#Beyond Black Tie Attire

[samkkshopping]

Unlock Regal Style: 5 Maharaja-Inspired Color Combos by Samyakk

Introduction:

Maharaja Fashion Inspiration

Maharaja fashion inspiration plays a significant role in contemporary men’s wedding outfits. Drawing from the opulence of royal attire, this style incorporates rich fabrics, intricate embroidery, and bold colors, reflecting a sense of grandeur and sophistication. Men’s festive wear inspired by Maharaja-inspired looks often features jewel tone suits and opulent men’s fashion, ideal for making a striking impression at any event.

Men’s Ethnic Style and Traditional Attire

The essence of men’s ethnic style lies in its ability to blend traditional elements with modern aesthetics. Men’s traditional attire, such as the Jodhpuri suit, offers a regal and refined look perfect for weddings and festive occasions. Men’s traditional fashion trends continue to evolve, embracing both the heritage of royal men’s attire and contemporary design innovations.

Elegant and Regal Men’s Outfits

For those seeking an elegant men’s outfit, the Jodhpuri suit stands out with its detailed craftsmanship and sophisticated appearance. Paired with accessories that complement its royal appeal, such as brooches and pocket squares, the Jodhpuri suit transforms into a centerpiece of a men’s regal wardrobe.

Let’s Dive into more ethnic outfit: Jodhpuri Suit for all your occasion

Jodhpuri suits are a cornerstone of Indian men’s fashion, especially for weddings and formal events. These distinguished outfits combine tradition with a touch of modern flair, making them a popular choice for those seeking a unique and sophisticated look.

Comfort Meets Style

Jodhpuris are crafted from breathable fabrics like cotton, silk, or linen, ensuring comfort even in warm weather. Unlike kurtas paired with jackets, Jodhpuri suits offer a cohesive and tailored look. The jackets, typically made from slightly heavier fabrics, provide a structured silhouette, while the trousers maintain a comfortable drape.

A Touch of Brilliance

Jodhpuri suits often feature embellishments like sequins or gemstones, adding a touch of Indian heritage to the outfit. Traditionally available in vibrant colors for festive occasions, Jodhpuris now come in a wider range, including classic blacks, whites, blues, and grays, making them suitable for various events.

The Rise of the Jodhpuri

These designer suits for men gained popularity for their resemblance to formal business attire. While not strictly traditional Indian clothing, Jodhpuri suits became a prominent symbol during Prime Minister Nehru’s era. His frequent wearing of Jodhpuri suits cemented their place in Indian men’s fashion, and they eventually became a part of Indian men’s wedding outfits.

Versatility for Every Man

Jodhpuri suits cater to diverse styles. Their formal elegance makes them appropriate for weddings and work functions, while their comfortable design allows for all-day wear. Whether you seek a bold statement piece or a timeless classic, a Jodhpuri suit offers a perfect blend of tradition, comfort, and modern style.

Festive and Formal Men’s Fashion

Men’s luxury clothing and festive men’s fashion are characterized by the use of rich fabric men’s clothing and ornate detailing. Whether attending a wedding, festival, or formal event, men can choose from a variety of styles that showcase their personality and taste. Brands like Samyakk offer an extensive range of men’s formal wear, ensuring that every man finds the perfect ensemble for any occasion.

Men Suit: A classic choice of suit everybody likes Men Suits have always been a symbol of elegance and sophistication. Whether it’s a business meeting, a formal event, or a special occasion like a wedding, the right suit for men can make a world of difference. In this blog, we will explore a variety of styles, including blazers for men, wedding suits for men, and the traditional yet trendy Jodhpuri Suit.

Classic Suit: Timeless Elegance

A Classic Suit is a staple in every man’s wardrobe. It exudes a timeless appeal that works for both professional and social settings. The clean lines and tailored fit make it a versatile choice for any occasion. When you think of a classic suit, envision a well-fitted jacket paired with perfectly tailored trousers, often in neutral colors like navy, grey, or black.

Tuxedo Suit: The Ultimate in Formal Wear

For the most formal of occasions, the Tuxedo Suit is unmatched. Known for its satin lapels and often accompanied by a bow tie, the tuxedo is the epitome of elegance. Whether you’re attending a black-tie event or your own wedding, a tuxedo ensures you stand out with its sophisticated design.

Wedding Suits: Making Your Day Special

When it comes to your big day, wedding suits for men play a crucial role. From traditional wedding suits to modern designs, the choices are endless. One popular choice is the black Jodhpuri Suit, which combines the richness of Indian heritage with contemporary style. This outfit is perfect for grooms who want to add a touch of royalty to their wedding attire.

Jodhpuri Suit: Royalty Redefined

The Jodhpuri Suit is a regal option that has gained immense popularity in recent years. Known for its high-neck, bandhgala design, this suit is perfect for weddings and other formal events. The Jodhpuri Suit Men prefer today often features intricate embroidery and rich fabrics, making it a standout choice.

Designer Suits for Men: Contemporary Flair

For those who love to stay ahead of fashion trends, designer suits for men are a must-have. These suits often feature unique cuts, bold colors, and innovative fabrics. Whether you’re looking through a mens suit designs catalogue or seeking the latest mens suit designs for a wedding, designer suits offer a variety of options that cater to different tastes and preferences.

Blazers for Men: Versatile and Stylish

Blazers for men are a versatile addition to any wardrobe. They can be dressed up or down, making them suitable for both casual and formal occasions. Pair a classic blazer with jeans for a smart-casual look or with dress trousers for a more polished appearance.

Wedding Outfit For Men: Beyond the Suit

When considering a wedding outfit for men, think beyond the traditional suit. Options like the Bandhgala offer a unique blend of modern style and traditional elegance. This high-collared jacket can be paired with trousers or dhoti pants, providing a distinctive look that sets you apart on your special day.

Jewel Tones

Jewel tone suits in colors like sapphire blue, ruby red, and emerald green paired with neutral tones like black, white, or beige create a luxurious and sophisticated look. These colors are perfect for men’s wedding outfits and festive men’s fashion.

Major Color Combos to focus: Men Wedding & Party Wear Outfit

When it comes to men’s wedding outfits and party wear, choosing the right color combination can make a significant impact. Here are some standout color combos that can elevate your look for these special occasions.

Classic Black and White

A timeless combination, black and white is perfect for both weddings and formal parties. Whether it’s a tuxedo suit or a classic suit, this duo exudes sophistication and elegance.

Navy Blue and Gold

Navy blue and gold is a luxurious combo that works well for wedding suits for men. The richness of navy paired with the opulence of gold detailing creates a regal look, ideal for evening weddings and receptions.

Burgundy and Black

Burgundy and black is a bold and sophisticated choice for men’s wedding suits. This combination is perfect for fall and winter weddings, offering a deep, rich aesthetic that stands out.

Royal Blue and White

For a fresh and vibrant look, royal blue and white is an excellent choice. This combination is particularly popular for men’s festive wear and men’s ethnic style, including Jodhpuri suits and bandhgala jackets.

Charcoal Grey and Silver

Charcoal grey and silver is a modern and sleek option for both weddings and parties. This combo works well for men’s formal wear, providing a contemporary yet classic look.

Emerald Green and Gold

Emerald green and gold is a striking combination that embodies luxury and elegance. This pairing is ideal for wedding outfits for men looking to make a bold statement.

Maroon and Cream

Maroon and cream is a rich and traditional combination perfect for Indian men’s fashion. This duo is particularly popular in Jodhpuri suits and bandhgala outfits, offering a royal and festive look.

Black and Maroon

Black and maroon create a powerful and striking look for evening events. This combination is particularly suited for opulent men’s fashion and men’s luxury clothing, ensuring you stand out in any gathering.

White and Pastel

White and pastel combinations, such as white with pastel pink, blue, or mint, are perfect for daytime weddings and summer parties. These colors offer a fresh and elegant look, ideal for men’s traditional attire and men’s regal wardrobe.

The Samyakk Experience

Shopping for the perfect suit can be overwhelming, but with brands like Samyakk, the process becomes seamless. Known for their exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail, Samyakk offers a wide range of suits, from the classic and timeless to the modern and trendy. Whether you’re looking for a wedding suit designer or exploring the suit design man catalogs, Samyakk has something to cater to every need.

Conclusion

The world of men’s suits is vast and varied, offering something for every taste and occasion. From the timeless classic suit to the regal Jodhpuri Suit, and the sophisticated Tuxedo Suit, each style brings its own unique charm. So, whether you’re preparing for a wedding, a formal event, or just looking to upgrade your wardrobe, there’s a perfect men suit out there waiting for you.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Believe Me [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Home from a mission in the dead of night, Loki requires absolution (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Avenger!Loki. Established relationship. Mild sub!loki, non-toxic jealously, 'authorised' mild infidelity (missions, innit).

You had dozed, slipping between the fleeting embrace of slumber. Snatches came and went, the cool of your pillow turning hot before you turned it again.

Fat feathers crisped as you lowered your head. The finest Asgardian goose. Loki insisted. With each wave of consciousness, you tried not to think of your lover destructively flirting his way through a honeytrap mission tonight. The poor mark didn’t stand a chance. You checked the clock. 03.23.

But something feels different.

Sitting up, you squinted beyond the darkness.

On the far side of the room, a wing-back chair rose in the gloom. The draped silk of your discarded robe still hung over the armrest, but it shimmered. It was moving. Black became grey as your eyes adjusted, seeing pale fingers weaving silk between them.

You saw him now.

Legs crossed, back straight and chin dipped as he watched you sleep while he bathed in shadow. Curls sat effortlessly back from his face, slices of cheekbone protruding from blackest night.

The shade of his suit was at one with the leather behind, but Loki’s bright eyes smouldered; embers of starlight and dying galaxies deep in the darkness. “I didn’t wish to wake you, love” he murmured, pulling the silk hem through his fingers a final time before letting it fall.

One long leg unfurled over the other, the click of his heel meeting the floor making you clench beneath the bed-covers. You were wet already. So wet. Like your body could sense his presence, if not yet your mind. She always could.

Like a dream, you cast the duvet back and rose; bare feet padding across the boards towards him. Cool air sent gooseflesh rippling up your thighs, your arms; the curves of your body protected only by a flimsy camisole. Only a few more steps. The leather of the chair squeaked as his thighs spread against the sides. “Loki,” you breathed, cupping his face.

No sooner had the name left your lips than a row of candles flickered to life, illuminating him from behind. They floated in the air, rivulets of wax already spilling soft rolls down the sides. “Hel-lo,” he purred teasingly. One eyebrow cocked. And the threat of a smirk pressing against his cheeks.

For the first time, you noticed his unusual attire. A three piece suit, with its crowning glory the drip of starched ruffles cascading down his chest to the high waist of his trousers. He shifted in the chair, the pad of a fingertip brushing a close-lipped smile.

“Steve really went Ken-doll on you tonight, huh?” you teased, mirth ebbing to renewed desire as he drew the fingers to the bow-tie fastened at his neck.

He shrugged, tugging it slowly, letting the silk unfurl. It hung perfectly around his collar. You wondered if he would tie you up with it. You hoped he would.

In a flash, two large hands cupped your ass, pulling you down to his lap. With a gasp you managed to straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his thick trunk. You kissed him deeply, savouring the softness of his tongue as it welled and licked and loved you. The ceremony was about to begin. His fingers spread against your cheeks, pulling and massaging as he groaned into your throat.

He tasted like jealousy. Traces of expensive perfume lingering on his skin and the faint hang of some rich whisky doing its best to conceal it. A thrill flooded through you, imagining the mark's desire roaring through her blood as she felt his muscle ripple beneath her touch. But Loki would never betray you, not beyond the emotionless tactics his position required.

Your thumb skated up his cheek, catching a patch of forgotten lipstick near his ear. Forgotten? No. You knew better than that. Whenever Loki came home from ensnaring a target with his wiles, he never missed the chance to make sure you knew who he belonged to. It was a mission. It was nothing. But ceremony must be upheld. His lips waxed and waned deeper, firing passion setting you alight. Every swallow was harsher and deeper than the last. Like he might lose you in the darkness. Loki grunted wetly as you scooted closer on his lap, chest flush to your colossus of a lover while his fingers wound in your hair. Your digits slid down his chest, feeling the ropes of muscle bound beneath starched folds. You broke apart just long enough to whisper the question he was waiting for. "You had to kiss this one?" You let the playful mist of a snarl hang on the air. Loki growled in response while you began working down his chin, along the long blade of his jawline. Letting the tip of your tongue run over the angle of his bone structure.

“Yes,” he rasped while you dropped lower, fastening to the slender muscle of his neck. You took a moment to appreciate his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed hard, ragged breaths ripping the air. His head fell back. “Only for a minute,” he panted to the ceiling. “It was perfunctory.”

Honestly from the god of lies, you’d found, was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

“Where?” you asked, closing your eyes against his skin. “Against the wall,” he choked. His breaths were short. Loki’s fingernails grazed down the exposed skin between your shoulder-blades while you began to gently gyrate in circles. The god’s thick cock snaked down his thigh, ferociously hard against the tight fabric. At the mercy of your movements.

His brow creased as you slid back and forth, wetted lips parting with a needy gasp. “Did she want you?” you goaded, sliding the heel of your palm over one of his cheekbones. It raked through his hair. "Of course," he strummed, thighs beginning to tremble beneath your hips. Loki's hands ran in worship up the curve of your waist. "And did you want her?" you asked coyly. Loki pouted before a gentle tug of the camisole made your breasts spilled into his waiting hands. “Never,” he breathed; eyes flashing dangerously as he lifted them to meet yours. “Never.” You slid a hand down his torso, through the mass of white foliage ruffles which lapped against your palm in flickering candlelight. They were hard, and yet soft. Just like him. And stiff. That too, was a common attribute.

Slowly, you reached the button of his trousers. Loki thrust into the touch, biting his lip with a flinch. His brows knitted together.

One button popped beneath your fingers. Then two.

