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shady-scripter · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day22

(Glass shard)

In order for any of this to make any real sense, you might wanna check out this post

The Golden Gems are the boys btw(it’s referring to their Shards of Courage)

New divider made by @firefly-graphics

The sun fell over the horizon hours ago, the sky being overtaken by the darkness of night. Yet, the volley of flaming arrows lit up the sky.

It was a surprise attack, the Golden Gems unsheathed their weapons quickly, taking a defensive stance. The monsters pooled in from over a hill. The army of them looked to be five hundred and too many. They were terribly outnumbered. You could even say that they were out planned.

Fierce commanded the others while Mask got them ready, unsheathing the Biggoron sword and his shield materialized from his gem. The others followed the Fierce half’s directions.

Another volley of arrows flew through the sky, each landing in a tree and setting it ablaze. They felt Fierce’s eye open, but saw nothing out of it.

Wild shot his own arrows, hoping to hold them back just a little longer. Legend assisted the attack, taking out his own bow and making a few arrows materialize out of his purple gem.

Sky sent down a skyward strike, a beam of light following the slash of the blade. It killed some monsters, but the black stain among the other monsters put a glare on Time’s face.

Of course their dark counterpart would lead such a large army. How lucky did they expect to be in the Champion’s Hyrule?

“Old Man!” Wild yelled, trying to overpower the crackling of the fire. Time considered the choices. Fierce said that they’d be better off running and making sure that everyone was safe. Mask said that they should fight, that this hoard will only get larger if they left it alone and ran.

Time turned to Wild, both of the gems, Fierce and Mask reaching an agreement. “Forward!” The other gems went, war cries following them into the heat of battle.

Time threw his shield like a boomerang, decapitating three monsters on his way up the hill. Twilight had an idea similar, throwing his gale boomerang.

Mask caught their shield and Fierce swung their sword. It was like clockwork for them. They’ve fought together for years.

They swung once again at an enemy, but everything froze. They realized what happened.

They locked eyes with their dark counterpart, time in stasis around them. They knew what would happen. At least, Mask did. He’d dealt with this before.

The Shadow decided to look like them this time. Probably for old time’s sake. No words were exchanged, the two fusions eyed each other for another ten seconds or so.

The Shadow had a sly smirk pulled onto his face. Time moved, the Shadow mirrored that move. It seemed that they were also mirroring movements today too.

Mask scoffed, “What do you want?”

“I want to see someone shatter. It’s been far too long, hasn’t it? That we’ve shattered someone?”

“Shattering isn’t some game,” Mask and Fierce said in unison.

“Wouldn’t you know?” Shadow dashed at them, time around them unfroze at their command.

They reached for Fierce’s eye and the double helix sword he used to wield appeared in their hand. They dropped the Biggoron sword, deciding to swing the Fierce Blade.

Their sword clashed with their dark counterpart for what felt like eons, their opponent seeming not to tire even a bit.

Shoulder, thigh, hip. It had been injured at best. Either by the Shadow or a boko who wanted to get a hit in. The boys did the same to the Shadow, jumping in briefly to get their own hit in.

Wind decided that it was his turn to get his own hit in. He sliced through another blue bokoblin before he turned into a spin attack to cut the Shadow. The thing blocked the boy’s advance and kicked him hard enough to knock him into a tree.

Mask and Fierce cried the boy’s name when he wouldn’t get up. They dropped their guard and tried to run to him. They were grabbed by the back of their shirt and shoved into the dirt face first.

Mask screamed, the gem of his nose took most of the force. For a second, Fierce’s heart dropped. He knew what the Shadow was trying to do. Fierce used Time’s trembling hands to brace himself on the ground, Mask’s cries echoing in his brain.

“C’mon! Just shatter already!” Fierce couldn’t- no- he wouldn’t let that happen. Mask was not going to shatter while they were fused.

Time was turned on his back, Fierce raised their arms over their nose. He prayed that Mask hadn’t cracked.

“Someone get there!” They heard the Captain yell, worry laced into every word he spoke.

“I’m trying!” The Skyloftian shouted back.

“There’s too many of them!” Twilight groaned, panic in his own words.

That was when a boot met Time’s nose. An audible crack rang through the battlefield. Fierce paused.

“Mask…?”

No answer.

“Mask!”

“I-“ Fierce heard the smaller gem’s voice cut off and then a groan. “Cra-cked…” Fierce heard a static echo in their head.

Mask, his boy, his sapphire companion that he’s been with, the one he’s fought with for years, is cracked.

Shadow went for another stomp. Time didn’t have the luxury of time to move.

It hit his nose once more. This time, there was nothing, only the victorious laugh the Shadow spat out.

“How refreshing!” It stepped away from Time.

Time didn’t move.

“Mask! Please! Tell me you didn’t-“ Fierce couldn’t feel the coolness of the sapphire that graced his face. When he reached up to make sure that his companion was okay, he only brought back shards of royal blue. The royal blue of Mask’s gem.

Fierce found himself staring, the rest of the battlefield noise faded in the back. He heard their- no- his chest pound violently.

Time used to be the two of them, but now it was just Fierce. Mask was gone, right?

Fierce sat up and held the shattered bits of Mask.

“Hylia no!” Warriors knelt by Fierce’s side, picking at the shards. Out of all the friends the obsidian had lost, he never wanted to lose his little brother…

Fierce stared at the shattered bits in silence. Soon, the others started to crowd around.

Wind, with bandages around his head, decided to speak. “Well, at least you’re not fully shattered?”

Wild tried to help, “Yeah! I’m sure the Smithy could make you a shield just like your old one!”

“I would be happy to, of course!” Four smiled at Wild.

“Enough you idiots!” Warriors stood up, eyeing the three with a vicious glare. “Have you never seen a fusion in your lives?!”

“Captain…”

“No gem in the history of history has ever been made with two fucking gems!”

“Captain!”

Warriors balled up his fists. Sky hugged him, pushing the Captain’s head onto his own shoulder.

Fierce looked back down at the fragments. He felt his eyes start to water. But gems didn’t cry. Gems couldn’t cry. So why was his face wet and why, why, why?!

Time’s body shone white. When the white faded, it was just Fierce. Not even the green of Mask’s stupid hat remained.

Fierce’s breath caught in his throat, the shock setting in.

Mask was gone. Mask was shattered.

—

#linked universe au #lu au #gem au #I guess it could sort of be called #steven unvierse au #but not really #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe time #lu time #linked universe mask #lu mask #linked universe fierce #lu fierce deity #the shady lad writes #angst #but only if you understand what’s happening

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niigata-division · 2 years ago

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“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.”

Introduction

Lyall Shiba, also known as Corvus in rap battles, is a homicide detective for the Niigata Police Department and is considered one of their best despite his age. A once famous model and actor, everything changed for Lyall when he had a run-in with “The Sweetheart Killer” and became the only one to ever survive him. Now, after discovering that the person who attempted to kill him is participating in the D.R.B, Lyall has convinced his boss, Seiji Tsukimoto, to let him join his team.

Lyall is a tall man in his early 20s with a lean figure and pale skin. He has slightly wavy black hair that stops at his upper shoulders and right swept bangs covering his forehead. His eyes are bright turquoise and are hidden behind a pair of rectangular glasses.

He usually wears a black button-up shirt with matching dress pants, a dark blue vest, a matching tie, and black boots. For accessories, he wears a black belt with a silver buckle, a chain with a crescent moon dangling from the belt with his police badge situated on the opposite side, an assortment of rings on his hands, multiple piercings in his ears, a silver lion clip on his tie, a silver moon pin on his vest, and a silver and black watch.

Outside of work, Lyall dresses completely differently. He wears a black lace top, a black velvet cropped blazer, black low-rise flared pants with slits down the hips and black ankle boots with heels. For accessories, he wears a black lace choker, several silver rings on both hands, a silver crescent moon pin on his jacket, and multiple silver piercings across his ears and body. His lion clip is also now moved to his jacket collar. He also exchanges his glasses for contacts and wears black eyeshadow and black and blue lipstick. His hair is also now tied back into a low bun.

Name Meanings

Shiba (志波) - Willful Wave

Lyall - “Wolf”

Aliases

Pretty Boy, Handsome, Heartbreaker, etc.

