#And I will fetch you from the gutter' and then it goes into the parts seen in the drawing lol

[wisteriasymphony]

a continuation of this post and inspired by this song

[starshideurfics]

Captive, Captivating, part 2

part 1

into the steddie-verse, omegaverse, dubcon, we’re all in the same imperial rome/war prize gutter together, mdni 🔞

It takes nearly three quarters of an hour for Geta’s knot to go down, and he smiles smugly as his pretty little omega wriggles in place. The way he shifts just so, startling at his body’s reaction, the clench and pulse of being stretched open so perfectly for the first time.

Geta pets over Stepan’s flank, cups the firm cheeks of his round bottom, thinking about how nice it will feel to slam his hips against that plushness when he has his omega present and takes him from behind. How deep he will be able to delve into that sweet cunt to sow his seed. Deep enough it has to catch.

He refrains from slipping his fingers between those cheeks, no matter how much he wants to stroke over the tight furl of Stepan’s asshole. To make him shiver. To whisper, ‘All your holes will be mine, and soon enough you will beg for me to fuck you here.’ His barbarian prince has been through enough for the morning, Geta does not actually wish to terrorize him, especially not with all he has planned for the rest of the day.

Once he finally slips free, Geta plucks up Stepan’s cast aside loincloth, the linen roughspun, and uses it to wipe his cock clean. He smirks when he notices the pale streaks of red mixed with the slick and seed; their couplings will be easier now his maidenhead is broken.

Stepan has curled up on his side, legs squeezed tightly together, arms wrapped around his chest. Geta grips his knee, whispers, “I need to see, mellitus. Make sure the bleeding has stopped.”

He does not speak, simply allows Geta to lift his leg and bare his cunt. The lips are puffy, must be sore, and he’s careful as he gently feels around Stepan’s entrance, pleased to only find slick and seed when he pulls his fingers back. He sucks the shine from them, revels in the taste of them both mixed on his tongue, bitter and sweet and musky, and slowly lowers the omega’s leg. Draping the sheets back over Stepan, Geta stands, pulls on a robe, and goes to the entrance to the tent, ordering hot water and a wash basin be brought at once, along with food to break their fast after.

Sitting at his desk, Geta looks over the reports that will leave with the morning’s courier. He considers scribbling a note to his mother, to tell her of his plans, but quickly thinks better of it. There is little she can do for him from the capital, and surprise will be far more helpful to him when it comes to his brother.

When the water arrives, he tends to himself first, only really worrying about his groin as he washes away the last bits of drying cum. Then he returns to his bed, offering Stepan a hand, and helping him to his feet. Geta has the omega stand in the basin, and drags a warm, wet cloth over his body, washing away the dirt and sweat and slick. He’s nearly finished when Stepan stops his hand, trapping the cloth at his hip. “I can see to myself, Dominus.”

Geta preens at the word, how easily Stepan has begun using the title. My lord. Master. “And I care for what is mine.” Still, he passes the cloth to Stepan, watches as he wipes gingerly between his legs. It’s such a waste, washing all that beautiful slick away when Geta would happily lap it up and swallow it down. But there is not time for such indulgences.

Fetching a larger cloth, he wraps Stepan in it and squeezes his shoulders. “Dry well,” Geta orders, going to dig through a trunk and retrieving a tunica in deep, rich blue, tossing it casually onto the bed. He plucks a wooden comb from a side table, and returns to Stepan, careful as he pulls the fine teeth through his hair. He starts at the ends, working his way up to the roots, breaking up strands held together by sweat and oil, detangling a small knot at his nape. Once he’s satisfied with his work, Geta turns him towards the bed. “Dress. Quickly if you do not wish Caius to see your pretty ass when he brings our food.”

Geta does not take his own advice, robe open and showing off his soft cock, unbothered by his servants seeing him in any state of undress. His focus is again on compiling his reports, rolling up scrolls and slipping them in the courier’s case. He hands the case to Caius after he sets down the tray of roasted goat, bread, dates, and wine that is to be the morning meal.

Caius bows as he is dismissed, casting a furtive eye over to Stepan, the omega looking every inch a prince now he is so richly dressed. Geta suddenly desperately wants to gild him—gold at his throat and wrists, on his fingers, at his ankles and on his head, a chain dripping rubies and pearls around his waist…

Soon enough he will show off his prize, but first, he must stick to his plan.

Which first now means filling his stomach. He takes one chair next to the small table, nods to the other. “Sit. Eat.”

Stepan does as he’s told, his bites small. Even with his nerves quelling his appetite he must be hungrier than that. But Geta does not worry. He will ensure his omega feeds himself properly at the evening’s feast.

His own hunger sated, Geta retrieves a tunica for himself, this one in imperial purple, dressing to meet with an equal, even if Ricardius Spear-Handed is a lesser king of a small kingdom. He finishes with a gold circlet in his hair. He almost realizes too late that Stepan is barefoot, and fetches him a pair of leather sandals that tie in place at his ankle.

“Come, Stepan,” he whispers, offering his hand again, which the omega lightly grips, fingers loose. “A runner has already been sent ahead, and we had best be on our way. Your father will be expecting us.”

🌙🏛️🌿

The roman puts Stepan on a gentle mare, the horse following easily behind his own stallion. Silently, he takes in the familiar forest road, the verdant life and scents of his home in summer surrounding him. At least for the length of the journey he can pretend that this is any other day—that he will go home to sleep in his own nest when night falls, and this will all have been a strange dream.

But it’s not so. He will leave with the romans and almost certainly never return to his homeland. And he shall do so gladly if it will buy safety for his people. If it will keep his siblings from being sent into a losing battle.

His father’s hall comes into view and Stepan wants to leap from his horse and run inside. To fling himself into his mother’s arms and weep against her breast.

The dull ache between his legs is a potent reminder of why he cannot. His master has despoiled him, his value now locked to what this one alpha wants with him.

Fortunately, they do not need to wait long, his father’s personal guard coming out to meet them and escort the romans before their king. But Dominus is the one to offer Stepan his hand and help him from the mare’s back. “I have not chained you to my side, little prince,” he whispers in his ear. “You may go to your parents when we enter the hall. They are sure to be worried after your wellbeing.” He presses a soft kiss just below Stepan’s ear, like he can’t help himself from taking this small liberty. “Show them you are unharmed.”

“Yes, Dominus,” Stepan whispers back, dropping his hand and turning toward to doors.

Yakiv waits there, Master of the Guard, the man who taught Stepan how to hold a sword, to defend himself with a dagger. The one who carried him home when he fell from an apple tree at 8 years old and broke his arm, the one to hear Ravna’s shrieking when all he could do was lie on the ground and whimper in pain.

Stepan keeps his pace even as he crosses to meet him, Yakiv grabbing him by the shoulders as soon as he’s close enough. “Oh, pup, what did you do?”

“I was only… I know the woods so well! I only wanted to come back with information, but-” Stepan stops, swallows, lowers his voice back to just above a whisper. “I was angry. And I thought it would be more help than it was, and I got caught.”

“Yes. You did.” The disappointment in Yakiv’s scent burns in his nose. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

“I know. But the romans knew of Father…”

“And your Latin is good.”

“Yes. And I’m an omega.”

The disappointment turns to concern, but Yakiv does not ask. He simply gathers Stepan to him in a bear hug, then ushers him into the hall.

His parents sit on their thrones, waiting, but as soon as he’s through the doors, his mother—stepmother, but the only mother he can remember—is on her feet, rushing to meet him. She kisses his cheek and wraps her arms around him. “Styopa, my heart, what happened? We’ve been sick with worry.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” He hides his face against her shoulder. “But I’m all right. Everything will be all right now.”

“Styopa…” His mother doesn’t say anything more, she simply strokes his hair, kisses his forehead, and leads him back to the dais. She takes her seat, and he stands behind her, at her left shoulder.

Even though it is normally beneath his duties, Yakiv announces the roman’s entrance, Dominus followed by his own guards and contingent of soldiers. “My king,” he calls, “Caesar Septimius Geta thanks you for your hospitality and for welcoming him so quickly.”

Stepan’s blood turns to ice as he finally understands.

He is Emperor Severus’s younger son. Brother to Emperor Caracalla. Heir to the whole of the Roman Empire until his brother finally has children of his own.

And he wants Stepan.

The room tilts on its axis, and Stepan only stays upright by clutching at the backrest of the queen’s throne. His father will surely reprimand him for the disrespect, and for showing weakness in front of a foreign ruler. If only his father knew how weak he has already been before Geta.

How little he has to hide.

“Well met, Caesar!” Rikhardt calls, smiling as the roman advances. “Your emissary claims you come with terms of peace. Terms far fairer than our neighbors have been granted.”

Geta smiles with too many teeth. “I do, Rikhardt Spear-Handed. Bend the knee to Rome, and retain all your rights and sovereignties as king here. You will have the protection of Rome without giving up any of your lands or powers.”

Stepan looks to his father, sees his skeptical smile, knows the offer sounds too good to be true.

“And what do you ask of me, Septimius Geta?”

“I, of course, require that you offer hospitality and safe passage to any roman citizen passing through your lands, that you give quarter to legionnaires on campaign, and…” Geta pauses, glances around the room, dark eyes locking with Stepan’s for a long moment before he turns his attention back to the king. “I ask for your eldest son’s neck. I wish to take Stepan as my mate.”

A mating is more than a marriage, especially amongst romantic nobles as far as Stepan has learned. A marriage is an arrangement between families, built on politics and trade rather than attraction or intimacy. Stepan had not thought he would even be offered marriage, just the comfort of being a pampered concubine, one who could be a spy because who cares what is said before an unlearned foreigner.

But a mating—

“Stepan, come,” Rikhardt says, motioning with two fingers, and Stepan rushes to comply, certain he’s missed some of the conversation as he circles around to stand beside him.

“Yes, Father?”

Rikhardt takes Stepan by the hand, looks up into the eyes that match his own, and asks, “Do you accept this alpha’s offer for your neck?”

Stepan does not hesitate in his answer. There is no other choice. “I do.”

“Good. Then it is what shall be!” Rikhardt stands, puts an arm around Stepan’s shoulder, and turns his gaze back onto Geta and his wolfish grin. “We shall prepare the wedding feast, for tonight you will marry him before our gods, and then his neck will be yours.”

Part 3

[zarnzarn]

@backpackingspace well if u WANT to know then I suppose....

it was an au where Athena thinks Odysseus is dead after their connection gets severed due to Ogygia, so in her regret and grief goes to support Penelope and Telemachus, to fulfill his final wish the best she can. Penelope rages and screams for weeks when Athena tells her so, but eventually runs out of fury and has to figure out how to rule until Telemachus is old enough to take the throne.

After finding out what happens to Diomedes as well, Athena calls him to Ithaka to keep better care of him, and even though not a day goes by where the three of them don't feel the presence of a missing spot, a negative space- still, life goes on.

And then- Athena jolts upright from where she was lazing about one day, so much closer to mortal herself now that she can understand it all- a familiar connection bursting to life in her chest, and numbly tells Telemachus to fetch Penelope and Diomedes immediately.

It is her wayward pupil. Odysseus. Alive.

Alive.

He had not been dead.

She is the first to reach the coastline, pulling him into an embrace with a cry- except she never makes contact. Her hands pass straight through.

Her heart drops, staring at the haggard face of her pupil as he struggles onto shore in the dying light. Breathing too fast, horror taking hold of every corner of her.

Odysseus cannot see her. Because he no longer prays to Pallas Athena.

The part of her that had been thanking the Fates for a second chance drops like a stone. She wants to turn back and stop the others from coming, because-

She cannot stop them in time, and watches the last light in Odysseus' eyes gutter and die out at the betrayal of what seems like the last people he'd pinned his hopes on, holding on to each other and making no move forward, stunned still in shock.

"Move, you idiots," She hisses, and they jerk forward- but Odysseus has already taken a step back and raised a hand.

"If you want me to leave-" He says, face blank of any emotion in the way she had spent years chiding him to achieve and immediately wished he had never learnt.

"NO!" Penelope screams, deep and terrible, and pushes past everyone to snatch up her husband, sobbing, "No, no, stay, stay, my love, oh, oh, you're alive-"

Diomedes and Telemachus sprint forward too. Athena looks on, guilt drowning her alive, shaking. She- she was the one. Who shattered the last of their hopes, who never looked hard enough, who never thought that- that someone had hidden him from her vision. She had made nothing but enemies on Olympus.

|

Oop started writing but ANYWAY! it's a full part story with changing povs lol

had a fic idea so diabolical it made ME upset all morning lmao all of y'all watch out

[world-of-aus]

Strictly Confidential - Part 3

Warnings: easily flustered Bucky Barnes because that is a warning!

A/n: sorry for the delay, I’ll be updating the dates of release on this masterlist! Left it on a bit of hanger because i need to get you all roped in further as we take off! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter i love writing a flustered Bucky! As always thank you for reading!

Part 2 / Series Masterlist

There was something about mornings that Bucky dreaded, but there was something about this particular morning that just took the cake.

Since he woke up this morning, two hours late to be exact, everything was slowly going to shit. From the accident on the streets causing him to arrive an hour later to the office then planned, to the mix up on his coffee order, to the only elevator in the office out of order, he didn’t think it could get any worse, there was just no way.

He should have known better than to think otherwise because finding you bent over his desk, your skirt tight around your backside nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, of course it was your first day working for him how could he have forgotten. Seeing you bent over his desk had him growing hard in his slacks his hand cupping the warm Styrofoam cup a little too tightly sending the lid popping off and hot liquid pouring over his hands, a loud, “son of a bitch,” spilling from his lips.

A gasp left your lips as you looked over your shoulder just in time to see him drop the coffee to the floor with a hiss, “Mr. Barnes, oh my goodness,” you voiced making your way over to him, “here let me help,” you murmured grabbing the files from his other hand. He watched you move around his office, placing his files neatly on his desk before you were moving back over to him to pick up the lid and coffee cup discarding them in the can by his door.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured exiting his office door, Bucky watched the door you had glided out of in a daze, he hadn’t even been in his office for a full minute and he was already captivated by you.  

Your rushing back in a minute later when he’s finally managed to snap himself out of the very trance that you have put him in. “Here,” you voiced moving over to him grabbing a hold of his hand as you placed a cool towel on the heated red skin, “you really ought to be more careful Mr. Barnes, if you need me to fetch your coffee in the mornings before I come in, I have no problem doing so.”

“Nonsense y/n, that’s not - Jesus christ,” he grunted watching you drop to your knees swiftly to tend at the coffee spill on the floor giving him a perfect view down the top of your blouse.

Your eyes shoot up, brow raised, “Everything alright sir, was the towel not cool enough, I can see if I can get you some antiseptic, Steve said I could fetch him if I needed anything,”

“Sir?” you questioned slowly when he didn’t answer at first, Bucky blinked at you owlishly before shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, “Mr. Barnes are you sure you're okay, I can go get Steve, really it won’t be an issue.

“no, no,” he muttered shaking his head, “it's just been a long morning, nothings quite going as expected,” he sighed rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” you questioned.

His eyes are snapping open at the sound of your voice, and god he wished he wouldn’t have chosen that exact moment to look at you because he's a breath away from falling to his knees himself, licking his way into your mouth and fucking you senseless on the floor.

“Uhm actually yes, do you think you could fetch Steve for me?”

“No,” Bucky looked at Steve incredulously, “what do you mean no!”

“What I said Bucky,” Steve replied with a roll of his eye, “no, your hired her yesterday, now all of a sudden you decide it’s not something you want,” he questions, “we’ll I’m sorry man, but no, I’m not going to fire someone because you change your mind from one day to another, she’s a damn good publicist give her a chance, she’s going to change your life!”

Bucky groans, running a hand through his hair, how can he tell Steve that’s it’s not you, its him. How does he tell Steve that he signed up for a Cam website like him and Sam had told him to jokingly do and that the Cam girl he loves to spend his hard-earned money on is you, his newly hired publicist? How does he tell Steve that he can’t be in your presence without his dick getting hard at the mere sight of you? How does he tell him that you already did change his life?

“Steve please,” his best friend shakes his head, “If you want her gone YOU fire her,” he glares, “I’ve seen the work she does, and I know the great things she’s capable of, so I'm not going to do that to her, you do it if you really don’t want her working under you.”

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to argue, a chance to plead with his friend, his best pal, because Steve is exiting his office in a huff, and Bucky knows he’s fucked up.

Today really was the bane of his existence.

A soft knock sounds on his office door, he glances up to see you there a soft smile on your lips, “I brought you some lunch, asked Steve for your usual, I hope you don’t mind, figured you had a bad enough morning, and with Steve walking out of here like a man on a mission, I'm assuming your meeting with him didn’t go as great.”

Bucky sighs, “you have no idea” he murmurs.

Your gliding through his office doors, placing a bag from his favorite Diner down in front of him, “I hope you enjoy your lunch Mr. Barnes, and if there’s anything else I can do for you, I honestly don’t mind offering a helping hand,” you shrug, “I may be a publicist but I can be a friend if you need it.”

Your words shock Bucky, you really were the total package, weren't you?

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, “would you like to have lunch with me,” he questions and its that teasing glimmer in your eyes that has him adding, “of course only if you want, if you don’t have lunch plans with anyone else.”