He leant forward, pushing your cleavage together and burying his face deep. The god’s nose slotted perfectly between the mounds of flesh he sought, drowning himself in the scent of you. The feel of you. His muffled moans of anticipation made you squirm on his lap, rubbing your bare pussy against his sprung manhood.

Pants and wet grunts of desire filled the air before Loki surfaced, kissing manically up the path to your lips. He consumed you again, his palm skating up the nape of your neck in a violent embrace. Waves of stiff ruffles grazed your nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your dripping core. Had you ever needed him more than this? You were certain you had. But you couldn’t remember when.

Loki’s hands massaged your ass, pulling you deeper against his face. His shirt ruffles scratched your inner thighs, the tender caress making you mewl his name to the ceiling.

“Say you believe me,” he gasped in desperation.

It was a dark prayer. And a desperate one, at that. A ring of saliva was smeared across his lower face. The words chanted on repeat as your searching fingers lined him up between your slick thighs.

“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, slurring. His throat clung to the final syllable, rasping it through a torturous exhale.

The tip of his cock jarred against your slit, a sticky mess of pre-cum and arousal webbing with each slow buck. He was trembling with the effort of resistance.

He would not. Not until the ceremony of his forgiveness was complete.

You looked down at him, head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully coiffured hair now hung around his cheekbones, jutting at mussed angles. Half-lidded eyes observed you with reverence, submission. A pilgrim awaiting absolution. You smiled. Leaning in, you traced the taut vein popping in his neck. Felt every bob and tighten as he swallowed on your ascent. The little mewls from his pretty lips. And all the while, his hips rocked; cock licking and caressing your glistening sex.

The swirl of your tongue tasted bitter. Remnants of perfume from her wrists as she wound her arms around his neck, perhaps. But it would be gone soon. It always was. They always were. And you? You remained. You always did.

You reached the soft skin beneath his ear, humming a little before sucking his delicate lobe between your lips. “I believe you, baby” you whispered.

It was no more than a breath. The truth needs no more than a breath, you’d found. And with a broken sob of gratitude, Loki felt you sink deep onto his leaking cock.

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

[juunobox]

──★ ˙ ̟ helping nikolai put on his corset (nikolai gogol x gn! reader)

summary: he seems to struggle with tying a ribbon for the corset he's wearing and asks your help for it, he may or may not be actually struggling, though... warnings: mildly suggestive i suppose...? note: pretty short. i've been hit with writer's block due to being very busy irl as well i think, so this is just a sort of warm up >.>

Nikolai's frustrated groan echoed from the other side of the room, clearly exaggerated. He had been at it for a while—what exactly was he doing? Trying to properly wear a corset, the tied-up kind. For reasons known only to him, he decided to don a corset one day, injecting a change into his usual attire.

There was no special occasion; he simply had decided to spice up his usual outfit- which is an idea you're never opposed to. Of course, how could you? The idea of something tight accentuating the jester's toned physique was a sight you wouldn't want to miss.

Amid his effort to tie the corset properly, his exaggerated complaints reached a crescendo. "Ugh! This is so hard, [y/n]!" Nikolai complained, louder and needier than ever. His frustration appeared more like a theatrical performance than a genuine struggle. You suspected he could easily manage tying the corset ribbon, even at the back, thanks to the freedom of movement his ability provided.

So, it's beyond clear that he just wanted to playfully poke fun at you.

"Doveeeee!" he whined again, drawing out the syllable. This time, it finally prompted you to stand up from your seat and enter the bedroom where he was "struggling" with the corset.

"What is it, Kolya?" you asked with a small sigh, yet amused.

"I can't tie it right. Help me," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face whilst tugging at the ribbon as if beckoning you to come closer.

"But you're almost done," you remarked, your eyes drawn to his waist now accentuated by the black and white corset. You find it challenging to avert your gaze, lingering a moment longer than you'd care to confess. The corset accentuates his figure perfectly, with its well-fitted monochrome stripes hugging his torso. Your heart flutters with excitement at the way it snugly embraces him. The temptation to feel it beneath your fingertips almost overpowers you. You resist, reminding yourself, "All ribbons are tied... what else do you need?"

He giggled. "Hehehe! Yes, that's why now I need you to help me with this last bit. I can't tie a pretty ribbon," Nikolai voiced, directing your hands to firmly clasp his waist. An eyebrow arched in curiosity as he led your hands to his sides rather than the untied ribbon. When you attempted to withdraw your hands, Nikolai's grip only strengthened, ensuring not a single finger left his vicinity. You raised your chin to meet Nikolai's heterochromatic eyes, a slightly puzzled expression on your face as you encountered his smug grin.

"This..." you began, cheeks warming up as Nikolai leaned closer to your ear. "This is not where the ribbon is, Kolya," you stated, only eliciting an even more pronounced grin from Nikolai. His gloved hands secured your arms firmly, orchestrating their movements up and down his sides, a gentle caress accompanying each guided motion. Now, the earlier desire to feel his accentuated curves on your fingertips had become a reality. You revel in the growing excitement of this exchange, especially with him orchestrating every motion of your hands across his body like a puppet master. It's as if he possesses an innate knowledge of the precise areas on his body that you yearn to caress and explore...

"I'm aware, my prettiest dove. Very much so," he cooed, taking on a slightly deeper, yet still playful tone. "I've just been missing your touch," Nikolai deftly guided your hand to lightly squeeze his side waist, causing your eyes to widen at the unexpected gesture. At your flustered reaction, he only grinned and whispered, "And this is also something you've been wanting to do, right?"

An awkward silence momentarily enveloped both of you. "You beat me to it, Kolya," you admitted, confessing to the desires you'd harbored. Yes, being close to him like this was something you longed for.

He lingered in that close proximity a little longer before a faint giggle rolled off his lips. Finally releasing your hands, he twirled away with a toothy smile. "Well, too bad, you have to earn it! That was just a little taste of what you can get~ Hahaha!" The jester's continued to move afterwards, becoming a challenge for you to try and tie the ribbon securely.

"Come on, Nikolai, let's ensure this ribbon is tied properly!" you said, attempting to maintain composure despite the smile on your lips. Unfazed by your words, Nikolai continued- making you chuckle at his antics, well aware that his aim was to coax you into more physical contact. After a minute or so, the silver-haired clown finally relented, giving you the chance to actually adjust the corset ribbon while Nikolai held himself still, his gaze fixed on you with a wide smile.

"Okay, perfect now!" You finally announced with a hint of triumph as the ribbon was finally tied, acknowledging that his antics had made it a bit challenging for you. He straightened himself up dramatically, offering a mock princely bow. "Thank you. As expected of my dear assistant," he said, causing both of you to burst into giggles. Before you could move away, you suddenly feel his hand gripping your waist.

"Now hold on tight! We're going somewhere for the night. Can't let your effort in helping me put on this pretty corset go to waste!" Meeting his gaze upon hearing the sudden invitation, you asked, "Where are we off to, Kolya?" Nikolai flashed a mischievous grin. "That will be tonight's quiz! Hehehe—where am I taking you? Well, only one way to find out! Hold on tight, promise you it'll be a night to remember~" He holds you close to him, and in the blink of an eye, covered you both with his overcoat.

[redo-rewind-if]

Victoria/Victor Zhang (she/her or he/him | 31) often seems cold and serious, wielding their glare like a weapon. But you know there must be more hidden under the surface.

Victoria keeps her straight black hair in a neat, short pixie cut. Usually gelled back without a strand out of place.

Victor prefers to wear his straight black hair long, held in a tidy ponytail. You'd wager it hit around his waist, if he ever wore it down.

They have honey brown eyes, pale skin, and cheekbones that could cut glass. V stands at a respectable 5'8" with an elegant build. They don't have any visible scars but they do have a small beauty mark just to the left and below their bottom lip.

V is practically always seen wearing formal business attire. A suit, perfectly polished loafers, with a tie neatly in place. Pinstripes. They tend to stick to a monochrome color scheme with the occasional navy blue.

August Astaire (he/him | 27) is an interesting man, always wearing a dagger sharp grin you can't tell is real or fake.

His dark brown wavy hair falls messily down to his shoulders in a way that should look terrible but (unfortunately) doesn't. Complimented by his fair skin and pale green eyes.

August is on the taller side (5'11"), with a slender but muscular build. He has numerous scars, the most notable of which runs up from his jaw onto his right cheek. He also has a couple of tattoos, including a full sleeve on his left arm made up of thorny red roses and black butterflies.

August is most well known for his signature red coat he wears nearly year round. Yes, even in the summer. Beyond that, he is often seen wearing plunging v necks, tight pants, and boots. His entire wardrobe seems to be nothing but black and red with not a single other color in sight.

Amara Ingram (she/her | 25) carries herself with a sunny, carefree disposition. But don't underestimate her, appearances can be deceiving after all.

Her shoulder length black hair falls in tight curls that halo her head, her warm brown eyes shine with an unexpected cunning, all complimented by her dark brown skin.

Amara stand proudly at 5'5" with a fairly average build (not extremely slim nor very muscular). She has a handful of scars on her hands, arms, and legs from a few small engineering accidents. (Nothing to see here! I swear!)

She prefers comfortable, practical clothes above all else. Loose fit jeans, chunky sweaters, sneakers and sandals all rank among her favorites. She leans towards a more neutral color palette with some small pops of bright color here and there as accents.

[snow-at-twilight]

Casual Clothing Refs Boards: Nightcord at 25:00!

With this post, we conclude the casual clothing ref boards series! Kanade's was super fun to put together LOL. Mafuyu actually had a startling lack of art in casual clothes since she's usually in her school uniform, but you know...

And just to reiterate: all of the art in these posts are either from cards or collab/promo art! I created these boards and shared them as a resource for everyone to use! Feel free to reblog/save as reference! I hope they help you in your artistic/writing endeavors!

L/N | MMJ | VBS | WxS | 25-ji

Some notes/personal observations under the cut:

KANADE

What do I even say? LOL

She really does only wear her sweats/tracksuit and shorts.

'Faintly Glowing Elpis' actually has her in a slightly different jacket, but it was from a year ago in PjSk timeline so she's seems to have shifted to a different jacket.

She also has one 'formal' outfit, which she wears in 'Determination Ignited' and 'Opening Ceremony Held in the Classroom' - collared white shirt and grey sweater (oversized?).

She also has a black winter coat she wears when it's snowy/chilly out!

Kanade is peak 'what is comfortable and practical' and doesn't futz around with fashion much.

If you (as a creator/artist/writer) want to put her in something beyond what she usually wears, you can probably chalk it up to Ena or Mizuki taking her clothes shopping.

MAFUYU

again, usually is wearing her school uniform in card art, but from what we get of her casual attire:

Usually is wearing her 2D live outfit.

blue, white, beige, purple colors. Sometimes black top.

Long skirts or pants, plenty of cozy sweaters/cardigans over button-downs/collared shirts.

Something about her attire screams 'nurse' -> Probably the light/muted colors.

Another character who rarely has short sleeves.

ENA

I just want to note she's usually drawing/painting in the long-sleeve print shirt and shorts, but may also wear a hoodie as seen in 'I Want To Capture That Expression'.

Sometimes goes for cardigans.

You can count on her shirts having a collar and some sort of ruffle or soft puff sleeve.

Also has ribbon around her neck or the black choker on her 2D Live.

Skirts enjoyer, you don't really get her in pants.

As for colors, go for white, beige, maybe a black, and also pink!

MIZUKI

They have a lot of different ribbons to tie their hair up in!

Wears their 2D Live outfit a lot, but the outfit you first see in 'A Moment of Jest' with the white shirt and black/pink suspenders + skirt is actually something they seem to wear often as well.

Usually has a ribbon/bow around their collar as well, but it's a lot bigger.

Frilly/ruffled dresses and whatnot, but also wears suspender-style too.

Blue, white, pink, and some black.

I think the only piece of art we actually have of them in some form of pants (aside from their middle school 'What Gave Me Courage' card) is their most recent 'You Gotta Come, Or Else I’ll Be Sad' card.

Reminder that Mizuki will buy and alter clothing if it isn't to their tastes.

You can see their closet in 'A Long-Awaited Notification'. Plaid patterns!!

[justapoet]

these roads are changing me (but they all lead back to you)

"Luke," Percy said slowly. "You never talk about him." And that was one of the things she had never thought would come to the surface when she first found those letters, when she stepped on that plane. "Thalia and Grover never told you about him?" she asked. "Thalia may have spat his name once or twice throughout our lives," Percy told her. "But his name definitely means more to you than to any of them." She knew talking to Percy was safe, and it would most likely lift a weight off her shoulders. Still, she hesitated.

read on Ao3

chapter 1: to those who ask

chapter 2: to whose who wait

chapter 3: to those who gaze

chapter 4: to those who left

chapter 5: to those who went so far away

to those who remain

When Percy said ‘fancy’, he was, by no means, exaggerating.

Annabeth stepped into the restaurant wearing a sleek, tailored pantsuit that exuded sophistication and Percy had found somewhere around the places he had wandered around — his walking led him to come back to the hotel with two suits, one for her and one for him, and a reservation. How, on Earth, had both gotten to his hands was beyond her comprehension or guessing, and Annabeth simply decided that blind trust was good for her mind and her soul.

And for her mirror, too, because the hesitance in opening the cape where the clothes were in was something that happened — the restaurant was fancy and rich, apparently, and Percy was someone that wore square-stamped overshirts and often resembled a surfer or a fisherman, oddly like his father. He laughed at her brief panic, and promised he had chosen something she would like to wear and see herself in.

And he couldn't have been more correct, impressively enough. The midnight blue fabric hugged her curves elegantly, the sharp lines of the jacket accentuating her slender frame and making her look slightly taller, which was something she appreciated quite a lot. Paired with a crisp white blouse and a statement necklace that sparkled in the soft light, she radiated effortless glamour with every step — according to Percy himself, which made her cheeks feel warm and her throat go dry.

