursting with nervousness and energy as he goes. The torrential downpour of rain doesn’t even manage to dampen his mood; he’s got a heavy-duty umbrella and an upbeat attitude that could make the skies clear up in moments. Bloodhound’s proposition hangs in his head, and he clings to it with an embarrassing neediness. ‘Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening?’ they had asked, and he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. He feels like a dumbass for the way he had reacted- god, he was so lame. Falling over his words, making the simplest mistakes… What fourteen year old in the area had reached out and possessed him? Whoever it was, he’d have to have a strong talk with them later.

After arriving back to his apartment above the bar, he’d scrubbed himself clean and very meticulously arranged his hair. He’d eventually chosen a deep purple sweater over a light blue button down, a pair of his nicer dark jeans, a black belt, and sneakers to wear for the evening. He’d hemmed and hawed in front of the mirror for at least twenty minutes, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, second guessing each outfit choice he made until he settled. He had decided to keep the sleeves rolled up, but the easy confidence he usually has in himself has chosen to take a pointed leave of absence.

Elliott really does feel like a teenager obsessing over their first date all over again, but he has to remind himself it’s not a date, it’s just a talk. A nice evening in. A nice evening alone with Bloodhound. His cheeks blaze, and the enormity of his crush on them plummets onto his head all at once.

Ahh, shit.

He finally lets his thoughts race and wander while thinking about them. For the first time in days, he lets himself linger on his memories of their face, though the quick glimpse he had gotten had not left him with much to remember. Their gorgeous red hair, their piercing green eyes, the striking contours of their face… They are so beautiful, and he would do anything to see their face again.

A giddy smile crosses his face when he thinks of all the times they’ve touched him on the arm or on the shoulder, or held his hands so softly. They had exuded kindness and compassion in those moments, the genuineness of which Elliott has not truly felt in a while. Bloodhound’s quiet vulnerability in the bar the other night had struck him as both odd and humbling; their increasing trust in him is something he definitely doesn’t want to take for granted.

The complex comes into view and Elliott’s heart starts to pound harder in his chest. It takes a great deal of effort to not run all the way to their door… until he realizes he doesn’t know which floor is theirs, much less which door.

Bzzt! His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he jumps a little before retrieving it. A message from an unknown number is emblazoned across the lock screen:

Second floor, number 14.

-BH

Excitement and happiness surges through his veins, and he immediately saves their contact information. God, is he really that pumped about having their number? A big stupid smile stretches across his face, and he wants to smack himself. Chill, Elliott, chill. You’ve gotta get ahold of yourself before you get up there. He takes a deep breath and sends a quick reply to Bloodhound as he continues down the sidewalk, valiantly avoiding the puddles.

Nearly there! How’d you get my number?

A reply flashes through faster than he thought it would.

Renee owed me a favor. I hope it is all right that I asked her.

Oh, yeah, that’s fine! No problem :)

He has to physically restrain himself from adding a little heart; Renee or Octavio or Makoa were used to his nonsense, but he figures Bloodhound would only find it strange for him to be adding those things to his texts right off the bat. He’s busy smiling off into space when his phone vibrates again.

I am looking forward to seeing you.

Elliott’s heart practically explodes in his chest, and he steps right into a puddle.

------

Bloodhound can’t stay still.

Ever since those traitorous words had fallen from their mouth, they’d been on red alert, their brain and body a hopeless torrent of conflicting emotions that hadn’t quite settled. They think it’s fitting that it is raining; it seems the Allfather is showing his sympathies in the smallest of ways. The rain patters against the windows in a steady rhythm, and under any other circumstance it would have been very calming. They would have shed the mask and goggles and snuggled into the couch with a book and a cup of tea, but tonight, that isn’t an option. Instead, they’re wandering aimlessly around their apartment- cleaning corners that don’t really need to be cleaned, tending to Artur, and sipping at a glass of water every time they walk by the kitchen.

They’d hopped into the shower immediately after arriving home and cleaned every inch of their skin with an annoying attention to detail. Their anxiety had mounted in their chest until they had had to sit on the cold tiles of the shower with their head between their legs. Everything is going to be fine, they’d repeated to themself over and over again. Elliott would never hurt you.

The thought is ironic because of the stubborn headache at the base of their skull- Boone’s pain medicine had done little to abate the throbbing in their neck. As they think back on their day, they feel a surge of pride for Elliott. It seems that he is finally allowing himself to succeed, instead of limiting himself like he had before. He had truly surprised them today. Where they had once seen hesitation and worry, it had been replaced with deadly precision and focus, and Bloodhound would not change the outcome of the match even if they could. Elliott had been a wonderful sight to behold.

The frantic fear is nearly gone, but it lingers just enough to make them a little self-conscious. Opting not to wear their Games attire, they’ve picked a thick turtleneck, fitted cargo pants, woolen socks, and a slimmer pair of gloves that will hide their hands but not hinder any movement. The mask is laid on the table, ready to be put on at a moment’s notice. They’re already wearing the helmet, their goggles, and the leather cap. They’ve always hated having to pile wet hair under the hood, but their plans left them no choice. Bloodhound hasn’t cared much about their physical appearance in years, but for some reason, the idea of being alone with Elliott again makes them want to hide away in embarrassment.

An eager knock at the door startles Bloodhound, and they very nearly knock over their glass.

Their heart starts pumping in their chest, and their fingers fumble a little as they clip the respirator to the cap. Immediately, their breathing comes easier, and they scold themself for going so long without it this evening. Bloodhound makes their way to the door and opens it, revealing an absolutely drenched Elliott holding a broken umbrella in one hand and a pair of sopping wet sneakers in the other.

“Hey! I, uh, definitely stepped in a ton of puddles on the way here. I usually watch where I’m going but these ones were sac- ski- scattered everywhere, so I couldn’t see them at all, and then of course the wind picked up and shredded my umbrella, so I’m totally soaked.” He shrugs helplessly and shakes the bent umbrella off a little, showering Bloodhound’s feet with droplets of water. “Ah, shit. Sorry!”

They shake their head at him and sigh, and a shiver goes through their body as they think about being drenched in this weather. “It is of no consequence, Elliott, I can very easily change socks. Please, come in,” they say, and they lead him into their apartment.

They try not to look at him as he takes in their apartment, suddenly insecure about how simple and bare it looks. The apartment had come furnished, but it is not quite to their tastes. Bloodhound prefers a more homey and warm feel, not the modern, sleek look that is so popular these days. The windows in the living room are quite large. Bloodhound had had a tinted effect added to them immediately- for their anonymity and so the light coming in would not be quite so harsh on their sensitive eyes. The furnishings are a combination of aesthetically pleasing colors and fabrics, all tones of white or grey or brown. A couple of plush blankets are draped over the back of the couch, and minimalistic frames are hung on the walls, great white voids containing typeface quotes and old cliches. The fireplace is an inordinate monolith of dark stone, and if Bloodhound had thought of it, they would have started a fire to make it seem less dull and boring. The thought occurs to them that they should have made this place more welcoming, but they are not vain enough to care in the long run. After all, will Elliott even want to return after he receives the answers to his questions? Bloodhound thinks not.

“Wow,” Elliott remarks, leaning his umbrella against the wall by the door. “It’s so clean.” He strips off his socks and rolls up his pants a little so the soggy ends aren’t rubbing around his ankles. The cuffs fit tightly around his very sculpted calves, and Bloodhound blushes before looking away pointedly.

“This space is not to my tastes,” they reply, watching him walk around. “My real home is much more notalegt- cozy- and warm. Not cold and unfeeling like this place is.”

“Your real home?” he asks, glancing at them. “You don’t live in the Legends complexes full time?”

“I stay in the buildings during the on season, but during the off season, I retreat to a modest cabin in the woods,” they explain, and they realize they’ve made their first confession of the night. That... wasn’t so bad. “There are bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a large fireplace, plenty of furs to keep warm, and a view that would take your breath away. I quite enjoy it.”

“That sounds amazing,” he grins. That smile… Bloodhound has to take a deep breath.

