#[ i just-- can i just say that kafka has legs for days? this is obviously the first time i'm talking about kafka's legs today. ]

[araneitela]

I'm sorry, but why did no one tell me that we caught a glimpse of the "Stellaron Hunters" in Acheron's trailer that dropped 17 hours ago?

[talesofsonicasura]

Venomous Call

I decided to go more in depth with KN8/Venom crossover idea. There will be some comic elements but it's mostly based on the movie version of the Lethal Protector. For this part, I'll be going over the Kafka's early "Venom Days". Any questions can be asked on my main blog, @sonicasura. Let's get started.

A 25 year old Kafka has life changed forever on one fateful night. He's trying to get his life together after having failed his last shot at the Defense Force. A task that proves very difficult when recruitment ads are plastered everywhere to remind him about his broken promise.

Could Kafka's life get any worse? Well being hit with a meteorite can officially be crossed off his bucket list as that's what happens. A 7 pound hunk of space rock piercing his right lung. Before Kafka loses consciousness due to blood and air loss, he sees something ooze from the meteorite.

The man wakes up back in his bed but he feels off. Like he isn't alone and fuller than usual. Kafka is completely oblivious about the news report where the bodies of the local Yakuza were found in a headless bloody pile.

Well until a growling voice comments how tasty the dead kaiju he's cutting up. Or that the black sludge which used to be his right arm had thrown away the saw and is eating at the corpse. Kafka's just glad no one else was next to him right now.

I will say the start for our himbo's partnership with Venom is less awkward than what Movie Eddie had to deal with. Kafka will question the symbiote about everything as he keeps any info in a notebook. He does puke when Venom tells him they ate a few humans(the Yakuza) earlier.

The man is much more adverse at the idea of cannibalism but he has barely any choice in the matter. Symbiotes sometimes need the required nutrients in their purest state which includes brains from living creatures. Humans have more phenylethylamine than small pest kaiju and the larger ones aren't present much.

Thus Kafka aims Venom's hunger at the criminal underworld. Like Eddie, he is very compatible with the symbiote although on a higher level so all his senses are tied to Vee's when they fully 'suit up'. Our himbo eventually grows numb to the taste of human flesh but it still mentally fucks him up sometimes.

Kafka's Venom form is quite different from the others. He is 10'9 in height, has two long horns similar to his kaiju form, a long bulky tail, rigged spikes going down his spine, white stripes on his arms, legs, neck, and tail. Venom will later add the Hoshina Clan Emblem for their chest symbol. (The symbiote thought it looked cool.)

Like the comic book adaptation, he uses natural webs to get around than just the tendrils the symbiote can provide. These abilities stem from Venom feeding on the kaiju corpses. Other comic related powers are: poisonous fangs, self-sustenance, flight(generating dragon wings), Morphomerge (bond with inanimate objects like vehicles to an extent), Energy Absorption and Transference.

There's a case of mistaken identity for a while. Venom kills No.7 and the Defense Force arrives on the scene before the Lethal Protector could leave. They assume he's the daikaiju, not the corpse. It takes a while before the Defense Force realizes that Kaiju No.7 had been neutralized and this is something else entirely.

Mina loathes Venom quite a bit. One being that the 'kaiju' likes to toy with her while calling the Captain "Pretty Lady". (Kafka is quietly dying on the inside whenever the symbiote does this.) The second reason being how Venom acts like a protector despite the fact he eats humans rather than just kaiju.

In short, Mina thinks he's a high and mighty monstrous hypocrite. Soshiro is a different case. He has a fun little 'rivalry' with Venom whenever he comes across them. Kafka obviously doesn't find being sliced and diced fun. Soshiro is quick to joke about the modified Hoshina emblem on the Lethal Protector's chest.

He finds the whole bit amusing even with Venom's man eating tendencies. They are labeled Capture Dead or Alive. He is one of the first cases where a kaiju not only has human level sapience and intelligence but a (twisted) moral compass too.

It didn't take to uncover Venom's weakness to fire. That opened up a bigger shitstorm as Mina witnesses some of Kafka's human form underneath the black ooze. She didn't see his face but it was enough to reveal the Lethal Protector needs a host to operate.

Venom obviously has a constantly updating file in the Defense Force archives. The major details are always highlighted such as his ability to adapt. Soshiro had accidentally bumped into the Lethal Protector gorging on a dragon Honju's corpse during a patrol.