Beside her, as she walked, there was another reason why her throat was dry and her cheeks were warm — Percy cut a striking figure in a classic black suit, impeccably tailored to perfection. The very similar crisp white shirt beneath the jacket provided a striking contrast, accentuating the sculpted lines of his jaw and the strength of his broad shoulders. A silk tie the same color as her own attire added a touch of refinement to his ensemble, while polished to a fault leather shoes completed the look with understated elegance.

She needed to firm her stance in place not to fall backwards when he stepped out of his bedroom, and she really needed to remember to breathe whenever she stole a glance at him.

"You—" she tried, and her brain failed her mouth. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," he said, his face mirroring hers as he took her in. "Same."

Together, they made quite the pair — Annabeth's modern attire that she, honestly, could swear would work for a ball if she walked with enough confidence, complementing Percy's timeless sophistication was definitely a sight to behold. She knew that the image she saw in the mirror wasn't hard on the eyes, and Percy was simply stunning to look at anyway. As they entered the restaurant arm in arm, she pretended not to notice the glances in their direction, and even less the ones the receptionist was casting at Percy.

It wasn't the place, it wasn't her place, and she was more than happy to just step closer to him.

The restaurant itself was a symphony of luxury, from the gleaming crystal chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow over the room to the sumptuous velvet drapes that adorned the walls. Soft music floated through the air, mingling with the gentle murmur of conversation as diners savored the anticipation of a gastronomic delight — or so the website said, she learned when Percy was reading it aloud in their way there, nearly tripping in his shoes and using her for support.

They were guided to their table by the impeccably dressed lady that couldn't keep her eyes off of Percy, the two of them took in the breathtaking view of Lake Geneva from their window-side seats. The shimmering waters stretched out before them, bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, casting a spell of tranquility over the bustling city below.

Annabeth could definitely get more than comfortable with living like a millionaire.

As they settled into their chairs, she couldn't help but marvel at the exquisite table settings, each one a masterpiece of fine china and delicate silverware. A sense of anticipation hung in the air as they perused the menu, each dish a tantalizing work of art she couldn't wait to order, and Percy even less. He was giddy in his seat and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing, forever hungry and always anxious when it came to food.

Their waiter approached with practiced grace, presenting them with a selection of fine wines to complement their meal. None of them knew how the combinations worked, and Percy decided to completely believe in whatever it was that the waiter was recommending. With a nod of approval, they made their choices, the anticipation of the evening's events — and servings —building with each passing moment.

As the first course arrived, Annabeth and Percy found themselves staring at the waiter in a less than polite manner. The man was kind enough to just smile at them, probably sensing their eagerness — and Percy's happiness, splattered all over his face — and cordially put the dishes in front of them.

Percy's face was comic when staring at the plate placed in front of him. Annabeth snorted, pressing her lips together, already knowing what was coming.

"Wise Girl?" he called.

"Yes?"

"Are we paying small fortunes for this?" he tilted his head slightly, his eyes glued to the plate, still, and he looked so desperately adorable that Annabeth felt like screaming. Damn baby seal eyes. Damned Percy Jackson.

"We are," she told him.

He blinked. Then, he looked up at her.

"We're being robbed," he said.

She snorted. Again. Like the lovesick fool she had accepted she was so many years before.

"Try it before you disregard it completely, Seaweed Brain," she told him, biting her tongue and trying not to smile too manically. "It won't bite you."

"Considering the price? I want it to come alive, actually," he murmured, taking his fork and touching the dish — to which Annabeth did not know the name, actually, and she purely trusted the waiter — with much less enthusiasm than he had just a minute before. "Really?"

Annabeth chuckled.

"Percy?" she called.

He hummed, still staring at his plate.

"Try it."

He pouted for just a second, and then dared to split the dish with his fork. He hesitated for a second, and Annabeth's stare challenged him to put it in his mouth. Percy closed his eyes, much like a kid would do, and accepted his fate — they would have to pay for it, anyway, so he might as well try it —, chewing slowly and changing his posture as the flavor caught up to him.

He hummed, then opened his eyes, then widened them as he looked back and forth from the plate to the woman in front of him.

"I can live with being robbed," Percy said, not swallowing his food before speaking, and Annabeth snorted at the sight. His voice was a mix of wonder and indignance — surely because he deemed it worth the price — and it was just a way-too-funny scene to keep a straight face. "Is it too unfancy to order the same thing again?"

"Don't you want to try something different?" she suggested. "We do have your father's card, you know. And a whole menu."

"But this is so good," he said, taking another portion towards his mouth. She pressed her lips together again and could completely understand both Poseidon's and Tristan's reasoning that he had mentioned before. "What if something else isn't this good?"

She smiled at him.

"But what if it's better?" she challenged, and Percy tilted his head, food still in his mouth, and smiled close-mouthed. The sparkle in his eyes meant something she couldn't translate, and Annabeth chose to completely ignore it for now. "You could just order it again, in that case. I know for a fact that it'll take far more than one portion for you to not leave hungry."

Percy swallowed.

"But is it unfancy?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Percy, we both know you won't hold up your fanciness for long unless it is a life-and-death situation. Besides, you're paying," she said. "That's plenty fancy."

"But won't that make you look unfancy?" he asked, and, at that point, it was clear he was only messing with her. She saw no problem with going along.

"Do I look like someone exceptionally fancy to you, Jackson?" she shot.

His eyes sparkled again. She wanted to bottle the sight and keep her in her t-shirt pocket, so it was forever close to her beating heart.

"I do fancy you a lot, Chase," he said, the teasing in his tone making her heart race and jump and leap and rush inside her chest as if it didn't need to keep a certain rhythm not to kill a human being. "And, yes, you're looking exceptionally fancy tonight."

She tried to keep her tone leveled and mirror the teasing in his.

"Exceptionally tonight? Why? Do I not look fancy enough for you to fancy me any other day, Seaweed Brain?"

He blinked, and she could almost swear his cheeks glowed pink. Almost, because the dim light made her denial thrive in silence.

"I'd love to carry this on, but I don't think the word 'fancy' makes any sense to me anymore," he told her. "But then it means that I can order more, and it would still be fancy?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"As if I'd ever keep you from doing anything that makes you happy," she told him.

And Percy ordered it again. Along with at least four other dishes that seemed incredibly good — and of which Annabeth would always steal some to try. Percy was more than happy to pretend to be bothered, and she was more than thrilled to watch the scrunching of his nose and to have him, as the adult Sally swore to her that he was, showing his tongue like he did to Estelle.

The silence that fell was comfortable, Percy lost in the dishes and Annabeth a bit lost in thought and processing the events of the day. Usually, talking to Thalia would leave her carefree and unworried, and the talk earlier that day had left her collected and a bit pierced back together. It was better, she thought, because the awkwardness that would usually ring in her ears and make her rethink each of her sentences and stories wasn't there, that night.

It left her a bit reflexive, to have started to place everything back where it belonged between the two of them — even the places that collected dust because they didn't want to believe those were where the pieces were supposed to go —, and it left her with a thankfulness so light and so warm that she hoped the feeling would linger just a little longer.

"Percy?" she called, and Percy stopped his fork midair from his mouth, lifting his gaze to meet her face when she broke the silence. "Thank you for talking to Thalia."

He slowly placed the fork, still with the food, back down and nodded carefully. He was measuring his words, something he had gotten fairly better at from when they were kids, as if he was a bit scared of what he would learn from that conversation. He wasn't in the room when Thalia called, and he hadn't asked when she smiled, eyes a bit rimmed, as he came back and greeted her gently.

"I'm glad you two worked it out. And I knew she would come around eventually, anyway, but I also know how thick-headed she can be. The whole thing was eating you up inside, and I'm pretty sure it was doing the same thing to her," Percy justified, even if he didn't need to. "So, I'm not sorry for the meddling, but I apologize if I did step on your toes."

Annabeth shook her head.

"If I can't keep thanking you for everything, then you'll have to stop apologizing," she said. "I'm glad you meddled. None of us would have reached out and talked it out like the civilized people we are supposed to be, otherwise. We're both too stubborn for that."

"Glad I could help," he said, bowing his head slightly and smiling. "And how are the two of you, now?"

Annabeth sighed softly and smiled, her expression still a bit tight. Things were better, but they weren't exactly completely fixed. And that would take time, she knew, but it didn't mean she was exactly happy about that.

"It's different," she said. "It changed after she moved away. None of us wanted to admit that things would change, and maybe that's because it turned out to be so hard. We tried to keep things as they were, but the circumstances called for adaptation. One moment we were close as sisters, and the next time I looked, we were close as strangers," Annabeth admitted, and it sent a wave of pain to her heart. "It didn't help that we denied it all so vehemently."

And she wondered, so often, if things would have been different if they had accepted that they would change, had they wanted them to or not. She wondered if the silences would be more comfortable, or if the doubts would be as frequent as they were, had they not believed that they held more power over changes than life itself.

It haunted her nights, her dreams, to think about it. It left another vacant space in her heart, and Annabeth was far too smart to ever believe it wasn't a dangerous thing.

"I'm sure you've noticed we're both way too prideful. A fatal flaw, or something along those lines," she told him. "And we didn't want to believe that things were changing again. Changing too much. And that there would be someone else so out of our reach," she told him, sighing.

"Was it always like that after she moved?" Percy asked.

"It was like a snowball that slowly became an avalanche. I thought I was too smart to let distance win, and she was too strong to understand that feelings could be weakened and still be real. It was like a punch to the gut," she explained. "Especially because, at the time, I didn't have anyone else. Luke had already left, and Thalia was leaving too."

It had been something else to haunt her, when it happened, that she was being left alone, left behind for something bigger than what she thought they had. Luke was still a bleeding wound when Thalia left, and she didn't think the scar would be even something she could hide once she healed — because she needed to heal, and there wasn't a single other option out of it.

Percy hummed, acknowledging her words.

"Luke," Percy said slowly, as if he was scared that the name would make Annabeth recoil, bolt from their conversation and from the restaurant itself. "You never talk about him."

And that was one of the things she had never thought would come to the surface when she first found those letters, when she stepped on that plane.

There were a lot of times, in the years since they've met each other, that Annabeth knew Percy was curious about Luke. It was a name that, overall, meant nothing to him — only what Grover had probably told him, maybe one thing or two Thalia had mentioned off-handedly, definitely nothing that came from Annabeth's mouth or mind or past. It was just someone Percy knew once existed and played a part in his friends' and cousin's lives, just to be gone, permanently, later on and before he could have possibly gotten the chance to meet.

Percy not knowing Luke was something Annabeth was thankful for, to an extent.

Percy not knowing Luke was something Annabeth was pissed about, to another, because it meant that, if they were to talk about him, then the memories and the talking and the perception would always come from her point of view.

It made her stomach twist inside her. And not in the way Percy would make it happen every time he looked or smiled or directed his words at her.

"Thalia and Grover never told you about him?" she asked, and she knew that Percy wouldn't buy her less than subtle change of subject.

"Thalia may have spat his name once or twice throughout our lives," Percy told her. "And Grover was pretty vague about it. He only told me Luke was an old friend of yours," he gestured his hand towards her. "But his name definitely means more to you than to any of them."

Annabeth swallowed; a bit taken aback. Again, the perceptiveness Percy would often pretend not to have would come out when she wished the most it wouldn't. She averted his eyes, and bit her tongue inside her mouth.

Truth be told, she knew talking to Percy was safe, and it would most likely lift a weight off her shoulders. Annabeth was sure that there wasn't an ounce of judgment in his curiosity, and there was only genuine worry that came not only from his love for her, but also for Grover and Thalia, who had probably let on that whoever Luke was had scarred them deeply. She knew that he wanted to know Luke through her eyes to understand more about her past, her scars, the letters; she knew all of that.

And still, she hesitated.

Not because it lacked trust, but because it still hurt to talk about him. About the person she knew and loved and did her best to keep buried deep in her past so he wouldn't haunt her anymore — but he did come back, so very often, more than it should. More than she'd like to remember, more than she'd like to know, more than she'd like to live with; Luke was a permanent fixture in the person she became, and Annabeth couldn't run away from that, too.

And she didn't want to run away from Percy, not because of Luke, not because of the past, not because of anything at all. Because Percy was there, and she could believe that he would stay — after so long and so much they had gone through, there was no other thing she could possibly believe in.

So, she closed her eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. Percy waited patiently, his gaze soft as it caressed her face, and she turned her head back towards him, still never daring to meet the blue of his eyes.

"He was like a brother to me," she told him in a breath. "We met when I ran away from my father's house at seven. It was cold, and I was alone, and all I had was a dull knife and a backpack filled with everything I could shove inside," she said, despite knowing Percy already knew about the night she fled from where she lived. Not home, of course, because it had never felt like that. "He was kind. The first person in so, so long. He looked at me and saw me, and didn't seem to judge my situation, my fear, my choices."