“Maybe I will show you one day,” they say, surprising themself with how easily they offer. “It is a beautiful place, and I think you would like it.”

“Really?” he asks, surprised. “You’d, uh… you’d let me go with you?”

“Perhaps,” they murmur, and their heart starts to beat hard in their chest again. They notice he’s still carrying his wet shoes and socks, and they move to take them from him. “Here. Let me start a fire. Your shoes and socks will be dry in no time.”

“Oh, thank you!” he replies cheerily, and the smile he gives them makes their heart skip a beat. They take the soggy items from him, cringing a bit at the questionable texture, and set them on the mantle for a moment. Overly aware of how closely he’s watching them, they kneel down, turn the gas knob, and light the fire quickly. In moments, a rosy glow emanates from the fireplace and Bloodhound pulls the screens over to eliminate any chance of Elliott’s things going up in flames. They reach up and place the shoes and socks on a small rack in front of the fire, and then they stand and retreat to their room for a moment.

Before long, they return to the living room wearing a fresh pair of socks and carrying a pair for Elliott. “Here,” they say, holding them out to him. “So your feet are not cold. It can be drafty in here when it rains.”

A pink tinge comes to his cheeks, and he accepts them hesitantly. “You’re way too nice,” he grumbles quietly as he sinks down onto the couch. He puts them on and then pushes his floppy wet hair out of his face. “Hey, can I borrow your hair dryer?” he asks, giving them a questioning glance.

“I… do not own one,” they reply, face burning. “Mine gave out a few weeks ago and I have not yet had time to buy another.”

To their surprise, he grins widely and looks away, suddenly very focused on the fire. “That’s all right,” he says, and his voice is curiously flustered. “I can just sit in front of the fireplace for a bit. You’re about to see the fluffiest hair the Outlands has to offer.” He laughs and rolls his eyes, raking his hands through his messy mop.

The thought of Elliott with an untamed mess of curly hair makes them smile like a lovesick teenager, and they’re so, so glad they’re still wearing the mask. “So your hair is not perfect all the time?” they tease, sitting down on the couch next to him. They leave a respectable distance between them, but the distance is smaller than it would have been two or three weeks ago. “Ah, so he does have a flaw. Artur, can you believe it?”

They look to Artur’s perch where the bird has been sleeping peacefully throughout all of this. The bird shakes his beak and gives a soft caw before shuffling along his branch, completely ignoring Bloodhound. They shake their head at him. Unhelpful creature, they think affectionately.

Elliott scoffs and says, “Psh, no! I’m absolutely fal- flo- fu- perfect. My hair just has a life of its own sometimes.” He flips his hair to the opposite side and gives Bloodhound a ridiculously goofy expression. It takes everything in them to not burst out laughing, and they would have given him a deadpan expression if they could.

“Like your aim with an R-99, then,” they reply, keeping their voice as even as possible.

His mouth drops open, but he’s smiling. “Wh-What? Was that a joke? Did you actually just tell a joke?” A huge, incredulous laugh escapes his throat and he grabs his chest, and Bloodhound almost loses it. “That’s a little unfair though, considering how I absolutely lasered you today.”

It’s Bloodhound’s turn to laugh, and their face hurts from how much they’ve smiled lately. “You are correct, Elliott,” they admit, holding their hands up in a placating gesture. “I was very impressed with your skill this morning. Your precision and focus made you a formidable opponent, and I was honored to fight with you.”

Instead of the cocky, arrogant response they have come to expect from him, Elliott actually blushes. It is a welcome change; his cheeks turn a lovely shade of red and he looks away, biting his lip. “Thanks,” he says simply, and his voice is… bashful?

Bloodhound does not quite know what to make of that.

------

His face burns fiercely and he can’t meet their eyes. He loves getting praise from his fans and from his friends, but getting praised by Bloodhound somehow means so much more. Maybe it’s because they’re so skilled, or maybe it’s because he respects them the most out of any other Legend, but such high compliments coming from them renders him a little speechless.

“Hey, I know this is dumb since we’re paid to kill each other, but, um… Sorry about today,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Taking an entire clip of ammo to the head always gives you a nasty headache.”

Bloodhound huffs quietly, and Elliott takes that to be a soft laugh. “Do not worry, vinur minn. I am perfectly fine. It was simply the Allfather’s will for me to lose today, and I am not offended.”

Elliott lets out a small chuckle, relieved. “Well, that’s good to know. I was worried I might have broken your mask.”

They tap their mask firmly, and it makes a solid thunk sound. “You see? Perfectly fine,” they reply, and Elliott can hear the smile in their voice. “It is quite solid and substantial. Unlike much of your humor.”

Elliott stares at them open mouthed. “I’m wounded, Bloodhound, truly!” he rebutts, scandalized. He flops back against the couch dramatically, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead. Bloodhound, making multiple jokes in one night? The world must be ending, he thinks, and he doesn’t even care that the jokes are coming at his expense.

Bloodhound laughs, and God, he’s missed that sound. The gentle lilt, the soft breathiness of their voice… Elliott blushes even as he giggles, and he treasures the noise they’re making.

“I have been known to be humorous now and again,” they say, still chuckling.

Elliott can only smile and shake his head in wonder as the two of them laugh, and soon, he’s wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Wow. Okay, out of all the things I expected tonight it definitely wasn’t that.”

“And what have you expected for this evening, Elliott?” Bloodhound cocks their head and leans back into the couch, folding their arms.

A thrill of joy runs its course throughout his body when they say his name, and he finds it strange. Bloodhound has surely said his name hundreds of times, but this feels different. Elliott is sure he’s overthinking it, but the way they had said it feels like they were humming a song.

His entire body glows with warmth. “You promised me answers,” he says carefully as the giddiness starts to drain away. “You don’t have to go into specifics but… still, you promised answers.”

Bloodhound is silent for a moment, and their hands fidget lightly in their lap. Then they nod. “Yes. I do owe you answers, so please, ask whatever you would like.” Their voice is guarded and serious, and the shift in attitude is sobering.

Elliott notices how discomfort begins to creep into their posture, and so he resolves to not push them any further than they are willing to be pushed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the air hissing between his teeth as he leans back and begins to think. “Okay, um… Well, I was worried about your mask breaking because I don’t know how it works or how it helps. Can I ask why you need it?”

The question only makes Bloodhound’s body language tighten up more. They are silent for several long moments, seeming to ponder and consider his question. Was that too much right out of the gate? he thinks frantically, and he’s about to redact his question when they let out a big breath and begin to speak.

“When I was a child, I was… in an accident,” they say, but something about their admission feels shallow, as if they have more to tell. “No. I made a grave mistake.”

Elliott takes a deep breath and readjusts himself on the couch. He can tell this story will be a long one, and he intends to listen to every word.

“In my culture, young warriors must endure a rite of passage that shows our strength and our transition into adulthood,” Bloodhound explains. “My test was to slátra a prowler beast. I was afraid, but... I knew the Allfather would guide me.” They pause for a moment, and Elliott hangs on to their every word. “I followed its tracks to an abandoned IMC facility deep in the woods, but what I found there was far more hryllilegur. Horrible,” they add when Elliott raises an eyebrow.

“A jötunn had made its home there. It is a terrifying beast, all horns and teeth and claws. It is as large as some of the buildings in Slum Lakes, if you can recall. I began to run away, but I found a prototype Charge Rifle and shot the beast. I thought it was dead. I collected its horn to present to my uncle, but he was... disappointed in me.” They sigh deeply as dread begins to pool in Elliott’s stomach. “I had rejected the sacred laws of the Hunt by using a gun in order to defeat this beast. Artur was steadfast, immovable in his convictions, and no matter how hard I tried to convince him of my victory, he would not validate it.

“I left in anger. I was a child, only fourteen years old, but if the other village elders knew what I had done, they would have exiled me. I was... so ashamed.” Bloodhound swallows, and it sounds like it takes a lot of effort. “I retreated to the forest to be alone, as I often did, and… the jötunn was there. It was not dead, as I had hoped. It sought revenge.