“Japan’s Former It Boy”

Rookie, Kid, Newbie, etc. - Seiji

Uncle - Yaeka & Sara

“Ly-chan”

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 24

Birthday - January 21st

Ethnicity - Half Japanese, Half Canadian

Hair Color - Raven Black (Dyed)

Eye Color - Turquoise

Height - 192cm / 6’3

Weight - 170lbs / 77kg

Star Sign - Aquarius

Piercings - Lobes, Helix, Industrial, Tragus, Conch, Bellybutton, Eyebrow, Snake Bites, Nostril, Septum, Tongue, Nipples, Prince Albert

Markings - Multiple stab wounds across his chest and abdomen, Scar running down his sternum, Multiple track marks on both his arms, The phases of the moon down his spine, A raven on his left shoulder, a death tarot card on his right forearm, the Egyptian god Anubis on his right thigh, Eye of Horus on his left ankle

Family

Father

Mother

Twin Sister

Pet Owl

Voiced By - BewhY (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name - Corvus

Occupation - Homicide Detective

Division - Niigata

Team - Valor Guard

Position - 2nd Member

Favorite Food - Brown Maple Syrup

Least Favorite Food - Oysters

Likes - Literature, Poetry, The Occult, Egyptian Mythology, Sex

Dislikes - Touya Kisaragi, Drugs, His Chest Pains, His fangirls bothering him during work

Hypnosis Microphone

Lyall’s Microphone takes the form of a metallic black stand with silver swirls engraved on it, sitting where the mic should be is a dark blue crystal crescent moon with a silver wing sprouting from the side. In the middle of the crescent is a piezoelectric-style mic.

His Speaker takes the shape of a gold and black statue of the Egyptian god Anubis. In their left hand is a golden spear, while in their right they’re holding a set of golden scales in front of him. Both sides of the scales have a circular speaker on them with one side of the scales higher than the other.

His rap ability, Cursed Bond, allows him to be bonded with his opponent, and if he is knocked out, his opponent is forcibly knocked out along with him.

Lyall’s rap centers about how we should honor the dead and that we should strive to never forget them. He raps about how he’ll never rest until he can give closure to the families whose loved ones have been brutally murdered. He also raps about the occult often making reference to imagery related to death.

Personality

Lyall is known to be quite flirtatious and confident, with many falling for his charms and a smooth way of talking. Well aware of his good looks, Lyall is not above using them to get information out of people. His quick wit and sharp tongue often leave everyone in stitches, and he loves to keep them on their toes with his teasing and surprising antics. He is also quite intelligent, using his unmatched intuition and sharp observation to see through everybody, a skill he uses to his advantage.

Lyall is extremely obsessed determined to solve his cases, going as far as to twist and even straight-up break laws at times. He is under of the opinion, that why should it matter as long as he can provide some sort of closure to the families of his victims. Even if it means getting in trouble with his supervisors. Lyall also is also quite empathetic and often thinks of other people's feelings, and, in some cases, he has been known to conceal facts to spare people from being scarred by the ugly truth.

However, underneath his charming smile, Lyall suffers from extreme guilt. Even now, Lyall doesn't understand why he of all people survived the Sweetheart Killer. It eats at him, with Lyall in the past even going as far as abusing drugs to ignore how he felt. Now, after learning that Touya Kisaragi has been allowed to roam free, Lyall can't help but feel something new. Revenge. Lyall can feel it festering within him. He can't help but want vengeance against the person who tried to kill him and who killed so many others, even if it means throwing everything else in his life away.

Background

In a separate post coming soon.

Trivia

Lyall has a fondness for poetry and, in particular, for William Blake.

Lyall has a pet Eurasian owl named Isis. He found her as an abandoned chick and nursed her back to health.

Lyall is quite fond of the occult and has several items connected to it in his house.

Lyall is fluent in Japanese, English, and French.

Lyall is a pagan and is an active practitioner of witchcraft.

Lyall suffers from Bipolar I disorder, having been diagnosed when he was 16. He currently takes medication for it.

Lyall occasionally suffers severe pain from his scars but refuses to take medication for it.

Lyall used to suffer from a pretty bad drug addiction, but he's been sober for a few years. He completely avoids painkillers now, even if it means being in agonizing pain.

As of October 9th, 2024, Lyall has been in an official relationship with both Kaoru Shinozaki of Edogawa and Joey Kurusu of Kanazawa.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #niigata division #valor guard #lyall shiba #character bio

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realityhelixcreates · 2 years ago

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Puzzles, Prince, Narci, and Nash don't need glasses at all.

Swag and Unswag are slightly nearsighted. They can get by well enough without their glasses, but they both just prefer wearing them. Saves on headaches and they both like the aesthetics.

Arkham's glasses have hidden bifocals and blue light coating, since he looks at screens a Lot.

YJ doesn't strictly need his glasses. They aren't prescription, but color correction lenses, as YJ is red-green color blind. Specifically, he has protonomaly, which means he doesn't have enough red cones in his eyes. He can see some greens, but they are muted, and basically all reds and oranges just look brown to him. He cannot perceive pink, and his purples are very limited. His glasses increase color contrast so that he can tell reds and oranges apart. They still look brown, but like different browns.

Detective wears little round pince nez for reading.

Helix is nearly blind without her glasses. She made a deal to give up most of her sight in exchange for the ability to speak and understand non-Earth based languages. Her glasses are enchanted to return most of that sight to her, but she is dependent on them.

#shards of the nexus #character shards

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mutar-in-lucertola · 2 years ago

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On Confinement, BY TORRIN A. GREATHOUSE

I sit across the table from my partner in the atrium of the psychiatric holding facility

our hands churched into our laps. We are not allowed to touch. The air between us thick as Perspex.

They tell me all the ways this place resembles a prison.

•

Everything a sterile white so clean it could almost disinfect a memory.

•

In 1787, Jeremy Bentham conceived of what would become the most common prison design:

the panopticon.

Intended to control prisoners through the illusion that they are always under surveillance.

•

My partner tells their therapist they are afraid of taking their own life,

that they balanced on a building’s edge, & three officers escort them from the room.

•

The first cop who ever handcuffed me [was my father] left me bound till my fingers blued.

On the days when I can’t remember his face, he becomes the scent of vodka & zip ties the sound of cuffs & a bottle petaling into blades.

•

At the booking office they remove my glasses & the guards blur into a procession of fathers.

•

I bring my partner clothes & pads when the hospital decides to hold them longer,

shove each shirt that could mark them as queer back inside the closet & shut it [like a mouth].

•

The word faggot scrawls across the jail guard’s lips like graffiti.

•

When I visit my partner they insist on staying inside

the sky above the patio cordoned off with chicken wire.

•

I plead my sentence down in exchange for: my face, my prints, my DNA & ten years probation.

When I see a cop, I fear even my breath criminal

& when my therapist asks me if I’m suicidal I lie.

Perhaps both are a kind of surveillance.

•

Tear gas floods the street, sharpens water to a blade hidden in the orbit of my eye.

& just like this, a squad car remakes my sadness a weapon.

If my partner snaps cuffs around my wrists

[& I asked for this]

have they also weaponized my desire?

•

A woman in the facility tells my partner: I know what you are. Says: Sinner. Says: Anti-christ.

My partner goads her on, babbles in false tongues & is confined to their room for safety.

•

Once, a cop dragged me into an alley & beat me like he knew exactly what I was.

What does it say if sometimes when I ask my partner to hit me

I expect his fist tightened in their throat, his voice bruising their tongue? •

I am arrested & placed [in the men’s jail] in solitary confinement.

They tell me this is protective custody. That they couldn’t afford the lawsuit if I were killed. In this way, they tell me I am a woman

only when I am no longer breathing.

•

The origin of the word prison is the Latin prehendere — to take.

It follows, then, that to take your life is to prison the body beneath dirt.

•

[Historically, suicide is a criminal act].

•

Balanced on a building’s edge, I imagine some permutation of this moment

where to fail at death would be a breach

of my probation.

•

We both weep for the first time

upon release

when we see the sky.

Pale blue

sliced through

with a single helix

of razor wire & bordered

in sterile white.

#On Confinement #torrin a greathouse #American poetry

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notyourmamasdeerbat · 1 month ago

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Thank you for the tag!! I have once again rambled too close to the sun. For those interested, I am tagging @spinfins @sunny374940 @velvet-apricots @andthekitchensinkao3 @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @draco-illius-noctis and @emmieloumay ! I'm so serious I wanna hear everything!

Anyhow here's Coadi again:

CW: Mess/family drama and brief/vague mentions of animal abuse under the cut.

Name: Coadi Aldwir

Alias: Rook for friends and enemies!

Gender: The vibe you get when you walk into the lighting section of Home Depot (they/them)

Age: 29 (Turns 30 during events of Veilguard)

Spoken Language(s): Trade, Orlesian, some Elvhen (reads Elvhen better than they speak it. Their accent is terrible)

Sexual Orientation: Panromantic/Demisexual/OhMyMakerEveryoneIsSoPretty/Don't Touch Me I'll Immediately Cry

Occupation: Collector's apprentice (formerly), Stablehand (formerly), Veil Jumper (formerly T^T), Unemployed Hero Salary (current)

Favorite…

Color: Saffron yellow or sienna orange/brown

Entertainment: Idle gossip (anything juicy), singing, dancing, going out for drinks, reading bad poetry and poorly structured academic arguments

Past time: Reading (mostly ecological studies of Thedas and ancient elvhen/dwarvish myth/lore/history, as well as some magical theory in order to better understand mages as well as the Arlathan), watercolors on rare occasions (the paints are expensive, and water is better to drink, also it takes brainpower that saving the world rarely allows for), baking when they can get into the kitchen!