And that's how it had been, that fatidic night she now dreaded to remember. She met a family when she ran from those who were supposed to play that part in her life, and now it ached to not have the certainty that said family was still something she could hold on to. Thalia was so far away; she had left Grover in the dark and Luke was dead to the world — and not only metaphorically.

read the rest on Ao3

[mayhemhq]

𝙄𝙈𝙋𝙊𝙍𝙏𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀𝙎.

please note that no engagements, pregnancies, or elopements should be mentioned or carried out without prior approval from us. additionally, do not post about these events on the dash without approval. while we want to support creative freedom, it’s important to maintain order within the group. if you blatantly ignore this rule, you will be removed as we have mentioned this three times thus far. ( * we have one couple who have already reached out to us prior and have approval. )

this event is set up to provide a wealth of writing opportunities with both friends and foes. we encourage you to step beyond your usual circles and connect with new characters. take advantage of this rare chance to reach out, plot, and write with as many people as possible, as it’s not often that all characters are gathered in one place. there are so many possibilities!

drama is welcome and can add to the fun, but let’s keep it balanced and enjoyable for everyone. we’re all adults, and the aim is to have a great time. please be considerate and communicate openly about any drama that could impact a significant number of people. let’s ensure the event ooc remains fun and positive for all involved.

you may now post ooc plotting calls, but please ensure you only do so if you plan to actively engage in the post in a timely manner. posting and then disappearing for days, leaving others hanging, is a common issue we’d like to avoid. we understand life can be busy, but please respect your fellow mun’s time and commitment to this event.

weekends typically see lower activity due to various reasons. we’ll begin posting the event winnings and other updates around 8 pm cst. each round will feature a randomized win, and there will be some fun, silly awards for each event, one per each team. we’ll post the trophy winner and personalized awards as soon as possible, as we only received the lists on friday night. thanks for your patience!

the games are set to start around 4 pm pt on saturday. however, due to time zone differences and the need for admins to gather names, work on graphics, and manage their own characters and real-life commitments, which is why we’re scheduling them a bit later ic.

saturday, feel free to start posting about the games, your team and whatnot. we might try to throw in a meme during this too, to encourage some random interactions, but feel free to post photos, start your writing or whatever you’d like to do during this day!

canon time of games: 4pm pt irl time of games (when your muses can talk and reference the games!): 6pm cst

sunday’s masquerade ball will take place around 9pm pt on the venetian casino floor to celebrate the ending of the event and a good send off for us all. we’ll post around 9pm cst time to start the event. remember it’s a dress coded event. you are encouraged to wear elaborate masks, whether they’re classic venetian styles or more modern interpretations. all guests should dress in formal, black-tie attire. think classic tuxedos, stylish suits or dress shirts, and glamorous gowns, complemented with sophisticated accessories such as elegant gloves, glasses, and statement jewelry.

sunday you are encouraged to post your looks, writings and whatnot, but also, we’ll throw up a dash meme of drunken truth or dare to fit the vibes and encourage some interaction. please do not reblog the old one, we’ll create a new post. however, fill free to post about the party and chaos then too!

canon time of ball: 9pm pt irl time of ball (when your muses can talk and reference the party!): 9pm cst

all posts are to be tagged m.event (mayhem on the strip) to reference the timeline of what is happening. you have until friday the 20th to cut off all posts regarding the game, as it will be wrapped. doesn’t mean it can’t be referenced as past tense, obviously, but this gives more than enough time to post about it.

the overview of teams, games and more will be posted after this one tomorrow morning.

[lockedfighter]

ೀ  princess  alternate  verse (  heavily  inspired  by  a  couple  of  royal  -  esque  fanfictions  along  with  a  few  historical  dramas  .  both  modern  &  high  fantasy  elements  included  )

name  :  tifa  lockhart  birthplace  :  nibelheim  living  whereabouts  :  travels  between  wutai  and  nibelheim  ↳  lives  with  :  marle  ,  her  mothers  handmaiden age  :  sixteen  -  eighteen  ,  verse  dependent  appearance  :  usually  a  black  silken  yukata  with  a  single  pink  bow  ,  decorated  with  rich  reds  .  hair  usually  tied  into  a  neatened  bun  with  hair  pins  or  down  with  a  ribbon  tying  around  the  end  .  parental  living  status  :  brian  lockhart  ,  king  of  nibelheim  ,  alive  .  thea  lockhart  ,  empress  of  wutai  ,  alive  . personal  status  :  lone  heir  to  the  throne  ,  princess  of  both  nibelheim  &  wutai  regions  due  to  parents  bloodlines  . plot  ties  :  @onegil  ,  princess  of  icicle  islands  .  @earnfirst , prince of gongaga . @carrythat , knight of nibelheim .

pls  note  before  reading  !  this  is  in  no  way  means  to  diminish  the  darling  yuffie  kisaragi’s  role  or  lore  as  the  canon  wutaian  princess  /  white  rose  of  wutai  .  this  is  strictly  for  my  own  personal  portrayal  of  a  divergent  princess  alternate  universe  and  entwining  some  of  the  fan  theories  that  thea  lockhart  is  from  wutai  .

the  north  western  princess  ,  split  between  two  continents  but  residing  mostly  within  the  palace  of  wutaian  safety  yet  oft  visits  nibelheim's  palace  and  resides  in  the  manor  .  born  to  thea  lockhart  ,  the  empress  of  wutai  whom  married  brian  lockhart  ,  the  king  of  nibelheim  in  a  peace  treaty  between  two  nations  .  originally  a  contractual  obligation  ,  the  amalgamation  of  two  states  differing  much  within  cultural  and  economic  contrast  —-   eventually  ,  the  two  found  true  love  within  their  status  &  reigning  duties  .

a  little  lady  brought  up  with  the  utmost  respect  and  benevolence  for  those  around  her  .  the  princess  of  hearts  .  spent  many  hours  practicing  in  the  dojo  with  master  zangan  from  a  young  tot  to  her  present  teen  years  .  she'd  help  around  the  palace  grounds  ,  having  found  an  affinity  with  chocobos  .  pastimes  spent  within  the  comfort  of  the  stables  which  led  her  to  question  more  about  nibelheim  .  her  parents  doting  on  her  every  wish  ,  they  decided  it  was  best  to  split  their  time  in  both  regions  allowing  the  young  princess  to  acquire  more  knowledge  from  both  bloodlines  .  a  perfect  blend  of  both  ,  tifa  adapts  to  each  culture  flawlessly  .

the  embellished  decor  of  nibels  chateau  adorned  in  rich  woods  and  marbled  floors  with  ornate  style  rugs  ,  paintings  of  their  western  ancestry  throughout  the  centuries  littered  every  inch  of  the  walls  .  plush  seats  handwoven  with  velvet  &  crafted  mahogany  .  the  rocky  terrain  outside  a  flush  reminder  of  the  mountain  range  close  by  ..  a  deep  contrast  within  the  palace  walls  of  wutai  .  a  labyrinth  of  interconnecting  chambers  concealed  behind  shoji  screens  and  tatami  floors  .  jade  and  marble  trinkets  made  from  the  finest  hands  lay  ‘pon  solid  wooden  carved  cabinets  .  gardens  that  outstretched  for  miles  ,  ponds  a  tranquil  escape  to  sit  &  watch  the  koi  .

when  traversing  the  cobblestone  streets  of  the  sleepy  mountain  town  beyond  the  gates  of  her  royal  home  ,  she  opts  for  a  simple  attire  ,  vintage  inspired  floral  dresses  ,  accompanied  by  leather  bodice  ,  ribbons  to  tie  in  a  corset  like  manor  (  not  so  bone  crushing  tho  )  &  cosy  knits  for  the  winters  chill  &  boots  to  walk  comfortably  'pon  gravel  roads  .  long  inky  spill  of  cascading  locks  free  ,  often  times  curled  at  the  end  .  yet  ,  formalities  greet  her  in  wutai  .  when  not  adorned  in  silken  kimonos  ,  layer  upon  layers  of  propriety  ,  her  fukuro  obi  belt  tied  into  a  intricate  bow  —-   she  opts  for  the  comfort  of  a  yukata  .  wooden  geta  &  hair  tied  up  either  in  a  knot  secured  by  hair  pins  or  loose  aside  the  end  tied  with  a  ribbon  .

the  older  she  got  ,  the  more  she  sought  out  adventure  .  a  turbulent  mix  of  emotions  betwixt  oneself  &  her  parents  who  didn't  favour  her  wishes  to  traverse  gaia  .  a  form  of  rebellion  soon  fated  the  princess  ｡｡｡

[thegreatwicked]

Gorl you know who it is ;)

Loki Mischief fic- FILL ME TF IN!!!! Watchu cookin?

GASP! Who are you? Are you STALKING me??? Lol, I gotchu stranger. This story has yet to be finished yet and it's been shelved for QUITE some time!

Loki didn’t even need to tell Heimdall why he was there, he was also familiar with Sigyn's wandering spirit.

“Where is she this time?”

Heimdall kept his stoic repose but he rather enjoyed these visits from Loki and it seemed more and more every day that she was turning him into the more responsible one. With a barely detectable grin, he opened the Bifrost, the shimmering bridge of light leading him to her.

“A place called Honey, in New York. She said you should dress for the occasion.” 

“Can you not stop her from taking these excursions?”

“It is not my place, barring the path of a Goddess.”

Loki sighed in frustration and called upon his magic for a more appropriate change of clothes, and he stepped onto the bridge.

New York was a place he was decently familiar with, he had heard the name Honey before, but knew little about it, other than it was a place for the well to do to indulge in desires. His leather coat and princely attire now swapped for a more fitting three piece black suit that fit his lean and long frame perfectly, adjusting the tie slightly he stepped out onto the street, unnoticed by the Midgardians, so lost in the haze of their little mortal lives. He was just suddenly there, outside an older but elegant brick building, a nice place by mortal standards but it paled in comparison to the grandeur of Asgard. Why Sigyn kept him coming here was beyond him. The door man didn’t dare stop him, to see if Loki was allowed entrance, all he had to do was flash a dangerous look at the man with those dark eyes and he shrunk back and allowed Loki in. He was fairly certain that places like these were members only but that meant very little to a god who could summon up illusions within the blink of an eye. 

Although the buildings exterior was sparse but decently kept, the interior surprised him, it was lavish, and lush, extravagant fabrics and curtains adorning private booths, plenty of dark corners to hide in, low lighting to obscure identities, soft seductive music playing just loud enough for the waitresses to gently sway their hips in time with the beat, and of course a well stocked bar. 

As he made his way to the bar, for some of the admittedly delightful Midgardian alcohol, he was surprised to see a waitress in a black slinky dress walk up to him and offer him a drink that he hadn’t ordered. He raised an eyebrow at the drink and only accepted when she elaborated on the drinks contents and origins.

“Compliments of the woman in the private room. She said she was expecting you,”

“And how do you know she was expecting me?”

“She said you would look irritated but be impeccably dressed, and that you had a taste for the 25 year scotch, neat.” He took the drink and sipped its contents, indeed it was scotch that he had sampled before and had developed a liking for. 

When he looked up from the drink to the room she gestured to, he could make out a silhouette in the dim light, most details were obscured. As he made his way closer more detail became apparent, of course, it was Sigyn, but not in any fashion he’d ever seen before. Indeed, once inside the dim room, he was shocked, seeing Sigyn dressed in the finest gowns of Asgard, or in nothing at all was nothing new, in the time they had known one another. They had spent some very intimate time together, yet nothing could have prepared him for how his beloved now sat on a low platform with one long leg elegantly crossed over the other, wearing what he understood to be Midgardian undergarments, dark green in color.

Loki didn’t think of himself as having mundane things like favorite colors but the evidence showed that he was rather fond of the shade. It was a color that he often associated with secrecy, luxury, mystery, and maybe even a little bit of envy. He had to admit he rather loved what he saw, a garment he knew from previous escapades to be called a chemise. It clung to her body and was made of a very intricate lace leaving so little to the imagination that it would have simply been easier to command what he desired instead of fantasizing about it.

So much of her was bare to him but still enough to make him nearly salivate, the garment tormented with a view of the hollow of her chest, clinging to her breasts which appeared to be bare beneath the lace. He could make out the soft peaks and delicate pebbling, the lace ran down the front of her body in a v pattern stopping just below her navel, in fact, it reminded him of the dark green dress she had worn the first time they’d met, it too had a plunging neckline but tastefully so. Narrowing strips of lace ran over her shoulders and wound around her neck. Leaving her back mostly exposed with the exception of her fiery hair acting as a curtain. The chemise itself only barely reached her upper thigh, sinfully short, and to his displeasure, he could make out some inconvenient scrap of fabric obscuring the rest of his view. No jewelry to enhance or draw his eye and a very dark lining to her green and gold eyes that made them easier to become lost in. Her hair was loose and unkempt around her shoulders, it was so often swept up into a braid or some other regal updo that he preferred seeing it down. He had seen her bare skin before but somehow the state of dress being something in between clothed and naked was very tantalizing. And with his long and lengthy assessment complete, the God of Mischief approved.

He swallowed hard upon locking his gaze with her, then remembered he was irritated, but then wondered if he really cared at this point. True finding Sigyn could be annoying, but when he did find her she never disappointed him, and although Loki was a man of refined tastes and considered himself above the things Midgardians did, he had to admit, this particular activity was holding his attention.

“You found me.”

She looked up at him under hooded eyes with a look as casual as though he’d found her in the library in Asgard. He closed the door and flipped the lock.

“You’re never truly hard to find, Sigyn.” He looked around at their setting, “This seems a little extreme, I’ll never understand what your fascination with Midgardian customs and culture is.”

“You don’t like this place? I thought it would rather suit you quite well, and I’m rather fond of how Midgardians pass their time. Do you not approve?” She asked him lazily uncrossing her legs then rising to her feet.

“It has its merits.”

His approval wasn’t hard to get in a situation like this, after all, how did you keep a god interested? Show him things he hasn’t seen before, and although Loki had been with his share of women and even men, he’d never found himself in a setting such as this, and most certainly not with a high-born woman who was to be his wife, she certainly had his attention. He glanced around and gave an interested nod of his head, one that said ‘I’ve seen better’ 

“Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you like this but are you quite ready to return home?” He had more than a few plans in mind in the confines of his chambers.

She shook her head in disappointment.

“Don’t you want to see what new Midgardian custom I’ve learned? I thought it would please you.”

Loki rather enjoyed the idea of Sigyn wanting to please him, although she did that anyway, with her quick wit, beautiful body, and that delightfully naughty sense of adventure hidden by the guise of a lady she had. He stepped closer to her and for a change he looked up at her. Standing on the raised platform, she stood a little taller than him now. Two steely gazes locked onto one another in a silent battle of wills.

“Play the game.”

A whisper called to him and after some tense quiet moments had elapsed, Loki, for one of the few items in his long life, conceded. 