A soft laugh falls from your lips as you take one of the seats in front of his desk, softly moving things from in front of his desk off to the side, “was planning on having lunch by myself in the workroom, but having lunch with you sounds a lot better, get to know you on a more personal level Mr. Barnes.”

He clears his throat, opening the bag as he pulls his burger and fries out, “what would you like to know?” he questions shoving a fry into his mouth.

“what’s your guilty pleasure?” and really your question is innocent, but something in him snaps when he watches you lick the extra ketchup off of your finger.

“you,” he murmurs in a daze.

Your eyes are meeting his brow raised, a smirk pulling at your lips, “excuse me?” you question.

Bucky's cheeks flush red at the realization of what he’s said, “YouTube, YouTube is my guilty pleasure, and god does he wish the floor would swallow him whole because your full-on smirking, and he knows you know.

“alright Barnes, why is YouTube your guilty pleasure?”

“I like to watch videos,” he shrugs, and a snort falls from your lips, “what type of content do you like to watch?”

You.

“I don’t have a specific thing I like to watch,” unless it's your spreading your legs for me, my name spilling from your lips in a breathy plea, “I like to watch anything that catches my eye really,” and you catch me eye.

“Have a special someone in your life right now?” you question over a fry.

Bucky takes a bite from his burger considering your question, “define special someone sweetheart,” and he grins when he hears you clear your throat, cheeks taking on a slight hue of pink.

“Now Sir, I think you know what I mean by special someone, do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Yes, yes you do, with your mouth wrapped around his cock, tongue swirling over his head, there goes his slacks.

“should we skip the question?” you question.

“Wouldn’t say I have a special someone, but there is someone I'm interested in, is that answer enough for you?”

You smirk, “might need to spice it up, but hey that’s my job,”

“what about you.” he fires back, and honestly, he’s a little curious.

“what about me?

“do you have a ‘special someone’” he questions throwing away his trash in the bin under his desk.

“Define special someone,” you throw back a teasing smile on your lips.

“would you like me to spell it out for you?” he questions because really he would drop to his knees if you asked him too.

You laugh shaking your head, “not that it’s any of your business,” you tease, “but if you must know, there is someone I am interested in, he’s a client of mine.”

Bucky raises a brow, “oh, anyone I might now, someone from your work perhaps?”

Your cheeks flush red, as you wipe at your mouth with a napkin, “I don’t think you know him, but he is a client of mine, a regular if you will.”

“a regular you say,” he questions, is there a name to this lucky fellow?” he adds, and that only makes your cheeks grow warmer.

“Buck.”

Bucky chokes on his saliva, his body convulsing wildly in a fit of coughs, “oh my god Mr. Barnes are you okay?” you questioned concerned.

His hand is waving wildly in the air, voice coming out strained, “yeah, yeah I'm fine, went down the wrong pipe,” he coughs.

You're getting up then making your way around his desk, your hand rubbing his back softly, “did the name ring a bell?” you questioned through a laugh, and good thing his head is ducked because surely he would have given himself a way with just a look.

“No, no, I promise it wasn’t that like I said it's not the best day, and it seems I can’t even swallow.”

Your stifling your own laughter, and his eyes grow wide, “y/n get your mind out of the gutter,” he grunts.

Laughter is fully spilling out of your lips now, and his eyes slide up your legs, stopping on your face, god the sounds you make always sound so heavenly to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you snort, “but you walked yourself into that one!”

“I think that’s enough questions for today,” he laughs, your laughter finally getting him, “that’s fine,” you chuckle wiping under your eyes, the hand that was on his back falling to your side, and there’s a part of him missing your touch.

“Steve said he would fill me on as much as he could so that I could start working on something for you,”  

Bucky watches as you gather your things feet carrying you to the door, you turn to face him a warm smile on your lips, “thank you for letting me have lunch with you Mr. Barnes.”

He’s smiling back, “thank you for having lunch with me y/n.” he watches you leave through his door, the glass closing softly.

He’s slumping against his chair, a breath of air leaving his lips, “buck,” he was your special someone, or at least the man behind the screen of your Xmodels website was.

BuckmeUp his Xmodels username, it had to be him, he had looked through your publicist website last night, looked through the articles, and videos you have created for various clientele and there was no “Buck” there.

His thumb runs over his lip, he knew this wouldn’t end good.

Its later that same day that he decides to call it for the evening, he had gotten absolutely nothing done today, and to be quite frank he was over it.

Grabbing his things, he exited his office, intent on heading home and calling it a night, he didn’t think he had it in him to go through anything else.

Seeing the elevator with no out of order sign had slightly lifted his hopes, thankful to not have to walk down three flights. He’s stepping into the elevator when he hears you call out for him, his foot stops the closing doors, as you run the rest of the way, “oh thank goodness,” you breathe as you slide in past him, pressing up against the wall, “I thought I was the only one still here.”

“What are you still doing here,” he questions as the doors slide closed, “I’m usually the last one out of the office, did steve leave before you?”

Your nodding, “yeah he said he had to get home, he said I could stay behind to finish up putting together some of the information he gave me about you.” you smile.

“anything interesting?” he questioned watching as you pulled your phone from your purse.

You look up at him slightly as you unlock your phone, “he told me some really lovely things about you and your company, you sound like quite the catch.” you grin, eyes averting back to your screen.

“Texting your “special someone,” he questions as the elevator dings, doors sliding open.

A laugh leaves your lips, but your eyes remain glued to your screen as you follow him out of the elevator, “something like that,” you murmur.

You’re locking your phone as you and Bucky make your way down the corridor of the bottom level of the office, your slipping out the door with him, when it's time to part ways. Bucky's phone pings with a notification pausing him in his steps as you continue on, you turn your head when your feet away from him, “I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Barnes, have a great night!” you call out, as you walk further down the quiet streets. Bucky goes to respond but the notification he just received has his breath catching in his throat, and his words dying on his tongue.

Xmodels:

Have sometime for your best girl tonight? - Vixen

Part 4

WorldofAUs Forever Tag-list: @cap-n-stuff-main​​ @bucky-cinnamonroll-barnes​​ @kseniiafirebrace​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @b0nkybarnes​​ @oliviastan17​

Strictly Confidential Tag-list: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @lady-pswrld @connie326 @lookiamtrying @depproselily @mollygetssherlockcoffee @jaywolf840 @calwitch @genlovesdcb @xoasalxo @jbarness @undiscovered-misunderstood​ @abschaffer2​ @brattypeony​ @sassy-pelican​

[witcherarcanathings]

When You’re Gone - An Asra/ Lucio x Female Reader Angst part 4

Summary: Lucio goes after his run away lover. The apprentice has a choice to make.

Word Count: 5000. Should I have broken it into smaller chunks? No.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Language

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @jayaanderson for reading my drafts, supporting me during the writing process and being a good friend as always.

Credit: to @royallyprincesslilly​ for the text divider

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five

Lucio woke, golden strands of hair falling gently on his face, his features soft from a good night's rest. He'd forgotten to close the drapes last night, and he could feel the warmth of the sunlight that flooded the room. His eyes were closed, but by the color of the sunlight that shone through his eyelids he knew that it must have been mid-day and he smiled. The two of you had slept well past noon - a testament to your night of passion.

He stretched out, groaning loudly as a sleepy smile spread across his face. He stretched his arm out towards you, reaching to caress the softness of your cheek to gently stir you awake. "Good morning, my love. Did you-"

He felt the emptiness of the space beside him. His heart jumped into his throat as panic filled his chest.

"She's probably just in the bath, I'll pop in and say hello." He murmured, trying to soothe himself. He sat up, throwing the sheets aside, unashamed of his nakedness as he approached the large mahogany doors that led to the Count's personal bath.

With the most charming smile he could muster he opened the doors.

"Doll, don't tell me you started without me?"

Silence. He was talking to an empty room of cold marble and his heart sunk. With empty eyes he looked around him and saw the truth. Your clothes were gone. You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn't been there at all.

You'd left him without saying a word.

The only proof that you'd been there at all was the warmth that you'd left behind from your side of the bed. He lay there, his cheek pressed against the sheets as your scent filled him.

He didn't know why he started crying - hot, angry, sorrowful tears that seemed to multiply the ache in his chest rather than abate it . He thought you were different, that after all the time and careful planning that last night would have made it clear you were more than just a one night stand. He wanted to be more than that

The count dressed quickly, not caring a nib whether he was a la mode or not. He made his way to your chambers, hoping for an answer as to why you left him. He knocked twice, and without an answer he entered, finding no one home.

The dress you wore to the ball last night was draped neatly on the bed, with a note attached addressed to your maidservant to have it cleaned and pressed.

Just then the girl came in, startled by the count's presence.

"Oh sire! I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just M'lady-" Anya began, backing away slowly as she pulled the door to close it.

"No it's alright. You may resume your duties." Lucio placed the note back on the dress, taking a careful look around. "Tell me, just where is your mistress? Has she given you any indication of her whereabouts this afternoon?" Lucio doubted it, but he thought he'd ask anyway. He was desperate.

Anya shook her head, " No sire. The Lady Magician usually is here about this time - doing her spellwork and what not. If she's not here sir, it's the library. Shall I send someone to fetch her for you, my lord?"

"No. It's perfectly alright. I'm sure I'll run into her. Thank you."

He strode out of your room, proud and regal as to not betray his disappointment. He'd try the shop. He couldn't open the door. It was magic - very strong magic meant to keep him out. But he knew someone with a key.

Questions were running through your mind as you fled the palace.You feel like Cinderella running away from the ball - that is if Cinderella slept with the prince, ran away, and then went to drown her sorrows in a seedy bar in the worst part of South End.

The Rowdy Raven was the place to go if you wanted to get away, or at least not at risk of the palace guard knowing where you were. Dressed in a black, high collar coat, you walked swiftly through the streets. The brisk morning air chilled your cheeks, the crisp breeze a herald of approaching autumn. You focused on the clip-clop sound of your boots against the cobblestone streets, quickly stepping sideways out of the path of an oncoming carriage that splashed mud on the tail ends of your coat.

Vesuvia was partial to early morning rains in the summer, and evidence of the deluge still dripped from the gutters and pooled in puddles in the street and dampened the earth.

You hardly took notice of it, only the lingering scent of rain caught your attention as your mind wrestled with the whirlwind events of last night.

The facts of the matter were that you'd made love with Lucio, and you didn't regret a single moment of it

BUT you were still in a relationship with Asra, although you two had argued, you hadn't told him it was over.

And was it over?

That was a question you'd asked yourself over and over these past few weeks, although you were refusing to speak to him - part of you still hoped you'd be able to work it out. That maybe somehow you'd reconcile. But you weren't sure if that was what you really wanted. Especially now that Lucio had stirred something inside you. He made you feel things you didn't think you would ever feel for someone else; passion, lust, maybe even love.

Julian came into the bar at around two in the afternoon. "Right on time as always, doctor." the barkeep smiled. "What can I get ya?"

"Surprise me." Julian grinned as he hung his coat on the wall. "On second thought don't. I'd like to live a bit longer."

Tilda, the barmaid came up to him on the pretense of clearing a nearby table. "Your friend, the magician's back there. Really putting them down too. Looks like something's worrying them awful fierce."

For a moment he thought Tilda meant Asra, and his heart jumped. He knew Asra had said he'd return within the week but he hadn't expected him so soon. But as Tilda nodded towards the booth in the back, he saw you and he sighed, thanking the gods because Asra and alcohol did not mix.

Hooded and still gloved he watched as you downed what looked to be your fourth Salty Bitter before he took a seat opposite of you.

"Alright, sister. Spill it. What's wrong?" Julian asked.

"You and Portia are too much alike, you know? Very perceptive." You laugh, hiccuping a bit.

"It doesn't take that much to see you're looking for answers in the wrong places. I hope this isn't because of Asra. Portia told me you two were fighting."

"I slept with Lucio." you blurt out, drink giving away your inhibition.

"Shit." Julian slumped back into the booth, steepling his long fingers as he pressed his forehead into them. "Give me the details."

You explain to him everything that happened, your flight, your confusion. your fear. He listened intently, as if you were on the examination table and he was making a diagnosis.

"I think that I know what your problem is, darling," Julian began as Tilda brought another round of drinks for you both. He waited for her to leave before he started again. " Do you know why you're here?" His arm rested gently on your shoulder.

"Because I'm a weak human being and I have no morals?" You reply, downing your 7th salty bitters.

"NO, and that's enough of that." He said, moving the 8th pint out of your reach and down his throat before you could protest.

"It's because for the first time in your life you have the kind of love that you've always dreamed of. You have someone who loves you, and you're scared shitless. You finally have that thing you've been chasing after, and now that you have it you're starting to question yourself."

"Asra loves me." You answer sadly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, or maybe it's the alcohol. You’re not so sure.

"There's no doubt about that," Julian answers pointing a long finger at you. "But is his kind of love the one that you really want.Or just the one you've settled for because you're afraid that there is nothing better?"

The doctor’s words hit you deep, forcing you to think about them.For a moment, you were  considering whether or not Julian had an ulterior motive for wanting you to split with Asra. You'd seen that fragment of the past, and wondered if there still wasn't some feeling there. Ultimately though, that didn’t matter. Julian’s word rang true, and you knew he wouldn’t steer you wrong for his own gain. “You’re right, Ilya!” you declared, slamming your empty mug on the table. “I’ve been a damned coward, and a fool!” You grabbed another salty bitter off the tray of a passing waitress and took a big swig. “I’m going to grab true love by the testicles and tell Lucio I’m his if he’ll have me!” You posed confidently, moving to make a bold step out of the bar but failing miserably. You ended up swaying  drunkenly back and forth as you tried to catch your balance by holding on to a nearby barstool. Your double vision caused you to misjudge where it was, and your hand caught onto nothing but air,sending you straight to the floor, falling flat on your face. “Shit, you’re drunker than I thought!” Julian hopped up to pull you to your feet. “Ugh...Ilya, my face hurts….” you groaned, wincing as you touched your temple. “It should. That was a hard fall.” Julian chuckled as he checked you for any head injuries. “You gotta help me get to the palash...I gotta see Lucio. Tell him I luv him. I lurv him so mush!” You slurred, as you staggered towards the exit. “Not so fast! You can’t go to the palace like that! You’re going home until you sober up.Doctor’s orders.” Julian said, hooking his arm over your shoulder, keeping you steady. He settled the bill before, the two of you headed out, stopping a few times along the way for you to throw up in nearby alleyways.

As you and Julian were leaving South End, Lucio entered it, trying to remember the way to Julian’s Flat. He hadn’t been there in years. In fact, he couldn’t remember he ventured past center city, save for the occasional trips to the Coliseum when it had been in operation. He knew better to ask any citizen in South End where the doctor hung his hat. The people in this part of vesuvia looked out for each other, and wouldn’t snitch to the count about their favorite son. After a half hour of tracking and the clue of a familiar looking raven perched on top of a building, he found the flat.

“Jules! Jules, open up, pal! I gotta talk to ya!” Lucio’s jersey accent was strong as he knocked on the door. When there was no immediate answer, he started pounding on the door so hard that the wood began to crack under his metal fist. “Jules! Open up Jules! I know you’re in there! I saw your bird outside!” “Ay!”  A large, round, red faced man glared at Lucio from down the hall. “The doctor’s not here dipshit! Now go make your noise somewhere else. Some of us have jobs and are trying to get some sleep!”

“Hey watch your mouth! I’m the count.” Lucio said haughtily.

“Do I look like I gives a shit who you are? Clear outta here, or I’ll throw you out myself!” If Lucio was his younger self, he’d have gutted the man for talking to him this way. But he was a different man now, and tried to use diplomacy. “Alright. I’m going. And I won’t throw you in prison if you tell me where I can find Jules.” Lucio said, his patience wearing thin. “Try the rowdy raven. Looked like he was headin’ there. But you didn’t hear that from me.” the man answered before slamming his door.

“Thank you...asshole.” Lucio grumbled under his breath, his black leather boots stomping down the rickety wooden steps. The sky was overcast with somber looking clouds hovering above the city, making Lucio wonder if it would rain again or if the clouds would eventually give way to the sun. It didn’t seem that way. The smell of rain clung to the damp air, and everything felt dull, wet, and dreary. Or maybe Lucio just felt that way because the apprentice had walked out on him.If he could find you, and talk to you, maybe then he could understand why you abandoned him.

At the Rowdy Raven he could hear the ruckus in the street, the sound of laughter and cheerful, drunken singing. It all stopped when the count entered. A cool silence filled the room, and some patrons slipped quietly out the back. Others just glared at him hatefully or didn’t look his direction at all. Many still remembered Lucio as the vain, volatile and selfish ruler he once was and not as the man he was trying to become and he let out an exasperated sigh. He supposed he deserved such a reaction from his own people.

“Afternoon, Count Lucio.” Tilda curtsied, trembling a little. “How may I be of service?” “I’m looking for Dr. Devorak. Have you seen him?” The count questioned.

A pregnant silence followed as Tilda’s eyes shot to the owner behind the bar. He was cleaning glasses as he gave a nod to Tilda to answer. “He was here earlier this mornin’, sir. A lady patron had too much to drink and he walked her home. Dunno where he is now.” Tilda answered.

“A lady patron? What did she look like?” Lucio asked. He smiled when Tilda gave him your description, and Lucio sat a bag of gold on the table, enough to buy everyone in the tavern a round of drinks and then some.