“I tried my best to fight it off. My uncle was alerted to my cries, and came to help, along with many other villagers. They fought, and…” Their voice tightens, and Elliott’s heart breaks. “Many died. Including my uncle.”

Their voice has become achingly vulnerable and soft the longer they’ve spoken, and Elliott wants nothing more than to reach out and take their hands again. He shifts closer to them on the couch, closing the gap ever so slightly. His eyes stay glued to their mask, and the lenses of their goggles reflect the flickering light of the fireplace. He’s always found the mask to be either intimidating or expressionless, but Bloodhound’s sadness speaks for them, and the mask seems to be considerably more morose than usual.

“I sought the beast out,” they continue, and Elliott is surprised by how quietly angry and low their voice is. “It had returned to the abandoned facility. The halls had been equipped with coolant lines in case of an explosion or other emergency, and I broke them in order to immobilize the beast. But I breathed too much of it in, and… it dehydrated and froze my skin and lungs, leaving me scarred. Fortunately, I was able to find an oxygen mask just before I succumbed to the cold. Once the beast was frozen, I killed it with my uncle’s axe, fulfilling my test.”

Bloodhound is quiet for some time, and it takes Elliott a moment to realize they’re done talking. He knows he’s staring, and he knows he looks like he’s pitying them, and he fights to find an adequate response. “I’m so sorry, Bloodhound,” he murmurs, and he reaches out to them hesitantly. He takes their hands ever so softly, giving them every opportunity to pull away. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with such horrible things when you were younger. That sounds really tra- tor- traumatizing.” He’s struck by an incredible urge to pull them into his arms and hold them close, and a wave of embarrassment runs through his body as he presses that urge down.

Bloodhound’s hands begin to tremble in his, and he’s alerted to their discomfort immediately. Their breathing comes quicker and shallower even through the mask, and he holds onto them tighter. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, worried.

“I-” Their voice breaks and Elliott’s heart clenches in his chest. “I- I am sorry, Elliott, you do not want to see me like this-” Bloodhound makes an attempt to pull away and stand, but Elliott holds on tight, keeping them right where they are.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “It’s okay! It’s all right. I’m not bothered by you being emotional. It’s actually pretty refreshing, honestly. Makes you feel more normal, like the rest of us.”

They laugh weakly, and Elliott sighs in relief. “T-Thank you, vinur minn. I just- I am prone to anxiety attacks, and…” They suck in a huge lungful of air, but they’re still shaking. “That is why I left the other night. When you asked me about Artur, I was overcome and needed to leave as quickly as possible. Please do not take any offense- it was not your fault.”

Elliott’s chest fills with a strange sense of compassion and guilt, and he squeezes their hands comfortingly. “It’s okay, Bloodhound,” he reassures them. “I’m not mad. Just… worried.” The admission makes him feel exposed and overbearing all at once, and he really hopes he’s not making them uncomfortable.

An idea comes to his mind. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Breathe with me.”

Bloodhound stiffens, and Elliott hopes to God he hasn’t somehow offended them. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and after a moment, he hears Bloodhound inhale greatly as well. He finds himself rubbing his thumbs back and forth across their rough gloves, just like they had done to him a few nights ago. He lets the air calm him and settle his racing heart. He still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, or if he’s even doing this right, but to his delight, Bloodhound’s breathing begins to slow and even out. They gradually stop shaking, and he smiles.

Elliott opens his eyes. “Better?” he asks, and he gives their hands a quick squeeze.

They are quiet for a moment. “Nearly,” they murmur, and they pull their hands away. Elliott’s face falls, and rejection begins to rise in him, but they take off their gloves and reach for him once more. He eagerly closes the gap between his shaking fingers and theirs. The place where they make first contact with his skin- a small place near his thumb- tingles pleasantly, and the warmth of their hand settles in his. He inhales sharply, and beams as their fingers curl into his own.

“Better.” They are so quiet and soft as they speak, and Elliott almost misses what they say. “Your kindness is a blessing to me, kæri vinur. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, trying to find their eyes beyond the lenses of their goggles. Despite his happiness, he finds himself wishing that he could search their face for meaning, for emotion, for clarity. He knows why they need and wear the mask. He knows why he will likely never see their face again. But, damn, does he desperately want to gaze upon them just one more time. He doesn’t know what kæri vinur means, but he can’t help but notice the similarities between it and what they usually call him.

He doesn’t dare to hope it means anything.

...does he?

“Do you… do you want to talk about it, or…?” he trails, attempting to do what they had done a few nights ago.

“No, Elliott,” they reply, but their voice is not unkind. Their grip on his hands tightens for a moment, then they loosen, and it sends a thrill down Elliott’s spine. “Your help was more than enough to calm me.”

He adjusts himself on the couch, and his knee brushes against theirs. The only light in the room comes from the quietly crackling fire, and it highlights Bloodhound’s features with a silhouette of warmth. His heart starts to pound in his chest once more, and every sense heightens. Elliott suddenly becomes aware of how intimate and vulnerable this little bubble of space is, and his shoulders tense in anticipation of something he knows will never come. He wants to pull them close. He wants to lace his fingers in theirs. He wants to…

“Can I trust you, Elliott?”

They sound so… exposed. So afraid. His breath catches in his throat for a moment. “O-Of course, Bloodhound. You can trust me with anything,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs across their knuckles reassuringly. He’s surprised by how rough their hands are, and it’s only then that he remembers the silvery spider web scars stretching across their skin.

“Then… there is something I wish to share with you,” they reply, and their hands begin to tremble in his again. They let go of him, and to his utter shock, their hands go to their helmet, edging towards the many clasps that fasten it to their goggles and respirator.

“W-Wait, hold on,” he stutters, and he reaches for their hands again. “A-Are you- hey, you really don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, I mean- I mean, are you absolutely sure?” He stares at them in confusion and worry, and his stomach is an unintelligible knot of emotion. Elliott searches their mask and their body language, trying desperately to figure out what the hell they’re thinking.

“If I was not sure I would not be doing this,” they chide gently, and they remove their hands from his grip. “Please, just let me do this. Ég er svo- I am so tired of hiding.”

Elliott can’t argue with that.

“Okay,” he says, still very unsure. His hands fall back into his lap.

------

The child inside them shakes and trembles horribly as they raise their hands to their head. Part of them screams and begs for them to stop, and it’s only in this moment that they realize that part is the terrified twenty-five year old that had had their mask shattered in front of all those people so long ago. That crowd had been so cruel, but Elliott could never share their vitriol, their hatred. Bloodhound has seen into the man’s heart more than they ever thought they would, and no trace of cruelty exists inside him.

How long has it been since they willingly showed someone else their face? Five years? Ten? Ajay seeing them had been a complete and total accident- one that they had learned not to mind. Boone had grown up with them, of course, so he does not count. But Elliott… At the beginning of this night, they never would have dreamed of doing what they’re about to do. But Elliott is so kind, so thoughtful and accepting that their heart yearns for him greatly, and they can ignore that fact no longer.

Their fingers fumble with the straps of their helmet, but something drives them forward. It drives them to be vulnerable- to be open and take a risk. Elliott has seen their face already, so why are they so nervous? He has seen the scars they bear- why are they trembling like the young one they used to be? They do not know, but they hope that the price of them being so vulnerable is a price he’s willing to pay.

There is no turning back now, they think.

With trembling hands, they remove the helmet, cap, goggles, and finally, the mask.

#apex #apex legends #miragehound #mirage #bloodhound #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex #bloodhound apex legends #miragehound fanfiction #elliott witt #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #my writing

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nightfurmoon · 5 years

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HIGHLIGHTS OF THE VILLAINOUS LIVESTREAM

Sorry this one took longer, but I couldn’t watch it last night! This one is packed... And I really recommend you watch it yourself, it has hilarious moments and I can’t possibly get every little detail in this post

-Demencia considers 505 and Flug her weird family. If she actually has one or not, Alan can’t tell, they brainwashed him.