A seductive smile played on Sigyns' lips as her fingers found the two buttons that held his suit jacket closed and she tugged on the tie pulling him closer so that his eyes were now at her chest, which he didn't really mind. As he suspected, she wore nothing beneath the top portion of her chemise. The desire to reach out and take one of her perfect breasts into his grip was strong, and his hands flexed in his pockets briefly but he managed to keep his resolve. She stepped off the platform so that he now looked down at her, now being her proper height which was about half a head shorter than him and she gently led him to the dim corner of the private room and pushed him onto the soft couch. He looked at her and her expression read one of calculation and he was certain he could see the wheels turning in her head, he wondered what she had planned for him, he knew what she liked. Sigyn loved seeing him come undone. The cold and detached demeanor of the dark haired sorcerer prince giving way to the almighty God of Mischief. Seeing him unhinged, full of wanton passion and desire, directing her to do as he sometimes commanded other times commanding her to tell him what she wanted. It was a side of Loki that no one but her knew, and she relished in drawing it out. She was off to a good start.

“How is this game played?”

This piece is over a year and a half old and looking back it's a little rough around the edges! It was meant to be a smutty one-shot series about Loki and Sigyn. Should I finish it???

[kevjrr]

Title: You Came

Pairing: Neymessi (Neymar jr and Lionel Messi )

Summary: An au where Leo is a politician while Neymar is a thief and they’re in love. Spoiler alert: Ney wears a dress!

Tags: fluff, a tiny bit explicit

A/n: credit to everyone who talked about eating the rich on my dash, y’all inspired me to write this!

Third person’s POV

Leo wanders around the gigantic room, his eyes scanning each and every faces. Searching for him, for the only reason he was here in the middle of a party full of millionaires and billionaires alike sipping on their expensive wine and pretending to be saints.

He hates charity galas, the people attending rarely ever did it with pure intentions. He prefers to simply donate to the causes and do regular check ups to see if they need more of anything. Only one person can make him willingly step into this suffocating, loud room and force him to mingle with these snakes.

Leo finally sees him and his breath hitches. The younger man looks up as if sensing his gaze and smiles that cocky smile of his. He is too far to see but he can imagine those brown-green eyes shining in mischief. The man beckons towards the back door before walking towards it himself. Not forgetting to give the people he was previously talking to a charming smile.

Try as he might, the Argentine cannot move from his spot as he stares at Neymar whose long, curly black hair -a wig definitely- bounces against his shoulder blades and his red gown hugs his curves in the most deliciously obscene way possible. To make things worse -better-? It’s backless.

Leo gulps.

Is Ney trying to kill him? He has seen the younger man in all kinds of disguises but this one is a first. He already knew Neymar would look divine in anything he wears but this? This is beyond divine. Leo wishes he could worship the younger man the way he deserves but much to his frustration, they do not have the time right now.

He waves dismissively at the waiter walking in his direction and quickly follows Neymar when the latter turns around to look right at him. The smug Brazilian clearly knowing the effect his current attire is having on Leo.

He successfully weaves his way out of the crowdy room without drawing any unwanted attention. When he opens the door a hand yanks on his tie, pulling him inside and slamming him against the nearest wall.

Leo barely has time to catch his breath when Neymar kisses him and unlike his earlier aggressiveness, the kiss is nothing but sweet. It almost feels like a greeting and for a moment, Leo allows himself to dream of a world where Ney would kiss him just like this in the morning when he wakes up and and every evening when he returns from work.

He dreams that he is in his house with his bag still in his hand and Ney has just awoken from his nap -that he usually takes after his to welcome him home.

He cards his fingers through those silky locks and pulls him even closer, locking away the sound that leaves Neymar’s mouth in his memories.

A part of him adores how the Brazilian looks with long hair -he wishes he could take a picture so that he never forgets the sight- but another part wants it to be his natural curls that Leo is stroking and pulling at. However it does not matter, he thinks, as he lowers one of his hands and places it on the younger man’s slender waist, squeezing it. He loves the way the soft material of the gown feels against his palm. It is so thin that Leo is sure Neymar can feel the warmth of his touch.

They reluctantly pull away for air and the older man’s breath hitches again when he opens his eyes. Neymar is wearing make-up, clearly to sell whatever persona he has chosen this time perfectly. It’s not too heavy; smoky eyes in shades of gunmetal with eyeliner, a little bit of mascara, blush on his cheeks and red lipstick.

Leo stares and stares, not being able to tear his eyes away from the jaw-droppingly beautiful man.

Neymar licks his lips, not hesitating to do his fair share of staring as well. The eldest makes for a breathtaking sight in his back suit with an intricate floral design on his jacket.

“You came.” He says, fiddling with a gold chain that Leo has no doubt he has stolen from one of the ladies he had been talking to earlier.

“You know I will buy you anything you want, don’t you? You only have to ask.”

“But where is the fun in that, Leo?” Neymar grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The older man’s lips involuntarily curl up and he recites the three words that the other never fails to tell him whenever he says anything about his profession. His ‘motto’ as he likes to call it.

“Eat the rich. Yes, I know.”

Neymar’s grin widens and he chuckles, tipping his head forward to rest it against Leo’s shoulder. “You came.” He repeats, his voice as always carrying a surprised undertone as if Leo has ever rejected him. The former aches to punish those who have put this crippling self-doubt in his mind.

“You asked me to, cariño.” He replies, wrapping his arms around Ney's waist, pulling him towards his chest. His thumbs drawing random patterns on the bare skin of his back, enjoying the way Neymar shudders.

He feels more than sees the youngest smile.

“I love you.” Ney whispers, pressing a soft kiss on the older man’s collarbone before hugging him back tightly.

“I love you too.” The Argentine whispers back, wishing he could shout it to him instead so that everyone hears.

Leo is going to make this man his in front of the world one day. He does not care that Neymar is a thief, a con-artist or whatever else the world calls him and that he, himself, is a politician.

He’ll write new laws before he lets him slip through his fingers.

[violetmuses]

No Rules - Maxwell Lord

TITLE: “No Rules” || Maxwell Lord 

FANDOM: “Wonder Woman” Film Universe

CHARACTER: Maxwell “Max Lord” 

PAIRING: Maxwell Lord + Female Reader 

MAIN STORYLINE: Meeting each other could change everything. 

Author’s Note: Hi! Here’s my very first Max project. Happy reading and feedback would be greatly appreciated. - V. <3

Main Masterlist <3

_______________

1984 

Black Gold Cooperative shattered not long ago, leaving him no other choice but to file bankruptcy. Even speaking with Raquel deemed nearly impossible to do. She was kind, still aiding him despite countless setbacks in an otherwise horrible shift. 

One town car pulls up to the main office curb around sunset, giving Max an opportunity to hide once again. Behind that spot, for a while longer, he can’t face late bills. Simon already shouted at him and he’d rather ride home in silence.

Awaiting the end of never-ending traffic, Max turns his head, looking out towards other drivers who beamed this weekend. Shining convertibles. Big-time sport wheels. Even Jeeps look glamorous to him as he yearns for success nowadays. 

Beyond that rear window, Max notes the sound of bright laughter, pitched and wonderful. You, a stranger, are in a car jamming to the radio, tapping fingers onto that steering wheel. The red light hasn’t turned green yet, but you don't even care. 

From his slight angle, Max can see the way professional attire clothed your shoulders from the top. He quietly raves as one sliver Rolex clasps around your wrist. Your head bops to the music, a particular song he doesn’t recognize this time. 

What is your story? Max thinks to himself. 

Before he could roll down the window and ask you anything, the stoplight turns green at last, prompting both cars to move away from one another. You vanish from his sight, only seen to him as a glimpse of joy. 

__________

You’ve driven this company car since the beginning of summer. If not for your skills as concierge, the hotel would’ve crumbled for good last year. 

Now, it’s Friday evening and you’ve settled that ride into the parking garage, clicking your heels towards the apartment elevator. Just as both sliver doors open and you step through, distant but quick steps raced towards the outdoor entrance. 

Meanwhile, you roll both eyes, sure that another suited idiot wanted to loiter near the building again. There was a huge difference between cons and genuinely struggling people. You knew that feeling of the latter far too well. 

At one point of time, you dreamed of staying in this very apartment, working near affluence in so many ways. 

After climbing roles, your complex unit is breathtaking. Spacious living area. High-end entertainment center. Two bedrooms. Perfect kitchen. Picturesque windows reveal emerald trees, almost romanticizing Washington’s downtown zone. 

Pouring this well-deserved glass of wine, you toe off your heels and feel sure that security is dealing with that loitering idiot in the lobby. Even shouting echoed through walls as you sat on the couch, watching a movie. You’re not phased at all. 

Not the first, never the last. You’ve always believed. 

In the middle of your favorite scene, the man’s shouting stopped. This time, curiosity peaked your attention and you somehow pause the film, listening out instead. 

“Please…what is her name?” The man nearly begs, asking for someone else’s attention. 

___________

You find yourself returning downstairs and soon heading towards the lobby. Commotion settled down, but there’s a man standing near that front desk. 

Light brown hair, almost blond, looks dishelved around his sweating and pale features. He’s leaning over, bunching up the fabric of his blue suit and slipping the placement for that sharp tie. 

“Ma’am!” The receptionist calls to you, immediately motioning for you to see this man right now. 

“Yes?” You heels scurry without question and your body straightens up, planning to introduce yourself. 

“I’m so sorry for the noise, but I’m…” The man trails off his own introduction, realizing your own face. 

“Maxwell Lord….” You catch on, folding both arms and slyly  acknowledging the stack of magazines found on one table with chairs in this lobby. His face plastered everywhere at one point in time. 

“Yes.” Maxwell settles back into his brand of charm, completely ignoring how sweat trickled earlier. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting now?” 

“Y/N.” You reveal your name without shaking his hand. “A phone call during work hours would’ve been enough.” 

“Sincerest apologies.” Max utters once more. “Could I interest you in meeting tonight?” Maxwell continues, gently trying to salvage what happened just moments before. 

You watch him lie regardless. Yelling for assistance on this property should’ve left him booked with police.

“No, thank you, Mr. Lord.” You stay firm, knowing that he interrupted your time off on such a beautiful evening.

No. Maxwell sadly thinks to himself. I’m watching Alistair next week. 

“Very well. Apologizes to everyone for the disruption.” Maxwell steps out, finally leaving this apartment complex. 

____________

You find one unexpected note in your mailbox soon after crossing paths with Mr. Lord.  

Y/N. 

You are my greatest mystery, forever reaching my thoughts as I move through life’s everlasting questions. 

Please forgive my behavior. 

Until next time, 

Maxwell Lord. 

[mianyann]

Absolution | Yoru x Reader

Chapter 4: "Unwinding Tensions"

Chamber, his gaze unwavering, sat comfortably at his desk, each stroke of the brush a deliberate motion as he added a new layer of paint upon his headhunter's golden finish. A momentary pause ensued as his eyes danced among an array of paint sets, a silent debate on whether to maintain the golden appearance or be transformative. A smirk, born of pride and satisfaction, graced his lips, and his fingers lovingly caressed the grip of his meticulously crafted creation, never planning on changing a thing. A contented sigh escaped him as he gripped the desk's edge, rising from his chair.

The journey from desk to the central coffee table unfolded with a sense of unhurried purpose. Chamber's hand found the delicate stem of a champagne glass, the cool effervescence of the liquid a soothing embrace as he took a leisurely sip. Seated upon his couch, his fingers deftly worked at the knot of his tie, unfastening it. His head tilted back, its weight resting against the couch's headrest, a sigh resonating through his weary form. It had been a demanding day, the weight of it settling upon him like a shroud.

Yet, just as the tranquility enveloped him, a soft and persistent knocking reached his ears, disrupting the solitude. His annoyance tinged his voice as he stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his attire and carefully placing the glass down. With a hint of impatience, Chamber called out, "Who is it?"

A clearing of the throat, and then the voice of Sage resonated from beyond the door. The subtle shift of Chamber's demeanor, a softening, bore a certain curiosity. His gaze swept over the dorm's interior before it settled upon Sage, a warm and welcoming smile gracing his lips. "Be my guest," he offered, opening the door to invite her in.

-

In the faintly lit meeting room at Headquarters, Viper and Brimstone found themselves seated across from each other, separated by the long-stretching glass table. The room bore an air of tension, with Viper's furrowed brow as she rubbed her temples in frustration. She took occasional sips of her black coffee, her agitation apparent. Meanwhile, Brimstone pored over a stack of papers, each detailing Kingdom's scandals throughout the years, “Sage was kind enough to give me these.” Brimstone continued to trace his finger over every little word.

As silence continued to engulf the room, Brimstone momentarily glanced up from the papers, his gaze shifting to Viper, who seemed on edge. With a concerned sigh, he set down the documents and removed his glasses. His palms clasped together as he leaned forward, his voice tinged with worry and confusion as he asked, "What's wrong? You've been frantic."

Viper's leg bounced nervously beneath the table as she set down her coffee mug, her anxiety palpable. She cleared her throat, responding with a hint of exasperation, "I've been worried about the protocol. If Kingdom gets wind of our plans and our information, we're finished."

Brimstone shook his head, his face marked with a frown, "It'd be impossible for them to know anything unless we have an informant, a traitor."

Viper straightened in her chair, her frustration simmering. She hesitated, her voice tense as she replied, "We need to keep a close eye on that hostage of yours."

Brimstone chuckled heartily at Viper's determination, "I understand, Viper, but I don't believe a hostage in her condition could be a Kingdom informant. We have bigger concerns."

Viper's headache flared up once more, prompting her to press a hand against her throbbing temple. Annoyance laced her voice as she inquired, "Such as?"

Brimstone let out a weary sigh as he reclined in his chair, his arms casually resting behind his head. The room seemed to absorb the tension that hung heavy in the air as they both grappled with the uncertainty of their situation. With a shift in his posture, Brimstone leaned forward and slid an agent file across the table – a face etched in everyone's memory. Chamber's.