Venom hadn't been in the mood to fight so our Vice Captain got front row seats to him sprouting wings that were heavily similar to the monster he had been eating. This was the first incident to raise him up the list of Defense Force priorities. Biggest is obviously the host bit.

That had gotten everyone in a tizzy as it means Venom was potentially lurking inside a human host. Many questions and theories were bounced around. 'Is the host aware of the entity in their body?' 'Are they even alive or just a corpse being puppeted?'

It made building a sensor to detect the Lethal Protector top priority amongst the Science Department. This includes smaller models as they now had to scan the civilian population for Venom's host. Everything only gets more difficult for Kafka when the DF discovers the symbiote's weakness to high frequency sounds.

It had been at a trafficking ring disguised as a rave den. One of Venom's prey accidentally turned up the stereos in fright when the Defense Force had busted down the door. The higher frequency made the Lethal Protector howl in pain before he destroyed the devices.

He obviously ran but it was too late to keep this weakness a secret. With these two major weak spots known, the Defense Force would soon concoct a plan to uncover Venom's true identity and apprehend him. I'm on the fence about Kafka escaping with his identity in tact or becoming a wanted man.

There's some very tasty angst with the latter as Mina is obviously part of this operation. Seeing her childhood friend underneath the monstrous black mass would already hurt. To see him choose the monster and the creature chastising her for abandoning him is the coup de grace.

Especially if the only thing Kafka could say is something like 'I'm sorry for being a worthless friend' before he flies off as Venom. He no doubt has negative feelings for his lost friendship with Mina. Plus symbiotes tend to bring such emotions closer to the surface in their hosts.

She is obviously gonna chase after Kafka. Those words pretty much addressed the part of her that Mina tries not to. How she essentially abandoned Kafka because he couldn't get into the Defense Force.

The regret that her purposely distancing herself from him led to the Captain's childhood friend to become Venom. And how much it ate away at him. Mina will want to fix this as Kafka is her responsibility in the end.

Even if it means putting the man inside a kaiju containment cell.

@discoknack @foolmariofest @noodlesbf-blog @mechazushi @scribblermerlin @giantgoblin @kafkahibinomybeloved @drmarune @renard-dartigue

[thekitschdiet]

the kitsch diet part II

part one alr posted!! this chunk is about 3,000~ words long... let me know what u think :-) thank u all for all the luv already!!! looks like I really will hit 31 followers by easter!!!!!!!!

  Who is the Kitsch Girl? 

 I think this is more loosely defined, but The Chic Diet did a truly admirable way of reducing a girl to her YSL bag and her really skinny legs. Now, that implies an archetype, or a population in a specific location. I think kitschness is kind of the niche you fill when you’re not really much of anything else, sort of your own conglomerate of mainstream-specific. One major requirement, though, is being a little too into something somewhat uncool. And the whole illusion falls apart if you have any sort of outward insecurity. See, the Kitsch Girl is somewhat undefinable because she is so much of everything. She exists in multitudes, in a way that is also quite simple to understand; think of a list of axioms, or principles to live by. And now add a section to each one that says “but…” to make a collection of verified exceptions. Say, the kitsch girl will never wear jeans. But she thrifted this pair of vintage flares she just loves. She doesn’t reply to texts efficiently, but sometimes she will within a couple seconds. No mascara, no dinner forks, candles are to be collected not burned; but that was a gift, or something. It’s not personal, of course, those are just the contradictions she exists in. Don’t try to understand it, the enigma is essential to the facade. Or maybe she just lives like this, and her character is so homogenous with her inner world there’s no sense in trying to separate it. You have to have a little bit of an individuality complex about the whole ordeal, which is normally so eugh, but if you’re kitschy enough it works on you. Trust!The Kitsch girl is not someone unlikeable, but amiable and well heeled. I double checked that last one, assuming it meant liked by most, but apparently means affluent. I suppose that is an aspect of the kitsch girl too, having seemingly endless frivolous expenses with no real strain, but that’s not important right now. People that don’t like her think so out of jealousy, or something. Envious that her clothes are all kind of shake-it-up-esque and her highlights desperately need touching up, but she still seems so enthralled with the whole of life… How does she enjoy her own company so much when other people want to know her better? Doesn’t she feel weird about blowing people off to make a joke about reading Kafka in the bath? Why would she document her cluttered, unexciting life on Instagram so delicately, so vibrantly? Of course, no one would say this to her face because they are really baseless claims. She’s nice, generous, and valuable to have as a friend. Trade-offs exist, as they do with anyone. But I like thinking it’s easier to overlook a forgotten birthday when your kitschy best friend gave you a multi strand pearl necklace to celebrate the welcome breeze of June. Or some other made-up holiday. She is so unassuming if you’re not really looking. Girls want in on her inner circle. Or they just don’t care. Nothing wrong with being liked or thought of naught, for the most part. Boys are either enthralled or repulsed by her. Her doctor knows her as something of a hypochondriac, but only minorly. It’s just carpal tunnel, don’t worry… The sales staff at CVS turn a blind eye when she slips an eyeliner pencil into her tote bag. She shoplifts on occasion, just to see if she still knows how. But she is not a shoplifter. $9 here and $6.45 there doesn’t really add up to much. Everywhere she goes, she makes a tertiary friend or two. The term of friend is loosely used here, of course. But it is nice to tell a stranger you like her earrings. Or her phone case is so fun, is it Wildflower? The kitsch girl has an eye for this kind of detail. Simply put, she is sort of unspectacular. But in a way that makes you sort of wish you knew her better.