Food: Apple cinnamon tea loaf and bacon leek crepes. Also fruit. Any fruit. They ate an entire pomegranate once. They're not picky, they'll eat just about anything at least once and love trying new things, but they have a raging sweet tooth.

Drink: Café latte. Just really good coffee with some milk or cream. Oh, it hits. Every time. On harder days, or in the evening, they'll sip on a whole bottle of Orlesian white.

Sometimes, when it rains or they're winding down for bed, they'll opt for elfroot or jasmine tea. (The latter is expensive. Luckily there seems to be an assassin in the kitchen that keeps finding it? And at a “reasonable price”?)

Have they…

Passed University:

[Rook cackling from the other room]

No lmao. They completed one year at the University of Val Royeaux and took an apprenticeship in a noble's private collection of artifacts and historical texts from around the world that he was treating like a museum. Admission fees included. Rook actually got tangled up with the Friends of Red Jenny when they found out their boss was smuggling elvhen artifacts to slavers across the ocean. Needless to say they were quickly fired, nearly killed, disowned, dropped out and forced to find work. It's a long story.

Had Sex: ye. all with one partner who was more of a friend with benefits. They still exchange letters! But their relationship tapered off amicably when Coadi left the Veil Jumpers.

In PUBLIC?: I wish I could draw Coadi's face when I read this question lmao “😨😨😨 what do you guys do on your days off?” They'd never judge of course, maybe it's a lot of fun! But not their cup of tea? They don't think? Well now maybe they should try it and find out.

Got tattoos: Fuck yeah! All in dark blue, almost black ink. A geometric triangular design, very much like armor, on their knee and shin of their right leg, a stylized sleeve of the fall of the Golden City on their left arm, inked bands on either side of their neck and an encircled halla or hart head on their sternum as a nod to the Veil Jumpers. It's up for interpretation, and looks pretty sick.

Got piercings: Yes! Double helix piercings in the left ear, just copper studs. Maybe more someday.

Got scarred: Oh yeah. Helluva lot. Hands cut to hell from scrapes on rocks and badly caught knives in either the kitchen or on the battlefield, a huge gash on their right calf from where they raked it open getting stuck in an old temple door. A lacework of lightning damage all over their body from a bad run in with a Pride(?) demon (nobody's really sure what it was) and too many power crystals. The tattoos on their neck hide where the demon grabbed them by the throat. Yeah, they still feel that one sometimes. They also have a small scar on their chin where they picked at an old scab for too long (brass knuckles in a bar fight. They'll tell you the whole story if you buy them three drinks)

Had a broken heart: Not necessarily? A situationship went poorly (see Friends of Red Jenny) when she tried to kill Coadi? Does that count?

Are They…

A Cuddler: Oh BIG TIME YES! Friends? Lovers? Get in here! They've lost count of how many times Rook has fallen asleep on their shoulder, or scooped them bodily into an airborne hug, or squeezed them in their arms so tight it's hard to breathe, or leaned their back against them while sitting and reading… Forehead touches when calming tears or anxious thoughts, hands in hair and a reassuring squeeze to their wrist, their forearm, a slap on the back for a job well done! Rook is ever tactile, but never invasive. They ask first if nobody's sure. “Is it okay if I lean on you?” Briefly reaching out: “Can I touch your hand?” Resting their chin on a head: “Is this alright?” Until sometimes, usually with Harding, Bellara, Davrin and Neve, it just becomes habit to lean into one another, or sit very close on the couches while discussing battle strategies, or draping a leg over their knees to flop down and rest their aching bones.

Scared Easily: Startled, yes. They're always kind of tense and on edge, even in the Lighthouse. They'll jump and go rigid if they catch sight of a wisp at the wrong time, deathly pale, before cussing it out in Orlesian and waving it off. Manfred once, in the dark with his flashing goggles, made Rook shriek at like two in the morning, spilling a cup of tea when the skeleton hissed happily from the library corner.

But are they truly frightened? Like pee your pants scared? Not easily. The Arlathan beat every survival instinct they had out of them to the tune of ‘huh. that's weird. anyway–” when rocks fell from nowhere and demons jumped out of every statue in a twenty mile radius to either yell really strange promises at you or try to rip you apart. However, the Siege of Weisshaupt shook them to their bones. The freaky hydra archdemon? “Andraste, come pick me up, I want to go home…” And FORGET Ghilan'nain. Why does she need so many tentacles??? Ugh! Brr!

Jealous Easily: Not easily. Somebody has to put a lot of effort into rubbing it consciously in Rook's face when they spend time with their friends (or eventually, life partner) But when Rook does get jealous they tend to get a little grumpy.

Trustworthy: Yes! Rook will never share your secrets because normally they straight up forget. Or! The information is so precious that Rook will straight up fight anyone asking too many questions. Unprompted and with mixed results. Rook also is notorious for exceeding expectations in keeping promises. They'll write out lists if they have to, as they often do when they get overwhelmed. Rook is dependable, and tries to be gentle wherever they go.

Family…

Sibling(s): One half sibling they met when the boy was an infant. Shortly after their very pregnant mother left the house, Coadi recieved an invitation to visit her where she'd made a home for herself in the Arbor Wilds. The boy had been born maybe a month ago. He has the same eyes Coadi does. His mother's eyes. He was so little. Coadi held him in their arms, unable to speak for so long. They fight for him, in part. To make sure that boy grows up in a world free of the gods’ corrupting influence and the Blight. He'd be twelve now.

Parents: Edward Aldwir was a Ferelden blacksmith that fled to Orlais during the Fifth Blight. He didn't talk about it much. Rook only remembers flashes. But he found work and favor with nobility, gaining Rook a sponsorship under a “family friend” in order to go to the University. That went poorly, and while it went poorly Madlyn Aldwir, Edward's doting wife (and secret apostate) left him after he turned to drink. She was pregnant with another lover's child at the time, a man who had claimed to love her, before threatening to send her to the Circle when she revealed to him her secret. She fled Val Royeaux.

Children: None to speak of, and likely none in the future, but Rook has a soft spot for kids/young teenagers trying to find their way and is not opposed to adoption. They'll teach ‘em to box.

Pets: Once! They rescued a Basking Longma from a Venatori camp while traveling with Varric. She had been abused for disobedience (and boy did she have a stubborn streak) and had been left behind barely alive with a broken leg. Rook nursed her back to health and gained a trusty mount! They named her Shiral, and she made getting to Minrathous to find Solas That Much Swifter.

OC Tag Game

@hellomehlo was so kind to tag me in this. I figured it would fun after I asked ya'll to tell me about your Rooks, so here's some stuff about my girl. I'm gonna tag @strugglinggranola, @trashwithvariety, @mscreativity, @redheadsramblings, @notyourmamasdeerbat and @jouskaroo AND IF YOU SEE THIS, IM TAGGING YOU TOO (Tag me if you do this, I NEED to know about your OC, I really do.) ya'll have fun :) OC: It's Veryl ya'll, I'm not ready to talk about Ciprean yet ;)

General:

Name: Veryl Ingellvar

Alias: Ver (but only by close friends) Rook

Gender: Female (she/her)

Age: 27

Spoken Language: Nevarran and Common, but she can read several other languages proficiently

Sexual Orientation: ???? She likes who she likes

Occupation: Mourn Watch - Fade Conflict Resolution

Favorite…

Color: White and a warm yellow

Entertainment: People watching, Music, watching people participate in music

Pastime: Reading everything she can get her hands on, does not discriminate, if it has text she has her eyes on it.

Food: Bread, reliable, tasty, easy to find. But she's open to trying anything once.

Drink: A good mead is preferred, nevarran red if it's around.

Have they…

Passed University: She passed both Mortalitasi and Mourn Watch Training with high marks, she also seeks out continuing education when she has the time.

Had Sex: Yes. She plays it fast and loose and doesn't sleep with the same person twice.

Had Sex in Public: Probably?

Got Tattoos: Nope, no time, no money. No discernible or recognizable markings on purpose

Got Piercings: No, same reason. Nothing that would help people pick her out in a line up more than they already could.

Got Scarred: Yes, across her lower back, and old, old scars on her fingers from when she was young. There is a new fresh one on her left bicep from where she was stabbed by a Ventori blade.

Had a Broken Heart: Yes, but not from a romantic love.

Are they…

A Cuddler: Yes, she's touchy with everyone. Hungry for contact and grounding in reality. She'll cuddle with anyone that will let her get close enough.

Scared Easily: No, not at all. She's constantly listening to her surroundings and anticipates as much as she can. She spent a lot of time in the shadows of the Grand Necropolis, it was very desensitizing.