As he came out of the pub, the cloudy skies overhead cleared and gave way to the sun. He knew where you were now, and that was all he needed. He set off towards your shop, confident he’d find you there.

In the shop, Julian had made you his famous, guaranteed hangover fix. You looked at the greenish brown concoction wearily, unsure if it wouldn’t come to life and bite off your nose. Besides it smelled awful.

“Ilya...Ilya I can’t drink this…” You groaned, trying to keep from vomiting from the smell of it alone.

“Aw, come on trust me! It’s my go to sober up remedy!” Julian smiled, pushing the glass towards you.”Now come on, be a good girl and drink up.”

“I don’t want to be a good girl.” you grumbled, your last protest before you took a cautious sip. Strangely, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. There was a strong taste of beets, carrot and ginger, and maybe a few raw eggs. You drank it all down, pinching your nose to ward off the smell.

“Better?” julian asked as you swallowed the last.

“Somewhat. It didn’t taste that bad actually. By why in heaven's name does it smell so bad?”  you asked as you felt yourself start to sober up.

“Could’ve been the garlic, or the sardines.” Julian thought, scratching his chin. “In any case, I suggest you give your mouth a good rinse before you smooch Lucio.”

“Definitely.” you agreed, standing up slowly. “Well thank you for helping me Julian, really.” you stood on your tip toes to kiss him on the cheek, laughing when he scrunched up his face from the smell of your breath. It was just what he got for making you drink that junk. 

“You’re welcome” He gagged, trying to wave the stench away. “You should probably get yourself cleaned up and rested before you get back to the palace. I’ll clean up the kitchen before I show myself out.”

“Alrighty then,” You smiled heading upstairs to refresh yourself. 

You opened your bedroom window to reach the herbs and spices you had growing just outside on the window sill. Grabbing some cloves and spearmint you grabbed your mortar and pestle from the vanity and ground them slowly into a powder which you dipped your toothbrush in and began to scrub your mouth. You repeated the process again after taking a cold shower, feeling completely rejuvenated. You threw on a robe, and wrapped your wet hair in a towel before heading downstairs for a cup of tea. 

You were surprised to hear sounds coming from below. Julian should have finished cleaning the kitchen long ago. “Still here, Julian?” You ask not expecting to hear the voice that  you did. “No he left. But he said I could wait for you here. I hope that’s alright?” Lucio said, his voice soft and no trace of his usual brashness. 

“L-Lucio? What are you doing here? I thought you were at the palace?” You blanched.

“I can see why you would think that, considering that you left me cold and alone this morning without sayin’ a word.” He replied, his hurt apparent in the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lucio. This morning I woke up next to you and I had all these feelings and I panicked and-”

" And You ran away from me." Lucio finished your answer.

"NO! I mean that's not what I meant to do.... I mean, I guess I did." You sigh, turning away from him. Why were feelings so hard? Particularly these feelings. Everything seemed so straight forward when you were talking this over with Julian.

"Did I do something wrong?" Lucio asked, his tone sad and broken as his voice cracked.

"No! absolutely not.” You answered resolutely. “ I just think I did?"

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean it's not easy walking away from someone you've loved for years and then just jumping in with someone else.. I didn't want you to think I was using you as some sort of rebound or a way to get back at Asra to make him jealous. I wanted to be sure of that."

" And are you? sure?"

"No. I mean I don't know. I just know that I want to be. I want more than that with you."

"I see."

You hated those words. It's what Asra said all the time when you were arguing and it made you feel like you were talking to a wall. a wall who only saw and understood things as they wanted them to be.

“Look, what I’ve been trying to say is that I have feelings for you too, Lucio. And it scares the heck out of me, because finally I’m with someone who loves me back the way I want to be loved and I don’t know how to handle it.” You sighed, desperate to get your feelings across to the man in front of you.

"Then you want to be together?" He asked, hope in his voice, as he felt joy rising up from the tips of his toes.

"I sure hope we can be." You smile. 

“Yes!” Lucio jumps up, whooping with glee as his fist pumps in the air. He captures you in his rapture, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tightly as if he was afraid you might slip away from you again. The towel on your head slipped off and fell, landing on the kitchen floor with a wet plop.

Neither of you noticed. Lucio was too busy living in this moment, gazing into your eyes as if they were the only ones he wanted to look at. Slowly you went to kiss him, feeling his smile against your lips spread warmth throughout your body.

The kiss was different, a soft silent 'I'm sorry' that neither of you could voice but just wanted to feel as your lips explored each other.

‘I’m sorry’ quickly turned to “I need you.” as Lucio whispered it against your lips, his hands trailing lower to grip your ass through the thinness of your robe.

“Upstairs.” You whisper hurriedly, taking his hand and intending on leading him to the bedroom.  However, the jolt of him pulling you back into his arms and crashing his lips onto yours stops you in your tracks. He wanted you here and now, and would not wait any longer.  He walks you backwards and you yelp when your back hits the counter and he lifts you up onto it. Your robe falls away with ease, and Lucio thanks the stars that he chose his simple hunter’s outfit. He swiftly pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor, before bringing his chiseled chest against the smooth softness of your breasts.

There’s barely enough room for you to stand between him and the counter, but you make it work, holding his gaze as his eyes darken. Your toes barely touch the kitchen floor with your legs spread wide and open for him.

You anticipate Lucio’s touch before it comes, cold metal fingers sliding up your arched spine until his fingers can wrap around the nape of your neck. His hips press against you, just enough to let you  know he’s there, while the fingers of his other hand rids himself of the remainder of his clothes. You’re both soon stark naked against each other, a tangle of mouths and needy hands. You feel his length start to harden against the inside of your thigh. You reached down to touch it, hearing a small whimper leave the count’s throat when your thumb glides against his weeping tip. 

Like chains had just been released from his body, Lucio’s mouth attached to yours feverishly. The heat of his body permeated through the parts of skin that touched, your naked flesh felt like he was on fire against his.

The kiss was hot and heavy, saliva mixing together as he kissed you greedily. Your own mouth and tongue roamed his mouth with just as much fervour. His light fingers knotted through your hair, his teeth grazing your lips. Your own hands feeling up and down the sculpted expanse of his back and touched scars, old and new. The smaller ones your doing from last night

.

You sighed with longing and relief when Lucio slipped his finger inside. Until that moment you hadn't known how much you need lucio. But your body knew  it had craved him since the first taste.

You could feel his erection prodding against your soft inner thigh. His right hand slid down your wet body to your cunt. You gasped, gripping his arms in shock as he assaulted your clit with his dexterous fingers.

You cry out against him, Your teeth scraping the skin of his shoulder. "Please Lucio! Don't tease me!" You beg, but the count just smiles and wraps his hands around your breasts and squeezes your nipples hard. The pinching makes you whine out and Lucio leans forward with a shit eating grin, his lips brushing your neck and shoulders before he lavishes the crook of your neck in wet kisses.

“Please!" You whine lowly again and the tone almost makes him lose his self control.

Lucio dips his fingers into your heat and You buck against his hand, fucking yourself on his stilled fingers.Satisfied that you needed him, Lucio pumped his fingers, making you cry but it wasn’t enough for you, you need more and he knows it.

His fingers move faster inside of you, a steady rolling motion that makes your knuckles turn white where they’re gripping the cool granite countertop. He knows exactly how to pleasure you, exactly where to touch you and get your wetness spreading down onto your thighs and down his wrist. It’s like he’s practiced for this moment, dreamed, prepared, and planned to have you like this. The thought makes you want to touch him to, to thank him and apologize for delaying this dream come true.

You wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s rock hard and you feel pulsating veins under your palm as you stroke him and nip at his throat. He leans his head back with a groan and shivers and shudders under your touch until he can’t take it anymore and he captures your wrist in his golden claw, the metal threatening to bite into your skin. He pushes his pants the rest of the way  down and steps between your thighs and you lock your ankles around him. You yelp in surprise when he lifts you up and carries you across to the table and lays you on it. 

You both make eye contact, panting heavily as his icy blue eyes gaze into yours before traveling down to where your bodies meet. You both watch as he holds himself steady and pushes inside you slowly, Lucio groaning low and deep when he finally fills you.

He leans down like he’s going to kiss you, but he just brushes his nose against yours and whispers, “You gonna stay with me this time?”

You laugh a breathless sort of laugh as you nod. “Honey, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

His smile is so pretty then, genuine and full of love. “That’s my girl.” He whispers, before finally starting to move inside of you. He pulls out with incredible slowness before slamming back inside, making you cry out, your lips twisting up into a relieved smile as pleasure sparks all over your body.

The feeling’s so intense after all his teasing, almost too good as he stretches and fills you just right, and sets a hard, steady pace.

You collapse back onto the table, elbows flat and nails digging into the oak as he thrusts into you with such power. You barely have enough time to figure out whether the four foot square table is strong enough for this because Lucio lifts your legs up to his shoulders and holds them there as he buries his cock into you at a new, deeper angle.

“Damn, you feel so good, darling. I can never get enough of you.” He thrummed against your inner thigh before kissing just behind your knee.

You began to speak, but his lips crushed to yours. In one motion he took hold of your hips, slammed them to his and leaned forward,folding you over so that your knees were just above your ears as he rocked forward. Your words were replaced by soft whimpers of pleasure. The feeling of her clenching around his cock made him smirk as he thrust harshly upwards. His magician did like it a little rough, and he could admit he liked that.

He set up a robust pace; his hips ramming into yours before he pulled all the way out. He repeated his pattern until you were both loudly declaring your pleasure for each other. The sounds of your coupling filling the room, the dining table creaking under his efforts. Your hips began to meet his, and you wailed his name so loudly it could be heard through the open kitchen window. But you didn’t care, and Lucio was so shameless that he didn’t give it a thought.

“Lucio, oh my god, fuck! I’m gonna come!” You grab for anything to steady yourself and end up with one hand on your breast and the other clutching the edge of the table. “You’re gonna, I’m, I’m…”

You scream as the pleasure finally breaks, washing over you and making her forget everything else but the feeling of Lucio inside of you and above you. He keeps fucking you, adding his fingers against your clit and you keep coming like you’re never going to stop.

He starts to move inside of you faster, keeping his eyes locked with yours until he starts to get overwhelmed too. He leans and lets his eyes drop closed, bracing his hands on the table so he can chase his end with the same determination he gives to everything else

You prop your heels up on the table and watch his face, moaning as the slight pain of overstimulation turns back into pleasure. You reach down to play with your clit, rubbing hard and fast and moaning louder as you do.

Lucio’s voice joins yours and he presses deep inside of you, curling over you and coming inside your womb with a cut-off cry that’s too quiet. His face is pinched in pleasure, lips parted, brows drawn together, and he fucks you through it with shallow thrusts that get you to the edge of coming again.

He growled as your inner walls clamped down on him. Your second orgasm pulling you both under a wave of satisfaction, his own following with a few jerky pumps of his hips. As he filled you with his warmth, you pulled him close into a sloppy kiss. Your bodies formed together, and you buried your face into his neck.

He stills finally and gasps, catching his breath before opening his eyes to look down at you. He laughs softly, still breathing hard as he looks around and sees the mess you two have made on the table, and the surrounding floor. A vase of flowers lies spilled over, the water dripping onto the floor where several empty dishes lay, along with a broken tea cup. But you both know that it all can be fixed with a little magic.

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” You questioned as his hands crept up your sides. They slipped down to rest on your hips while he pressed his cheek against your shoulder. 

“As long as you like, doll.” Lucio answers with a few soft kisses as a quiet crept into the room.

As always, thanks for reading!!! The finale is posted!

[vixenandviper]

HOLD! WHO GOES THERE? WHY, IS THAT [CATLINA JOHAR] THE [MADAME OF THE HOUSE] OF [ILLASQA]? THEY DO LOOK [ASSERTIVE] FOR A [WOMAN] OF [29] YEARS. DON’T THEY CALL [HER] THE [SAVVY AND PROTECTIVE HARLOT]? I’VE HEARD THEY’RE ALSO [SILVER TONGUED AND VICIOUS] THOUGH. DON’T TAKE MY WORD FOR IT BUT THEY DO LOOK AN AWFUL LOT LIKE [SUMMER BISHIL].

Basic Info

NAME: Catlina Johar

PRONUNCIATION: Cat-Leena Joe-Har

OCCUPATION: Madame of the Nightshade

AGE: 29

PLACE OF ORIGIN: The Red Keep

FAMILY MEMBERS: None known

Physical Description

HEIGHT: 5′2″

HAIIR COLOR: Dark chestnut with some lighter brown highlights

EYE COLOR: Dark brown

GENDER: Female

BUILD: Pete and slim

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES?: None besides a few freckles

ANY HEALTH RELATED ISSUES?: None

Personality

Catlina isn’t a sweet person. She can drip honey from her tongue if that’s what you want but it’ll cost you. Overall, she is someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind but won’t give you any insight into her past. She does have a bit of an explosive temper but her rage is something she rarely taps into because she knows if she did, the things she’d say would probably land her in prison.

She is, however, extremely loyal to those who have been good to her. Whether that’s a simple favor or someone who has befriended her, you can be sure Catlina Johar will have your back. She is extremely protective of the people who work in her brothel and by extension, the people that work in the tavern. The tavern itself is owned by someone else but they all work together closely.

Additional Info

Catlina runs a tavern and brothel in Illasqa currently, though she was born in the Red Keep. I would love for her to have a few girls and/or guys in her care and business partners. Anything involving the brothel, essentially. As well as rival brothels or establishments too. She’s extremely protective of the girls in her care and wouldn’t let anyone do anything without their consent.

I’d love the Elliot to her Margo. He could be someone who frequents the tavern/brothel or someone who bought it with her. Essentially, he’s her only real friend and the only person other than herself she actually trusts. She would kill for him… and probably has. And he thinks of her as his best friend.

People from her past. She was born on the streets of the Red Keep, her mother was probably a prostitute herself. But an older woman took pity on Cat and took her in, essentially ‘buying’ her from her mother. She was the only person Cat ever saw as a mother but she died when she was a child. Afterwards, Cat lived on the street and probably ran with some bad crowds, fending for herself. She probably made friends enough with some of the prostitutes and convinced them to let her clean up after them or fetch them food and drinks, etc, that they gave her a little closet she could sleep in. She eventually got a job as a serving wench and worked as a prostitute when she was older. But I would love plots from her past, anyone that would have known her back then.

History

She could have ended up in the gutter, in the shit and the muck, in the poorest areas of the Red Keep were it not for her intense desire to not die. Catlina was born without a last name. She was born without a first name until she was given up, just a few days after her birth. Her mother was a prostitute and she was an accident.

Cat was given up to an old woman known around town as Mani who often sold pastries and bread and cakes to the courtesans and clients that visited the Red Door. Her mother had left her in a basket, her only words to the old baker woman were “Please… I can’t. Please take my johar.” The first few years of her life were probably the happiest she could have actually known, given all of the circumstances. The woman was old and growing frail, already into at least her mid-sixties by the time she’d been given Catlina. But she had a heart full of love and a warm home, even if it was really just a room on top of her bakery.

The woman had decided to give Catlina a real name, though she often called her ‘Johar’ as her birth mother did. She taught Catlina how to read and write over the years and some basics that she knew about keeping her business going in the bakery. She often told Cat tales of her own youth and the life she’d led with her husband who had died a few years before. It had been a joyful and full life, even if they’d never had children. And she never told Cat who her mother was, only where she worked. She always said “We’ll talk about this when you’re older.”

But older never came for Cat’s caretaker. She was returning from buying goods from the woman when the bakery was ablaze. The old woman’s body had been burned to an unrecognizable degree and all the magi putting out the fire could tell her was that they hoped she’d died before the inferno took over the home. It seemed the oven had caught the rickety old walls on fire and the rest… was left as cinders. She had once again lost everything and she realized the woman who’d taken care of her was the closest thing she had to a mother.

For weeks, the girl managed to survive on the streets, doing odd chores for various business owners who knew her caretaker. They gave her a few coins, enough for her to buy some bread and fruit and occasionally would let her sleep in their store rooms. It was enough for her, she only ever wanted to survive.

Catlina found herself on the streets during a storm and afterwards, the girl became terribly ill. She remembers falling asleep on the streets and later feeling nothing but warmth. She didn’t know that’s what death would feel like but she was certain she was dying. And perhaps it was Jvala greeting her herself. Welcoming her back into the volcanic earth that she grew.

When she came to, she found it wasn’t Jvala’s warmth welcoming her into the After, but rather someone physical and real and towering and… she was terrified at first. Arvasdarr happened to be the one to find her, broken and sick and cold as she was in the streets. And through whatever hope or goodness or pity he had left in his heart, he took her in and helped her recover. She was with him for a few months at the most, and he’d never quite felt human. She’d asked him very straightforward if he was a dragon. He laughed at her but that was all the answer she needed. Even as a child of just ten years old, she knew he needed his freedom. And he needed to fly free more than anything. And he couldn’t do that looking after a kid. So she went to the place her Mani had mentioned, the Red Door.

No child of ten should have seen the things Catlina saw there. But she begged a few of the girls to give her chores, errands, let her clean, anything, if they’d just let her stay in one of the small store closets. They allowed this little trespass as long as she stayed out of their way. So Catlina went to Arvasdarr and the two parted ways. It was for the best, although he might have been the closest she’d ever find to a father figure.