-Black Hat can enter the dream realm and give you nightmares or dreams, it depends on his opinion about you.

-Stephan does Flug’s handwriting because it’s horrible (like doctor’s handwriting)

-Penumbra thinking that Sunblast is the lightbulb is comedy/cartoon logic, but it is also because the Numbra sickness makes people a little blind due to their eyes being sensitive to the light.

-Flug does the grocery shopping

-Flug must do a list for everything he does or else he goes crazy. He’s super intelligent but can be silly with the little things, like Penumbra with the light bulb.

-Black Hat can feel discomfort and some sort of pain, especially when he sees 505, he feels dizzy and ill. He really doesn’t like the bear. Timestamp: 35:46

-Maybe in the future we’ll see Flug and Black Hat playing chess.

-You can… Have Black Hat’s spawn. Like with Aku, he puts his essence in a cup, you drink it and you can… Have his child. It’d apparently look like that blob of flesh Alan drew the other stream. It’d protect the mother too... Wow x’D Timestamp: 38:48

-When Black Hat is angry, he goes all monster-y and eats very messily. But when he’s not angry he eats like a fancy gentleman and is picky with the ingredients.

-Black Hat also helps heroes that turn into villains. He helps them erase their previous life and start anew. But if they try changing back to a hero, that’d break their contract and BH would kill them

-Nobody knows what makes Black Hat like you, but Demencia would probably be the first one to find out. Alan says that maybe the concept is explored in the future. Timestamp: 56:03

-From the beginning, Alan knew Flug needed something on his head. The first thing that he came up with was a paper bag, then he was like ‘nah that’s too silly’, but then he was like ‘no, it’s perfect because it’s ridiculous and Flug’s miserable, and what’s more embarrassing than wearing a paper bag on your head’. His actual face has already been sketched by Alan too.

-”I’ll make you feel one of the seven deadly sins…I’ll let you figure out which one it is~" – Black Hat flirting. Timestamp: 1:04:20. Everyone collectively lost it here.

-‘Is Black Hat the type to wed a grieving widow, transfer her fortune to himself and then make her vanish under mysterious circumstances?’ Alan: Probably. I can’t answer that. It’s not that I don’t know how many widows Black Hat has… It’s just that I can’t answer that question. Timestamp: 1:10:00

-At 1:38:20 Stephan starts reading scary stories from the book ‘scary stories to tell in the dark’. In Spanish though. He also reads them throughout the stream and sometimes translates them.

-Black Hat doesn’t hit Demencia like he does with Flug, because he has other ways to make her suffer. In all honestly, she’d probably enjoy getting beaten up by him so he’s clever fdgds

-Flug’s favorite color is yellow.

-Black Hat wouldn’t host any party in his manor unless he has to. They’d either be anniversary related or a sacrifice.

-Demencia’s pranks to 505 and Flug sometimes are deadly so Flug has to get smart to survive.

-Black Hat ASMR: ‘I’ll spill your guts on the floor.’ Timestamp: 2:57:34. I wish it was longer

-After Miguel comes back, they want to upgrade the stream set up to a more professional one

-Just watch 3:43:05 and 3:46:45. Just do it.

Here is the stream! I highly recommend that you watch it, it’s super entertaining and they’re SO funny

youtube

#villainous #livestream #black hat #villains #villanos #demencia #505 #flug #villainous livestream #ai animation studios #ai animation livestream #steven universe #because of the first drawing

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madalchcmist · 1 year

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@alchemic-elric asked: 🎁

Wrapped. | Accepting! | 88: Father’s Lament ; Poor Man’s Poison

“ They won’t tell you that I tried—I try every day of my life. ”

#goodbye Mr. A.{ic.}#when everything goes dark.{bh.}#the final say.{asks.}#alchemic-elric #//hOOOO this one's a heavy hitter #//and oddly appropriate . oof #but here was a man mourning tomorrow.{queue.}

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raayllum · 1 year

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i can’t remember if i talked about this in my bloodmoon huntress podcast ep and i know i at least wanted to make a proper post / meta about it one day (but it’s not in my tags so i must not have gotten around to it) but bloodmoon huntress really is brilliant from a stand alone character standpoint for just like, pre-series runaan, rayla, ethari but also

it’s even more brilliant because it explains and sets up everything in ways that feel solid and understandable and even a little bit righteous on behalf of runaan, of explaining and going in depth into his line of work / his duty and why rayla initially chose to go into it, too - because it’s surrounded by elves who all either think the same way or come around to it

and then s1-s4 of tdp spend a butt load of time completely dismantling all those beliefs / martyr complexes etc from the ground up till there’s basically nothing left

an assassin? believes themselves to be an honourable protector much the way viren does. they perpetuate the cycle in a similar manner to dark mages and fulfilling that duty would have led to ezran’s death. it’s a good thing to be able to be deterred. runaan’s missions will be unnecessary in a world at peace and greatly harm his loved ones and himself. self sacrifice is often detrimental. so can chasing duty at the cost of yourself when it goes too far. runaan was, by and large, wrong; wrong to take his path, ethari wrong to not dissuade him, rayla wrong to take it up. understandable, well meaning, even a little honourable in a culture embedded in war and the cycle - but fully and undeniably wrong with 1x03 being rayla’s watershed moment and 3x03 being another that the silvergrove’s flaws run much deeper than BH even initially acknowledges

more than a little tragic

and still ultimately incomplete

Rayla: But how can you forgive him for putting himself in such danger? How can you be okay with that?

Ethari: It hurts. Sometimes for much longer than I’d like. But there’s nothing to forgive him for. I’ve known since we met that this is Runaan’s calling, that nothing will deter him from fulfilling his duty. It is a necessary part of loving him — understanding his deep devotion to his people.

Ethari: Each time Runaan leaves, it is with the weight of knowing that he may not come back. That to fulfil his duty, he may need to sacrifice everything. Himself, and all that we have here.

now the arc development we’re waiting on this

and i can’t wait for the next few stages

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reflectionsofacreator · 4 years

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I am not shamed to admit that I actually almost teared up at this.

There’s something about the way Desmond speaks to the remnants of Subject Sixteen -- he’s so soft, and he’s so kind with how he speaks to Sixteen. It hurt me, and it’s so hard to say why.

Maybe it’s this idea of shared trauma, of empathy born of grim understanding, that surfaces when Desmond’s actually confronted with his predecessor of Abstergo’s horrible experiments. Maybe it’s the fact that Subject Sixteen is already dead, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing we can do for him-- we can’t save him, we can’t fix him. But he’s still here, somehow.

Maybe it’s how Desmond pleads for him to stay.

god I’m tearing up just trying to write this fuck me

Kinda got a little long, so under the cut it goes.

Sixteen gives some vague information to Desmond about how “she” is not who he thinks she is, and like. It’s very strange -- does he mean Lucy, for her supposed Templar allegiance? Does he mean Juno, who isn’t supposed to be trusted, because she eventually takes over Desmond’s body and kills Lucy? And why does he mention Eve, the woman who started the Rebellion against the Precursors? Why is her DNA important? Is Desmond related to her too?

The subtitles catch something that’s not immediately obvious too -- Sixteen says “The sun... your son...” and like. That’s extremely deliberate. I know that Desmond is stated to have a bastard kid in a comic, named Elijah, that Desmond is unaware of (born roughly 2 or so years after Desmond escaped the Farm/the Assassins). Is this a reference to that? I kinda doubt it, cause I think the comic was planned way later, but like. Hmmmmmmmm. Everything Sixteen says is just so strange, he’s chock full of information that it’s all bursting out at the seams, and you kinda wonder how he got all this information.

Sixteen has been an enigma for the entirety of ac2 and ac Brotherhood. He’s this mysterious person alluded to, that Desmond is warned against becoming, intentionally or otherwise. We have smatterings of Sixteen’s character through the Glyph puzzles of 2 and BH, hints and glimpses of who he is. And even back in ac1, you still saw hints of him! Each time Desmond went to sleep in the modern day, there was flashes of the symbols along the walls, that lasted only a few frames a second. At the end, Desmond realizes that his entire room has been covered in blood and symbols of the person that came before, and it sets up this looming question of just... who was this person. We as the player know so little about him, but he dangles information over our heads and guides us to the darker secrets of the world.