Jealous Easily: Insecure, yes. Jealous, no. She has very low expectations.

Trustworthy: Yes. She does her very best to protect those around her and always keep her promises.

Family…

Sibling(s): No siblings, but plenty of people she's adopted as siblings

Parents: A mentor that housed her, trained her, and played benefactor for her throughout her Necropolis training.

Children: She can't have kids, that option was taken away from her by her mentor. But she's definitely open to adoption and taking in strays as wards.

Pets: Yes a black cat named Zon. He passed before she left the Necropolis.

#I could go on and on this was so much fun #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age rook #oc ask game #dragon age oc

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siriusblack-the-third · 2 years ago

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Boredom, Flustration and Love Confessions part 1

Hdjdjd my very first non- Percy Jackson fic djsgdkd i hope you like this little drabble

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It starts like this:

Sirius is bored.

A bored Sirius, James knows, is never a good thing, because the boy will whine in James' ear and poke him in the ribs or bite his shoulder or tug on the fringe on the back of his head that's a bit longer than the rest of his hair (he had a munj ceremony when he was eight and he still keeps the evidence at sixteen) till James is sighing and giving in to Sirius' demands of chaos.

And honestly, James is way too fond of Sirius to be even remotely annoyed by his antics. Also doesn't hurt that he thrives off of chaos just as much as the other boy does.

However, there are times when Sirius doesn't bother to wheedle James into causing mischief, and simply goes off to do it on his own. On those days, he is dead set on giving James a heart attack.

Days like today.

It's a beautiful Saturday, really— the sky isn't too blue but it isn't cloudy either, and the breeze is just this side of cold. Perfect for Quidditch. James is sitting in his favourite seat in the Gryffindor common room, where he is far enough away from the fire that his skin isn't burning and he can stare at the Quidditch pitch through the open window. He and Remus are getting their homework over with between the exchange of sarcastic barbs, prank ideas and wicked smiles. Peter is off at detention and Sirius... come to think of it, where is Sirius?

The Fat Lady's portrait opens, but James doesn't look; he turns to Remus with the question of Sirius on the tip of his tongue, but is cut off by the werewolf lifting his head up and catching sight of someone.

"Oi, Pads," Remus hollers, "fuck've ya been?"

James whips his head up and grins widely at his best mate, who is sauntering up to them with a lazy smirk and an effortless elegance to his long limbs that James never figured out how to imitate. His grey eyes harbour that perpetual devilish gleam that is unique to Sirius, and James' gaze catches on the few stray waves of pitch black hair that are slipping out of his bun. Sirius walks close enough to get a ray of sunshine across his face, and silver glitters at his ears.

See, here's the thing: Sirius has piercings. A fuckton of piercings, ranging from the generic lobe piercings to the playful helix to the risque belly button to the roguish eyebrow to a downright sinful industrial. In total, he has nine piercings, compared to James' simple lobe piercings that his parents got done when he was a baby. Sirius also has a huge collection of earrings and ear cuffs, and he is never seen without at least four accessories in. Today, he's wearing all of them.

James resolutely keeps his eyes away from that attention-grabbing jewellery.

"Cheers, Padfoot," he chirps, and Sirius chuckles as he plops down next to him, lifting a hand to ruffle James' hair. The younger boy squawks and swats at his hand, making Sirius and Remus snicker.

"Alright Moons, Jamie?" he nods at the both of them, leaning back and spreading his legs so that his left one is thrown across James lap. The black ripped denim jeans stretch obscenely across his thick thighs, but James keeps his smile on his face.

"Just the Arithmancy essay," he answers, but keeps his quill down and drops his head onto Sirius' shoulders. "The one about the compression of space-time in Apparition. Where have you been?"

"Oh y'know," Sirius shrugs, and James shifts back to follow the line of his broad, leather-clad shoulders before he catches himself and looks away, heat crawling up his cheeks. "Getting a piercing."

Oh, no.

James notices Remus perk up out of the corner of his eye (the lad has his own impressive collection of piercings) but he is more invested in scanning Sirius' ears for the new addition. A second later, he frowns; all the piercings are old ones.

"Where is it?" he asks, curious. (The poor boy forgets– curiosity killed the cat.)

Sirius' grey eyes flicker with mischief, and James is given barely a second to register the foreboding feeling that suddenly fills his guts before his best friend is sticking out his tongue, a sly tilt to his lips. A flash of silver hits James' eyes.

"Holy shit!" Remus crows, and Sirius laughs, but James' mouth has gone dry. He stares at that tongue, at the sneak peeks of the metal ball he gets when Sirius starts a rapid-fire conversation with Remus, gaze drawn to the full, pale pink lips as they curl around words that James cannot be bothered to listen to.

Oh, fuck.

A tongue piercing.

Sirius has a tongue piercing.

Fuck.

#the marauders #james potter #harry potter marauders era #harry potter marauders #marauders era #prongsfoot #james x sirius #sirius black #marauders fic #ficlet #marauders drabble #remus lupin #sirius black has a fuckton of piercings #and james can't handle it #prongsfoot fic #sirius x james #indian james potter #desi james potter #amrut writes

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lunaevangeline · 3 years ago

Text

Helix Nebula

written for Arisa ❤ @kurooikawakaashiwaizumisgf (I know you're currently on hiatus but I hope you're happy to see this when you come back)

warning: none, just fluff

I write this based on a beautiful photo taken by ESO (European Southern Observatory) + credit for the photo description

"What are you looking at, Love?"

You've been drawn to see the picture in front of you; blue and brown color nebulae, outgassing to the outer space. It's mesmerizing to see the remnant of a star corpse, the end of life but at the same time will become a new beginning.

You were on your date with your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji, strolled around the downtown and bumped into an outdoor exhibition of space photos. The exhibition includes various photographs of astronomical objects, celestial events, and night sky areas taken from all over the world.

You read the caption: "This color-composite image of the Helix Nebula (NGC 7293) was taken at the La Silla observatory in Chile. The blue-green glow in the center of the Helix comes from oxygen atoms shining under the effects of the intense ultraviolet radiation of the 120,000 degree Celsius central star and the hot gas. Further out from the star and beyond the ring of knots, the red color from hydrogen and nitrogen is more prominent. A careful look at the central part of this object reveals not only the knots but also many remote galaxies seen right through the thinly spread glowing gas."

"Eye of God huh? Interesting," Akaashi murmurs, reading the title of the image.

"Yeah, beautiful isn't it?" you smiled, catching his presence from your peripheral vision.

"You seem to love this picture."

Your boyfriend is observant, he pays attention to how you've been spending 5 minutes longer on this particular image compared to the rest.

You ponder, "There's something intriguing about this picture, I'm not sure what it is."

He takes a few moments to admire your side profile. His hand reaches for your cold hand, allowing the heat exchange process. There's another cold wind that blows in the transition from winter to spring.

"Hey, wanna grab a cup of coffee?" Akaashi offers.

"Sure!" you smile giddily at him, swinging your hand with his back and forth like a child.

It was a long week with exhausting deadlines and work, but you manage to spend a refreshing weekend with him. After staying for an hour at the cafe, the two of you decide to head back to your apartment, watching your favorite Netflix series.

You nestle on his chest, his hand playing with your hair - caressing your crown. He doesn't pay much attention to the TV anymore, his senses are preoccupied with all aspects of you; hearing the echo of your laughter, feeling the touch of your hair and your cotton fabric, and smelling the floral scent of your fresh shampoo.

Everything was so peaceful that he didn't realize the effects of the caffeine wouldn't last long for him to stay awake.

You notice how your boyfriend movement has been less on the half of the ongoing episode. You look up, only to meet a pair of closed eyes. Then you place your ear next to his chest, his heart beats slowly. Closing your eyes, you hear the shooting melody - he has fallen asleep.

Watching Keiji asleep is one of your favorite moments because you don't experience much of it. You don't live in the same apartment unit and his work demands make him sleep deprived.

You trace the soft skin under his eye, there's a hint of darkness on it. But he's still pretty with fluffy black locks framing his face and his facial features in perfect ratio.

Carefully, you caressed his cheek that usually turned rosy when you give him a surprise peck. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling to yourself, before moving to his nose. Your movement makes him scrunch it a little bit.

You chuckle to yourself and with a hand still cupping his cheek, you plant a kiss on his lips - which surprisingly gets him to kiss you back. His hands pull you closer lazily until you break the kiss.

"Keiji? since when you're awake?" you pout.

His eyes flutter open as he let out a raspy chuckle, "On half of your way stealing a kiss."

Sleepiness still lingering on his tone, you almost forgot your boyfriend is a light sleeper.

"What time is it?" he asked.

You shift your gaze to your wall clock only to look back into his blue orbs.

"It's 18.30." He hums in response.

In silence, you take a more careful look at his blue eyes. It's shone by your ceiling light, unraveling the detailed structure of his iris.