Phone cases

The phone case is, like, religious for the kitsch girl. Sorry, but there’s just no other accessory as flippant and expensive and single-purpose as a trendy little iPhone case with some semitacky stickers plastered over the design. I used to have an iPhone XS- extrasmall-  with like, 18 phone cases. It was kind of a sordid affair. I jest, but really… owning that many phone cases was kind of sick. We get it, you are frivolous and spontaneous and sooo stylish! Stop posting mirror selfies on your Instagram story, your crush isn’t going to see it. Kidding again. Having an extensive collection of phone cases is just so fun because while attainable, most people just simply do not partake in it. That makes you kitschy and unique. I really thought I had more to say about the IDEA of the phone case, but I guess in practice it is all very, very simple. You can slide your driver’s license in the back of a clear case. At what point does it stop being cool to have legal operational control of a vehicle? I don’t display mine because I don’t really like the photo. I look round. In the eyes but also just in general, swollen, unglamorous. Whatever. Not like I drive a Nissan or anything. I drive my *Mom’s* Nissan. Playing Bladee in the car seems sacrilegious. She would hate it.Back to phone cases. Sonix ones are cute but kind of overpriced retail- unless you have like, an iPhone 12 Pro Max or whatever the fuck is new this year, just go to Winner’s. They always have Xs and 11 cases. I had a cherry one for my previous phone, like the exact one Lana Del Rey had? Thank god I sold it before she got outed as a copfucker or whatever. Casetify is for an inadvertent flex. Flexing your lame, lame taste. Sorry, I know you bought it because you liked it, but what you failed to consider is just how un-Kitsch they are. SO common, and they advertise on Instagram. Sorry, I just can’t get into it! Kind of how I just never liked the Brandy Amara tanks. Or lowtop converse. Otterbox is just distressing. Like, if my boyfriend gave me an otterbox phone case I would probably break up with him because somebody clearly isn’t paying attention- one of my favorite, potentially overused joke is how Otterbox cases are the equivalent of orthopedic insoles. Sorry but if you have poor arch support or whatever, but no pain is worth giving up a good pair of Margiela slingback tabi heels. Obviously I couldn’t afford that right now because all loose income goes directly to Wildflower and my cig boy. But like, one day. I hope you want to punch me in the face a little bit after reading that.  If Wildflower isn’t your thing, at least have the decency to get a beaded phone strap. But not from String Ting. Pray tell you aren’t keeping score, but they are one of my several parasocial enemies. That should have been ME collaborating with Wildflower! Should have been ME mailing shit to Caroline Calloway (more on her later, but she is the only blue check I follow. I adore her! I was on her patreon for a bit I thinkl!!) …. Side note. Phone cases are cute but there is no way to properly protect your laptop without looking just absurd or colossally lame. The foam sleeves… ick.