The years drug on for Catlina, she cleaned, cooked, ran errands, bought groceries, mopped up bodily fluids and even helped the women at the brothel kick drunk men out of their rooms. And she stayed out of sight when she could and out of the way the rest of the time. The women there kicked her a few coins back every time she did them a favor and Catlina began saving more and more of it, buying only as much food as she needed to survive, the rest she stockpiled in order to one day leave the Red Keep.

She had dreams, she wanted a small house somewhere on a beach maybe, and she wanted to live by what she could provide herself. If she found a family along the way, she might be happy to make her own, but all she needed, perhaps, was independence and her own indomitable willpower.

Catlina started servicing the clients too sometime around fifteen or sixteen. She was making more money and paid for a room at the brothel out of her cut. Still, she scrimped and saved, occasionally fighting with one other girl there specifically, but she paid her as little mind as possible. She knew it would solve nothing and get her nowhere near what she wanted.

At eighteen, she left the Red Keep. Her first stop was a three year long stint in East Reach before she finally had enough money saved to book passage and move permanently to Illasqa. She found work there at what was then the Shrieking Clam. But she was motivated and she put in more than her fair share of hard work. On top of taking clients, she did what she could around the tavern and inn to make it function and look better.

She also met Avitej Kumara there. If only she’d known how much her life would change just by meeting him.

The first rule for any whore is to never fall in love. And perhaps she’d broken that rule the moment they’d locked eyes. But she would not realize the extent of the hold he had on her for many years. He was wild then, seemingly untamable. But he’d come often to the Shrieking Clam, it was a favorite haunt of his apparently, and when he’d laid eyes on her, there’d been no one else he wanted to claim.

The next few years were a whirlwind for Catlina. She quickly gained the previous owner of the Shrieking Clam’s favor by being hardworking and having the business tact and savvy that he was looking for. He was aging and wanted someone to take over for him. He trained her on everything she needed to properly manage a brothel and as she stepped further into the role of leadership, the place really started to turn around, and she took less and less clients.

When the man finally retired, Catlina was twenty six. By that point, she only ever took one client when he came around, and she had fixed and rebuilt all of the broken parts of the brothel. She renamed it the Nightshade and slowly, but surely, it had become less and less of a den of debauchery, and more and more a palace of pleasure. If it was any other sort of business, it would be respectable outside of Loqoala, even admired and favored.

But that was Calina Johar’s life. Hard work. The fate she was given overcome by sheer will but the fate she wanted still so far out of reach.

[blinded-and-bloody]

Hey! Could I get interrogation for bthb?

Straight up, I’ll be honest, I walked into this with no plan. Like, none. Interrogations are something I like watching in shows, so I thought I’d try my hand at it. Hope you like… whatever this is. Thanks for requesting! Thank you @non-human-whumper for reading my single draft of this. 

Fandom : NA

Characters : Whumpee, Whumper 

Whump : Body Mutilation, Interrogation, Kidnapping [mentioned]

They sit with their eyes trained on the folded hands in their lap, so silently still that if one isn’t looking closely - it looks like they’re not breathing. Whumpee has been sitting this unnaturally still since they were brought in, gently guided into an interrogation room. Months after originally being reported missing, most people had just assumed that they were dead, until they were spotted on the edge of town, dirty, and too pale, and too quiet. They were seemingly a shadow of the person they had been, the one that was plastered on all of the Missing Posters that were now peeling off of the streetlight poles and drifting into the gutters of the town. 

They had been forgotten by the public eye, and even the Detective sitting across from them hadn’t recognized them when seeing one of the wet flyers flop down the street earlier that week. Things move so fast these days, it was a miracle to keep track of anything. 

“[Whumpee], do you know where you were?” 

There’s no point in asking. Whumpe hasn’t responded to anything they’ve been asked so far. They seem to just let the world happen around them, unresponsive. They might have checked in once or twice but were quickly pulled back into the unresponsive grey were they seemed to primarily reside, staring at their pale fingers, the dirt on display under the harsh lighting. 

The Detective can’t help but wonder what the fuck happened to them. 

“I’m going to go get a cup of coffee,” he tells them, getting up with a withheld sigh. “Want some?” 

When he doesn’t get a response again, he decides that maybe water is a better idea for them, and that’s what he goes up to fetch. Does he need the coffee right now, no, but he doesn’t like being alone with Whumpee. It’s depressing and unsettling. 

On his way back, he’s stopped by his boss. 

“You know, I think I’m going to talk to [Whumpee] myself, [Detective], you can go back to your desk.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind doing this, I just thought we could both use something to drink-” 

“I appreciate that,” his boss says, cutting him off, “but no, I’m sure.” 

He takes the water from the detective, gives the younger man a slight smile, and goes into the interrogation room - not giving the Detective time to wonder why his boss was doing something so below his pay grade. Puzzled, he simply goes back to his desk. 

– 

“You really thought you could get away from me, didn’t you?” 

At the sound of his voice, Whumpee goes impossibly even more still, only taking a very quick glance up to confirm their fear, the fear of their tormentor sitting right across from them. Some part of them notes how much cleaner Whumper looks here. So put together, so cleaned up, almost looking kind with that smile as he puts down the cup of water in front of them. This is the Whumper that Whumpee remembered from Before. The one they never suspected could hurt them, would want to hurt them. 

“Answer me, [Whumpee].” 

They nod, just a little bit. They did think that they were going to go home. They thought that they were going to see their partner, and get to sleep in their own bed. At least for a little while. 

Whumper shakes his head with a small laugh. 

“Funny… That’s real funny, [Whumpee]… You know that you’re coming home with me, right? I thought we had passed the running away stage, but I guess not…” 

Whumpee didn’t like what that tone insinuated, what those words promised. Their eyes are firmly on the hands in their lap, too pale and too dirty. Their thoughts are drifting back towards their captivity. 

Whumper almost asks them to make a case for why they shouldn’t be locked up again - but decides at the last moment that it would be too cruel. After all, how was Whumpee supposed to respond with a cut out tongue? 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” is what comes out of the captain’s mouth instead. “Drink the water, it’s all you’re going to get for awhile.” 

As he gets up to go, they sit with their eyes trained on the folded hands on their lap, trying not to cry. 

[lemonietrinket]

Always Find Me, Yeah? ||| Stray Kids, Soft Apocalypse AU ||| Chapter Two

Summary: The anniversary of The Change, a surge in natural disasters caused by climate change that knocked the modern world back into the dark ages, is nearing. After losing contact with the rest of the group who remained stranded on the mainland, Chan and Felix are offered an opportunity to get them back. Now, they’ve just got to find them.

Genres: Dystopia/Utopia, Adventure, slight Angst (moreso at the beginning), Fluff I guess

Warnings: It is an apocalypse scenario, things might be a little bleak for some? Also it’s stupidly self-indulgent

Word Count: 2.4K

Other Chapters:   Chapter One Chapter Two

AN: This is not only my first fanfic on Tumblr, but also my first fanfic in years, so I may be a lil’ rusty. My apologies if it’s trash. I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s also a multiparter, and I feel like it’s going to be super long so, oops. Thanks for reading!

The rain pattered against the window, running in small threads down into the gutters lining the road. The rumbling of the wind resembled thunder and drummed its irregular beat through the studio, lit only by a single sliver of glass. The beam of the morning light illuminated the monitor screen alone, the rest of the desk wedged in darkness, leaving a blade of reflected glare to cut at his eyes. Chan was perched on the edge of his chair. He’d wheeled it away from the table and into the dead centre of the room, directly below the shattered crown of the broken lightbulb. If he looked down he would be able to see where one of the shards had scraped at the varnish of the wood, but he didn’t. His focus was ensnared by his desktop, with his software and microphone sat dusty and neglected. The plugs remained switched on at the walls, on the off-chance that they would miraculously carry a current once again. But he knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

He cursed in his head. Why had he relied so closely on technology? If he hadn’t he wouldn’t have lost everything. But he had. He could hear the songs so strongly inside his skull but they were gone now, stored within the clasps of a cloud that had risen out of reach. He had his acoustic guitar of course, and it sat in the corner behind him, but no one had asked him to play and so that had been neglected too. It wasn’t the same either. His style had been permeated with electronic melodies and beats that no instrument could replicate. Instruments were embroidered within the songs but he’d always used technology to embellish them, make them his own. They could be reperformed acoustically, but acoustic covers were considered bonuses to the originals. Even if he wrote out every single musical part from memory onto paper, the songs would never be the same. His entire discography was lost.

Mixtape #2 was perhaps the only one that could still be performed.  

He caught his hand stretch towards the guitar while his feet shifted to push the chair back so he could reach. He halted himself just as his fingertips brushed the fretboard. He pulled away, just clipping one of the strings so that it made a withered, offkey hum.

Part of him wanted to pick it up, wipe off the dust, and nurse it back into tune. That part of him wanted to take the guitar with him, but the rational brain silenced the whim immediately. There was no space for a whole guitar, and his rucksack was heavy enough without another weight to haul around. However, the longer he stared at it, the worse the longing became. So he swiftly strode out of the room, closing the door behind him, keeping his eyes to the tiles.

He bundled down the stairs, almost tripping over his own feet, though before he could fetch Felix, he had to check in elsewhere first. He turned the corner into the dining room, where he found Lucas sat up the table, scrawling tinily with a nearly blunt pencil.

“What have you got there, bud?” Chan asked, drawing up a chair.

“Song lyrics,” Lucas replied, eyes still very much focused on the paper. 

“Ooh! Can I see them?” he leant over the table playfully, as his brother quickly pulled the sheet away, shooting him an eye smile.

“No, you can’t see them! Not yet.”

Chan pouted. “Please…!”

“No!”

When he heard him laugh, he finally felt a little more at ease. “Oh alright, but promise me you’ll let me read them when I get back?”

Lucas shook his head even more strongly this time, “Nope!”

“But why not?” Chan cried, folding his arms. 

“Because I’ll sing them, so you won’t have to read it.” He returned to writing, the words packed together as tightly as he could. In fact, Chan wasn’t sure he would have been able to read it if he’d been allowed to try. 

“Well, that’s a fair answer. I look forward to it! Though,” he leant his chin on his palm, “why are you writing so small?”

“To save paper. Mum said there wasn’t much left.”

“Ahh, that is true, there isn’t much plain paper left” he nodded, before whispering, “but there is some proper sheet music paper in my studio if you ever want to use it.”

The boy’s head shot up, “Really?! I can go in your studio?!”

“Of course! But, you could always go in my studio…?” he replied confusedly.

“No, Dad said I couldn’t,” Lucas sulked, “he says the stuff in there is expensive, and if I broke it I would be in humongous trouble, so he said that it’s probably better I didn’t.”

Chan rose from his chair. “Well, I say that the stuff in there is expensive, but doesn’t work anymore so there are no worries about them being broken. And since you’ve got more of a muse going than me,” he gestured to the sheet of paper, “then I say the studio is better in your hands than mine. The acoustics there are great, you know?”

“Are you leaving now?” Lucas questioned, suddenly very urgently.

“Well, I gotta pick up Felix first, otherwise he’ll get lost, and we don’t want tha- oof!”

The boy launched himself onto Chan, wrapping his arms around his waist that he could barely breathe. “Please don’t be long,” he mumbled into his sweater, “I don’t want to forget how the song goes.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Chan hugged him back, peering down at his younger brother who was most certainly growing much faster than he expected. “And at this rate, maybe we’ll have someone in the house that can reach the top shelf!”

Lucas giggled, gazing up at him with shining eyes. “I will grow taller than you!”

“Of course you will, bud,” he ruffled his hair, and as much as it pained him, he shifted his weight backwards, so that Lucas knew it was time to pull away. As soon as he caught a glance of a tear tracing down his cheek he knelt down and wiped it away. “Hey, hey, it’s not like I’m going forever!”

“I know,” he wavered, “it’s just, you’ve only just come back and now you’re going again. I asked Mum what the land is like, and she said she didn’t know. I asked Dad what the land was like and he didn’t know either! There could be pirates or zombies or something!”

Chan chuckled, hushing him gently. “I am sure that there’s no pirates or zombies - or zombie-pirates!” he added before Lucas could. “I’ve just got to go check on my friends to make sure they’re ok, and bring them home where it’s safe.”

Lucas thought for a moment. “So it’s not safe there?”

“I… yes, no, uh…” Kids, he thought, smarter than you think.  He cleared his throat. “We don’t know, yeah? The news reports suggest that it’s a little bit messier over there than it is here, because they got hit by the earthquakes and tsunamis and stuff.”

“Plate tectonics?” Lucas interrupted proudly.

“Yes! Them! They made it a bit worse for the mainland, but it’s probably calmer now like it is here. So it’s not unsafe, it’s just, probably, better here, yeah?” Lucas nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “Ok. Right,” he exhaled sharply, “don’t cause too much trouble for Mum and Dad and Hannah yeah? And if the patrol is actually there, then I won’t be able to see Mum and Hannah again, so tell them I love them one more time for me please?”

Lucas scrunched his nose. “But you said it, like a hundred times yesterday!”

“Yes well, a hundred-and-one times isn’t going to hurt then, is it!” he ruffled his hair as he got to his feet once again. “Love you, bud.”

“Love you too Chris,” he echoed, but much quieter.

Chan stepped round the table, tucking his chair in as he went, before slotting himself halfway out of the back door. He was greeted by the sight of his father trying to get an old bit of machinery working. He had no idea what it was, but he knew better than to ask. It was sputtering way too much smoke for Chan to feel that it was safe as well, but he decided that it wasn’t the best time to question that either.

“I’m off, Dad.”

He squinted upwards, leaning back and stretching. “Are you? Ok. Be safe.”

Chan swallowed, feeling the familiar face of guilt raise its head in his gut. “I’m sorry I’m going and that it’s so soon.”

“No no, it’s alright.” Chan wasn’t sure if he was mad or not, as his tone was so neutral. Then he sent him a grim-set smile. “You need to go find them. That’s only natural. So go.”

He wanted to say a lot of things, show his gratitude, but couldn’t seem to find the words. They were all jumbled up in his head, like pieces of a jigsaw, but they all came from three different boxes. “Love you, Dad.”

There was a moment that flickered, where he thought his father wasn’t going to reply. But then, “You too, son. Now hurry up, that kid is still waiting for you, and knowing him, is going to start panicking soon.”

“Right, yes. See you later!”

Removing himself from the situation so he didn’t change his mind, Chan quickly headed back inside, ruffling Lucas’s hair as he passed, and headed out of the front door into the rain.

.

.

Felix unfurled his palm into the rain, feeling the heavy droplets nestle in his skin and morph from icy to lukewarm. He was taking shelter under the makeshift canopy of the old bandstand just behind the community garden. Some plastic chairs had been donated and placed haphazardly around the hexagon, and he’d already rearranged them into a neat circle.

In fact, he’d finished all the work he could do. It wasn’t a particularly warm day, the rain was doing a lot of the work for the gardeners, and many things had already been planted that needed to be. Over the past couple of days, he’d been given the job of sharpening and cleaning the various tools for the coming months, but they were now all in top condition and back in their places in the shed. He had nothing more to do. Julie and Peter were back to arguing again, on what to do about the outbreak of gall wasps festering inside the young lemon tree. He tried to blot them out as best he could, but the rain had calmed by the time he reached the stand, thus there was little noise. 

He hoped that Chan would hurry up, but he also knew to say goodbye to his family wasn’t easy. It had taken him a little while too. But the patrol would arrive soon, and they were nowhere near the community hall in the first place. The downpour could harshen again and then they’d have that to deal with too.

Soon, he heard footsteps coming up the path behind him, and to his luck it was Chan, though he didn’t seem in a good state.

He greeted him gently, heading over to him to save him the journey. “Shall we go then?”

Chan nodded, a darkened hue to his eyes. Felix couldn’t help but let his face fall, but he managed to work up a smile as they hastily exited the gardens and headed into the streets.

“Do you know where they’re going to be?”

Chan affirmed with a nod. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

“Good, because I can’t remember!”

He sent him a side-eye glance, a knowing grin glimmering across his lips.

It was a lie of course. Felix had his... moments... but his memory wasn’t bad. He could remember the street name with ease. It’s just he wasn’t confident that would be where his feet would take him. 

“Packed everything?” he asked.

“Yes!” Felix strongly nodded, his hands slipping under the straps of his rucksack.

Chan cleared his throat, staring determinedly ahead. “Toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Pillow?”

“Definitely.”

“Food?”

“Of course!”

“Form of identification?”

“Almost but I left it on the side to make sure I picked it up this time-”

“Blanket?”

Felix’s mouth was left open. “Uh...”

“Don’t worry,” he jutted his thumb back at his own bag, “I brought extra.”

“Thank youuu!”

“Knew it would happen,” he muttered, shaking his head. The air remained playful though.

They turned the corner, and at the bottom of the road, where the crackled tarmac tapered off, was a military truck. It was as nearly as wide as the street itself, with wheels built to stand mudflats or snow or both at once - or at least, Felix imagined that that’s what they were for. He was worried about it being anything else. 

He subconsciously slipped further behind Chan’s footsteps, letting him talk to the soldier that immediately stepped up to them when they reached the perimeter.

“Can we help you, kids?”

Chan ignored the final part. “We’re, uh, here for the trip to the mainland?”