His iris resembles the miniature of the galaxy, with a black hole in its center. You can see stars sparkle in them every time he gazes at you. It also resembles the gaseous nebulae, an attempt to hide his true feeling only for you to find out.

"Blue from oxygen atoms shining under effects of the intense ultraviolet radiation," you suddenly remember one line of the image description.

"Eye of God," you murmur. Now you know why you were so captivated by the image.

He chuckles lightly, "Still can't get over from the space exhibition?"

He cups your cheek and plants a kiss on your jaw.

"I can't," you smiled at the fluttering feeling.

He pulls you to another kiss, velvety and soft-touch grazing your lips. Then you rest your forehead against his, your shadow allows you to stare into the darkness of his blue orbs.

Your boyfriend has been watching you. Silently, since the first time he saw you at the high school volleyball game - as one of his friend's best friends. He has been watching you until he mustered up all the courage to ask you out.

He always watches over you; over the peak moment of your history, over the worst moment of life. He knows when you need a hug and he knows when you avert to tell him something that may worry him. He also knows how you love him with the same endearing look in your eyes.

Perhaps, Akaashi is the extension of God's eye to watch over you or the eye of God itself.

"Keiji, your eyes are so beautiful."

He chuckles sweetly with pink-tinted cheeks, saying thank you and praising that you're much more beautiful.

With those eyes, you've been drowned and you've been lost, but moreover, you've been loved by them.

masterlist

taglist: @hyeque @passionateuchiha @crystal-lilac @ohtobiors @pklm10 @sabyss @miya-dynasty @oikawas-milk-bread @wolffmaiden @wayenn @justheretoaskandread @simp4ren @filledasaf @momochimo @simpforerenn @biderwoman

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#hq imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x you #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #akaashi drabble #akaashi fic #akaashi imagine

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biotic-raptorian-angel · 3 months ago

Text

Glamour- Pharmercy

Fareeha had never been one for grand ceremonies. She preferred the battlefield to ballrooms, strategy meetings to social functions, and her Raptora VII suit to the stiff formality of her Helix dress uniform. But tonight, she had no choice.

The hall was filled with high-ranking officials, dignitaries, and decorated heroes. The air hummed with the clinking of glasses, soft music from a grand orchestra, and the polite murmur of guests exchanging pleasantries. Fareeha, standing near the edge of the ballroom, adjusted her cuffs, willing herself to endure the evening.

She was here to receive an award for valor—a distinction that, despite her humility, she knew she had earned. But none of that mattered to her. Not compared to the thought that had taken root in her mind the moment she arrived.

Will she come?

Angela had said she would try. The med bay had been busy as always, and while Fareeha knew duty came first, a selfish part of her had hoped—no, needed—her to be here tonight.

Then, just as Fareeha exhaled, preparing herself for the long night ahead, the doors to the ballroom opened.

And there she was.

Angela stepped through the grand entrance, a vision of elegance and effortless grace. Fareeha felt the air leave her lungs.

The doctor had always been beautiful—Fareeha had known that since the first time they met—but tonight? Tonight, she was something else entirely.

Angela’s dress was sleek and flowing, the color a deep sapphire that shimmered under the chandeliers’ brilliant light. Her golden hair cascaded in soft waves, styled in a way Fareeha had never seen before, framing her delicate features with perfect precision. The moment she entered, heads turned—but Angela only had eyes for one person.

Fareeha’s heart pounded against her ribs.

Angela smiled when she saw her, her blue eyes sparkling with something unreadable yet undeniably warm. She made her way through the crowd, moving with the kind of quiet confidence that left Fareeha mesmerized.

When Angela finally reached her, Fareeha swallowed hard, forcing herself to find words. “Angela,” she said, but the name felt too simple for what she wanted to say.

Angela tilted her head playfully. “You look good in uniform.”

Fareeha chuckled, though her voice was rougher than she intended. “And you…” She let her eyes trail over Angela, taking in every detail, every subtle shimmer and curve. “…You are ...”

Angela’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Oh? Do I have the great Commander Amari at a loss for words?”

Fareeha cleared her throat, standing straighter. “It’s possible.”

Angela’s laughter was warm, and she reached out, smoothing an invisible crease on Fareeha’s lapel. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said, her voice softer now. “You deserve to be celebrated.”

Fareeha exhaled, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “I’m only here for the formalities.”

Angela arched a brow. “Then I’ll make sure you enjoy at least part of it.”

The time came for the award presentation, and Fareeha stood at attention as her name was called. She stepped onto the stage, saluting the officials as they commended her bravery, her leadership, her unwavering commitment to duty. Applause filled the room, but Fareeha barely registered it.

Instead, she let her gaze drift back to where Angela stood, watching from the crowd. And when their eyes met, everything else faded.

Angela’s smile was soft yet radiant, a silent acknowledgment, a quiet pride. It wasn’t the medal pinned to her chest that mattered. It was this—Angela standing there, seeing her, believing in her.

After the ceremony, guests milled about, offering congratulations and handshakes. But Fareeha only wanted one person by her side.

Angela approached, and before she could speak, Fareeha leaned down just slightly, murmuring, “Thank you for being here.”

Angela’s expression softened, and she reached for Fareeha’s hand, her fingers grazing against hers. “Always.”

Later in the evening, as the orchestra played a slow, elegant waltz, Fareeha found herself standing awkwardly near the dance floor, shifting in place. She had planned to slip away once the ceremony was over—graceful movements were more suited for battle than ballroom dances.

Angela, however, had other plans.

A warm hand slid into hers, and Fareeha turned to see Angela smiling up at her. “Come dance with me.”

Fareeha hesitated. “I—”

“No arguments, Liebling.” Angela’s tone was teasing, but her eyes held something deeper. “You’ve braved war zones. I think you can handle one dance with me.”

Fareeha exhaled a quiet laugh. “Point taken.”

Angela led her onto the dance floor, and with gentle guidance, placed Fareeha’s hands where they should be—one at her waist, the other still clasped in her own. The music swelled, and Fareeha let herself be pulled into the rhythm.

At first, she was rigid, too focused on keeping pace, on not stepping wrong. But then Angela whispered, “Relax. Just follow me.”

Fareeha did.

Angela moved with effortless grace, her body pressed just close enough for warmth, her presence both grounding and intoxicating. Fareeha found herself captivated by the way Angela’s eyes gleamed under the lights, the way her lips parted ever so slightly when she laughed at something Fareeha muttered under her breath.

The song stretched on, but Fareeha wished it would last longer.

She dipped Angela at the final note, surprising them both. Angela let out a delighted laugh, her head tilting back in amusement, her hair catching the light.

And just like that, Fareeha knew this was a moment she would remember forever.

By the end of the night, the ballroom had emptied considerably. The music had faded into soft background melodies, and only a few guests lingered. Fareeha and Angela found themselves on the balcony, away from the crowd, the night air crisp against their skin.

Angela turned to Fareeha, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You did wonderfully tonight.”

Fareeha scoffed lightly. “You mean I survived without embarrassing myself?”

Angela chuckled. “That too.”

A silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was familiar. Fareeha, ever the soldier, wasn’t great with words. But Angela had always understood her in ways that no one else did.

So, when Fareeha finally spoke, her voice low and sincere, she knew Angela would hear what she truly meant.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Angela’s breath hitched, her eyes searching Fareeha’s for any trace of hesitation. She found none.

She stepped closer, pressing a hand against Fareeha’s chest, right over where the medal had been pinned earlier in the evening.

“And you,” Angela murmured, “are the most admirable person I know.”

Fareeha swallowed, her heart pounding. She didn’t know who moved first, only that, suddenly, Angela’s lips were brushing against hers, soft and certain, sealing a moment that had been long in the making.

And for all the medals, for all the applause, this—this—was the greatest honor of the night.

A-Z Prompts

I've decided to try and keep up with daily writing by doing 1 prompt a day for each ship via the A-Z prompts I came up with below. If you like it or have suggestions for other prompts, please let me know!

Adoration

Bravery

Chivalry

Devotion

Ethereal

Friendship

Glamour

Healthy

Idol

Jukebox

Kingdom

Letter

Moss

Nude

Observation

Paint

Quiet

Rejection

Sea

Turntable

Unanimous

Vermin

Wings

Xenomorphic

Yitten

Zephyr

#overwatch #mercy overwatch #pharah overwatch #pharmercy #fanfiction #scene inspo #a z challenge

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irrfahrer · 2 years ago

Note

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Ziv has three helix-piercings in each ear in which she had put cooper rings. While she likes them aesthetically, it is also a clear sign for people to notice that she is definitive not a animal or a non-sentient pet and that she is person enough to actually invest in clearly noticeable (as on the highest part of her body that are her ears) Bodyart. On her left ear she wears an earring that had been given to her by Malkhaz as a token, after they said their goodbyes. Malkhaz kept the other earring. The earring is not especially expensive. The bohème piece with turquoise-stones and cooper metal might be more expensive than the cooper rings but is eventually nothing but fashion-jewelery. It is important who gave the earring to her.