Having the shittiest music taste ever

So like, here’s the thing. I’m an Apple Music user, which sort of reinstates my status as an unironic My Bloody Valentine Hyperpop Death Grips kinda gal. Read; volcel. My most recent conquest ended up being a huge L on my part, but also… I totally dodged a bullet. The guy had an iPhone 11 (female trait) and didn’t know who Rei Brown was, which just seemed suspicious given his Niche. I just know he had a “making out playlist” comprising entirely of like, Joji. Which isn’t a bad thing I guess but so unembarrassing it horseshoes back to being humiliating.Like I said. Having the worst music taste. It’s nice how subjective and deeply personal your music taste can be; no one really Needs to know you’re a die hard drainer. But there’s also no point in being a die-hard drainer and Not capitalizing off it somehow. I added it up and I have well over 150 hours of just Bladee and Yung Lean. Which is so yass? The more I write, using myself as a case study, I realize just how desperately jobless I am. And Yogenfruz isn’t even hiring! UGH!I think there is something very kitschy about liking hyperpop in the least ironic, least obnoxious way. Sort of feeds into a “I’m not like other girls” thing, but I mean… That’s kind of the idea of kitsch, isn’t it? Be a little different but also the very same as your lipgloss brethren?!Side note. If you make monthly playlists I am genuinely kind of afraid of you. That is just so organized!! I just make playlists with esoteric titles and then make a new one when I’m sick of the stuff on the last. I have exhausted most genres but I think my favorite is the “I’m wearing f****ng air forces and my teeth are SO white”. Guess what genre it is. Or don’t, but it’s probably what you think is. Okay, moving on….

Curating a scent

I like thinking I smell like mango and peach, Glossier you, whatever citrus is in that Lush shower jelly and mint 5Gum. But of course it is probably less distinct and just kind of generally fruit-floral-mint. Anyway. I think Glossier You is the perfect scent for anyone with a rather elementary understanding of the whole.. Perfume business. Every bottle of intentional fragrance I own was made via aesthetic choices… it really helps that Glossier You is so cute And so universal. Now, Glossier is kind of interesting to me because it really is at the intersection of cheugy and kitsch. Kind of basic, overplayed, unspectacular. But also…. Often popular things are popular because they are good. Glossier has excellent customer suurv, they ship SO fast (and no import duties! W!) and their stuff is just so sweet and nice if not unoriginal, in kind of the same way strawberry ice cream is. Which is still my favorite, of course, especially if there’s a vegan option. I was talking about Glossier. What the hell! It’s really worth trying out. A huge principle of kitsch is just… having as many possible layers and appendages to your composure as possible. And adding a signature scent just really completes that! When curating your own, I say this as a complete amateur, know-nothing; make it something that comes kind of naturally to Your Character. Like, I’m just not a Chanel No 5 kind of girl. Odds are you aren’t either. My bottle (before she asked for it back when I told her I didn’t use it, in exchange for a Nordstrom’s gift card) was from my grandmother. Ummm.. Yeah, I really have no expertise in curating a scent. But it is nice to have a signature. And having a bottle displayed on your dresser next to your aughties McDonald milkshake themed beanie baby and a handful of lip products is just way too fun! This is the kind of girl I am, everyone! Cluttered, but prioritizing pretty-delicate things!

Cheugyism

Cheugy is a relatively new word that has unfortunately wormed into my vocabulary to replace “uncouth”. Which I use to mean graceless or tacky, but if that isn’t what it means…. Don’t tell me. That would hurt more than weighing myself after a “feast” slash pastry binge at my dear Grandmothe’s house. Like I was saying. Cheugy. It’s sort of a fucked up concept to me because it is a critique on consumption, but not the pace or volume or magnitude of it. But rather… the idea of not being “good” enough at engaging in microtrends, or involvement in the fast paced fashion cycle. Don’t get me started on TikTok, or do, but… yeah,. No. That will require a cigarette because I’m so sorry, but writing a thinkpiece on social media is so lowbrow I would need to find about six ways to aesthetically counteract it…. Moving on.  I think the idea of cheugy is good, we really do need a word to simply and efficiently define “out of date/uninspired/lame”. But the way it is used to shame others for not liking the same trends or whatever is kind of gross. If you use cheugyism to put other people down and not as a neutral identifier umm… you will become what you fear. Sorry, that’s what happens. Some things that I think are cheugy or embarrassing, or just not part of my stylistic lexicon are… 1. Hooded or zip up clothing, or things with a large graphic on the back. Bingo if it's all three! I just can’t get behind it. Side note, my summer home outfit is brandy sweats and a tube top (Urban Outfitters tank I ripped the straps off) and a large cardigan that should have belonged to a stoner, but probably didn’t. I can dunk on bulky, uninspired clothes because I would honest to God NEVER be caught DEAD out of the house wearing any of it. I’m so serious. Next segment should be about the kitsch girl’s inadvertent affinity for diuretics. Remind me….. One of the ports of my laptop is dead. Not really sure what to do about that.

Eye makeup and what it means to me….