The soldier, who, if Chan lifted him onto his shoulders, would still be taller than them, nodded, holding out his hand behind him. Another soldier ran over, giving him an official-looking document, which he began to leaf through.

“We registered before we came, with the officer that came round yesterday? His name was Choi? I think?” Chan winced at the lack of emotion on the man’s face. “Sir, they may not be our family, officially, but they’re, like a family to us and we have to find-”

“Surnames Bang and Lee?”

“Yes,” Felix piped up.

“Yup, just sign here and then you can throw your luggage onto the back of the truck and go through to the tent over there for supplies, or say some last-minute goodbyes. Though, if you do then I advise you don’t go far, as we’ll be leaving dead on the hour. All clear?”

“Yes, thank you,” he sent him a polite grin, handing the pen across to Felix, before ambling towards the vehicle. 

Felix began to scribble as neatly as he could, before catching the man’s eye. “Can I ask a question, please?”

“Of course.”

“Where are we...” he analysed his face, with a straight nose and angular jawline, but felt nothing, “...headed on the truck?”

“Ah,” the man turned to the side, pointing to the horizon. “Down to the takeoff site, over there.”

Satisfied, he handed back the pen. “Ok, thank you, have a nice day!” And with that, he shuffled after Chan, sending a gleaming smile over his shoulder.

~~~

Well, I don’t like this part much. It will get better I promise! In the later parts

[finefeatheredfriend]

The Bodysnatchers!

This time on Eileen reads the EDAs we’ve got a thrilling and gorey adventure with Eight and Sam and some Zygons, brought to me by my laptop’s text to speech function cause I’m too distracted to focus on actual reading lol

I liked this book! It was a bit slow at first and it took me longer to really love the book than it did with Vampire Science, but the Victorian setting and some really brilliant lines won me over in the end haha! And we had Litefoot in this! And the Zygons (and some nice ones as well, what??), which for some reason I didn’t recognise on the cover, but I still got spoiled by myself because of my brilliant idea to use text to speech. 

I was rooting for something to happen between Sam and Emmeline, but alas. There are some parts that I will interpret that way though, even though they were definitely not intended that way lol. 

Still no naked Eight, so that’s a big minus.

I’m going to write down my reactions to all the EDAs in this series of reviews, and here are some of the highlights and my favourite quotes:

‘splendid, we’re where we’re supposed to be. I'm getting the hang of this.’ Doctor stop ahahsgahga

‘Leela is married, with children I believe’ I’m sorry what

what is it with me and shipping Sam with any woman she comes across hahah

(please let something happen between emmeline and sam)

'That didn't do much for your image, did it?' said a voice behind her, as though stealing her thoughts. Sam pushed herself up on to her elbows and looked round. The Doctor was just a few feet below her, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head, looking so relaxed she wanted to hit him. 'I missed my footing,' she said huffily. 'Several times,' said the Doctor, nodding.” Oh my god Doctor I love you ahahahahah

“Sam opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor effectively plugged it with a jelly baby which he produced out of nowhere” that is such a Doctor thing to do ashafsgsfs

it’s so weird that the normal zygons are so soft (they have voices like songbirds????)

“bigger and nastier people than you have tried to suck my brains out before with no success whatsoever - well, not much anyway.” ... am I. am I really going to say it. am I really. ok no I won’t but seriously eileen get your mind out of the gutter ffs

I love how the doctor went ‘eeny meeny miny mo. hm. which one of these do i like the most? eeny!’ I love him

“That was a very uncool piece of headgear,' she said weakly. 'Not my style at all.' 'Oh, I don't know. I've got some rather fetching photographs. I thought we could blow them up and have them printed as T-shirts.” doCTOR (this is the kind of brother/sister dynamic that I love about these two)

Sam pretending not to know it’s a Zygon impersonating her just to say ‘who’s that gorgeous person?’ aaaah i love her

‘Is my nose really that big?’ ‘Only in certain lights’ DOCTOR NO

I was promised lots of naked eight in the EDAs and so far they have NOT delivered

AAAAAAAH SAM NOTICED EMMELINE’S BREASTS

‘Confusing emotions’ ‘jealousy’ aaaaah Sam I love you please be gay

“'That's assuming that the elastic band hasn't snapped of course.' 'Elastic band!' He grinned. 'I'm joking. It was one of those really thick ones. There's no way it would break.” I’m screaming I can’t stop laughing

‘My motto is never to get too attached to thing’ ‘does that include people’ oooooh (in clueless voice) that was way harsh Sam

‘nimble as a ballerina’ oh my god I love Eight and thank you for this hilarious image in my head omg

As usual (I’ve only done one of these before but still lol) this section is way longer than I expected haha!

And also as usual, you’ll find the unabridged version of my liveblog under the cut! (It’s technically just for me to be able to go back to so I can see how I reacted to reading this for the first time, but read it if you want to!)

I bolded my favourite quotes and reactions again! Enjoy ahaha

this one’s a bit slower

I mean in the way that I don’t absolutely love it from the first page on like I did with Vampire Science

but I love the Victorian era vibe it’s giving off

I can’t wait for Eight and Sam to show up though

oh that’s so the doctor - accidentally setting a book on fire ahahah

oh no it was an original printing of Sherlock Holmes aaaaa

oh I love it when companions get to dress up for trips

name dropping the BBC ahaha

AAAAH she’s in Nyssa’s room!!! I was wondering whose room it was when they mentioned that in Vampire Science! and obviously if it was Nyssa’s room then it’s also Tegan’s old room since they shared

I love Eight and Sam so much

“’How do you want to look?' asked the Doctor. 'I dunno. Cool. Confident.' 'You definitely look cool,' said the Doctor. 'In fact, you'll be one of the coolest people around.The 1890s equivalent of a... a Spice Girl.' 'I think I'd better take that as a compliment,’ said Sam carefully. 'Otherwise I might end up giving you a slap.’” omg

‘splendid, we’re where we’re supposed to be. I'm getting the hang of this.’ Doctor stop ahahsgahga

“'No, this is Earth all right. Smell that air.' Sam did so, almost choking on the sulphurous fog. 'Only London smells like this,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'It has a certain... ethos. A certain bouquet.’” have I mentioned how much I love Eight

when Sam falls onto the Doctor and he hits his head and he goes 'what pretty fireworks, are they yours?” oh my god doctor I love you

Aaaaaah jago and litefoot!!!!!!

oh well or just litefoot but still!!!

‘Leela is married, with children I believe’ I’m sorry what

touch telepaths. time lords are touch telepaths. how did he get that information about the constable’s wife

first a house keeper called mrs hudson and now a revolting man called mr stoker looking hungrily at emmeline i see what you’re doing here

“Sam did as instructed (put her foot in the noose of the rope), and felt herself being hauled upwards at an alarming speed. It was as if there was not just the Doctor, but a ten-man tug-of-war team heaving on the other end.” wow the Doctor is STRONG

oh no it’s emmeline’s mum sitting in that armchair but she’s gonna be dead isn’t she

but the way emmeline describes the figure sitting there it sounds more like a man somehow

oh ok I was right it’s her dead mum

please don’t die please don’t die please don’t die I like you emmeline pleeeaase don’t die

why is Sam so jealous of emmeline :(

ok good, Sam likes her now and feels bad about thinking awful things about her that makes me happy

“’Great,' said Sam sardonically. 'I've always wanted to wallow knee-deep through -' 'Shh,' said the Doctor, holding a finger to his lips.” Oh my god anahahahahha (this reminds me of all the times they did this exact same thing with Lucie lol)

what is it with me and shipping Sam with any woman she comes across hahah

(please let something happen between emmeline and sam)

“She would rather die of curiosity than betray her ignorance and inexperience in front of Emmeline and the professor.” oh I love Sam

“As the more petty concerns of life began to filter back into her consciousness, she found herself hoping that Litefoot and Emmeline had seen little of her graceless descent. 'That didn't do much for your image, did it?' said a voice behind her, as though stealing her thoughts. Sam pushed herself up on to her elbows and looked round. The Doctor was just a few feet below her, leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head, looking so relaxed she wanted to hit him. 'I missed my footing,' she said huffily. 'Several times,' said the Doctor, nodding.” Oh my god Doctor I love you ahahahahah

“Sam opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor effectively plugged it with a jelly baby which he produced out of nowhere” that is such a Doctor thing to do ashafsgsfs

“Even though she bent her knees to cushion her body from the impact of landing, the unexpectedly short fall jarred her legs and caused her to lose her balance. However she managed to convert her momentum into a forward roll and sprang immediately to her feet in what she hoped looked a professional and athletic manner.” god I love how Sam always wants to look like she knows what she’s doing

BRAVE HEART TEGAN oh my heart

“The Doctor: ‘This has the effect of drawing out their fierce but latent aggressiveness and, supposedly, making them more single-minded in battle.' 'Stupid, you mean,' said Sam,'like most men.” Sam I love you. and this reminds me of that scene in the 50th where Liz 1 says something similar

can you believe zygons look like that because they’re sterilised and normally look ‘’’’dainty’’’’ and white and have smooth skin instead of suckers???

also I love how the doctor just spends soooo much time explaining every single little detail about zygons while they’re sitting not even that far away from three actual zygons they’re currently hiding from

oh no Emmeline is a zygon

I’d be more shocked if I hadn’t accidentally seen this while setting up the text to speech 

“A trap,' said the Doctor with almost child-like wonder” I love him. How many times can I say that before it gets boring to see this in my reactions (i don’t care cause I’m going to say it as often as i like so that’s gonna be a LOT)

it’s so weird that the normal zygons are so soft (they have voices like songbirds????)

“You have no choice, human. Either you each enter a cubicle or you die.' 'Hang on, that means we do have a choice,' said Sam with a cheeky bravado that she didn't really feel.” me

“bigger and nastier people than you have tried to suck my brains out before with no success whatsoever - well, not much anyway.” ... am I. am I really going to say it. am I really. ok no I won’t but seriously eileen get your mind out of the gutter ffs

“As Litefoot blundered along, he found himself thinking about the nature of the astonishing beings whose clutches he and his friends had fallen into. (...) Were they physically attracted to one another despite being genderless?” interesting your mind took you in that direction - thinking about alien sexuality..? okay

the Doctor is wearing a wet suit I repeat the doctor is wearing a wet suit someone help me

and he’s wearing goggles and flippers I can’t (it’s actually a face mask and not goggles but I don’t care I’m just going to imagine him wearing goggles)

ugh and when it said that the doctor was stripping down... I was expecting more of this scene. although I must admit that the image of the Doctor standing there in just his long johns before he puts on the wet suit was... a nice thought. (and he ‘expertly folded each item of clothing’ as if he had all the time in the world agxjagsgsg)

what the fuuuuuuck

that guy who witnessed his friend being killed by a zygon is ‘hacking away’ at a young man’s mouth because he made a joke at his expense omg

eeew now he’s got the youth’s tongue in his hand

I love how the doctor went ‘eeny meeny miny mo. hm. which one of these do i like the most? eeny!’ I love him

gaaah an Ace mention!!

double punch!! (how)

“What time is it?' she asked, her voice faint, rusty. 'Time to go,' replied the Doctor.” an icon

“That was a very uncool piece of headgear,' she said weakly. 'Not my style at all.' 'Oh, I don't know. I've got some rather fetching photographs. I thought we could blow them up and have them printed as T-shirts.” doCTOR (this is the kind of brother/sister dynamic that I love about these two)

“Suddenly Tuval registered the Doctor's attire, and the Zygon's borrowed features creased in puzzlement. 'You have changed, Doctor.' The Doctor looked momentarily alarmed. 'Not again, surely?’” anxhkavdbz

Sam pretending not to know it’s a Zygon impersonating her just to say ‘who’s that gorgeous person?’ aaaah i love her

‘Is my nose really that big?’ ‘Only in certain lights’ DOCTOR NO

‘Sam, who was blushing wildly but trying to appear cool’ I love you Sam

oh and also - the doctor’s only wearing his long johns and that’s already a nice image but

I was promised lots of naked eight in the EDAs and so far they have NOT delivered

“Magnificent,' the Doctor murmured, examining the readings once the straining of the TARDIS's ancient engines had faded. 'When it comes to the crunch, the old girl never lets me down.' He flicked a couple of switches.” the Doctor really does love the Tardis noise ahsgsggahdgs

Oh no

Oh no Doctor

it’s ok you didn’t mean to kill them all

but oh god

I am so sorry

“The Doctor left Emmeline and Nathaniel Seers to the end. He awoke Emmeline first, greeting her with the charming smile and silken voice that Sam had observed him employ often in the past to get them out of awkward situations. She knew, not without a slight sense of superiority, that this kind of treatment would have caused most of her mates at Coal Hill to go weak at the knees.” I’m screaming but also same

“The simple choice is this: work together under my guidance or PERISH” doctor, a little bit less of the dramatic (i’m kidding pls keep doing this)

aw I thought emmeline was going to step forward to go first but then her father did

AH HE SAID NO AND NOW IT WAS EMMELINE AFTER ALL I LOVE HER

Jack choked on shit (that’s a twisted reference)

AW SAM let it out it’s okay to cry and show feelings sometimes!!!!!!!

I love her

AAAAAAAH SAM NOTICED EMMELINE’S BREAST

‘Confusing emotions’ ‘jealousy’ aaaaah Sam I love you please be gay

“'That's assuming that the elastic band hasn't snapped of course.' 'Elastic band!' He grinned. 'I'm joking. It was one of those really thick ones. There's no way it would break.” I’m screaming I can’t stop laughing

“You know, I've been far more conscientious since I regenerated. I even keep my room tidy sometimes.' 'Congratulations,' said Sam drily.” AhahahHhha

HE WAS SINGING A VENUSIAN LULLABY

‘My motto is never to get too attached to thing’ ‘does that include people’ oooooh (in clueless voice) that was way harsh Sam

‘nimble as a ballerina’ oh my god I love Eight and thank you for this hilarious image in my head omg

‘That other doctor, will you meet him on your travels?’ and the Doctor shudders and says ‘I sincerely hope not, once was enough’ ahsgdga tell that to then curator from the 50th lol

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

Drake's Diary ch.17 - Climbing Trees

The Royal Romance-Drake's POV

Drake x MC (Emma)

Words: 2242

For the last event before the Engagement Tour kicks off, the friends gather at Applewood Manor to conduct their own investigation.

Today is the country picnic at Applewood Manor. It was the last event before heading off on the engagement tour. Drake was actually freaking out about the tour, but he was trying his best to stay in this moment. At least he’s still able to get away from everyone here, but on the train? Not so much. Add that to being in tight quarters with Emma…. yeah, he was nervous he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off her. He already couldn’t seem to stop kissing her. Touching was definitely next. He’d envisioned them together so many times, except now his thoughts were turning to them being together on the train.

  Today, however, he needed to help with the investigation into the conspiracy, so he needed to get his mind out of the gutter. This was where the incriminating photos of Emma and Tariq were taken. He really hoped they would find something to help clear her name. Which, as it turns out, he was also terrified of. Once she was free, she could choose who to be with. Drake desperately wanted her to choose him…but compared to Liam? Who would?

As he walks across the lawn, he sees Emma talking with Hana, Penelope, Kiara, Lord Neville and Lord Rashad. He shuddered. He couldn’t stand Neville. He was the biggest, most pompous, self-righteous asshole Drake had ever met. Luckily, he didn’t see him much. But if he was here…that meant Drake was going to be seeing a lot more of him. After what seemed like way too long, they finally took their leave, and Penelope walked off towards a server carrying curry chicken skewers.

Drake quickly sidled up to them. “Hey, Rose. Hana. Maxwell, er, caught me up on the plan. Now might be a good time…”

“Oh! Right! I’ll…be right back. I just remembered something I really must speak to Madeleine about.” Hana winks before walking towards Madeleine, who is chatting with some nobles across the lawn.

“Drake, I’m surprised to see you here.” Kiara said flirtily.

Drake grimaced. “Me too. But I try to support Liam when I can.” For the love of…please don’t flirt with me. I am not interested on any level. I really hope she gets that.

Kiara trailed a finger down his arm. “You’ve always been such a good friend to him. It’s part of why I always liked you. It’s such a shame what happened to your sister.”

“Wait…You’ve always liked Drake? Could have fooled me.” Emma told her icily.

Drake looked at her in surprise. Is she…jealous? This is the second time now…no one’s ever been jealous for me. And just when I thought she couldn’t get more adorable...

“Not all of us wear our hearts on our sleeves.” Kiara replied.

Then it finally sank in what Kiara had said. “Back up a second…I didn’t know that you and Savannah spent time together.” Drake said.

“Not much, really. It’s just she was so friendly. And she was coming along so well in her French lessons, and I was surpri…”

“French lessons?” Drake cut in.  “Savannah didn’t speak French.”

Kiara shook her head. “I was teaching her before…”

A loud crash sounds from behind them. Madeleine stands next to a caterer who is covered in curry sauce. A crowd begins to form around them. Drake catches Hana’s eye, and she winks before turning to the caterer.

“Oh my! I’m so terribly sorry! Please, let me help you clean that up!”

“This is a disaster.” Madeleine scowled.

“It was an accident! Here, we’ll fix it in no time.”

As they are bickering, Emma was suddenly speaking ever so quietly in his ear. “Pssttt. Drake, that’s our cue.”

“Wait, I need to talk to Kia…”

“There’s no time, we have to go while no one is looking!” She whispered harshly, causing another surprised reaction to wash over him. Damn…she really wants me away from Kiara. But she’s also right. We have to go now.

They slip away from Kiara and head in the opposite direction from the scene. They spot a security officer making his way toward the crowd. He glances at Emma and pauses, then shakes his head and keeps walking. She and Drake continue toward the edge of the manor, rounding the corner so they’re out of sight from the picnic. They walk over to the swath of manicured gardens beneath Emma’s bedroom window. Maxwell approaches, holding a skewer of curry chicken.

“Where’s Bertrand?” Emma asked.