When she was around 18 years old she had a Septum-piercing but after she had fled the crimelords rangs in which she had started to work in in exchange for a cortosis-vambrace, she took it out because after she had been held like a pet with no way to escape her situation, she did not liked the implications that the septumpiercing was similar to the nosering of cattle used to control them. In the Verse outside of Starwars, she also had the Septum-Piercing during her days studying to make her degree, but as soon as she was confronted with the fact that the convoy she had been given to had put her into debt to them for the costs of raising her, educating her and taking care of her medical needs, Ziv also took the septum out, feeling much too trapped mentally to show it in her face.

Ziv has a navelpiercing with cooper metal in form of a open flower and an blue stone in the center. This has no implications beside the fact that Ziv likes bodyart as a expression of her individuality and she likes jewelery. While the Piercings on her ears are constantly visible, her navelpiercing is usually under clothes for the simple reason that Ziv also uses clothes to express herself as an individual and usually those clothes cover up her stomach. However depending on the area she is in (as in, the temperature of that area), Zivs regulary walks around just with a utility-belt as clothes or topless, so the piercing is occasionally visible. Zivs definition of nakedness is because of the pelt different. She has three nipplepiercings along her mammary ridge of her left side, yet this has no artistic reason= when she had been fourteen and her group of AgriCorps Adepts happned to have a free evening in a starharbour they went through the nightlife. One of them as a mamalian humanoid got his two nipples pierced to proof how tough they are and Ziv, who was and still is extremly ambitious, combative and has a crude humor, used the chance to outdo said other Adept by getting studs along her left side in all three nipples (she has six, so she had free chosing. Beeing a mammal of a r-selected species with litters of up to six pups means one needs more than two.). She regretted it the next morning because it hurted for weeks and it will still hurt when she is hit against the mammary ridge ( especially on the left side due to the piercings, just because she has no visible fat-breasttissue outside of pregnancy does not mean that she will not keel over and cuss like a sailor when she is hit in the underlying mammary glands.Because she definitive will cuss like a sailor in that scenario.). Lovers who had asked for the reason for the piercings usually find Zivs reason hilarious and the Tynnan, still remembering the aches and the fact she had spend days with icepacks and also just icepieces under her tunic along her left side, is still sour about it. Having the young girl with melting icepacks under her tunic on one side might had caused a lot of mocking and jokes, resulting in Ziv beeing especially sour about the topic. That she does not care especially much about this part of bodyart on her body is shown in that the piercings she uses are nothing but simple cooper metalstuds to avoid dirt getting into the holes, in contrast to her polished earrings or navelpiercing. Its not like the studs are often visible at all, because of Zivs cloth and especially because of her pelt. Accordingly this detail about Ziv is only known by lovers who had had their hands on her and the Tynnan is a little hurt in her pride everytime she has to tell the story about her beeing a very dumb teenager and having piercings because she wanted to show off how hardcore she is to other very dumb teenagers.

Due to her pelt Ziv has no tattoos, however she usually lets the symbol for "healer" shaved in the outer layer of her fur on her chest when she is on Planets where the literacy is not so high and she still needs show to people that they can come to her for help and support in medical matters. The symbol usually needs around eight weeks to grow out completly and that is usually the signal for Ziv to change locations to another planet.

In her inquisitor AU, Ziv has none of the piercings beside the septumpiercing for obvious reasons.

#ziv loves bodyart #but she had also been a very stupid teenager #but i think that story gives her more character xD #headcanon #thanks for the ask!#irrfahrer #Ziv Odiz' Zee #changing her piercings through her life just sems ralistic (like the septumpiercing)#I am always telling my students: go for it colour your hair and get earpiercings etc #but make sure to learn to makeup them over for photographs when you leave school and applicate for jobs #I mean my studnts are at best 11 years old so #all I do is getting overly excited when one has green hair and make them beam when complimenting it

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millllenniawrites · 4 years ago

Text

warmth (Poe Dameron x Reader)

words: 5.6k yes it is the longest thing on this blog shush

summary: The Resistance’s victory celebration quickly turns sour when their trusted Commander, Poe Dameron, recognizes a toxin in the air. This favourite doctor is the only one he trusts with the information he has. You’re the only one you trust to look after him.

warnings: smut (this is 18+ people); afab!reader; porn with plot; sex pollen so that automatically makes it dubcon; doctor!reader; swearing, drugs, dirty talk, Poe Dameron is so whiny when he’s horny holy fuck; bondage; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up folks); pet names (good girl, honey, sweetheart, baby); this relies on Poe’s spice runner past (the one I use in Helix, not the gross canon one) but it’s not directly dealt with and it’s super vague

a/n: I was trying to find a place to feature Kade Sol who is my baby sunshine light of my life from the Helix series and I snuck him in here! also this was a worldbuilding writing exercise that somehow turned into the filthiest smut I’ve ever written so there’s that

As the last First Order ship disappeared from the sky, a victory cry sounded through the Resistance fighters. Poe Dameron landed on the tarmac of Cida’s Travel Station, popping the hood of his X-Wing. He grinned, watching the rest of Black and Blue squadron land around him, all hopping out of their ships and rejoicing on the deck.

They didn’t lose anyone in the air today. That alone was cause for celebration.

It had been three weeks of trying to break the First Order’s blockade on the Cida system. King Caran had graciously accepted the help of the Resistance, backed by the New Republic’s ships, and allowed them to set up a temporary base on Cida Prime. In exchange for liberating their system, His Majesty had granted the Resistance usage of their hyperspace lanes, which would cut the transport time from the Hosnian system to D’Qar in half. An easy trade, if anyone had bothered to ask Poe.

Which no one did, these days. But he was doing his best.

Kade, his captain, shook him from his thoughts as he called from the ground, “The King is asking for you, Dameron.”

He dropped out of his ship, quickly hugging Kade, grateful as always to have his best friend by his side, before jogging into the command centre of the makeshift air base, where King Caran and Admiral Ackbar were waiting.

“Commander Dameron,” the King’s booming voice sounded through the small room as Poe entered.

Poe bowed low, nearly folding himself completely in half. “Your Majesty.”

A pair of Cidan guards’ in navy uniforms flanked him as he trailed behind the King and Ackbar. Poe found himself tuning out the negotiations, agreeing with Ackbar on instinct as the two men spoke. They took more twists and turns than Poe could count. He began marking various basins, leaking different coloured smoke as landmarks, in case he needed to find his way out.

Not that he thought the King wasn’t deserving of their trust. This was a war. He just wasn’t going to risk it.

As they entered what appeared to be the King’s office, Poe felt almost out of place. Like he was floating, a gentle burning feeling in his gut the only thing grounding him.

In a turn of events Poe was not expecting, he found himself missing you.

He loved Kade. Of course, he loved Kade. His second. His partner in crime. But the flight home was sure to be a boring one without you.

It wasn’t tradition, necessarily. But each time the two of you had taken a mission together, it had been a resounding success. And on your way home, he’d celebrated between your legs.

And you’d taken care of him after, like the good girl he knew you were.

The burning moved lower, a sweet smell settling in his nose. One Poe recognized, from a time before the New Republic Navy.

Fuck.

Voice panicked, “King Caran,” Poe stood, realizing he had interrupted the King. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, eyes locking on a small stone in the corner. It sat on a warming plate, small tendrils of yellow smoke disappearing into the air.

Caran laughed, following Poe’s gaze. “You know your therapies, my boy.” The man seemed… pleased. Proud. “A gift, from us to you.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Poe coughed, a phantom of the sensation he had only felt once before aching deep in his lungs. “Most organisms outside of the Cidan’s can’t handle Stiima the way your graciousness can.”

“My apologies, my friend. We thought that it would help to calm things. For negotiations, of course.” Caran met Ackbar’s eyes, anxiety evident. “Please understand it is simply the way we celebrate such a great success as we have seen today.”

“I understand, your Majesty.” Ackbar side-eyed Poe, concern evident. “Are you alright, Commander?”

The ringing in Poe’s ears drowned out the last of their conversation. The next thing he knew, he was back on the tarmac, shouting, “Kade. Get everyone in the air. Now.”

He beelined for his shuttle, locking himself in the cockpit. Hand clenching as he felt himself relax into the passenger seat, the pain of his nails digging into his palm grounding him.

“Poe, you good?” Kade banged on the door.

He didn’t answer, focusing on the

Kade finally got the door open. “Poe, what the fuck?”

“Fly.” Poe said through gritted teeth. “I need you to fly.”

So Kade did.

They didn’t dock to the main carrier, flying above it. They would wait until it jumped to hyperspace before they followed.