Personally, I am one of those people who never wears foundation and kind of has a complex about it. The kitsch girl wears fluffy eyelashes and owns a plethora of sparkly eyeliner. Or maybe she doesn’t, but she has something distinct and a little ritzy, if not haphazard. We all saw Euphoria and it like, totally imprinted on us. The way glitter sits on your face after a long day is so resplendent. When it’s shining and a little bit melted off from your long, semi-productive day… ugh! Just made for film. Pictures on film. But not the Prequel app. I keep getting fucking ads for it. But it’s so embarrassing. Like, isn’t the whole point of film the authenticity of the moment? The texture of the afternoon? Why would you fabricate that? Prequel is just so cheugy. More on that later. But anyhow. Wearing a ton of eye makeup kind of fits with the idea of film too I think. Like, look at you, in the moment. With your strip lash falling off! It’s all so tres-chic. Plus, for whatever reason, it’s kind of unique or notably dedicated to ~Pull up to the function~ with more eye makeup on than everyone else. Sorry, but it really doesn’t take that long! But yes I will gracefully accept your praise… it’s kind of like the dropshipping of complements if you think about it. Easy to source with little to no effort in the curating. Side note, lashes are like $20 for 40 weeks if you cut them in half and use each pair about 5 times. You could probably do more but I lose track. How the fuck is it almost June? I was trudging through the snow to check the mail for my Online Ceramics shirt just last week, I swear. The trick to cutting your lashes (the way I do it anyway) is pretty simple. Get out two lashes that are symmetrical. Find the middle and cut one slightly to the left and one slightly to the right. This means you have two sets (one set is a little more dramatic than the other but at least they are symmetrical) with longer outer edges. Glue this to the outer corner of your eye and you will look so Composed… obsessed with how this layers with three eyeliner tails (one traditional one pointing up and one pointing down directly below it, sort of like the tail light on a 2019 Lexus UX) and one below your eye, like a clown. Fun, irrelevant fact, is the first time I added this third tail to my eye makeup, my dad had just gotten home from the hospital because he was sure he had like appendicitis or something and it was actually.. Not that. Typical indie hypochondriac. He made me bring him cottage cheese on a plate with a teaspoon that evening. I put black pepper on it for flair, which he hated. Walking up and down stairs with a plate of cottage cheese is much more imprinting than most of the multiplication tables. Don’t forget to use a bright shimmer eyeshadow in your inner corner. It really opens up your eyes. I recommend Too Faced.  One time I got a little bit too high and tried to film an “editorial” makeup tutorial. You will never, ever, ever see that video. But I essentially covered my whole eyelid in the ABH shadow “palermo” and smudged out the edges with a tan Tartelette Toasted shade, coupled with my long-expired Milk Makeup holographic stick. Lopsided lashes and near-blinding eyeliner experience aside, it was kind of cool. My point is, you really cannot go wrong with an arsenal of shimmers, taupey mattes and a good eyeliner pen.

[starlightdevotion]

nsfw adsfjfhg

they stand in the navigational room together, the island table cluttered and chaotic, filled with charts and routes and maps, the two of them with their elbows pinning papers down, voices low, pens in hands. the hour is late and most of the crew has gone to bed, but jaewon can’t sleep and mina has decided to stay, to go over some ideas for new routes that might cut their time-scope down half a day ( which might not seem like much, but it’d actually be more akin to a miracle ) while jaewon argues with her about why that’s impractical. they discuss trader streams, alliance cut-offs, skyplexes that may or may not have grudges against jaewon for one battle reason or another, not that he particularly pays attention to things like that. that’s why he’s got mina.

the conversation meanders well into the night, passed when either of them had intended to go to sleep, but the chemistry working inside their dynamic, half friendship, half something else, keeps their easy back-and-forth discourse continual and entertaining. he doesn’t speak like this to anyone else aboard his ship, not even kafka, smiling more relaxed, less strict with himself, less harsh on his inabilities, something about mina having known him since before all the strains of life had weighed on his shoulders, before the title of captain, of sergeant, gives him a peace of mind he can find nowhere else. her presence unknots the coils in his brain, absorbing his havoc in stride, as she always has.

at some point though, she leans back, breaking through the small, intimate bubble they’d created between themselves, yawning and stretching and wiping her eyes, and his gaze rakes down her body for a moment before it drops entirely and he has to remind himself to breathe. sometimes she gives him contentment, sometimes she does the opposite. “it’s late, i have to crash,” she tells him, and he’s not entirely sure that’s true— he’s seen her sleepy before. right now, she simply looks like she’s not sure what else to say.