-

As the clocks around the Headquarters marked 6:00, agents began to stream into the common room, a cozy and minimalist space adorned with a collection of chairs, plush couches, and bookshelves lined with classic literature. The faux marble fireplace stood as an elegant centerpiece, exuding warmth into the room. Curtains were drawn to shield them from the outside world, and a hushed tension filled the air. Every agent exchanged nervous glances, saying nothing as they meticulously adjusted their postures. Among them, you and Chamber were absent, though the collective anticipation for the unfolding hostage situation from the previous day permeated the room.

The famous black boots, their signature sound echoing through the hallway, prompted everyone to snap their heads in that direction. The suspenseful silence thickened as the footsteps drew nearer. Emerging from the shadows, Viper, one of their eminent leaders, entered the room with a folder, clipboard, and pen in hand. Furrowing her brows, she glanced at the assembled agents while adjusting her lab coat. Viper settled into the gray swan chair positioned at the head of the couches, and the room immediately straightened in response.

Viper's serious demeanor and posture demanded everyone's unwavering attention. "Sage and Brimstone will be late for our meeting," she began, her voice commanding. "We can get started now. I am certain everyone understands the situation at hand?"

Her scrutinizing gaze swept the room, intensifying the tension. Agents' eyes fixated on Viper's hands as she flipped through the pages, eventually settling on one that contained the image Sage had captured at the facility, a chilling depiction that made even Viper shudder. She secured the image to her clipboard and presented it to the room, capturing the rapt attention of every agent. "This is what was captured that day in the facility," Viper declared, her tone unwavering. "It is grotesque, but it is the harsh reality we face. This can happen to us, and it's our responsibility to prevent it."

-

Sage found herself in Chamber's dormitory. Her gaze wandered nervously around the lavish room, uncertain of his looming presence. Chamber, leaning casually against a marble dresser, exuded a self-assured smirk as he sipped his champagne. He observed Sage's unease and seized control of the situation, taunting her with his authoritarian charm.

"I presume you should be at the meeting, should you not? What brings such a lovely lady like yourself in my presence" Chamber quipped, his words dripping with insolence and a blatant disregard for authority. Sage felt her discomfort intensify but was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to respond immediately.

Grasping a decorative pillow from the couch, she placed it on her lap as her gaze fixed upon Chamber. Finally, she found her voice and confronted him, "We're aware of your association with Kingdom." A flicker of vulnerability crossed Chamber's face before he regained his composure, setting down his champagne glass and walking over to seat himself next to her.

"What on earth could you mean, my dear?" Chamber's affected innocence clashed with Sage's determination. She could sense the falsity in his tone, yet she knew he wasn't directly assisting Kingdom with malicious intent. Chamber understood the flaws in Sage's accusation and recognized that he needed to safeguard the fragile trust they were establishing.

Sage sighed, pushing the pillow aside as she rose to confront Chamber. Leaning over him, her face inches from his, she stared into his dark, calculating eyes. She wrapped her delicate fingers around his tie, pulling him closer and closer. Chamber chuckled softly, relishing the tension between them, and lowered his voice provocatively, "Planning to give me a kiss, cheri?" Undeterred, Sage responded with steely resolve, "We're merely working on building trust, Chamber. It would be wise not to jeopardize it before it's solidified."

Releasing his tie, Sage retreated, leaving Chamber sprawled on the couch with a smug smile. As she straightened herself and left the room, Chamber couldn't resist a parting comment, "I must say, Sage, you pull off the dominatrix look quite well." Sage scoffed at the remark, departing with the room's unresolved tension lingering in her wake.

-

Brimstone made his entrance into the common room with an air of unshakable confidence, flashing everyone a smirk as he casually settled into the lounge chair beside Viper. Midway through Viper's briefing, she winced, interrupting her speech briefly to hand him a copy of the document she had been discussing. Brimstone sighed, his gaze fixed on the page.

"Viper, we don't have to go over all of this," he remarked with a touch of impatience, but Viper turned her body toward him, leaning in close and speaking softly.

"We must ensure everyone is thoroughly prepared," she murmured into his ear, her eyes locked onto his.

Brimstone's expression softened as he cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Each one of you will undergo rigorous training, and we'll be embarking on high-stakes missions that will require unwavering teamwork and strategic brilliance. We're preparing for the worst-case scenario and ensuring we maximize our available resources."

Viper nodded, her hands clasped together on the clipboard in her lap. "You'll be paired up with a partner, and you'll train together every day. It's imperative you remember your duty. We're pleading for your loyalty and dedication to Valorant."

Killjoy raised a trembling hand, her gaze darting between Brimstone and Viper as she managed a nervous smile. Viper, exhaling in mild exasperation, extended her hand toward Killjoy, granting her permission to speak.

"I could enhance my technology to gather more intel," Killjoy began tentatively, but Viper swiftly interjected, her tone resolute, "These missions will have to be carried out with the utmost discretion. You can focus on technology improvements once we've gathered information about the current situation."

She punctuated the end of the meeting with a tap of her pen on the clipboard, signaling dismissal. As Viper and Brimstone stood up, they made their way out of the common room.

In the hallway, Viper stormed forward, with Brimstone hastening to catch up. Concern etched his features as he asked, "Viper, what's been bothering you lately?"

Viper turned sharply, her headache resurfacing as her gaze bore into Brimstone's eyes. "We could lose everything and everyone we care about, and you expect me to be okay with it? I can't burden everyone with this. I'd rather bear this responsibility alone."

Brimstone's reassuring eyes met hers as he placed his hands on his hips. "We're here to watch each other's backs. I'm confident that we can navigate through this crisis and prepare for whatever comes our way."

Before they could delve further into the conversation, Sage burst out of Chamber's dorm, right in front of them. She smoothed out her ruffled attire and adjusted her bangs, her expression stern. "We need to talk."

-

The common room was filled with a sense of collective astonishment, leaving Killjoy undoubtedly disheartened. Raze sat beside her, offering a comforting touch on Killjoy's shoulder, and a reassuring smile accompanied by supportive words, "Awe, Killjoy-Zinho. We all love your little robots, and we'll figure out a way to get them back on the field."

Killjoy found solace in Raze's gesture, her anxiety momentarily soothed by the warmth of her

presence. However, Reyna's gaze held a different sentiment, bearing a natural aversion to Killjoy's technology and the engineer herself, “Who is we?” Raze exchanged a knowing look with Reyna, her brows pleading for some sympathy or intervention to prevent another argument.

Reyna, silently conceding to Raze's request, crossed her arms and reclined on the couch, her chin lifted, and her gaze sharpening as she inquired, "Where's that new girl? I heard she had some stories to tell. I’ve just been dying to meet her."

Phoenix's attention perked up at the mention of the new recruit. He leaned in, nonchalantly opening a bag of chips and munching on them. With a smirk, he remarked, "I don't know. She was supposed to be at the meeting, but I guess she didn't have the nerve to show up." He chuckled at his own quip, taking another handful of chips.

However, Fade swiftly intervened by snatching the chips out of Phoenix's hand, a teasing yet resolute expression on her face. As she held the bag away from him, she suggested, "Maybe if we make her feel more at ease, she'd be more inclined to join."

Phoenix, eager to reclaim his snack, reached out with determination. As he wrestled for the bag of chips, Fade finally relented, tossing it back into his lap. Phoenix resumed eating, his gaze shifting to Yoru, his tone laced with playful flirtation, "You're the man, Yoru. Why don't you be the one to bring her down here?" Yoru's response, a nonchalant eye roll, signaled his reluctance. Yet, before he could leave the room, a reminder of their earlier agreement stopped him in his tracks. As he sighed, he flipped Phoenix off and walked away, leaving the room to its various conversations.

-

Amidst a chaotic scene of scattered papers, books, files, and empty water bottles, you sat worn and weary, your gaze bereft of energy. Exhausted, your head sank onto a pile of paperwork, only to be abruptly startled by loud knocks echoing through your door. Wearily, you raised your head and mumbled, "Hello?" in response. The incessant knocks persisted, further frustrating you, prompting you to push yourself up and swing open the door in annoyance.

Standing before you, Yoru appeared, his demeanor stern and disapproving. His arms were crossed, and he spoke with cold indifference, "Everyone's waiting for you in the common room." His voice bore no warmth. Without uttering a word, he turned away, preparing to walk back.

However, you reached out and grabbed his jacket sleeve, compelling him to pause begrudgingly. He pulled his arm free, clearly uncomfortable with your touch, and in an irritated tone, he inquired, "What?"

You sighed, your back against the doorframe, a frown forming on your face, "Can we talk about what happened?" Yoru, without any intention of relenting, resumed his departure, responding with a curt, "No."

Undeterred, you once again caught his sleeve, causing him to pull away hastily, his irritation growing as he rubbed his jacket sleeve, "It was my job, nothing more." Understanding the reasoning behind his reticence, you nodded, yet an underlying curiosity lingered, "I was mainly going to ask about how you are towards me."

Yoru gently shook his head, his steps carrying him away from you as you watched him walk away. Sighing, you pondered the complex dynamics between you two, craving a deeper understanding but resigned to let it be for the time being.

Eventually, you joined the others in the common room, settling uncomfortably beside Neon. As she offered you various dishes of food, you declined them repeatedly, leading to a visible frown on her face, brimming with concern. It was apparent that everyone had questions, their wide eyes fixed on you as you shared the details of your experiences, revealing some things while withholding others, leading to an air of curiosity and apprehension.

Reyna scrutinized you, her lips curving into a sardonic smile, and she placed her wine glass on the table. Her words seemed patronizing as she commented, "My cariño, such a poor soul. I wonder how you could live with such trauma." Her mockery weighed on you, causing your fingers to clutch at your pants.

Neon's compassion shone through as she reached out, her hand gently resting on your leg. Her voice, barely above a whisper, offered solace, "Don't take it to heart." You responded with a soft nod, appreciating her support, even though Reyna's intentions remained unclear.

Neon, however, refused to let Reyna's behavior slide, snapping at her, "You can't just be a bitch to everyone." Reyna's gaze widened, her grip on her glass tightening, and Gekko made an attempt to intervene, though his effort was met with a swift dismissal from Reyna, who swatted his hand away, saying, "Don't worry about it, cariño."

Gekko, apologetic and nervous, gripped a pillow on his lap, casting an apologetic look your way. Attempting to speak up, you hesitated, stopping short as Reyna abruptly stood, her figure imposing as she confronted Neon, "I hope you didn't forget about those times I saved you from the easiest of deaths."

Neon, undaunted, met Reyna's disapproval with defiance, standing chest to chest with her. Meanwhile, Phoenix continued to munch on his chips, audibly crunching in the otherwise hushed atmosphere. The agents directed annoyed glances his way.

You reached out and gently pulled Neon back to her seat as Reyna resumed her place after Gekko's call to calm down. A thick silence settled in the room, only punctuated by the sound of Phoenix devouring his fifth bag of chips.

Gekko, seeking to shift the atmosphere, asked a question, "Ah, so, what was it like in the facility? No one really knows too much beyond the picture that Sage took." Your recollections sent shivers down your spine, but you hesitated only briefly before answering, "Well, those were victims of failed radianite experiments." Your words were slow, each phrase carefully weighed and measured. "The radianite wasn't pure; it was fabricated."

The revelation left the room's occupants exchanging concerned glances, drawing closer in their curiosity. Phoenix, perhaps in an attempt to break the tension, choked on his chips and remarked, "Well, she's useless." A swift slap to his chest from Fade elicited an apology, "I didn't mean that, mate. Just playing with you."

Reyna, ever the instigator, turned her attention to you, a mocking applause in her voice, "Great, we're making room for the homeless." Laughter filled the room, though Fade and Neon did not partake. Yoru, who had been leaning against the wall observing the situation, grimaced, recalling the times when he felt similarly unwelcome upon joining the protocol.

He moved closer, looming over the back of the sofa you and Neon occupied. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the cushion, his irritation palpable, "Don't you have something better to talk about, Reyna?" It wasn't that he cared deeply about the situation; he was simply fed up with Reyna's inflated ego.

Reyna's smirk waned as she side-eyed Yoru, quipping, "So the riftwalker joins us, how can I live with myself?" Yoru scoffed and tapped your shoulder as he spoke to Reyna, "Pick on someone with use."

-

Sage, Viper, and Brimstone gathered on the patio, seated under the serene moonlight as they shared drinks. Sage, perhaps fueled by some form of urgency or anxiety, was hastily downing every drink in her reach, only to be gently slowed down by Brimstone, his concern evident in his words, "Take it easy there; we don't want to lose you too early."

Viper, her headache gradually fading, chuckled and began to feel more herself again. Curiosity piqued, she asked, "So, what happened with Chamber? Don't tell me he's screwing his way up the roster." Sage shook her head, a drunken laugh escaping her lips, "I don't think he's the one we should be worried about."

Brimstone, exchanging an intrigued glance with Viper, raised an eyebrow, prompting Sage to share her startling revelation, "You're kidding me." With earnestness, she shook her head, her eyes widened as she took another sip, "I'm being serious; he seems completely out of the know."

Viper, feeling skeptical and unconvinced, took Sage's glass into her own hands. "There is absolutely no way Chamber is not involved with something of this sort," she remarked, certain of her assessment. "It has his name and face written all over it."

Sage sighed as she ran her fingers through her messy hair, seeking clarity amid the haze of her inebriation. "The girl, the hostage," she began, her speech somewhat disjointed, "was telling me that the victims were regular people with fabricated radianite exposure. On what earth would Chamber be able to get his hands on such a substance? It has got to be Kingdom."

Brimstone let out a heavy sigh, taking another swig of his drink. He contemplated the situation, "We'll have to speak with the two of them." The uncertainty loomed like a shadow over the trio in the moonlit night.

-

As the evening wore on and agents began to disperse, you found yourself seated on a plush couch, the absence of Neon, who had left to prepare for her early morning garden duty, leaving you in solitude. A nearby sofa hosted Killjoy and Raze, who had initially listened intently to your retelling of your experiences within the facility. However, they wisely chose to retreat as they sensed the growing unease that accompanied your narrative.