“I sent him up to your room to stand in for you. I relayed everything that happened, so he’ll know where to go.”

“Bertrand is going to stand in for me?”

Maxwell nodded. “Little known fact, before he was Duke Ramsford, Bertrand was an accomplished human statue.”

Emma stared at him. “What?”

“Kidding! But he will do almost anything to clear your name.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Alright Rose, where do you think we should start?”

“We should try to line up the shot.” She said immediately.

Good idea. Why couldn’t I think of that? So simple…

Drake pulls a camera from his pocket and holds it up to his eye, aiming it at the window. He snaps a photo, then compares the image on the screen to a copy of one of the pictures of Emma and Tariq. His blood begins to boil looking at that photo again. The nerve of whoever did this. Drake wanted to kill them. Or publicly humiliate them, the second option probably being better if the person was noble. Nobles can’t bear to be humiliated. There’s basically nothing worse.

Maxwell cuts through his thoughts. “Looks like Bertrand is ready.”

Drake glanced over at him.  “This angle doesn’t look right. I think we’d have to be standing over there to get the right view.” He points to a patch of bushes circling a tall tree closer to the manor. They head to the bushes, leaning this way and that in efforts to match the angle of the photographs.

Emma gasped. “I can see right into my bedroom from here! Drake, hand me the camera.” She takes the camera and holds it to her eye, comparing the view to the picture.

She shook her head. “Too low. Even someone seven feet tall couldn’t have taken this.”

Drake looked up at the tree. “They must have climbed the tree!”

She sighed. “I guess that means I’m climbing a tree…” She hangs the camera from her neck, grits her teeth and approaches the tree. The first few branches are easy to scale, and soon she’s halfway to the top.

Drake’s heart is pounding the entire time, praying this goes well. The last thing I need is for her to fall out of the tree. I better move under where she’s climbing so I can catch her if she does.

 As he puts himself in a better position, she grasps the next branch to pull herself up and the bark falls off, causing her to lose her grip. Drake’s heart completely stops, but she manages to grab hold of the branch and pull herself up.

“Go Spider-Emma!” Maxwell called.

Okay. She’s good. Breathe. BREATHE.

She lifts the camera to her eye and snaps a picture. “It’s a perfect match! This is really close to the manor…”

Drake frowned. “Whoever did it must have been at the party.”

“More than that, it means whoever did it must have been waiting around for the right shot. I mean…I’m literally up a tree. Whoever took these pictures wasn’t just standing around and happened to see…they were waiting!”

Drake realized she was completely right and started fuming. “They knew Tariq would be in your room, which means it was definitely a set up and the photographer was in on it. And whoever hired the photographer must have known the manor pretty well to know about the view from this spot.”

Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. “Maxwell, didn’t you say that a reporter snuck into the party that night?”

“Yeah. A bold move, considering it was a private event…”

“We need to confirm if the reporter you saw is the same one who climbed the tree and took the photo.” Drake interrupted. Clearly someone hasn’t put two and two together.

“Right. Now I’ll go get Bertrand and meet you back here.”

“Can’t you just text him?” Emma asked.

Maxwell glared at her. “Think Emma! What if they’re monitoring the airwaves?” As Maxwell races off to fetch Bertrand, Emma continues to stare at the window.

Drake watches her a second. “You coming down, Rose?”

“Yeah, just thinking about how you came to my rescue that night.”

Drake grinned. “I think I remember you coming to my rescue.”

She let out a laugh. “Maybe a little. Drake, I…I just wanted to say thank you.”

He blushed. “It was nothing, Rose. Really.”

“It wasn’t nothing. Not me.”

“Well…ugh…just…” He was fumbling for his words, she was looking at him so intensely again. That look…I never see her look at anyone but me like that. “Just get down from there, before you hurt yourself.”

She’s about to begin her descent when she reaches for something tangled amongst the twigs and leaves. She grabs it and continues down, Drake catching her by the waist and guiding her the rest of the way. For a moment they stayed that way, him holding her from behind, her head starting to tilt back towards him and lips parting. He starts leaning in for the kiss he was craving so badly, when he hears footsteps headed their way. He clears his throat and quickly steps away, just as Maxwell and Bertrand come into view.

Not missing a beat, Emma pulls out her find. “I might have found something. Look.”

Drake looked at the security badge she was holding out. “Mansingh?”

“It’s the company they used for security at the party. Super high-tech. Turn it over!” Maxwell exclaimed.

She turns the badge over, but the other side is covered with dirt. Maxwell quickly scrubs the dirt off with his sleeve.

Bertrand scowled. “Maxwell, you’re making a mess. What would father say?”

Maxwell cast his eyes away. “The great Barthelemy Beaumont always had a lot to say about me.”

Emma gently laid her hand on his shoulder. “In this case, I think he’d at least be pleased that we’re making progress towards clearing the house name.”

“Perhaps.” Bertrand admitted, still scowling.

Wiping the dirt off reveals a photograph of a woman wearing a red blazer, with dark shoulder length hair.

“That must be the reporter! How did she get her hands on a Mansingh security badge?” Bertrand asked

Emma narrowed her eyes. “She must have had help from the inside. Someone who could get her security clearance to a private party.”

“Probably whoever hired her. This badge must’ve given her access to the grounds, but when she was spotted taking pictures at a closed event…” Drake’s fists were curled into balls, as his all his anger had now returned.

Bertrand agreed. “Her ruse was uncovered, and she was ejected.”

Drake looked back at the tree. “She could’ve lost the badge in the branches here or tried to toss it away, so no one knew how deep the conspiracy ran. Does it say who she is?”

Emma shook her head. “There’s something written beneath her picture, but it’s damaged…I can’t read it.”

“But at least we have a real clue. We’ll investigate further. Good work…With the picnic ending, we should get packed for our departure on the engagement tour tomorrow.” Bertrand said curtly, and he and Maxwell start toward the manor. When Emma goes to follow, Drake holds her back. “Wait, do you have a minute? I just thought of something important.”

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking, Rose…this isn’t the first set of photos someone has tried to turn against you.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You mean the ones from the bachelor party? The ones you and Bastien kept from going to print?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s a coincidence either.”

“Did you ever find out who did it?”

Drake sighed. “I have hunches, but nothing conclusive.”

She thought a moment. “A maid from the manor revealed that a disguised noble lady told her to pull a prank on Tariq the night the pictures were taken.”

“Hmm…there might be a connection between the noble lady, the bachelor photos, and this photographer. Either way, this conspiracy goes deeper than we thought. Just…be careful, Rose.”

“Oh, Drake. I’m always careful, aren’t I?” She smirked.

He ran his hand through his hair. “Not…exactly. I can think of plenty of times you’ve pressed your luck.”

“Oh yeah? Name one.” She challenged, stepping closer to him.

“Uhm…well…just in general…there’s a whole conspiracy…obviously that wouldn’t happen if you were more careful…”

“Mmhmm. Anything else? Because it seems like you were talking about more than this conspiracy…which is only one thing by the way, and we were already discussing it, so it doesn’t count in this conversation.”

Drake swallowed. “Uhm…just…being here…?”

She was a breath away from him now. “Being…here? In Cordonia? Or with you?”

Drake’s breath caught in his throat, and she smiled slyly at him. “Well then. What’s one more so-called careless act going to do?”

She pulled him into a kiss, moaning softly as his arms circled her immediately, before pulling away.

“I’ll see you on the train, Drake.”

“Uh…right…the train…with small quarters…” He swallowed. This tour may be the death of me.

@blackwidow2721 @sleepwalkingelite @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @imaketerriblechoices @zigortega4life​​ @hrhdes @akrenich @feartheendlesssummer @drakewalkerisreal @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[spring-emerald]

oh, shoot

For KuroDai Weekend Day 1: Celebrity AU / Hanahaki AU

“Kuroo,” Yaku puts his hands on Kuroo’s shoulder, looking him in the eyes with seriousness. “Your photographer for today is a well-known photographer, alright? We’re lucky to work with him. You are lucky to work with him. It’s an honor, a chance of a lifetime. So please, I beg of you, don’t mess this up,” he articulates carefully, punctuating his words with a dig of his fingers on Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Yaku,” Kuroo also puts his hands on Yaku’s shoulder, a little heavily, enough to make anyone else wince but not him, apparently. “You gotta chill, alright? I promise, I won’t.” He grins and pats Yaku’s shoulders, but it doesn’t ease the frown on his manager’s face. Really, he deserves more faith than this.

Modeling is something that Kuroo didn’t see himself doing as a full-time job. He didn’t believe himself to be that kind of handsome after all. (His grandmother thinks otherwise, but that’s his grandmother, so it doesn’t really count.) But he finds himself in the industry after dipping in it for a desperate part-time during a rough time in college. And while it’s not as glamorous and glitzy as one perceives it to be, he found himself liking it enough to accept more jobs and change the course of his future by signing up with an agency.

Two years into the industry and he’s worked with a lot of different beautiful people and a lot of different photographers. But it’s his first time to work with someone that has what could be considered a celebrity status in the modeling and fashion circuit.

He’s done his research about Sawamura Daichi, as per Yaku’s instruction. He’s glad he followed it because he learned that Sawamura is the same age as Kuroo, younger than him by a month even, and entered around the same time he did. He’s got a Cinderella-eque early life story, about how he supported himself and his family through doing side-jobs and assistants during college, started his own studio from basically nothing with the help of trusted friends and underclassmen, until he’s reached the place where he is right now. He’s far more accomplished than his contemporaries, especially in terms of portfolio.

(It’s also been said that he’s Oikawa Tooru and Sugawara Koushi’s-two of the top and most-sought actors in the business today-named him as their favorite photographer. That’s from a celebrity tabloid but he thinks it’s worth its dime.)

The point is, that’s how good he’s touted to be.

And really, Yaku was right when he said it’s an honor to work with him. Not just with him, but working in this campaign as a whole. Out of the many, more beautiful models from their agency, like the Haiba siblings, he was the one handpicked by Nekomata-san to be included in the anniversary line of one of the famous clothing brands in the country, and it will be advertised in electronic billboards and fashion magazines. It’s a miracle to be handed such a project like this and Kuroo would be a fool to mess this up.

So yeah. He promises to be in his best behavior and he will not mess this up.

-----

Kuroo is messing this up.

He’s half-naked, only clad in high quality jeans, hair pushed back and tamed and he’s sweating. The studio is cold enough and he’d been in front of the bright lights numerous times already, but none of those had affected him for him to sweat like buckets like this. He knows he’s not looking very attractive right now and far-fetched from the model he claims to professionally be.

In his defense, none of those photo shoots had Sawamura Daichi as the photographer.

God, he’d seen what he looks like when he was researching about him and he had believed the articles when they said that he’s plain but kind looking. Because he is. Kind looking, that is, a strange softness to his define jaws. And god, he’s plain, alright.

Plainly gorgeous.

Downright stunning with a great one dimpled smile and a firm handshake. It doesn’t help that he’s down to earth and friendly to the staff.

Basically, Kuroo’s a goner.

He is not shallow to fall just for looks especially when his work allows him to be surrounded by a lot of good-looking people, where beautiful is a word that can generally describe them all and not be wrong. Gorgeous is the one word he reserves for really special individuals that it would be an insult to call them just beautiful.

But by gods if he doesn’t have a problem describing Sawamura like that.

Kuroo can only dazedly follow the instructions, lost in the play of Sawamura’s arm muscles every time it involuntarily flexes when he poises to shoot. Kind of jealous of the camera strap that get to rest on his well-defined chest under the tight Henley that he forgets to project the feeling that the shoot is asking for, which definitely isn’t the dumb smitten model look.

Did Kuroo mention he’s messing this up? No? Well, he’s messing this up. Big time.

Yaku’s going to chew his head off after this and Kuroo will actually let him, just so he doesn’t have to live with the embarrassment.

Sawamura’s looking down on the screen of his camera, a small frown on his face. Kuroo knows it for the look of dissatisfaction. Goodness, of all times to flop his shoot, it has to be this one. Sawamura looks at up him, head tilted a little to the side. He drops his camera down gently and walks toward Kuroo.

Kuroo glances at Yaku, sees how he’s biting down on his thumbnail and swallows the nervous lump that grew in his throat.

“Kuroo-san,” Kuroo straightens his shoulders at being addressed. Thank god he’s taller than Sawamura and he’s the one slightly looking down on him. His pride won’t be able to take the hit if it had been the other way instead. “This isn’t how your hair is usually styled, is it?”

Kuroo blinks, hand coming up to touch his styled hair. “Uhm, yeah. It isn’t.” The unexpected question unbalanced him enough to answer truthfully.

Sawamura nods and hums thoughtfully. “What do you say about changing it back to your more, natural style?”

“What?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with it, pushed back. And you really look good and register on the camera fine,” Sawamura quickly explains, and if Kuroo isn’t nervous and confused, he would’ve found the gesticulating adorable. “But… there’s something missing?”

Kuroo shakes his head then. “No, I mean, you’re the boss right now, so whatever you say goes, but I just feel like I have to be completely honest you know? My hair, well, naturally, it’s,” Kuroo pauses, looking for a word that won’t completely embarrass him and settles with “…untamable.” He looks at Sawamura pointedly, conveying that he would probably look and do worse if he changes back to his hairstyle.

Sawamura gives him a small smile and Kuroo remembers why he’s doing so badly in the first place. “It can’t be that bad,” he assures.

Kuroo doesn’t have the heart to say that oh yeah, it can. It is. His friends tease him Rooster Head for a good reason. He can’t say that his performance and bad frames have nothing to do with his hair, but just with him being useless in the face of someone handsome. Kuroo’s not that above blaming Sawamura.

“Anything you want,” Kuroo says instead. He meant it casually and professionally, really, but given that his mind is in the gutter at the moment, he thinks it comes out way more than he intended.

Sawamura looks taken aback by the words and coughs lightly, clearing his throat. “Uhhh, yeah.” He gestures to the direction of the hairstylists awkwardly, stepping back and away from Kuroo.

Kuroo purses his lips and nods stiffly then leaves before he can say or do something even more stupid.

When he comes back, hair styled in its usual get up, only a little tamer, Sawamura studies him, nods with approval and asks him if he’s ready to do some test shots. Sawamura points and clicks, letting Kuroo pose as he please and looks at the few frames he’d taken, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Hmm, it’s better,” he says smiling, catching Kuroo off-guard yet again. He doesn’t think he can take the fact that Sawamura had just basically complimented him, saying he looks better with his natural style on. Or maybe, he’s reading too much into this and the guy is just being kind, so stop thinking so hard Tetsurou and just do your job.

And do his job he did. He followed Sawamura’s direction and obeyed every instruction, listened well to suggestions and was glad that he can freely suggest some of his own and met with approval, growing more confident and relaxed as the shoot progress. It helps that Sawamura talks to him like a friend, casual and light, unlike some photographers who’re extremely stiff and all business. It’s a great bonus whenever he smiles, something that Kuroo had grown accustomed to, thank god.

He’s putting on the last pair of jeans he’s had to model for the shoot-a tight, skinny one-when Yaku approaches him and gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“You’re doing great, Kuroo,” he starts, but the pause offsets the word. Kuroo waits for him to drop the ‘but’. “But maybe you can try to be a little, you know, playful? Flirtier?”

Kuroo scoffs at Yaku, looking at him funny as he zips the jeans up. “Flirtier?”

“Yeah! You’re good with that, right? I mean, it’s really nice to see you this serious, but also a bit disconcerting? Especially since you actually look like you. Let your personality shine through. I think that’s what Sawamura likes to happen too.” Yaku shrugs.

Kuroo snorts. “Alright, one, despite my appearance, I’m not flirty. And I’m pretty sure that’s not what Sawamura likes to happen.” He’s just really generous with his compliments, like a good professional should be. There’s no way Kuroo is going to read more into that. Anyway, “two, this hair is actually charming and not the disaster you all think it is. And three, you can just say that you like me for me, Yaku-paisen.” He grins, which earns him an eye roll and a hard slap on the arm.

“Whatever. Forget it. You’re insufferable.” Kuroo’s laugh follows after him.

Kuroo returns to the set, a small smile still on his face because of his conversation with Yaku and he startles when the lights go off along with a sound of the shutter. He looks up and finds the camera trained on him.

Sawamura lowers it, looking guilty at getting caught. “Sorry. It’s just…your smile was nice and I just,” Sawamura shakes his head. “Never mind, sorry. Anyway, uh, are you ready?” He rubs the back of his head self-consciously and tries to give Kuroo a confident smile.

Kuroo thinks that if he steps closer, he’ll see the blush on Sawamura’s cheeks.

Adorable. He wants to see Sawamura make that face again. He remembers Yaku’s words and a smirk blooms on his face.

“I’m always ready for you, Sawamura,” he says with a wink, ignoring the inner Kuroo cringing at him at the line he used.

Sawamura stills, eyes wide because Kuroo isn’t even being subtle, then clears his throat and shakes his head again, harder this time. “…Right. Okay.”

Kuroo counts it as a win since he got flustered again. Yaku doesn’t think so.

“Kuroo!” Yaku seethes, eyes bulging out and looking between him and Sawamura, expression alternating between scandalized and apologetic. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“What? You said to be flirty.”

“Yeah! But I meant the camera, not the photographer!”