Poe watched as fighter after fighter flew into the large ship. Ears filled with cotton, he barely heard Ackbar’s order over the comms for anyone in a shuttle to stay away from the ship.

Code Orange.

Quarantine protocol.

Poe couldn’t stop his mind from going back to you. The last time you were on mission together. The way your mouth felt.

Your eyes.

The innocent way you would smile, naked and spread out under him…

“Poe?” Kade asked, sitting forward in his seat. “Are you alright?”

Poe hit a comm button on his dash, connecting him directly to command.

“Commander Dameron, are you alright?” A young man’s voice came through his headset.

“I need you to connect me to med.”

“Is someone—”

“Connect me to med, officer. I need to speak with the doctor.”

You opened the hull door of Poe Dameron’s shuttle, a small case of bacta and other various medications tucked under your arm. Coughing into your mask as you entered the dark ship, you quickly located the panel to seal the door behind you, saluting the mech on the ground that would lock you in after the door eased shut.

The convoy had landed hours ago. The medic team had been slowly working through shuttles, administering antidotes to those that could take them.

It wasn’t poison. You’d ruled that out early. But the obvious effects of dehydration were evident. Poe seemed to know what it was, from the way he sounded in the recording Ackbar had passed off to med, but no one else was familiar with the symptoms everyone seemed to be presenting.

Looking around, you stayed still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. You had been in his shuttle before; you knew you were in the cargo bay, and if you followed the wall to your right, you would find the ladder that would lead you to the cockpit. Your mission. The plan. Assessing Poe and Captain Kade Sol’s symptoms.

But if you went to the left and pushed the thin black curtain aside, you would find the small closet that served as his bed on long missions.

Your bed, when you joined him.

It was hard not to smile, remembering the long nights in hyperspace with the famous Commander. The way his curls tangled around your fingers. How his stubble felt against the inside of your thighs…

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you shook your head with a small embarrassed laugh and began to work your way to the ladder.

Even with the grey cloth pulled tight across your mouth and nose, you could still smell the musk of the air, heavy in your lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had a true weight to it, like slightly overripe fruit or warm spices, much worse than the three shuttles you had cleared before this. The rungs of the ladder were warm like the air, slick with moisture, a telltale sign that Poe and Kade had done as asked. There had been no air circulating in the ship since they landed. If any of the airborne toxins had gotten into the ship, it wouldn’t have had the chance to escape outside.

You smiled as your hands brushed their oxygen canisters, hearing the slow leak of fluid. Always thorough, Dameron…

Your hands grazed the small railing that guarded the catwalk to the cockpit as you made your way down to the sealed door.

“Commander Dameron? Captain Sol?” you called, hoping they could hear you through the dense metal. “It’s Doctor--”

The hiss of the door caused you to jump and you stepped back, taking in the form of the Captain. The large man nearly filled the doorway, dark clothes making it difficult to see him in the blackness of the ship. “I know who you are. Command came through a little while ago.” His voice as gruff as always, but he said it with a smile. “I’ve had no symptoms, but I figure you still need to check me out?”

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind going back into the cockpit for me…”

He grumbled something you couldn’t make out but did what you asked, sitting in the only passenger seat in the small room, empty save for them.

“Where’s Commander Dameron?” you asked as you knelt in beside Kade, fingers on his wrist.

You ran through the basics of your training as he talked.

“Poe didn’t get so lucky. Got hit worse than most people, from what we’ve heard. He was in the King’s office. Said something about a… diffuser?” When you nodded, he seemed to relax. “That’s why he made the call. Asked me to lock him up until a medic got here. He was specifically asking for you, so I guess we got lucky.”

You were grateful for the dark, hiding the way you flushed. “Guess so.” Unable to hide the warmth in your voice, you gave Kade a small smile. “There isn’t a brig on this ship. Where—"

“His quarters. Stun cuffs magnetized to the wall.” He seemed almost embarrassed, ducking his head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly. Just that he hasn’t really stopped making noise since about twenty minutes after we landed.”

You hesitated. Generally careful about the information you give out to patients, you weren’t sure it would be appropriate to explain, but Kade and Poe were a package deal. Rarely did you see one without the other. They’d been joined at the hip since long before they had defected to the Resistance together.

“It’s a potent aphrodisiac.” You murmured, standing behind him and tilting his head to check for discolouration on his neck, “Most people got hit with… well, let’s call it Level 1 symptoms. Loose tongue. Unable to really control what they’re saying, or at least not thinking it through. Level 2 are action: making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make. The… aphrodisiac part. If you get to level two, we’ve found they wear off in about three hours. No antidote needed. Just fluids and rest, after it all. But you’ve been in here almost a whole day…” and Poe’s condition hadn’t improved.

“Which means what? He’s at level 3?”

There wasn’t a level 3.

Coming around in front of Kade, you nodded slowly. “Was he complaining of… pain?” you flinched as you said the word, knowing the man had no idea what you were truly asking.

“Right before he asked me to gag him. He had moments he was lucid… basically told me to leave him locked up, no matter what he said.”

There was only one other person that had said the drug hurt, and she had been fine for a few hours now.

Kade chewed idly on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. “Not easy being locked in while your best friend is raving like a madman.”

“The gag was a good call. He’ll thank you once he’s back to himself.” You tried for another smile. “You seem okay. Vitals are normal. Rosa is just outside. I’ll let her know that she can open the door. She’ll give you a mask and escort you to showers, and then back to your quarters. They’ll send a medical droid to check you out fully before you’re allowed to intermix with the base. Just in case.”

“Thank you, doc.” Kade stood, heading out the door to the rest of the shuttle. “Poe is—”

“I know.” You nodded, not really thinking through your words. “Closet. Curtain.”

Kade paused, turning to look at you for a moment. His eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before he dropped down the ladder. You appreciated that he hadn’t said anything, having a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know you only off your medical reputation.

Your excursions with Poe were a relative secret, not wanting command to restrict you going on missions together because of your… you weren’t really sure what to call it. Enough people had stories about him that you knew you weren’t exclusive, but being with him was different. It had always been different.

Though you supposed all the people he took to bed could say the same thing.

You pushed the heavy curtain aside.

He was laid back on his cot, only one of his boots on. Poe struggled against his cuffs, attached to the wall above his head, and whined through the gag in his mouth. The bed squeaked and shook. It was a significantly less pleasant sound when you were standing there, not on top of him…

You shook your head quickly, a reminder that you were working, before you knelt on the ground next to Poe’s head. His eyes widened as he focused on you. Reaching for the fabric cutting into his cheeks, your fingertips grazed his jaw. “I’m gonna remove this, okay?” you murmured before eased the gag out of his mouth, letting the loop of dark cloth hanging around his neck.

“Sweetheart…” he whined the moment his mouth was free to move, his voice cracking around the dryness of his throat. You set your med case on the floor and opened it quickly, digging through bandages and bacta patches before finding what you needed. You lifted a small canteen to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. He coughed, spluttering a little before he was tilting his head away, gasping, “Please, sweetheart. I need…”

You shushed him gently, swiping a cloth over his lips. Trying to distract him, you softened your voice, “You got everyone out before it could get bad, Poe. Everyone else is safe.”

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, seeming to relax a little. Your eyes found his throat. Watching him breathe, swallow, reminded you of the way his skin tasted…

Fuck.

You coughed again into your mask, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” and ignoring the way Poe whined as you let the curtain fall behind you.

Once you were a few steps away from him, you could breathe a little easier. The air was hot, fucking scalding through your mask, and you tilted your head back a bit to force yourself to breathe deeply. Slowly. Calmingly.

You reached up, touching the pad of the in-ear to firmly press it into your head, “Rosa? You copy?”

The woman’s high voice came through, louder than before. Her voice seemed to be directed straight into your skull. “Everything alright in there, doc?”

“Everything’s fine. Commander Dameron has symptoms we haven’t seen before and I think I’m contaminated. It’s not bad. I can work through it. But I’m going to take my comm out just in case.” You really didn’t need command hearing your unfiltered thoughts.

She grumbled, “Maker. You sure you’re alright?” You swore you could almost see the way her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Rosa. I’m good. Level 1 or less. Just make sure those doors stay locked until we come off it. Don’t open them for anyone. Even the General.”

She turned on the link long enough that you heard her laugh before she said, “Sounds good. If we need you, we’ll come through the cockpit.” A brief pause, “Stay safe, doc.”

“You too, Rosa.”

Pulling the plastic out of your ear, you double checked that you had it turned it off before returning to Poe’s side.

He relaxed the moment you were back in view, hips stilling on the bed. You tried not to stare at the obvious tent in his pants.

His eyes seemed to focus better than before, saying quietly, “I heard you. Talking to Rosa. You shouldn’t have touched me.”

He was right. It was probably your proximity to him that did it. But you had to do your job. That was your only priority, of course. Of course…

“Like I’ve ever been good at keeping my hands to myself with you around.” You froze as the words slipped past your lips, unable to stop them.