Meanwhile, the remaining trio, consisting of Fade, Phoenix, and Yoru, provided a playful diversion. Phoenix was immersed in a seemingly endless battle with a colossal bag of chips, and the spectacle garnered a mix of amusement and concern from those in the vicinity. Fade tussled with Phoenix, with his bottomless appetite, trying to rip the family-sized bag of chips as Phoenix attempted to eat it.

As Phoenix gave up on trying to retrieve the bag of chips from Fade, he tapped on Yoru's shoulder, signaling towards you. He playfully reminded Yoru of the deal they had made regarding the sake. "I'm getting her number first," he declared with a wink.

With a smirk, Phoenix sauntered over to you, earning him scoffs and laughter from Killjoy and Raze. Taking the seat next to you with a closeness that left you intrigued. Meeting your inquisitive gaze, he stumbled over his words in a rather flustered manner, "Hello?"

The room filled with laughter as Killjoy, Raze, and even Yoru couldn't contain their amusement. Phoenix's embarrassment was palpable as he continued, "You're… wow, I mean, you're pretty amazing, girl. Really cute." Your confusion turned into a warm chuckle, and even Yoru sported a faint, amused smile.

With newfound confidence, Phoenix finally asked, "Can I, um, get your number?" Caught in the moment and still amused by the earlier banter, you playfully choked out, "I'll think about it." Phoenix felt a light smack on his face but continued to smile, flaring his collar. Even as he nodded and made his way back with a tinge of embarrassment. Moving to the table where Yoru was seated, he couldn't resist taking a playful jab, saying, "Wipe the smile off your face, chum. It's not like you can do any better."

Yoru, however, simply shook his head, and the smile began to fade. "Just hand over the sake already," he urged.

But Phoenix leaned back in his chair with a mockingly serious tone. "Can't do that, mate," he quipped, adopting a witty posture. "You've got to be a womanizer to drink the pure gold."

Yoru, now glancing from you to Phoenix and back, realized that pure flirting wasn't working. He swiftly grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, determined to employ a different approach. "I didn't mean to act coldly towards you," he began, a tone of sincerity replacing the earlier jest. "I was wondering if we could chat more about what happened. Can I get your number?"

The atmosphere shifted, and a note of vulnerability crept in. You remembered the way Yoru had treated you when he rescued you, but hearing him now, sounding genuinely kind and considerate, eased your reservations. You replied with a heartfelt, "Yeah, of course."

Yoru extended his hand toward you, deftly inserting your phone number into his phone. As he tried to suppress his smile, he gave you a small nod, acknowledging your response.

Returning to the side of Phoenix, Yoru couldn't help but sport a triumphant smirk as he witnessed Phoenix's jaw drop. "How the hell do you do it, yet you still get absolutely no bitches?" he teased, a challenging glint in his eyes.

A moment of silence fell, with Yoru casting a hard gaze and furrowed eyebrows upon Phoenix. Not missing a beat, Phoenix playfully surrendered, "Please forgive me, Father Yoru."

But Yoru was quick to brush it off, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Cut it out, fire boy," he replied, signifying the playful banter was all in good fun. "Where's my sake?"

Phoenix sighed, his sense of humor still intact, as he said, "I'll give it to you when we head back, as long as you promise to share it."

Yoru, with a smirk on his lips, took a sip of his malt and leaned in closer to Phoenix, retorting, "No way."

[tizzyizzy]

Izzy and his Outfit

So, listened to a podcast with an interview of the OFMD costume designer. Izzy wasn't mentioned, so I thought, why not speculate about the design of his outfit and it's intended meaning?

Izzy's outfit is one of the more distinctive ones compared to other pirates in the show. While his clothes show some signs of wear, perhaps having been patched up and adjusted to suit his frame, the overall impression is one of neatness and formality. There aren't ragged edges, holes, or dirt stains from wear. He's got a "full" outfit, complete with a vest over the shirt and the equivalent of a tie. Everything is black, and all his skin is covered with the exception of one hand.

So, what might this indicate?

Negativity, Evil, Darkness

Black is the color most associated with villains, which suit members of Blackbeard's infamous crew. The wearing of black is a very conscious choice from them all to appear intimidating. And of course, black is also associated with death.

The formality and the darkness actually create a kind of amusing contrast. Izzy is dressed in a cool way, but he also looks a bit like a manager, and he is also a cringefail henchman.

BDSM & Kink

Well, he does wear black leather! He is also literally a masochist submissive.

Asceticism

That is, the rejection of self-indulgence and material comfort. Wearing all black is the sort of thing you seen in monastic orders sometimes for this reason. While Izzy's clothes are elegant, they lack showiness. They suggest he isn't indulging in "frivolous" vanity. Notably, in the show, he is almost always worrying about practical concerns opposed to enjoying himself. (Though he does enjoy that steak in the cringiest way possible.)

Professionalism, Formality, Authority

Nothing about Izzy's outfit is loose or casual. In fact, with a cup of coffee on his hand, he resembles your classic middle manager type. The first time we see him with Blackbeard, he literally calls Stede "unprofessional". This more formal attire compared to his subordinates suggests his authority over them as first mate. Even his insistence on Ed being addressed as Blackbeard is a kind of professional workplace etiquette.

We also know that Izzy is, in general, a follower of rules and upholder of traditions. There are Ways Things Are Done, and those Ways (proper pirate behavior, oaths of loyalty, dueling rules) must be upheld.

Guardedness & Repression

Nakedness is vulnerability, and Izzy covers almost every inch of his body in tight fighting clothes. The fact that it's all one color draws attention to this; we don't look at Stede or Jackie covering equal amounts of skin and get the impression they're hiding with their clothes as much as they are expressing themselves. The one time we see Izzy without clothes, he is asleep in bed before being assaulted, totally helpless.

When Izzy is upset, he uses aggression to keep others at a distance. This is a guy who was literally near tears while stabbing a guy out of frustration.

He does not air insecurities or cry openly, and he immediately hides emotions like sadness with anger. (watch him go from tearing up and heartbroken to aggressive after being choked by Ed).

Showing neither skin nor color, Izzy's clothing doesn't give away much. He's literally all covered up. Beyond anger, Izzy seems like he doesn't give much away either. Vulnerability is dangerous for a pirate. Just look at what happened to Ed when he fell in love. And, of course, this can mean sexual repression too. I think episode 5, uh, showed that might be an issue for Iz.

[theyareweird]

Vampire Knight: Senri Shiki's Yandere for Kianna Komori — Part 4 (Requested)

Enticing Sweet

It was now Takuma's birthday. The maids working in the Moon Dormitory had set everything up for the party outside. Once night fell upon the dorm, the residents were making their way outside to begin the celebration. Although Takuma referred to this event as "a little party", this was far from that. Everyone was dressed in fine clothes or dressy casual attire with fancy accessories, but nothing too extravagant to be on par with a soirée. If Kianna wasn't already aware of how wealthy the Aristocratic Vampire Class was, she would have been taken back upon exiting the dormitory and discovering its grounds practically transformed into a cocktail reception.

The Moon Dormitory itself was a literal mansion on its own private estate. Beyond the mansion, the wide cement ground acted as the dance floor with a live orchestra playing music. The stone cement took up half the grounds before it branched off into a single path, which led to the gate entrance several yards from the mansion. Near the gate, a grand buffet table displayed a feast with a big five-tier vanilla and strawberry swirl cake. The perimeter of the stone ground and path were lined with large, floor standing gold candelabras to illuminate the estate.

Even though Kianna had endured an entire day of school, she still agreed to attend Takuma's birthday party. Thankfully, she finished her homework and had time to take a well-deserved nap beforehand. When Kianna exited the dormitory, she was dressed in a light cream-colored slim vintage dress with a Mary Magdalene bow tie ruffle neckline. She had her arm linked with Senri as his date for the evening. Kianna attempted to match her boyfriend by wearing dark gray tights and Marry Jane black leather shoes.

As for Senri, he was dressed in a light cream-colored, sleeveless denim shirt with dark gray slacks and black leather dress shoes. Although he was glad to finally have the opportunity to show off his girlfriend, he was also concerned with how the other Night Class students would react to actually seeing Kianna. Kaname already announced a human moving into the dorm weeks ago to the clan, however; this didn’t mean everyone was happy about it. But no one would dare oppose a Pureblood's decision.

"Kianna, it's good to see you". Kaname kindly greeted her. He was dressed in a white suit with a black dress shirt and leather dress shoes. Kaname was lounging on a red victorian chase sofa when the couple arrived, which had been placed out for him on the front porch.

"You too, Lord Kaname". Kianna said, respectfully bowing her head.

"Good afternoon, deer cousin". Senri said in a low voice. Despite being related to Kaname, he would've been heavily scolded for not using the proper honorific when addressing a Pureblood if someone heard him.

"And to you, Senri". Kaname said, dropping a blood tablet into a wine glass of water.

"Kianna"! Takuma suddenly called. "I'm glad you could make it! Come over here and enjoy some food". He said, happily waving her over to the table of food.

Kianna then stared up at Senri. She was examining his facial expression for any sign of disapproval. Kianna didn’t want to be rude and suddenly leave her boyfriend while they were on a date. After all, he might have a specific plan as to how he wanted to spend their evening together. Fortunately, Senri nodded in approval and released his hold on her arm.

Kianna then walked down the steps and off the porch. She could see Takuma by the buffet table with Rima. Besides Kaname, these two were about the only Night Class students who didn’t appear to be bothered by Kianna's presence. She could sense the intense atmosphere as all eyes seemed to be on her. Regardless, Kianna held her head high and paid these other vampires no mind. As she proceeded to make her way across the grounds, a large hand suddenly clasped onto hers, stopping her in her tracks.

When Kianna turned back, her amber eyes landed on a young blonde male. He was dressed in a blue blazer and white slacks with a red tie. "Hey, Kianna, won't you dance with me"? Hanabusa kindly asked. Despite his tone, Kianna could see through him. Hanabusa's smile was sly and his blue eyes held a glint of mischief.

Kianna narrowed her eyes at Hanabusa. "No". She flatly replied. Not only could she tell he was up to something, but Kianna disliked how Hanabusa was being disrespectful. In Germany, it was rude to call anyone by their first name unless given permission. Beyond Senri, only Takuma, Rima and Kaname were allowed to use her first name. Kianna barely knew anyone else from the Night Class, let alone trusted them. "Also, it's Komori to you, Aido". She coldly concluded. With that, Kianna turned her back to him and attempted to walk away, but his grip on her remained.

"Aw, don't be like that". Hanabusa teasingly whined. "I just wanna get to know you. If you don’t wanna dance, how 'bout we have a little private chat"? He asked, placing an index finger over his lips and shooting a wink towards her direction.

Kianna's stirn expression remained unchanged. "Not interested". She replied in the same flat tone as before.

Hanabusa then heavily sighed and let go of Kianna's hand. "You’re not interested in promoting good-will between our species"? He shrugged in question. "Oh, that's too bad. I thought that's why you're here". Hanabusa deeply frowned. "Lord Kaname and Headmaster Cross will surely be disappointed to hear that. Then, I suppose there's no point to you staying in the Moon Dormitory".

"What do you mean"? Kianna asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Exactly that. If you won't even talk to the rest of us, Cross will know you're not trying to cooperate and are likely here to give chase to a Night Class student. Then, because you're only here for your personal gain, you're more likely to move back to the Sun Dormitory. After all, you're not one of us. In the end, Lord Kaname doesn’t have a say in what happens to you. Only Headmaster Cross does as the head who manages the human affairs at this institution". Hanabusa explained.

Kianna rolled her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, Hanabusa was right. Since this was a possibility, Kianna really didn’t see any harm in talking to the blonde as long as she kept her guard up. Considering Hanabusa was adamant about following the rules, she doubted he was going to pull anything too crazy. Otherwise, he would be the one on thin ice. "Fine. What do you want to know"? Kianna asked.

Hanabusa's behavior suddenly morphed back into his perky demeanor. "Good girl! I knew you'd see it my way". He beamed. Hanabusa then graciously bowed to Kianna and said "Please allow me to be your escort for a little bit". With that, he then turned around and placed his hands behind his head. "Follow me". Hanabusa concluded.

From there, Hanabusa led Kianna back into the Moon Dormitory. Even though they passed Senri and Kaname on the way there, the two were preoccupied with a conversation of their own at the moment. Once Hanabusa kindly opened the door for Kianna, he let her walk into the entrance hall before shutting the door behind himself. When they were inside, Hanabusa proceeded to walk up the staircase until he stopped half way. He then leaned against the railing and smirked down at Kianna from the center of the room.

Kianna stood with her arms still folded over her chest. She impatiently tapped her fingers against her thin bicep as she knit her brow together. She was waiting for Hanabusa to start talking when she noticed his playful demeanor was back. "Well"? Kianna questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"So, Komori, who's bite marks are those"? Hanabusa asked, raising a hand to reveal a square band-aid in between his fingers.

Kianna then lifted a hand to the side of her neck. Although she was covered by the high neckline of her dress, Hanabusa still managed to rip the band-aid from her neck without her noticing. Kianna concluded he must have done it when he allowed her to walk into the hall first. "That's my business". She said coldly in dismissal.

"You do realize drinking blood is a taboo at this school..." Hanabusa continued.

"Is that all"? Kianna questioned, crossing her arms once more. If this was all Hanabusa brought her in to discuss, then it was a waste of her time.

"No." Hanabusa smiled. "You see, when compared to the real taste of blood, the blood tablets are so bland". He explained through a frown. "But if you're offering yourself to others, why not include me? I highly doubt whoever bit you first has any real claim on your blood. Of course, I'll compensate you in return for feeding me".

"No, Aido". Kianna replied in a blunt tone.