I’m kinda reminded of like... You know how in FFVII, where Cloud and the other characters are dragged after Sephiroth by bits and pieces of story, lore, plot, what have you, and it’s like you’re being tugged along to try and get to the bottom of it? And sometimes it’s scary, to see what this person you’re following has wrought, to see how they’ve affected the world, and you’re only seeing bits and pieces of it? That’s kinda how I feel about Sixteen. We’re dragged along in the wake of his secrets, his puzzles, and like... For as much information is revealed to us via his glyphs and rifts, you get this sense that you don’t know anything now. You’re aware of this larger conspiracy at play now, and you know just enough to be scared of how deep it goes, and the only one who has all the information is an insane remnant of a man who paid in blood to get you these messages.

And now Desmond is face to face with him, and Desmond doesn’t want him to go.

God that last line, just. Fucking wrecks me. “I am with you until the end. Find me in the darkness.” It’s so .. unexpectedly poetic, and it hit me where it hurts. The promise of Sixteen always being with Desmond, even through all of this bullshit, the like, intimacy of how it was said, when like... no one else can really understand what Desmond’s gone through, at all. Sure, Lucy’s been on the outside looking in, but Sixteen has been in Desmond’s shoes, so there’s this like, soul deep understanding, despite the fact that they barely know each other.

I know Sixteen plays a much larger part in Revelations, and like. By god that’s just gonna wreck me, isn’t it. Fuck.

#desmond miles #clay kaczmarek #subject sixteen #creator plays ac bh #forgive the talk about ffvii i just played the demo today and it's on my mind

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elaphaemourra · 3 years

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🖊 + Any of them ~

Hooooo this is a fckn, You Have Given Me Too Much Power. I have So Many Words.

Gonna be real tho, this is gonna be a Big Thing about Mita bc I have a fckn AU where he's the Outlander and I have some FEELINGS ABOUT THIS. Bc he's part of my main continuity as an adjacent player to the IA and BH storylines, sharing agent crew/other random shit with Phaeyla for the IA stuff (he got Vector and Scorpio, Phae got the rest) and serving as Another sidequest generator for Jeni in the BH line (I give Jeni so many nerds to keep track of whoops).

(THIS IS ALREADY LONG, AND I'M ABOUT 8 PARAGRAPHS IN, SO IT'S GETTING A READ MORE WHILE I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT IT)

Uh, TL;DR, Mita is handling being Commander about This Well:

OK SO in NORMAL canon he goes with Lana and Koth to go fetch the Outlander (who I decided is actually one of Zal's apprentices, a Voss named Thera-nal, until Zal fckn goes 'no fuck this. I have ghost experience. Gimme the emperor u don't have to deal with this urself' and steals Valk from her bc Good Inquisidad Takes On The Oof Ghost For His Kid) and then gets fckn Ditched on Zakuul. Like straight up that whole 'get the outlander on the ship, Vaylin is 3 meters away FUCK FUCK FUCK' thing, he pushes Thera-nal on and then the ship takes off. Without him. And he does a dive off the platform bc he's like 'nah' @ Vaylin and knows he can survive a Really Long Fall. It's all very dramatic, very ciffhangery. I'm still writing the next chapter beyond that in Left Behind.

He ends up fckn, roughing it on Zakuul, gets himself a sort-of job posing as an assassination droid in a gladiator ring (bc i'm a NERD for gladiator shit), grows up, gains some confidence. Knife baby gets a grow up and a glow up. It's awesome.

BUT. BUT I HAVE AN AU WHERE HE'S THE OUTLANDER. AND IT'S AN EXCELLENT EXAMPLE OF WHY HE SHOULD NEVER BE IN CHARGE OF ANYTHING EVER.

He and Lana don't like each other. It's a Thing. They can put their differences aside for the sake of Professionalism or when they give each other the 'r u seeing this shit' Look when someone else is being Stupid in both their opinions, but they don't like each other (this is true in the normal canon as well, they're very antagonistic to each other, it's a little silly how petty it is but it's Fun). Despite this, and their tendencies to piss each other off on purpose, Mita thinks she's the most tolerable of the initial Pile of People. The Conflict between Koth and Senya was A Lot for him to handle, and he doesn't do Leadership Positions very well. About an hour after they picked Senya up, he was already out of patience.

The constant arguing got to him SO FAST, it ran him out of patience and Fucks so quickly, he started getting real snippy. By the time they got to asylum he was throwing around threats to people who couldn't keep their Shit to themselves. He TRIED to do good things, to pull together enough patience and good will to be Benevolent in his actions, but as his patience fell apart, so did basically everything else good. Mita getting Tora was a whole Thing where he did the Nice Thing by making her apologize to Vik and when she talked back he turned around and drew a knife on her, told her to keep her mouth shut if she was going to complain because he WOULD kill her, and he DIDN'T need an engineer/mechanic THAT much. That he'd use her corpse as payment for the next batch of cargo, which, MITA. WHAT THE FUCK, MAN.

He started falling into MUCH older patterns of thinking, refusing to take any action that was Any risk to himself. It's a thought process he had before he got shoved full of implants, before he realized that he could be a Better Person and started being a rebellious little shit in Intelligence and taking risks that helped Other People instead of just being single-mindedly focused on his own self-preservation.

He's falling back into it, which is BRUTAL because he's making more and more devastating choices, and where he saved people by shutting down that reactor on the First blip of Zakuul, before he ran out of Patience and Fear, and he did Good Lightsided Things to Help People, he just went off with Kaliyo to blow the absolute shit out of that whole thing, and where he used to be like 'shit, we need to make things Better', now he's started talking about Vengeance. Which uh. Does me a Concern about Knife Baby.

Basically none of the advisors actually LIKE him. At best, Senya and him have a solid enough mutual understanding of Work Vs Free Time between them, but she's also Pissed that he keeps taking the Big Death Options and fucking over her citizens. Theron's basically constantly giving him the Pensive Side-Eye because of how consistently Freaky Mita has become. Their first interaction was Prickly at best, and Mita hasn't gained any more patience.

Ofc, Mita and Lana just Don't get along, but they at least vibe on the level of 'i am So Done with everyone here' and she's pulled him aside more than once to get him to cool off a little. Though mostly she pawned him off on HK, when the droid was still aroujd, so she's at least Done Something for his mental state, and he liked that droid enough for talking with him being Relaxing. Kind of.

He's a volatile Commander who Can and Will pull people who irritate him aside to threaten them with mortal or bodily harm, or yeet a datapad at the wall for that Big Sound, or just punch a wall while he's got gauntlets on, to get everyone to Shut Up and Pay Attention so he can yell at them for not keeping their Interpersonal Shit out of the war room and out of his presence. He's basically single-handedly driving the Alliance into the ground, driving it forwards through pure force of will and by making people scared enough to work together without Complaining, hoping that Arcann will give before he or the Alliance do.

He's refused every offer by Valkorion for Everything, and right now that's his saving grace.

Koth bounced, furious with Mita and Kaliyo's 'let's blow this bitch up' thing, and Mita's little circle of people he Actually Likes has uh, maybe Not the greatest influences among them. His inner circle is Kaliyo, Scorpio, Tora (which surprised me, but they are Remarkably chill with each other for people whose introduction was Humiliation and Death Threats, like, a 'they'd vibe and drink in a dark corner together' sort of deal), and Even More Surprising, Aric Jorgan.