he stands straight up beside her, the joints in his limbs aching slightly, his lungs inhaling, his hands lifting up to wipe at his face, to run through his hair, and he nods. a beat passes between them where they simply stare at each other, and he doesn’t know what she’s thinking, he’s confused, the five-second interval held around them like a captive. she looks at him with something in her eyes, a half-expectation, a half-uncertainty, and he just blinks down at her, his mind remeshing itself, spiraling back into a disaster.

she leans up and presses her lips against his cheek, quick and soft and unbearable, and his shoulders tighten, his hands spasm, breath caught in a vice grip inside his lungs— he has no idea what to do. she retreats though, just as swiftly as she’d come, a light dusting of pink on her cheekbones, but she can’t look at him now and he can’t look away from her now. he feels like everything has just stopped, his insides have grinded to a halt, the whole verse around him stunned into untimely silence. it’s not their first kiss, but somehow this newly-found closeness between them still chokes the hell out of him.

an urge stronger than god tidal waves through his chest and he has to step around her to walk over to the door, knowing he’s only about to cause a mess, knowing he’s not going to be able to restrain himself for long, and closes off her escape. she hears the door shut and turns back around to him, obviously surprised, probably thought he was going to reject her or something, but he only lets her get a word out, his name, before colliding into her like a comet, his arms winding around her body tightly, his lips on hers, skin burning, the ache building in his bloodstream.

this isn’t their first kiss, but every time he tastes her, he feels like it is, he feels like he’s getting to know her all over again, fingers gliding over the curves of her body he’d thought he’d already memorized, tongue blazing between her lips as though there are notes in her mouth that he wants to hear her sing, that he wants to draw out of her. she clings to him like water, envelopes herself inside the cover of his arms, his black coat wide enough to swallow them both whole, as though they could disappear inside each other, as though they could collapse together like crumbling stars.

he holds her pressed against his body, turns and pins her to the counter, the edge of it positioned across her lower back, leaning slightly forward so she can feel every inch of him alongside every inch of her. his hands burn into her hair, down her back, fingers clawing carefully as he feels her yanking at the coat, dragging it down over his shoulders and he lets her go long enough for it to drop around his ankles. it’s an interesting moment, given that the movement shifts him in such a way as to accentuate the hardening bulge in his groin, his form crushed against hers, their bodies making friction and heat and throbbing, and it’s embarrassingly obvious. he’s not sure if he wants to die or not.

“i, i’m—…”

“don’t apologize.” she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, both hands strong against his chest, and smashes their mouths together again, a leg curling up onto his hip, her heel finding a home around the back of his leg. he sees lightning behind his eyelids, the electricity sparking through his veins as she reaches around him and digs her nails into the skin on his back, scratching up over scars and tattoos, her teeth sucking on his bottom lip. he tumbles over the edge of propriety, hissing against her lips, a strength surging through him as he reaches down over her ass, both hands groping her roughly, before picking her up and setting her on top of the counter.

poised between both legs, he rips at her clothes, jerking the fabric of her shirt up over her head, his lips coming down to nip and bite and suck hickeys on her throat, her collarbones, her chest, and he feels her gripping his hair between her fingers, her nails grazing against his scalp, and he fucking loves it, he wants it, he needs it. he shoves roughly at the bra to just get it out of the way, his lips closing over her left nipple, tongue toying with the nub hungrily, pressure and wetness and the sharpness of his teeth, while his hands undo her belts. she manages to pull his shirt off before he pushes her backwards, laying her down flat across the table surface, across the star charts and penciled drawing, flat enough for him to get a grip on the handles of her pants and draw them off her as well, as fast as possible.

she really has the most beautiful legs, long and strong and devastating to his equilibrium, and he’s lost so much control by now already, there’s very little separating desire from action, so when he wonders if she’s as delicious as she looks, his mouth immediately hounds for the answer, lips attaching to the inner side of her knee, licking and sucking upwards. her thighs are warm and soft— so impossibly unscarred as though the war never touched her at all, tasting like honey on his tongue, like sunlight, like perfection, but the higher he goes the more scorching it gets, and he’s always been drawn to wherever is hottest.

both legs over his shoulders, her fingers in his hair, her low-toned curses in his ears, he bites a mark into the softest part of her thigh, just below her underwear, feels her tense up, feels her breathing race, and it’s like a drug. she’s every sort of addictive spice to him and they’ve never done this before, but he knows he can’t stop now or he really will die.