“But-” Oh. Oh. Damn… that’s not what Yaku meant earlier. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. “Sawamura, I am-”

His apology gets interrupted when Sawamura snorts softly, covering his big smile and flushed face with his hand. He’s unable to hold it, and to Kuroo’s utter mortification, he laughs. A full bellied, mirthful, music to Kuroo’s ears actually if it isn’t done in his expense. The make-up artists and hairstylists join in and wow, can some of the light stands just fall on him now, or maybe all of them, he’s not picky.

“Oh, god,” Sawamura breathes, chuckling still. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He waves a dismissing hand, while the other wipes a tear on his eyes.

“It’s alright, really. It’s fine. You’re good. I mean,” his smile turns into a bashful one. “I don’t mind.” He glances up at Kuroo shyly. “But,” he continues. “Maybe we can…talk… after the shoot?”

Kuroo blinks and snaps out of his daze of asking how this guy could be real, and seeing Sawamura’s hopeful face boosts his confidence and eagerness to finish the shoot. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

----------

A few months later, Kuroo sees his photo displayed in one of the electronic billboards. People stop and stare, some girls even squeal, not noticing the real thing is just among them.

“You really look good in that,” Daichi says, stepping up beside him, looking at the big screen with a small smile.

Kuroo hooks an arm around his shoulders. “Nah, my photographer’s just the best.”

[maraki-of-the-fandoms]

Thoughts on les miserables bbc episode 6 part 2

So i finaly find time to rewatch and to do part 2....this part will mostly be about Valjean, Cosette, Marius and thinks after the bridge(the point that the livestreaming start creating real problems) although there would be some small details that could belong to part 1 from the timeline before the bridge

So starting with the small details I notice in the rewatch and stant out

So Enjolras worries about the people with families but he decides to live the 12 year old kid to die with them!!!

Actual everyone is ok with Gavroche a kid staying at the baricade!!

Why they stay at the baricade if they can escape so easy?! People come and go all the time in this baricade!! At the book even if they live anoticed from the baricade they would be noticed at the roads from the solders and excecuted at the spot so they had to disguise as soldiers and sent only 5 because they didn't have enough uniforms!! Here they just can walk away

Why isn't the the workman Feuilly!!?? I just have create a headcanon that is feuilly with an undercover alias or a nickname or a first extra name davies gave him(it would not be the first time) He sould be feuilly

Why valjean carries a mattress?! I know it was in the book and it was an importan help but in the book the point was that they had to shoot the ropes that held it high at a house window and only he could achive it(because he has perfect aim)and then they should risk to retrive it because it felt outside of the baricade...and they want it because it would block bullets that went through a spot that they had left as a door and they could use the spot if they need(and they use it later)...it would make sense to block a army with some heavy staff...he is valjean he is strong enough to do it...they could do it like in shoujo cosette where he use a whole fucking carriage as a block(but i forgot that we don't coppy the good adaptation here...only the averege at best and mostly the worst and shoujo Cosette is one of the best!! Like top 3 best)

I leave the baricades and i think everyone at the police ships javert with valjean...it the only think that make sense(the first valvert fans)( i have read a fanfic with that consept but it was a small crack one and it was still more subtle and serius at its approach)

And now I move to rest part

Starting with valjean who finally starts to have his epiphany. Good work buddy!! Your are only 17 years late!!! And you only seem to go the half way of it!! Your book version was at the half way after the bishop and all the way after petit gervais!!

And the epiphany is mostly flashbacks of people saying how horrible he is which is totally true!! The tragedy of the book!valjean is that he thinks that he is horrible based of his past(before gervais) and that he diserves misery but he is a really great good man

And i can't understant why he start screaming for javert at the street when he cleary want to kill him at the baricade some hours ago(it doesn't make sense in this version)

And(like i said at part 1) the police doesn't react to the fact that valjean is free!! They know!! They saw him!! And with javert suicide they wouldn't forget that case!! Did they all talk with Rivette and agreed to forget it?! They all agreed to let it pass?! No one thing to arrest valjean for the glory of arresting a dangerius criminal?! They where more than 10 with javert!!! Is valjean free?!

And lets talk about Cosette who is a worst sleep lover than even me!! Seriusly!! She sleeps in a dramatic pose in her nice dress which means she woke up, get dressed and then disaded to take a nap at the morning...and she needs an army to wake her up from her nap!! And at the night not only she doesn't hear valjean(a little far fetch consider she sould be woried but i can understand that) but somehow she doesn't smell him!?!?! How is that posible?! Javert smelt him and he was used of the gutter! Even thernadier notice the smell in a fucking sewer because it was too strong!! How she stayed asleep?! Is she the new sleeping beauty?!

And she just rush into the soldiers lines screaming for marius and trying to find him...I'm pretty sure there was plenty room for her to walk at the sides of the marching soldiers but we want to make her look badass for the trailer and we want a pointless scene of her in the middle of the action where a woman just cries for her boyfriend and don't give a fuck for her missing papa but with this valjean i don't blame her

The Gillenormand household remains one of the best parts og the series....I really crack when the police left marius at the freaking stairs but a laughed when the gillenormand decided to move him after they realized he was alive! How long they would have lived him at the stairs if he was dead?! Because the stairs apparently are bad place for a wounded but a perfect for the corpses of your beloved once!!

Gillenormand is perfect!! He is the only character that is like his book version! A asshole and jackass and stubborn but deep down he loves and cares for his family and can be a funny man. Just perfect

It's only me or did they use the same bed for wounded marius they used at the 2012 movie/musical(that horrible version acording to davies) The scene looks really similar!!

And back to valjean he tells the truth to marius before the wedding(and not after like the book in this perfect adaptation)

But he actually tells the whole truth...like that the original crime was bread stealling

But because we need marius to stop valjean for seeing Cosette not only he would not say to marius what happen to javert( marius ask him if he came to the baricade to kill javert) but he is gona mention that he went to kill marius!! And that he is a wanted criminal(although the police doesn't seem to bother and he isn't afraid of his arrest)He also says about cosette reaction to the prisoners but it was his fault on the first place that he saw them

And ofcourse marius wants him away after that it make sense...this man is dangerous!! But that way it miss the point! In the book valjean goes to a lawyer and says that he went to prison for 19 years...Marius as a lawyer knows the law and he would thing that the original crime was very serius for that sentence...and even more tragic is that valjean mention that everyone thinks him dead and there is no really a risk for him to be around but he is still want to do the sacrifice for the safety of his daughter...and he makes it clear how difficult it is to him to loose her so he convinces marius to let him see her one hour a day

And even more tragic is that on the book marius acts like an idiot...he start do reserch and starts to creat a completly wrong senario...he starts thinks that valjean kill javert(although anlike the series he doesn't mention it to valjean and on the book marius wanted to save javert because he saw him in action and find him awesome) and that he gave madeleine to the police a saintly exconvict and stole madeleine's money

Even more tragic he creates this senario while it could be easy with a little more reserch to find the whole truth(he is a lawyer a baron with money) and because of this senario he starts to hate valjean and makes it clear he is unwelcome which cause valjean to stop visiting and eventually to his death!! He tries to separate a father for his child in the same way his grandfather separate him from his father which is a great tragic irony

In the book the death of valjean is fault in small part of valjean who is too self sacrificing and has too little self esteem and mostly marius fault who makes the reach to the completly wrong conclusion and acts with prejudice

But in the bbc version they trie to make it as little as they can not marius fault

Amd when thernadier cames to tell the truth he doesn't have any proofs(just his world because his so trust worthy)...he doesn't have newpapers that say about javert and madeleine(who in the book makes you wonder who a wanted criminal find them and a fucking rich baron couldn't) he doesn't have the piece of the jacket...he just say that he looks like marius but he didn't realize it was marius(but he recognise valjean)

In this versio thernadier hates valjean but he still is willing to defend him when it cames to javert death while in the book he doesn't hate valjean and he is like "I'm a criminal but lets not start wrongfully blaming people we have some dignity...i will only blame the rightfully" which is hillarius!!

In this version we have cosette in the scene for some reason but she only acts scared and shocked(strong intresting woman..not like th book)and acts as an opportunity for thernadier to be an asshole like we didn't had figure that his is bad

And if you aren't sure that he is bad he start up says he want to be a slave trader!! And marius still gives him the money...no objection here? Cosette? Your ok with him mistreating people worst that he mistreat you? Your just ok with that?

And after that they go to find valjean and they find him immediately in Digne... and what a shock his hair are whiter...not completely white(i'm not sure they are to short to understant)and they act so sock that they get light gray in 6 weeks...it's not like the should turn completely white in one day like 10 years agoooo...o wait they should(my god with how much delay is this valjean working)

And when we see him they try to make him look miserable but he looks with this haircut like he would canonicaly look in the book and in reality at the prison and Digne...because in reallity the prisoners in Tullon would be with no hair and no beard....and valjean acts like the way he should had act with the bishop and gervais(if they had follow the book)!!?!?

But wait it seem that he is sick...we don't from what but he started at paris...and he works in the garden so he is get ise to it...so he doesn't die for broken hurt...its not marius fault....he just happened to get sick when they where at holidays...its just unfortune

It's not like in the book where the separation from his daughter make him loose the will to live and he wasted away and basically he starves himself and just waits in his miserable apartment writing his last words in which he tries to conviense marius that the dowry money are lawfull so he would use them for making cosette happy and he just waits for his death because at this point death would be a relief...no here he is ill and just enjoing his last moments with his garden and his nice cottage

And this version has cosette be his side for hours...and she now everything so he knows that she forgave him for everything so he dies much happier than this version diserves

In the book they barely make it in time to see him and he is just happy that he sees his daughter again and he keeps asking if marius forgave him even if he did nothing wrong and is even sadder because the doctor says that if they ccame sooner he would definately survived...and he is still happy because is with him and he calls him papa again and that is all he needs(the final parts of the book with valjeans end and what lead to it is one of my favourite parts and the second most sad for me and its a shame that i could not have it)

And after that the bbc desides to close with more misery because they don't care at all about the message...they just gone show hungry kids be ignore...they could save it if they had cosette give them money...the book is not that miserable

This was a tough run...they completely misportate almost all the characters especial the main ones and they didn't had time for the others...this versions of the characters could not pass the message of the book but the bigest mistake was that along with the characters they miss the whole point.

The message of the book was not"the world is cruel the world is wicked"(yes i'm quotting frollo and to be fair even the 'notredome de paris'another hugo novel was not that miserable).

The message was that will there is misery to the world we must not be ignorant...there is hope for a better future! Our biggest enemy is ignoranse and indifgerence but we can make the world a better place...and it's hard and many will be lost in the way and the fights but there will be always life and with life there is hope. At the baricades Enjolras says "The 19o century is glorious but the 20o will be happy" because that is the what hugo believed. When the book published France was a republick. People make mistakes but they can change and they can be improved with love. Romantic love, parental love, friendship,family love,agape,love for the country, love for our fellow man thats the love that it is in the book...that is where hugo focus...the book is more about love than it is about misery because where is life there is love and where is love there is hope and a promice for a better less miserable future and where is sadness injustice and misery books like "les miserables" will always by useful and relevant

Here is the link for part 1

[les-bi-katamari]

SESSION 13 (4/1/18)

Brianne checks in on Ghorza to ask about her hunger, which Ghorza deflects, looking conflicted. Ghorza carries the spy down to the dungeons, along with Megs; the rest of the party goes after Ivandra to check on her and Silenne.

[The others arrive at Silenne’s chambers, where Ivandra is cradling her in her arms. Silenne is clearly very battered, with horrible rope marks. Brianne comes forward to heal her, and uses Goodberry, since it also provides nourishment. Silenne wakes fitfully, and Ivandra comforts her, lifting her onto the bed with the questionable assistance of 6-Str Brianne. Cadence also provides healing, and Apphia gives her the Cloak of Comforting. Apphia leads Ivandra out for a talk, and Cadence and Brianne bond, with Brianne overcoming her furryphobia.]

[Imp: “OHHHH! Was that why you asked Ghorza about hunger?” Gwen: “Maaaaybe? Yeah, I picked out that spell because of Ghorza’s hunger.” Imp: “Awwwwwwwww! That’s so gay!”]

[In the Solarium, Apphia confronts Ivandra - about wanting to kill the spy, about her ‘playing for the other side.’ Ivandra finally confesses, “I-I made a terrible mistake, when I was younger.” “What mistake?” Ivandra breaks down crying. “There are no words for the unspeakable. I… made a deal, with a devil. She and I have been acquainted for some time - I met Glasya some time after mother died. I didn’t know what she was, then, but she had kind words when no one else had kindness to spare. I was enamored with the kindness and care she showed me. For years, she encouraged my studies, and filled my mind with possibilities I never could have entertained without her. At first, all I had to do was listen. And she was my closest friend. I grew to resent that no-one else recognized what she recognized in me, and she encouraged this. She offered to help me reclaim my birthright, fulfill my ambition - at a price. At the time, she was the only one to put any value to my soul.” “Y-you SOLD yourself? To Glasya?” “Yes. At cost. Because I placed very little faith in that. There is no way of softening this. Of cleaning it. This is a flaw that cannot be polished away. I’m so sorry for holding so fast to you for as long as I have. You have always deserved better than a devil’s whore.”]

[“I asked her to turn it back, after the accidents, the mysterious illnesses, as I put the pattern together. But she told me she was bound to the deal as I was, and that my disliking it could not change that. I know this does not absolve me.” “Did you know more about this? THIS? Did you lie to me about this?” “N-no! No, Apphia, I swear! Last time I spoke to you, I told you my intentions were good. They have not always been - but I was not lying to you that day. Glasya may have bought me, but I am still my own woman, I can- she asks for more every day. When I deny her, it is not enough to wrest my soul back, but- My path is not predestined in life. Only after it. After meeting you-” “Don’t.” “I’m sorry. Of course.” “What does she want?” “What all of her kind want. Power. She wants to usurp her father. She wants divinity.” “I thought I had already seen the worst thing I would see today… I don’t know what to say to you.” “I don’t know if anything can be said. This is all I am. I don’t know if you can even still call me friend. But… I am sworn to see this through. I will do everything I can to aid you, to help put this right.” “That’s a true devil’s choice, then.” “Whatever you need. I am at your service.” Apphia leaves her, nothing more to say.]

Meanwhile, Ghorza has asked Megs to go fetch Nemeth, so she can be there for the interrogation. [Megs run into Apphia as they’re both heading back to the Forge and tries to comfort her, only to be met with stony silence. Apphia arrives at the Forge, nodding hello to Ghorza’s moms - who share a look of concern - and heads straight to Ghorza’s room. The Isvaniran soldiers are still there playing cards - Nemeth has taken alllll their money. She’s the cat who got the cream; they look like they’re regretting not being got by the demon. Megs leads Nemeth back to the castle.]

Back at the castle, Ghorza has decided to wash the prisoner’s face rather than throw a bucket of water at her, because it’s MORE unnerving. After some failed attempts at intimidation, Ghorza suddenly sees the spy recoil in terror of her, seeming to look through her - above her? The others in the room are eyeing her strangely as well, but the spy begins to talk.

“We’ve got people out at Tarjanir, getting things set up, a ritual site. I don’t know what’s out there, I wasn’t a part of that. He’s bringing up everyone from down south to get this locked down.”

“Cyric is hated by all other gods. He has no allies; there’s no god he hasn’t betrayed in some way. But the lower powers, fiends, some demon princes. Devils were starting to get their claws where they shouldn’t. Cyric figures he’ll throw in with the side of the Blood War that he stands to gain from, keep the devils back.”

Silenne was replaced because she’s a big player. Ivandra was seen as threat because of ties to Hell - a devil has her ‘wrapped around her finger’.

Ghorza starts ranting about how Galaias will turn on Cyric and try to devour him, dooming the whole mortal plane. The spy tries to protest that Cyric is powerful.

“I was in the gutters when Oswin found me, nothing but pain and sorrow to my name. But he is powerful, Cyric is powerful.” Nemeth is outraged, and pushes in front to say “You think he’s your friend?! You think he sees anything in you? He found a PAWN in that gutter. You know what he told me?” She recounts how Reaver killed her parents, and took her, telling her she could be a good person and die with her parents, or come with him and become a terrible thing.