Hanabusa then cleched his fists in frustration. "My, aren't you a stubborn girl. Do you know how annoying that is"? He hissed through his tight jaw. Hanabusa then took a step forward and ice suddenly protruded from the bottom of his foot.

Suddenly, the air turned cold. Goosebumps formed across Kianna's skin. The ice then crawled down the staircase and onto the tile flooring where Kianna stood. Before she could react, ice formed around one of her legs and up her knee. A chill ran up Kianna's spine. She was currently gritting her teeth from the sheer cold.

Hanabusa's eyes were now as cold as the room. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his white slacks and proceeded to walk back down the stairs. "I think we should be allowed to drink human blood as long as we don’t kill anyone. After all, with so many young girls fawning over me they'd all be more than willing to offer up their blood". Hanabusa smiled at the thought, now approaching Kianna. "However, Lord Kaname believes we should be able to overcome our urges since the blood tablets nourish us". He continued, dropping his smile to a neutral expression. By this point, Hanabusa had halted and was staring down at Kianna as she glared up at him. "But I can't resist the smell and taste of a young girl's blood". He concluded with a devilish smirk.

Hanabusa then reached for the bow across Kianna's chest and swiftly ripped the bodice off of her dress. The creech of the fabric being pulled apart at the seems caused Kianna's eyes to widen. In an instant, the white sleeves bunched around her forearms. What remained of the bodice had folded over the lower half of the dress at Kianna's hips. Meanwhile, the neckline scraps drifted to the floor, leaving the top half of the petite's girl's body exposed. The only thing shielding Hanabusa's eyes was the white sports bra Kianna wore underneath. She wanted to slap the perverted blonde, but her thin arms subconsciously wrapped around her chest instead. All Kianna could do was look at Hanabusa in disgust with a firey red color in her face as he inched closer to her neck.

"Stop". Kianna sternly demanded. Unfortunately, this only made Hanabusa smirk in response. The second his sharp fangs hovered over her skin, Kianna turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut to brace for impact. Hanabusa's fangs then punctured her flesh, enough for blood to rise to the surface of the tiny holes. "Stop"! Kianna cried.

Requested: @nunezs-stuff

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola/Blood of My Blood - Coming of Age V

@secret-engima finally got this polished up. Half from Sola's POV and half from Bahamut's!

.

Sola freezes.

The Storm Father is here. Why is the Storm Father here and how in Ifrit's Pyre has no one noticed the Astral just sitting there for who knows how many hours-

No one's looking at him. Black suit and golden yellow shirt, thunderstorms and coeurls masterfully embroidered in blue and purple and gold and copper, and no one is looking at him? Even though the eye-catching riot of colors against black should grab everyone's attention if not the blatant violation of protocol that is wearing black in the first place. But no. No one who glances in that direction seems to register the man, the man whose long white beard is braided with the elaborate braids Sola's only ever seen depicted in Galahdian art, braids that should have every Galahdian present staring.

The Astrals are supposed to be sleeping. Why is Ramuh here?

Magic curls around her, an echo of sun-fire-fury underneath the we've-got-you-you're-safe-our-cub-is-safe-  "Treasure?" Libertus asks.

Sola blinks. She's sitting on one of the benches lining the walls, water glass in hand, well away from the rest of the crowd. Libertus is next to her, arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side, wrapping magic around her in an effort to soothe the way her own is bristling under her skin, shocked and wary and hissing like a territorial coeurl.

Axis and Tredd are standing, blocking Sola from view of the rest of the hall from the angles Libertus' bulk doesn't cover. They're scanning the hallway, magic alert and wary of what might have set Sola off. Beyond them, Sola can see Nyx and Luche working the crowd closes to them to keep attention away from Sola.

ola focuses on sipping her way through hers and calm down. "The Elder with the children. See him?" Sola murmurs in Galahdian once she's half-way through the glass and has a grasp on her words once more.

Axis doesn't look away from the crowd, so it's only Libertus and Tredd that freeze, magic spiking in shock and recognition.

So she isn't hallucinating. Sola isn't sure she should be glad or not.

She stares at her empty glass and wishes she could get drunk right now. "Do we want to know why one of the Six is here?" It can't be for the Galahdians. Ramuh can't walk among them anymore, he's an Exile. Further proved by the fact Ramuh's in Lucian attire. Oh, the embroidery and the colors and the braids are as Galahdian as they come, but that's a Lucian-style suit. Unlike Sola and her Retinue, who are dressed in Galahdian formalwear but conforming to Lucian protocol.

(The dissonance is not helping Sola wrap her head around what she's seeing.)

"Two." Axis says abruptly. "The Tide-mother's dancing with His Highness." Sola's neck cracks as she whips her attention back to the ballroom floor, and to the woman dressed in water-silk dyed in the blues and greys of an ocean storm, pearls shining from her elaborately braided hair.

Humans don't move like that.

Dread prickles down her spine. The Storm Father, Sola can see gate-crashing her brother's party on a whim. Leviathan? The Tide-mother doesn't like humans.

Yet here she is, and no one's screaming.

A graceful spin, Noctis' wide-eyed expression visible for a brief second, and Sola follows his gaze towards one of the tables.

There's a man, dark skinned with golden tattoos curling over his bald head. Dark grey suit with summer green shirt and wheat-gold tie. Nearby, another man in a black suit, black hair cut at his chin and eyes visibly silver even at this distance and the unmistakable bearing of a soldier. No decorations on him, but in the moment before Sola blinks, she swears she can see silver armor and bladed wings.

Titan. Bahamut. That's four, so where are-

A flash of white-blue silk, and Sola finds her gaze back on the dance floor. To the woman in a dress that sparkls like sunlight on ice, and her partner in a suit that shifts like flickering flames, the dark-skinned man sporting hair as red as fire.

Ifrit and Shiva make six. A chill slips down her spine. The Astrals are awake, and all of them are here.

This is important.

Sola doesn't need her magic to know Noctis is probably six seconds from a panic attack. Pyre-curse it all, he was doing so well. Noctis does not need this on top of all the other shit he's dealing with.

She grits her teeth against her anger. "Axis, have Nyx get Prompto to Noctis. You and Luche help Gladio and Ignis enforce some space. Extract if necessary - it's late enough a strategic retreat won't raise eyebrows."

Axis disappears from her side, ghosting through the crowd to where Nyx and Luche are. Tredd grins at Sola, his magic sharp with anticipation. "What about us, Spitfire?"

Sola's smile is distinctly unfriendly. "We're getting some answers."

Libertus warily eyes Sola's target. "Sola, love, are you sure?"

"Yes." She can understand the hesitation. Ramuh, at least, is disinclined to smite one of his children. But she can't ask Ramuh -he's an Exile- Galahd's patron or not.

Bahamut is the Lucis Caelums' patron and the Astral supposedly in charge. Sola wants to know what the fuck is going on, and so help her she's getting her answers however she has to.

.

He knows the humans' approach before they near him. They cannot sneak up on him - not that they try - not when he can feel the touch of his Blessing upon every soul in the city. Especially not the soul more akin to his own than her mortal kin.

"Ardent." He greets when she reaches him.

Blue eyes burn with the magic that cannot escape her skin. Just as they once burned in that other time, when she'd stepped between his judgement and the oathbreakers and regarded him not as patron but as threat.

"Bladekeeper." The old Galahdian title falls from lips curled to show a flash of fang. A warning. A challenge, as she demands, "What brings the Six to these halls, instead of the Oracle or your Messengers?"

Bahamut is proud of this fierce dragon-child of his, even as he regards her with a calm expression. He is proud of her mate, the pillar of support in this timeline and the last, and of her Sword, the ever dutiful son of Ramuh.

(He may not approve of her choice of Shield, Heart, and Hand, but Bahamut knows better than to pass judgement on those the Ardent has Claimed. Dragons do no tolerate threats to Them and Theirs, not even from other dragons. The Ardent would not hesitate to cross steel with him, to attempt to slay him should she deem him too great a threat to those she shelters under her wings.)

"We are here to witness the coming of age of the Chosen King." Bahamut tells her. The Ardent does not know the truth of the prophecy. The Father has kept it from her, fearing her reaction. Rightfully so - in his mind, Bahamut sees endless futures where the Ardent learns of the truth. Futures where she takes the Chosen's place, futures where she cannot and strives to shatter the duty the Chosen is bound to.

In all but a few, the Star is lost to Darkness as the Ardent succumbs to Fire and Fury.

But all fires need fuel to feed the flames. Without her King, the Ardent will burn out, a mere ember of herself.

At the mention of her King, the Ardent bristles. "And this couldn't be done with the courtesy of forewarning your presence?"

Bahamut snorts. As if the Ardent is truly concerned with propriety. No, she is displeased of the shock they have done to her King. "Your King is not so fragile. He has prevailed through greater trials than this." Trials greater than the Ardent will ever know.

The Ardent smiles, a full baring of fangs and the implicit threat of using them. "That does not mean my King needs to face another."

"There will always be another trial." He tells her gravely. Such is the nature of his Blessing. Such is the nature of his Blessed, they will always fight, for his Blessing is Light and War. "Not all Wars are fought on the battlefield with claw and fang. There is more to the Chosen King's Sword than your Glaive."

The Ardent hesitates, magic churning with uncertainty. She glances towards where her King is retreating with his bonded Retinue, and in the moment of her distraction, Bahamut and his kin vanish from the room.

[keicordelle]

The Daily Inconveniences of an Au Ra: Funerary Rites

Death in Eorzea confused Keshet. Not because it was particularly different than death on the Steppe - he was already familiar with the fact that others outside the Dotharl did not return when they died, even if he wasn't used to losing friends to that fact. Hyur and Miqo'te and the rest died just as readily as Au Ra - more so, perhaps, given their lack of protective scales, but the same methods still applied. No, it wasn't the death itself that perplexed him. It was the rituals that came afterwards.

The sun shone brightly overhead, it's cheerful gleam in stark contrast to the tear tracks that glistened on Alphinaud's cheeks and the silent sorrow that permeated the air. The stiff black fabric itched at Keshet's skin and tugged at his chest, the borrowed suit as uncomfortable as the Au Ra who sported it. He shifted from foot to foot as subtly as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself as he tugged at the tie pulled snug around his neck. He didn't really understand why he had had to trade his usual attire for Ishgardian formal wear, but Alphinaud had insisted that it was a matter of respect. Keshet suspected it had something to do with making you as uncomfortable on the outside as you were on the inside.

All around him, others wore the same sombre garb, lace veils hiding tear-streaked faces and embroidered handkerchiefs blotting runny noses. Keshet stared up at Artoirel at the front of the crowd, the great spires of the Vault looming over him, and felt even more out of place than usual. No tears choked the back of his throat, and if his eyes watered, it was only because the cold bit at his face. It was not the response that was expected of him, that much he knew. Everyone seemed to expect him to break down and sob, or to erupt in some sort of sorrowful display, but he mostly just felt lost beneath those stolen glances and murmured consolations. It was like they were waiting for something, but he didn't know what.  He felt like he was missing something, like there was some universal truth he'd overlooked that everyone else seemed to understand implicitly and that no one seemed inclined to share. But... Haurchefant was dead. It was tragic, yes, but Keshet didn't see the point to all this ceremony. Haurchefant didn't care if they got all dressed up to cry over him; he was past caring about anything. Why couldn't they just mourn on their own and each remember him in their own way? Keshet could understand drawing support from your community, of course, but it seemed like half of Ishgard had turned out for this funeral, and he knew for a fact that a not insignificant number of them wouldn't have so much as given Haurchefant the time of day a week ago. The ritual was meant to "honor his memory," Alphinaud had said, but Keshet failed to see how any of this honored Haurchefant. If they wanted to honor him, they should avenge his murder - or at the very least carry on his legacy through action rather than this uncomfortable gathering that was more about politics than the man it claimed to honor.

And don't even get Keshet started about the box with the corpse in it. That was... He had no doubt his Eorzean comrades would consider his people barbaric for their treatment of their dead, but to him the concept of entombing the body in stone to preserve it and burying it far beneath the ground was abhorrent. Far better to allow the dead to return to nature in peace than to try to stave off the inevitable decay. When a Dotharl died, their body fed the animals of the desert - the same animals that the surviving tribe members would then hunt down and eat themselves. The dead aided their living comrades even beyond the bounds of their mortality. To have your corpse paraded around for others to look upon and wet with their tears... It was macabre. 

But Keshet stood there like he was supposed to, staring at Artoirel and Emmanellain and Edmont and just anything he could other than the stone box that held the lifeless cadaver of his dead friend. The endless speeches turned into a wordless drone as strangers who'd once whispered cruelties behind Haurchefant's back spoke of how wonderful he had been and all the good he had done for them. Inside, Keshet’s stomach churned, but he held himself still and respectful against the freezing chill beneath the heartless sun.

Artoirel's voice cut through his silent discomfort. "Would you like to say a few words, Keshet?"

Keshet froze, panic singing through his veins. Say a few words? Words about what? About Haurchefant? What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry I got your brother killed'? Somehow he suspected that was not the sort of sentiment they were looking for. But everyone was watching him, and they assumed he knew the steps to this dance even if he was pretty sure he was about to stick his big old foot in his mouth. He glanced anxiously at Alphinaud, but the boy had the same expectant look on his face as everyone around them, waiting for him to say something profound or at least situationally appropriate. Right.

"Uh. Haurchefant died a noble death, and if he were one of my people, there's no doubt in my mind that the next child born would bear his soul. But, uh. He's not, so. The best I can do is avenge his death. And um. Remember him?"

The low muttering that rose in the wake of his words was not particularly reassuring, but Artoirel clapped him on the arm and Edmont offered him a watery smile and a respectful nod before continuing on with his own remembrances. And so Keshet returned to awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and trying not to stare at the corpse of his friend, longing fiercely for the easy death rituals of his own people.

At least if he didn't want to attend any more Eorzean funerals, the solution was easy enough: he just had to make sure no more of his friends died.

-

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