Completely separate from the Alliance Advisory Squad, Jorgan seems to be REALLY good for Mita. He's just kinda, it's Working Out. Mita's doing Nicer Shit when Jorgan's around. I'm not sure if it's just, the lack of Shit-Stirrers, the comfort and familiarity of military company, Jorgan's 'ur not the boss of me' thing back in the swamps on Zakuul, or what. But Mita's doing Good Shit when that rad cat man's around. Hell, it might be that he just doesn't want to disappoint his new friend. But like, they're actually a STELLAR team friendship-wise. Mita's actually Relaxed enough to get shit done efficiently, do LIGHTSIDED SHIT, and he basically ONLY brings Jorgan when he goes raiding star fortresses. Kaliyo and Scorpio are higher up on Mita's 'would send out alone' list, but only because he worked with Kaliyo when he and Phaeyla got assigned to each other, and Scorpio was HIS team member.

Even with that though, Mita's reputation among Alliance personnel isn't a Kind one. He's terrifying, volatile and quick to snap at anyone and everyone who gets on his nerves. People avoid him in the halls unless they Absolutely Need Him, and there's ABSOLUTELY a network of people you can ask as a 'where's the Commander now' if you really need to spend the day Avoiding Him.

He's also leaned Heavily into the aesthetic of Big Scary. Dressed like a Sith all in black and white and grey (and a Republic insignia on his belt just for the added cognitive dissonance that gives him), with a Delightfully Menacing Helmet that makes him nigh unreadable. The voice modulation is something he Knows how to use to make himself more intimidating, and he knows how to hold himself to make Pointed Silence into something that can cause fear. He really leaned into that 'scaring people into working for you' thing, which isn't sustainable, and he KNOWS it isn't, but he's hoping to get shit done fast enough that it won't MATTER how unsustainable that type of leadership is.

He's Stressed and Tired and Angry, and he's going down a deep dark hole. He needs to be fckn, sat down and Confronted about where he's going because he MADE that choice to be better, on BALMORRA. It cost him his free will, his autonomy, and his identity. He was PHYSICALLY unable to say his own name without his upper body motor function locking up, for a long time, because it was part of the programming of his implants. He gave Everything up to be Better, and it took so much to get those things back, and now he's squandering it all by falling back into who he used to be.

He needs some Time to Chill The Fuck Out, an Intervention for what he's doing with himself, and a goddam nap.

Knife Baby is Stressed Out. He's the Team Medic. He was never designed to be In Charge, and it took its toll Very Quickly, and it's devolved into something Brutal and Unsustainable. Which is why this is an AU, and why my Canon Commander for the timeline is Zal.

Zal's a good leader, good under pressure, patient and fair almost to a fault, and a good person.

Mita can't handle the strain, and he KNOWS it. But he's doing it anyways, and will drag the people around him down with him if it means he'll win in the end. And in the mean time, he's frustrated, volatile, and Not Very Fun To Be Around.

#ela's asks #ela babbles #mita #outlander mita #swtor #swtor kotfe #Mita Lore #Outlander Mita Lore #ela does an ask meme #WELCOME TO THIS #AN UNHOLY AMOUNT OF PARAGRAPHS #you unleashed the fuckin kraken my friend #g o o d l u c k

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of October. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) You Control Me (Even If Its Just Tonight) | Explicit | 1591 words

Louis rides Harry and thinks he's in control.

2) Save a Horse | Explicit | 2400 words

Louis goes to a rodeo with Liam, and gets a lot more than he bargained for. Featuring bull rider Harry, obnoxious t-shirts, and one hell of a night.

3) El Comienzo De Una Vida | Teen & Up | 2779 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This fic is the second part of a series.

After being bartered to Harry to save his kingdom, Louis is on his way to the Alpha's homeland and he would very much like him to stop being so cautious and just kiss him, god damn it!

4) A Treat For You And A Treat For Me | Explicit | 3416 words

Louis blushed at Harry’s flirty tone. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.” He giggled, half joking. “But thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Not just to get in your pants, baby. I’m being honest. You’re always cute. Are you wearing mascara?” He asked, licking over his lips. Louis in makeup always did something to Harry. He loved it.

Louis nodded, leaning forward. “I am. Do you like it? I’m also wearing some cute Halloween panties under my costume.. if you wanna see them later?” He murmured, letting his lips touch Harry’s lightly before pulling away, a tiny smile on his lips.

Harry’s mouth opened a bit, but no words came out. Instead Louis was lifted up and carried in Harry’s arms, up the stairs. “Later? I wanna see them now.” He whispered into Louis’ ear, hot breath sending shivers down Louis’ body. “Missed you so much since last time.”

5) A Kiss For Then, A Kiss For Now (And A Million More) | Mature | 6073 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. This is the sequel to this fic.

A collection of moments from Petal's life with her mummy, the stinky alpha and their new baby boy.

6) Terror At Our Door | Explicit | 6201 words

A hurt man comes to Harry's home on Halloween, bringing in a world of mystery that Styles didn't want at all.

What a shame that feelings are involved too.

7) Fight Me Breathless | Mature | 7596 words

Louis Tomlinson has no idea why he’s in a London hospital for asthma, but enter Harry Styles, his doctor, who he definitely doesn’t think is hot, and he’s left wondering if asthma is why he can’t seem to breathe properly with his doctor around.

8) This Ain't Red Wine | Explicit | 9054 words

It’s not until he gets a whiff of the contents of his glass that Louis realizes his grave mistake.

That’s not red wine.

It’s blood.

It’s probably not the most rational, but his first thought is what people are going to think when they discover his body. On the list of stupidest ways for a human to die, accidentally turning up to a Vampire party has to be pretty high up there.

9) Colder Weather | Explicit | 15132 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis doesn’t know what comes over him. “Please H-Harry, take me,” Louis looks back at the farmhouse, swallowing once as his skittish eyes fall onto the master bedroom window, “Take me with you, please.”

Harry’s scent flares, the tinged anger so noticeable that Louis draws back out of the alpha’s space.

“Is he hittin’ on you?”

Louis’ right hand rests briefly against the bruise forming rapidly over the right side of his rib cage, the darkness of the night hiding the movement. “No.”

10) Those Who From The Pit Of Hell, Roam To Seek Their Prey On Earth | Explicit | 17636 words

1889. Louis Tomlinson is a student at the prestigious Harrow School for Boys, nurturing his passion for forensic medicine under the care of a particularly mysterious and dark teacher, Harry Styles, who has set his main focus on a series of gruesome murders, all of them reflecting the year 1888, when Jack the Ripper went rampant in the poor streets of Whitechapel.

11) The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly Home | General Audiances | 19397 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

An omega Louis and an alpha Harry find themselves in a forced marriage that gives Louis the freedom he desires in exchange for Harry being chained up a bit more.

12) Welcome to The Rivalry | Mature | 19671 words

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

13) Welcome to the Bottom of the World | Not Rated | 20859 words

Louis is an American musher/expedition guide, Harry is a scientist from England. They meet in the middle of Antarctica, what could go wrong?

14) Reach The Heavens Own Blue | Explicit | 21070 words

He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him.

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one.

15) Terror Of Surrender | Explicit | 31566 words

Harry instructs them to step into Crescent Lunge, stopping when he gets to Louis to adjust his hips. “I think you can bend a little more.” He helps Louis deepen the stretch, his hands tight on his hips. “Good boy.”

Louis gasps quietly, his eyes snapping to Harry’s, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry’s eyes drop to his lips, his hands smoothing down Louis’ stretched thighs, then he’s turning and walking to the front of the class.

16) Eyes Off You | Explicit | 39396 words

A Charlie’s Angels inspired fic where Louis is the brains, Harry is the charm, Liam is the muscle, and Niall drives the getaway car - and Zayn is there, too. sometimes.

17) Puncture | Mature | 43383 words

Note; This fic has mentions of BH.

An alternate universe where Harry bites Louis and hates the taste of his blood but is still obsessed with him anyway.

18) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

19) Just A Flicker In The Dark | Explicit | 57191 words

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

20) Wild Thing | Mature | 65962 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

21) Three Days in February | Explicit | 187642 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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themostexpensiveboningknife · 3 years

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2020

Failed party, money in drawer, communicate, move house, move boxes, drive in van, walk to shops, buy noodles, think it’s the end, see whole bus of soldiers in Beijing, new area, walk in darkness, think about leaving, leave, think its temporary, in taxi, post stupid photos, check and check again phone, think people with goggles on my plane are over reacting, take off my mask to eat, keep taking off to loosen, arrive back in London. Tube. Cold. Pub. Party at WeWork. Exhibition at Dulwich Gallery. Farringdon. Drugs and drinks. Brockley, South east London. DJ. Ethiopian food. Morley’s Peckham. Walking on the River. Photographer friend’s house. Canal cycle. National Gallery. Car crash, Dalston. Omar Souleyman. Corsica Studios. Meet girl, back to my friends, back to hers, sex. Morning up to mum’s best friends birthday, Covent Garden restaurant. In a van, Sunday roast. Chisenhale Gallery. arebyte Gallery. Getting worse in China, seems nice and easy and calm in England. Camberwell beers and more. Second-hand book shops, Charing Cross Road. Courtauld. Leafed through a book about a man who lived his entire 86.5 years in East London. Still talking to the same girl back in China. Both believe I’ll be back soon. Chicken wings. West London, meal. South London pub. DJing somewhere inside. Kent, see grandma. Rave, Bermondsey. Friends from Israel and Germany arrive. More drinks, more drugs. Mixing friends. Gay bar in Bethnal Green for old friend’s birthday. Acid, confused and hilarious. Tate Britain. Serpentine. Cranes on the bridge. Liverpool Street film screening. Feels shallow, but good. Begin regular E Pellici sojourns. Primrose Hill with Dad. Beer festival with Keaton and co. Peckham, school friend’s house, bad vibe. More drinks, more drugs. Working on first music compilation with Slowcook and Fafa. Begin watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies. Watching Breaking Bad. At some point have huge argument with my brother, it went like this: He came home from work and I was sitting watching Breaking Bad, he asks, “Have you been like that all day?” I either took it in the wrong way or picked up on a sly dig. It was probably me, but at this point I was pretty self-conscious and worried about going back to China and whether or not I would have a job back there. Was getting surprisingly pissed off with my brother mentioning his work, felt like an affront to me. Weird. He goes crazy (he has a short fuse), punching a wall, ready to fight me. My mum is pretty upset. A few days later I go into his room and try to patch things up. Turns into a deeper chat. He feels like I haven’t been a good brother to him, he gives the example of not looking out for him on his first days of school. I say I’m sorry, it’s because I’m a bit scared and insecure. In retrospect I regret a little laying so much weakness on the table, seems his interactions/ways of acting around me have changed a bit. Still not sure how I feel about it all. Considered getting a gold tooth with Matthew. Play with cats, enjoying them more and more. Rave in Dalston, good music from Asia and beyond. Looking at magazines. Not doing much work at all. Being out and about instead. Go to Norfolk. It’s beautiful, but get way too drunk on first night, sick everywhere, wake up naked in sick. Massive fucking shitshow. Majority of people there have no choice but to act weirdly around me now, which is understandable. Still some nice aspects. One girl there surely hates me a lot. Tate Modern. Art stuff by self is good. Corsica Studios, semi-art, semi-music event. Mr. Bao for first time of many. Radio in Tottenham. Take drugs. Pubs. Drive to Asda with brother to stock up on food. It’s March and the reality of the pandemic is hitting. More canal cycling. First and only group chat on Zoom. BH Funk. Probably have taken cocaine and messaged one of three or four girls numerous times by now. If there’s one, in the cold light of day, horrible and disgusting thing I’ve done too much this year it’s this. Incessant messaging of poor girls that I know will react (although increasingly they don’t, I manage to alienate even close friends in this way). Southbank and The Mall with Nick. Reading about Wuhan. List of good texts. Continuing to do some writing. Making WeChat posts for guī WeChat, including mix series and miniessays. Greenwich park with Matthew. Grime quiz online. Delivering food regularly for my mum’s school. Hackney Marshes with Luan. Epping Forest with Mum and Dad. By this point probably have woken up feeling sorry for myself in Ludo’s flat, after untold amounts of alcohol and cocaine. Online rave. Beijing artists only mix. Go to Switzerland, pass through Italy on the way. Its breath taking, the mountains, the expanse of scenery, not used to it. Climbing up mountains with no one around. Rolo and Patrick and Rita smoke too much weed. I really, really, really still hate smoking it. Feel a bit annoyed how long we spend sitting around while they smoke, but this is way outbalanced by the uniqueness of where we are and the beauty all around. Producing more and more, actually getting somewhere. Cooking more and more food. Reading more and more, like: Black and British, The Corrections, Real Fast Food, Bass, Mids, Tops, Zadie Smith, Olivia Lang, Graham Greene, JG Ballard, Monica Ali, Mo Yan, Jenny Zhang, John le Carre, Naked Lunch, Nabokov, Bukowski, Zora Neale Hurston, Wiley, Bitcoin, Murakami, Judith E. Butler, The Painter of Modern Life, Maupassant, Chekov, Video Art, Gravity’s Rainbow (couldn’t finish), Anaïs Nin, The Net Delusion (couldn’t finish), The Establishment and how they got away with it (couldn’t finish), Roddy Doyle, The Secret of Scent, General Intellects, Women In Love, The Intelligent Investor, Lyndon Johnson. Victoria Park more often than I can remember. To Chrissy’s house. Mile End Park. Very regularly sitting on the river in Wapping. Bring the chessboard and play Ludo sometimes, people smile and look at you differently when you’re playing chess and drinking beers versus just sitting and drinking beer. I May Destroy You. Industry. The beautiful wide expanse of Hackney Marshes. My incessant quest to reach 1000 followers in Instagram. More cycling, and I hate to say it but it really was: Here there and everywhere. Margate with my Dad to see my grandma in hospital and saw the Turner Prize exhibition. Light blue like scrubs, the sky and sun felt eternal. Swimming in dirty water. Make a DJ mix of old 2000s Road Rap. Eat cheese in Peckham. Cycle along the canal north, keep going and going through Tottenham, past Enfield keep going, it’s mad how quickly it becomes quiet fields on all sides, arrive to some kind of lake, swim and then back to the centre of town. Outside a Hawksmoor church in Shadwell ate chicken with Karim and Ludo. DJing. From my bedroom window saw a big crane in the middle of the night sitting on the canal. Begin developing the second DCCY compilation this time with BULLY magazine. Go to a house in an old school in Camberwell. Discover new secret riverside spots in East London. Finally give up my apartment in Beijing. Mile End park. Cycle further and further East to a pedestrian bridge I didn’t know existed. Get onto the beach and into the Thames water. Interview Akito. Begin writing more, after few months of wiling away the summertime. My friend Emmy gets married in Rwanda, I give him some money as a wedding gift which he tells me he used to buy his wife’s dress. Protests in HK always on TV. Get more into finances, crypto and trading, and just saving in general. Had sex with an old friend. Now meeting a girl I first knew years ago in Beijing. More secret river spots. Keaton has his baby, Noah. More times on Hackney Marshes. Barbican conservatory. Watching more films, try to watch all the films of some directors including: Jia Zhangke, Bong Joon-ho, Edward Yang, Wong Kar-wai, Apichatpong Weerasethakul. Decide to watch all of the infamous lauded series, go through Breaking Bad, The Wire and The Sopranos. Go to the seaside for a few days, camping also. Henry Wu album launch in a car park in Bermondsey. Go to visit Keaton’s baby for the first time. Good photography exhibition at Photographer’s Gallery. Go to Wallace Collection again. August. Go to Berlin. Swimming in Berlin lakes until I get an ear infection. It makes me drowsy and lethargic, but still seems to spend all my time cycling around the city. On one night cycle for hours to a rave on the outskirts of the city. Like a lot the abandoned airport in Berlin. Oh yeah, vaping. Found a dead bumble bee. Speak with Nevin about projects. Write a piece about the future of the art world for a magazine being started by Nevin’s friend in Canada. Go to Lithuania. Walk around Vilnius, get too drunk by myself. Get to the Curonian Spit and Nida, beaches and new friends. For the Nightlife Residency project. For a short while life is like on a desert island of new food, new people, new locations, quiet and new meaning. Go to the Russian border on the beach. Cycle to the road boarder and get stopped by the police. Go nude on the beach for the first time. Sauna, sand dunes and forests. DJ out for the first time in ages, this time with Nono. To Kaunus and try nice and stodgy Georgian food for the first time. Hackney Wick back for party. Meet a ginger girl online and go on a date. Wallace Collection again. Free beer and pizza. White Cube. National Gallery, Titian. On BBC Radio London with my Dad. Riverside beers. Saw a lost swan near my front door. Meet Keaton near his work, one of many times. Making more and more music, getting better. Decide I need more organisation and clarity, put everything I’ve done on a blog. More or less long since given up on my job at M Woods. But don’t really begin looking for anything new because it’s still sunny. At some point I start getting benefits money. Go to see La Haine in the cinema. Someone blocks me on WeChat because of me. Some pub somewhere. Sunday walks and breakfast with my parents. Go to an exhibition in Woolworth Road with Muzi. Realise how nice it is to run to Victoria Park along the canal. Vicky Park in general. Dinners at friends’ houses. Museum of London. Walking with Michael in some countryside near London, surprising how quickly things turn green. Break onto a pier in Wapping with Jack. Battersea Park. Tate, Bruce Nauman. Old Street Weatherspoon’s with Keaton, drugs. Central London cemetery. Chinese in Camberwell. Chinese in Aldgate. Italian in Camberwell. More and more exercise, running, weights and yoga with my brother. Sadie Coles. Nick, Central London. Gucci Mane. Hampstead Heath more because Ludo and his flatmates are nearby. Ludo’s now house more for days and nights of you guessed it. Borough Market more, with Emma. Alexandra Palace walk and famous sandwiches after. Tate Britian new lights. More time at Muzi’s. Signing up for cycle courier. LYL Radio show. Shave head. Take acid and it hurts my stomach. Camden Arts Centre with Muzi. Christmas party with friends. Birthday. Cake with Muzi, presents and Indian takeaway from family, walk in Vicky Park with Ludo and Karim plus battered sausage and chips. Christmas at home nice and warming meal. Evening to Ludo’s place with more friends. Boxing day with Matthew, pints and then more at his house in Peckham all night long. Next day is tough! Giant turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey curry. Buy first NFTs. New Year’s Eve stay in at Muzi’s, one drink and a cake.