Nemeth runs off; we finish the interrogation (no new info on Ardazhan). Ghorza advises the shell-shocked spy to throw herself on the mercy of the court, and pointedly ignores Galaias’s voice in her head telling her “MERCY IS FOR THE WEAK! FINISH HER NOW!”

Megs heads off to try to find Nemeth. Ghorza steels herself to go report to Ivandra. There she lays out the good news from Aldessein, and the other results of the interrogation, before addressing the elephant in the room. She tells Ivandra that she remains her loyal servant, and trusts her with the work against Galaias and Cyric. They have a heart-to-heart about being chosen by fiends; Ivandra professes her faith that Ghorza will not fall, and Ghorza says she firmly believes that Ivandra can be free as well.

Everyone eventually meets back up at the Forge, and debriefs a bit about the news on Cyric and the ritual and Tarjanir and Ardazhan. Ghorza pulls Brianne aside to tell her that the hunger is not overwhelming, but is still there - and she offers her a Goodberry, which very much helps to soothe Ghorza; she lifts up Brianne in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Apphia sits up slowly from the bedroll she’s been wrapped in.

A: “...Reaver wants the lens.” G: “Yeah… I still don’t see how the plane of dreams fits in to his Blood War deal.” A: “The lens is attuned to the Plane of Dreams. What if it could be attuned to a different plane?” G, paling: “The Abyss? You think he’s gonna open a portal to the Abyss?” A: “He certainly might be able to.”

We talk a bit more about plans going forward.

KNOWN THREATS -Reaver and the cult of Cyric --ritual at Tarjanir -Galaias's hordes --Ardazhan --the whole fucking forest -Isvaniran cultists of Galaias? -Isvanir in general -memory-stealing monsters -the devils [ooc: UNKNOWN THREATS -Vengeful spirit of Brandt -Penguins -Evil trees -Flying boats -Feudalism and class society]

Eventually we decide: since everyone is SUPER stressed, we’re taking the next day (day 6 of the campaign) off for downtime. Then, we send the raven to Reaper to tell him to meet us in Vassarein in 24 hours if he wants an ass-kicking. Then, we’ll go to Rothanvar to check out the library and hopefully get more info. After that, maybe Ardazhan?

End of session.

[modernart2012]

Oops (I Did It Again)

@sumigakure Halloween Event 2017

Prompt 1: Magical Mishap

Word Count:

On AO3

“Bastard. What have you done.” Jiraiya paws at himself frantically, trying to find anything that vaguely resembled his old body. Small comfort that he had a navel, but nothing else matched. “If you’ve Disappeared my balls, I’m going to kill you.”

 Orochimaru pauses in reviewing the spell he had been fiddling with. “See, I’m not entirely sure I have done anything to your genitals. They’re just a little different from before.” He turns back to Tsunade, “I think maybe the text was slightly misleading about the precise nature of the ‘disguises’. Or what we thought was a ram seal is possibly something else.”

 Jiraiya claws at Orochimaru, “How am I supposed to pick up chicks like this, bastard?!” This time the Bastard ignores him, instead watching Tsunade try and form hand signs with her new appendages. It’s startlingly clear that it’s a losing endeavor, but she keeps trying anyways. That’s Tsunade after all, stubborn when she wants to be. Even missing parts.

 Jiraiya bolts upright, “YOU DISAPPEARED TSUNADE’S BOOBS. THERE MIGHT NOT HAVE BEEN MUCH, BUT THEY WERE THERE.” He gets slapped before he can properly explicate the tragedy that is Tsunade’s missing mammaries - she only just started wearing V necked shirts! - but does discover that whatever else may have happened, they still have magic available to them. The packaging is just what’s different. “Owwwwww.”

 Facial expressions are also the same, another piece of information that is good to know. Orochimaru shuts the book closed pointedly. “There’s nothing for it. We’re going to need to see Professor Sarutobi.” And that sends shivers down Jiraiya’s spine. No one wanted to deal with Sensei after they had ... accidents. He had the worst disappointed look, okay.

 “We’re already in his office, can’t we just wait here? He gets out of class soon, we just have to be patient.” He’s not sweating, you’re sweating.

 Tsunade is resigned to her fate, though, “And let Sensei know that we got anywhere near his precious antique texts while.... Indisposed to perform proper handling techniques? And after he told us not to mess with this specific spell? I like living Jiraiya.”

 Orochimaru, the Bastard concurs, “There’s no point dwelling on the known. The fact remains, we need to return to our normal forms. And Sensei is perhaps the best suited for the job.”

 “Professor Senju could! Or Professor Uzumaki!” Jiraiya blurts. Two people who were blood-obligated to help Tsunade. And not tell Sensei. That was the crucial bit, really, since Tsunade’s relatives were unlikely to kill them dead by dint of blood-relation (or approximation thereof) and Sensei had no such compunction against doing so.

 “We’re not going to Mom about this! She’d leave us like this just so ‘we learn our lesson’!” Tsunade snarls, and wow it was just as terrifying as any other time. Pro to this form, no obvious awkward boners getting him slapped. Things might be looking up. Orochimaru glares at him disgustedly. Scratch that, apparently he’s still liable to get slapped.

 “Maybe, next time you want to participate in advances in magic, you should help out instead of writing the filth you call ‘romances’ while lazing around.” Orochimaru resettles himself aloofly, as if he was perfectly at ease like this.

 Jiraiya can feel his hair standing on end in rage, “Maybe next time you shouldn’t mess with magic before you know precisely what it does. This is the seventh time you’ve done something like this to us, Bastard! You go right in without thinking of the consequences, because you have to know. And then you get us involved in your messes!”

 Orochimaru hisses back, “At least I’m contributing to the advancement of humanity, instead of lowering minds into the gutter.”

 It’s the last straw, that uptight Bastard on his high horse pretending he’s above it all. Jiraiya comes out swinging lashing Orochimaru across the face, and gets a powerful kick to the stomach. There are distinct advantages to fighting in a smaller body, primarily that leaping is much easier with more places to land. Maneuvering around the bendy son of a bitch is still difficult, since Orochimaru is still flexible and Jiraiya... isn’t. It’s not his fault he’s built okay. Okay, maybe it is, Jiraiya goes to the gym regularly, but he’s also naturally a bit broader than the Bastard and that’s not really conducive to the whole “flexibility” thing.

 Up until Jiraiya gets tossed into Tsunade and then it becomes something of a free for all. He’s not sure who’s swiping at who, or who’s attacks he’s doging, but he’s pretty sure Tsunade broke the couch and Orochimaru is at fault for the coffee table. In the interest of not hanging his best friends out to dry, he’ll take responsibility for the vase, even though it was already broken when they started fighting.

 It’s in the middle of the yelling, fighting, and general pandemonium of the three of them doing their level best to end each other that they overlook a critical detail. Namely, Sensei returning. They’re only alerted to the fact they have visitors by a high pitched whine and they look over to see Kagami trying his level best to die at will and Sensei has broken his own rules and brought out his pipe.

 “Heeeeey Sensei. What are you doing here?” Jiraiya would like to have it noted that he’s the best at acting nonchalant, and the looks of incredulity that he gets in response gives them the chance to extract themselves from the pile of limbs they had wound up in and look like sane individuals who weren’t caught rolling around on their mentor’s rug squabbling like particularly murderous children. Granted, the Bastard is terrible at looking innocent and just looks constipated, but it's a work in progress.

 “This is my office.” And look at Sensei, exercising his wit. Gods know that he didn’t get enough of a chance around Kagami. It’s fine, Kagami needs someone responsible in his life and everyone knows it won’t be Dr. Utatane in the Political Science department after the  International Incident thing.

 “At least we didn’t blow up?” He has to offer something okay, anything that speaks to the bright side of this situation. “That’s a thing with experimental magic, right?” Orochimaru and Tsunade turn to him with looks of utter betrayal. Come on, he’s the only one trying to save their hides!

 Kagami blanches and pulls out a spray bottle from somewhere to spray the Bastard in the face. “Bad Minion!” Then he sprays Jiraiya and Tsunade too, “Bad Minions!”

 Sensei drags deeply from his pipe - Jiraiya hopes it’s the Good Stuff he brought back from southern Hi no Kuni, that stuff could relax anyone - before speaking. “You messed with experimental magic. And turned yourselves into a cat,” He nods at Orochimaru, “A tanuki,” Jiraiya, “and a binturong.” Finally at Tsunade. He sighs deeply. “Again.”

 Tsunade winces, “We’ve never had these ... particular bodies before.”

 Sensei continues like he hadn’t heard. “This is the fourth time this semester you’ve changed shape to something beyond what is your normal, human, form. Do we need to have a refresher course on Self Esteem and being happy with the way you look?”

 In chorus, because the first time around that seminar had been horrifying, “No Sensei.”

 Sensei nods once with finality. “Kagami, go fetch Professor Senju and Professor Uzumaki. If they’ve done what I think they’ve done, they’re going to be necessary to undo it.”

 “Bastard, what have you done.”

[kbstories]

I wanted to write a little something for Valentine’s Day so here it is! I hope y’all enjoy, happy V-Day c:

“So, got any plans for Valentine's Day?”

Kaz's hand stops on its way to his duffle bag. He glances up at Pequod, who looks more and more nervous, shuffling from foot to foot where he waits for Kaz to exit the chopper as well.

“Uh, 'cause you gave me the 14th off this year and since you and the Boss are all official now I was wondering–“

Going for nonchalant, Kaz shrugs, “Thought you'd like to spent it with your wife, is all”, and grabs his bag decisively. “Or am I wrong?”

He joins his pilot on the landing zone – finally back on home ground, something inside him chants – and, after a moment of pause to give Pequod the chance to run away, Kaz makes his way towards the mess hall. Always the courageous one, Pequod tags along despite his expression of mild regret at the topic he chose.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Pequod smiles, matching Kaz's slightly shorter strides. “Thank you, Comm–“

“Felix. We talked about this.”

“–Miller. Just Miller, got it.”

They arrive and Kaz is pleased to notice Pequod lets him handle the door. There's only one person Kaz accepts this kind of chivalrous gestures from; every Diamond Dog who tried has learned this the hard way.

It's a while later, after they've each gotten their meals – burger and fries for Kaz, lentil stew for Pequod – and sat down at their usual table, that Kaz casually says: “I do, in fact, have plans for Valentine's. Got something I was meaning to show him for a while now.”

If he waits for the exact moment Pequod decides to brave a sip of his too-hot stew, only to see him snort and spill most of it with muttered curses, it's nobody's business but his own.

“That's good to hear”, Pequod manages between dabs of his napkin before he sighs and gives up on his stained shirt. “What is it?”

Kaz makes sure the other's eyes are on him when he takes a bite off one of his fries, smirking deviously for just a second, just enough to plant an idea – and Pequod's face flushes a bright red, doubtlessly reliving one of the many times he's caught them red-handed. Then–

“Get your mind out the gutter”, he quips, “I don't kiss and tell... much. Try again next time.”

Kaz then munches the rest of his fries happily but not without offering Pequod some. He's not an animal, after all.

*

Valentine's Day falls on Venom's day off and thus, it starts with the usual: Get up, fetch the dogs, go for a run, come back in time to wake up Kaz–

Only this time, Venom finds the bed empty and, after listening for the sound of a running shower, concludes Kaz must've gone... somewhere. In his stead there's a box placed on the neatly-made covers. Try it on and meet me outside, it says on the Diamond Dogs-branded post-it stuck to the lid.

Inside, there's a tuxedo – classic black, complete with a deep red bowtie and dress shoes in his size – and, after shaking his head at the expensive feel of the fabric, Venom showers, trims his beard and goes through the tedious motions of putting it on.

The tux fits like a glove. But then again, Venom muses on his way out, it's chosen by Kazuhira Miller. Of course it does. As promised, said man is waiting on the helicopter pad outside, wearing a similar outfit, long hair undone. Behind him, one of their civil helicopters is standing by. The pilot salutes, Venom nods. It's not Pequod.

“Took you long enough”, Kaz grumbles when he joins him, to which Venom replies, “Good to see you too”, just to earn himself a huff and a fleeting smile. They kiss, their usual good morning peck, before Kaz gets back to business.

“So, what do you think?”

The question is directed more at the lapels of Venom's tux than himself as Kaz examines the fit, then fixes Venom's bowtie. Venom takes the time to appreciate how Kaz's blue one compliments his eyes, for once left uncovered by his aviators; reaching for his cheek, Venom's bionic thumb brushes the delicate skin underneath, red contrasting blue. “Perfect.”

Kaz rolls his eyes, “I meant your tux”, even if he looks pleased all the same. “I know you're not a big fan of all this fancy stuff.“

“I like it”, Venom says simply. With a nod to the chopper he says, “What's this?”, and smiles teasingly. “Taking me out on a date?”

Kaz shrugs. “Something like that. C'mon, we can't be late. I made, uh, reservations.”

And if he notices Kaz's expression is a little too innocent to be 100% genuine, well, Snake is willing to wait and see what all this fuss is really about.

*

The destination of their little trip is a restaurant on the mainland, nestled between other food places but its distinctly American style makes it stick out, even if it looks to be currently closed.

“Kaz, are you sure–?”

But Kaz waves away his concerns, “Yeah, yeah, it's the place”, he says distractedly as he fishes for what turns out to be the keys for the entrance door. “Come on in, we have it to ourselves.”

Walking inside, Venom lets out an appreciative whistle. Even though the place is clearly meant for cheaper food – a fast food joint, maybe? – the regular tables have been moved aside for a big wooden one, readily laid above a pristine white cloth. A lit candle flickers at the center. “Damn, Kaz.”

Arms crossed, Kaz chuckles. He motions for Venom to take off his jacket while he pulls out his chair for him. “Too much?”

Venom shakes his head and sits down, blinking at the myriad of plates and silverware in front of him; he can't remember the last time he ate anything else than field rations and food from the mess hall yet there's no time to worry about which side to start with – out of nowhere, a waiter appears, greeting them cheerily but toning it down at Kaz's near-instant glare.

The menu they're handed is predefined, as is the red wine they're served with a nervous smile. By the time the first course comes around, an elaborately decorated salad with walnuts and avocado, Venom is thoroughly impressed. Kaz truly spared no efforts, a fact he's visibly proud of every time Snake mentions it even if he predictably plays it down.

“Okay, what's the catch?”, Venom asks eventually, after they spent the bigger part of the second course subtly fighting over the last of the excellent salmon ceviche, a dish he recognizes from the days Hungry Falcon is in charge of Mother Base's kitchens.

Kaz blinks as if surprised, raising his hands and, conveniently, giving Venom an opening to claim the final bit for himself. “No catch.” At Venom's disbelieving snort, Kaz sighs. “C'mon, V. Just wanted to spend some time together, be the romantic one for once, y'know?”

And if the uncharacteristic niceties didn't tip him off, it's the use of the word 'romantic'. Kazuhira Miller doesn't do romance. Not explicitly.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, Venom plays along for now, taking a sip of his wine. Ever observant, the waiter comes along to refill it, and now that Venom's paying attention, his face seems somehow familiar, he just can't pinpoint why... then he darts away to bring the next dish and the game begins anew.

*

Needless to say, Kaz's plan is going swimmingly.

Relaxed by good food and the fact they have each other for themselves right now, they talk throughout the third and fourth course like they haven't in a long time. Venom hasn't asked further suspicious questions and for that, Kaz is glad – instead, he seems a little tipsy from the wine, something that's so rare Kaz wishes for Venom's camera to be able to immortalize it.

More reasonably, he gestures for the waiter to slow down on the wine. Kaz wants Venom sober enough for what's to follow; Stone Mastodon nods, thankfully less flustered than how he started his mission with, and scurries to get the dessert at Kaz's determined nod.

It consists of different chocolate-covered fruits, which, after a short moment of consideration, Venom insists to feed Kaz with. Maybe it's Kaz's own buzz but he doesn't really mind it, laughing as Venom kisses away any wayward bits of chocolate left on his mouth.

A shy cough interrupts any further activities. Awkwardly, Mastodon lets them know he'll be in the back now, making a gesture that's half-way to a salute until he remembers himself and waves instead.

Venom looks at Mastodon's retreating back for a second. Then he shrugs, “The guy's kinda nervous, isn't he?”, and turns back to Kaz–

The satin box Kaz is cradling in his hand feels too small to him yet he knows, despite his anxious heart pounding away in his chest, that he made the right call when the first thing out of Venom's mouth is “Kaz?” in that impossibly small voice Kaz's heard only once before, when Kaz told him he loved him for the first time.

“V”, Kaz answers as calmly as he can, “I...”, but the words he carefully prepared won't quite make it out of his mouth. Kaz breathes deep, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping the box to stop his fingers from trembling.

Venom's hand is warm when it wraps around his, his eye a little wet as it meets Kaz's.

“I'm here”, is all he says, and somehow it's enough to save Kaz from drowning in his own speechlessness.

“I love you”, Kaz whispers, then chuckles at his own shaky voice. “There goes my speech but... To hell with it. To hell with everything else, V. All I know is that I want you to have something of mine when I'm away, and I want something of yours, and since rings are... difficult”, a helpless shrug with his right shoulder, where his bionic hangs heavy, “I thought...”

Venom's thumb rubs the back of his hand. Kaz opens the box.

A quiet moment passes while Venom reaches inside, carefully inspecting what he finds there.

“Diamonds?”

“Earrings”, Kaz corrects softly. “One for you, one for me.” He pauses. “If you want. It's unusual but–“

“They're perfect, Kaz.”

Venom's smile is gentle, a delicate thing on his rough, rough face. With all the care in the world, he places them back and closes the box, pressing a kiss to it.

In that moment, when Venom takes what Kaz has to give, and gives back, Kaz feels light-headed, weak, feverishly warm – then he realizes that their bond isn't a cage, but relief, and happiness, and love all wrapped in one.

[unabashedlyautomaticmagazin-blog]

Lawn Care Business, Leaf Raking, And Landscaping

Lawn Care Business, Leaf Raking, And Landscaping

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