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Style Check: Winter Package 2021 - Style 1

by Admin 1

I don’t know about you but I’ve been feeling constantly attacked by BH and BTS releasing these preview pictures for this year’s Winter Package. They gave us four different styles and settings, and honestly, all of them are absolutely amazing, ranging from something I can only describe as dark academia, over lovely Christmas and two variations of cute winter boys.

As pretty as their Summer Packages used to be, there’s something distinctly more aesthetically pleasing, at least to me, about the Winter Package looks we had for both editions. But maybe I’m bias since I don’t really like summer all that much and am more interested in winter themed things and fashion.

So, since we have four styles for Winter Package, I though I’ll post something short for each one separately, instead of one massive post that’ll just end up being way too long, even for our standards. It’ll also make it easier to add things and details through reblogs as we get to see more and also once the full thing will be released. Sounds good? I think so, too.

First let’s have a look at what Style 1 even looks like before we get into a more detailed overview of what each of them wore:

I don’t know about you but there’s something so cozy and pretty color pallet wise that really gets me with this set of clothes, as well as the setting they chose for the pictures. I love the different shades of blue and green as accents along with white and cream as neutral base colors. It really makes them pop, especially the contrasting splashes of orange and red on Namjoon’s sweater, Seokjin’s beanie and the entirety of Hoseok’s more yellowish one. It helps for the pieces, as well as the members, to not get lost and become one with the backdrop and instead turns them into an eye-catching focal point your eyes are immediately drawn to. It all works perfectly with the partially cloudy sky and dry grass hill, both in light (almost solid) shades.

Their mittens? Adorable. Their earmuffs and beanies? So cute! Add to that the members looking fantastic and voila, beautiful pictures. A round of applause for the stylists for these styling choices.

Below the cut, let’s check out the details thanks to the help of Bangtan Style, a great twt account to follow if fashion in the context of BTS interests you:

One thing I’ve noticed at least with some of the pieces is that the prices are somewhat more “reasonable” than when it comes to some of their other outfits where seemingly everything costs around a thousand dollars or more. Which isn’t to say that any of this is cheap by any means, but you get the point.

Styling wise these are some great choices for each of the above members. I really like Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s coats, those shades of green are magnificent and I like how Hoseok’s is a light green (fitting with his bright personality) and Jungkook’s a darker one, fitting more with his usual aesthetic and just the fact that he suits dark colors amazingly in general. That light blue jacket on Yoongi is just the perfect splash of color for his skin complexion and the shades of white of his other pieces. I appreciate the red heart detail on Yoongi’s beanie and Hoseok’s sweater, which I know are the designer’s logo but they could’ve chosen shades that stick out more, but they didn’t and I really like that.

When it comes to Jimin, his outfit out of these four seems comfiest and almost has a pajama like feel to it due to those denim pattern pants that, upon first glance, I actually thought were pajama pants. Paired with his very warm looking jacket and cute mittens and earmuffs, it fits him truly amazingly.

If I had to choose my favorite out of these four, I think I’d go with Jungkook’s.

Now here’s where my statement about more reasonable price tags basically drowns because there is nothing “cheap” about Tae’s coat. Or Seokjin’s almost thousand dollar jacket (though JKs and Hoseok’s were still a little more expensive). Some great choices were made with all three Kim’s, very in line with their usual styles and preferences. The contrast of green pants to the orange of his beanie while his jacket is mostly white with some colored accents suits Seokjin perfectly. I could see him wearing that jacket on an average day as well, though it’s interesting how he’s the only member who isn’t wearing anything around his neck, regardless if in form of a turtleneck sweater or scarf.

Namjoon looks comfy and very Namjoon with those straight leg jeans, that cute light blue (a shade very close to that of Yoongi’s jacket) with what appears to perhaps be some kind of flowers in red, and that grayish blue bucket hat. His mittens hanging off of his neck and that furry scarf are the perfect cheery on top adding this extra bit of cute to it. This seems like something Namjoon would also put together for himself, more or less, to go namjooning. And then we have Tae who, how do I put this, looks fantastic but also adorable AF, his duality, I swear. That blue scarf and shades of brown earmuffs looks marvelous with his hair, and generally browns and creams are definitely the perfect color for him. His coat is rather simple in style, one solid color, but goes great with the green sweater and light blue pants. It reminds me of outfits Tae wore in the past that followed a similar vibe and style, so again the stylists did a really good job.

Overall the Kim’s look great, though my favorite out of these three might just be Namjoon.

But now something I’d really like to draw your attention to since I needed a moment to collect myself (I’m being dramatic here) when I realized it is this:

Not only are vmin wearing the matching earmuffs in different colors, which in and of itself is already such a cute and lovely detail, but also the price tag? $95? Like 1995? That’s such a small trivial detail and yet it just makes sense with our precious soulmates. It was most certainly a complete coincidence looking at how it’s a Korean conceptual knit project label and thus they were acquired based on how much they cost in won, and yet...! Like any vminnie I appreciate it when their stylists add these small matching details for them.

And that’s it. Overall I’m really happy with all these choices and the pictures, and members look fantastic. JK’s and Namjoon’s are my favorites out of this set. I’m certainly looking forward to seeing the rest of the pictures they took in these clothes once the Winter Package will be released.

#winter package 2021 #winter package #style discussion #BTS #bangtan sonyeondan #Jimin #Taehyung #Namjoon #Seokjin #Jungkook #Hoseok #Yoongi #not at me trying to make it seem like I have any tangible knowledge on fashion #which I don't #but I'm really having fun with this #fashion

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