He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden accidental honesty, but his eyes glazed over again, trailing over you. “I miss your hands…” he groaned, biting his lip and sending a wave of heat through you.

“Careful, or I’m gonna put that gag back in.” Voice sounding forced even to your own ears, you sat down on the floor, your back resting against the bed.

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, until he repeated himself. “Take yours off. The… the mask. If you’ve got it…”

He was right. If you’d already been exposed, there wasn’t any point in keeping it on. It was hot. There was no one in there but you. You weren’t hurting anyone. You could take the mask off. It would be fine. You—

“Sweetheart…” Poe groaned, rattling the cuffs.

You ripped the mask off your face, tossing it near your medical kit.

“G-good. Can you… can you please take my arms down, honey?” he tugged at the cuffs again. If you had turned to look at him, you would have seen the desperation you knew was painted across his features. “It hurts.”

His whine sent a pang of guilt through you. “Why did you know what the drug was?” you asked, hoping it would distract him.

“It’s used in party drugs. The way it burns… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever—” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, despite the way his pants were twisted around his legs from hours of struggling. The fabric stuck against him and pulled, and he moaned, guttural and sweet and chipping away at the wall of self-control you had haphazardly built against him.

“Poe,” Meant to be chastising, the word landed somewhere in the realm of yearning and breathless.

“Anything, sweetheart. Please.” Rolling his head back and forth on the bedroll under his head, he sounded close to tears as he whined, “I think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t touch it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, helping to break the cloud of arousal circling your head. “I don’t think that’s a medically sound diagnosis, Commander.”

“Say that again…” he breathed.

“Medically—”

“No.”

Your sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the shuttle.

“Commander?”

He tilted his head back, groaning, “You say my title and I can’t stop thinking about being inside you.”

“It’s just the drugs.”

“You know it’s not just the drugs.” You could have sworn it was a growl with the way the low sound of his voice tore through you. “I need you to touch me, honey.”

“Will you stop talking if I do?”

“Come lay with me and give me one hand back. Then I’ll stop talking.”

Negotiating meant he was lucid, if only partially.

“I thought you said it makes it worse if I touch you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could block out the image that his soft gasps conjured in your mind.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“Always got a fucking answer for everything…” You grumbled, but it worked. Carefully, you eased yourself up off the floor and onto his small cot and leaned over him. One ring of the cuffs released with the click of a few buttons.

After freeing the gag from around his neck and tossing it to the floor, Poe’s free hand immediately reached for you, gripping your thigh. Even though the thick fabric of your pants, you could feel how warm he was. “Sweetheart…”

“You said you’d stop talking.”

“Lay down. Lay down and I’ll stop talking.”

You had agreed to it. And when his fingers dug into your thigh and the wave of relief washed over you at his touch, you weren’t about to argue.

So you laid down, back to him, letting his free hand roam up and down your side. Under your shirt. Down under the top of your pants that he didn’t bother to undo. There wasn’t any focus to his movements. Where he touched you, you relaxed, and as his touch moved on, your skin burned.

You didn’t notice the high-pitched whine leaving your parted lips until Poe’s hand came to rest on your throat.

“Does it hurt?” He traced from your jaw to your collarbone, over and over, putting just enough pressure on your neck that you were gasping.

“N-no… Are you…? Does it hurt for you?”

“This is better. You being close makes it better.”

“It’s just warm.” That was the only way to describe it. It was like he had set you on fire. Everywhere he had touched ached.

He groaned, breath hot against your ear as he rutted his hips against you. “Let me help, sweetheart…” No amount of squirming was going to make the heat go away and you couldn’t figure out how he could be so slow about all of this. “I can make you feel good. I can make it go away. Please…” His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your stomach, soothing the burning feeling that wracked your body.

You gripped his wrist, bringing his hand up under the hem of your shirt, needing his cooling touch. Arching your back, your ass grazed him and you groaned together.

“Please sweetheart.” he begged, voice low and sending vibrations through your back where he pressed against you. “Let my other hand down. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He rattled the cuff still glued to the wall for good measure.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Rolling over, you shoved him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Grinding down as you reached over him, you released his hands, leaving the cuffs on the wall, up and out of the way. He was quick to flip you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head as his lips met your neck.

“Pretty girl…” Poe murmured as his hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck. “Such a pretty girl for me… so fucking sweet…”

“Poe… Poe, please.” The whine left you before you could fully decide what you were begging for. Just more. More of him. His hands on your body. His lips on your skin.

The heaviness of the air weighed you to the cot, your knees down to the thin mattress as he slotted himself between your legs – still fully clothed – and you fell apart in his arms. Gasping into his mouth, body convulsing, you could barely move with the way he was positioned above you. You couldn’t open your eyes. You could barely breathe with the way every small movement sent searing heat straight to your core.

“Fuck.” His dark eyes focused on your heaving chest. “Do that again.”

He fought with the ties on your pants, tearing the sides as he forced them down your legs, taking your underwear with them.

It was all you could do to keep from screaming as he sunk two fingers into you.

Each movement of his fingers battled the heat coursing through you and let you come back to yourself, if only for a moment. His other hand splayed out on your stomach to keep you still. He pushed your shirt up and you ripped it over your head.

Your head spun as you realized he was still completely clothed.

Leaning down, he sunk his teeth into the inside of your thigh. Where you expected pain, pleasure ran down your legs. Following his trail of bite marks with soft kisses, up closer to where you needed him, he blew softly on your folds and you cried out, bucking off the cot.

You could hear the squeaking of the bed as you squirmed. Each laboured breath Poe took as he nestled himself between your trembling legs. The rasp in his voice as he murmured, “...wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen...” before he lowered his face to meet the apex of your thighs.

His mouth on you didn’t offer the relief you were so desperately searching for. It somehow made it worse, every swipe of his tongue followed by a trail of fire.

You pushed at his head but he barely responded. “Poe… Poe please… I need your cock…”

He hummed lightly against you, his tongue working you slowly, like you weren’t threatening to burn up underneath him.

Finally, you grabbed onto a handful of his curls and pulled.

He only looked up in mild annoyance. Gripping your wrist tight, he forced your hand to the cot. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Though the words were soft, his tone was gruff.

Poe slowed his soft circles on your clit and you whined again, pushing up into his mouth. “Stay still.” He mumbled against you.

Each of his motions were so methodical, you could have sworn you were the only one dealing with symptoms. Until he glanced up at you with his almost-black eyes.

You stopped breathing.

You weren’t afraid. You could never be afraid of Poe. But you’d never seen him so unhinged. Like he was going to jump, and you were coming with him.

He snatched up both your wrists, leaning over you. Tipping your head back, you tried to kiss him but he moved further, up above your head.

In one quick motion, he locked both your hands in the cuffs on the wall.

“I need it. Please. I need--” He didn’t finish the sentence, hooking his hands under your knees and spreading you out for him. His tongue found your clit again and you couldn’t hear your own scream over the rush of blood in your head.

He’d always been accommodating. He took constructive criticism well and was determined to get you off, no matter what he had to relearn, when the two of you had fucked before.

Now, he took each of those little pieces and, like he’d been given the code to your body, he took you apart.

Every stroke of his tongue would have seemed planned if not for the way he moaned into your skin, the way he grinded his hips into the cot beneath him. You gave up fighting against the cuffs, instead focusing on rolling your hips against his face.

He held still, letting you move the way you wanted. Letting you use his tongue. Guiding your hips. It wasn’t until he set you down and you opened your eyes that you realized that he was dripping with you.

His chin glistened as he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. His eyes didn't leave yours as he undid his pants, shucking them off and tossing them somewhere with his shirt. You didn't care. You didn’t care where his clothes were or where yours had disappeared to.

“My-- the cuffs. Poe, I need to touch you…”

Your hands were in his hair the moment he released you, pulling his mouth to yours. He tasted of you, and the heaviness in the air, and the familiarity of him that you’d grown so intoxicated by.

Ordinarily, he’d tease you. Just like this, your legs spread for him. He’d drag the head of his cock over you until you stopped threatening him, until you melted and became putty in his hands and your begging became wordless.

But he didn’t have the patience. You could see it in his face. He angled his hips, sliding into you slowly.

With this, there was relief. But it came as quick as it went and you were again whining under him, your cunt clenched tight around him.

He pushed deeper, his face tucked into your neck. “Relax, baby. Relax. You’re so-- so fucking…”

You didn’t know how he was going so slow. You didn’t know how he managed to stop, only halfway inside you.

All you knew was that you needed him.

You pulled his hips into yours. After two orgasms, there was no resistance. He bottomed out, gasping into your mouth. “Pretty girl…”

“Fu… Fuck me. Poe please please fuck me--” You pulled at his shoulders, his hair, grinding up into him as much as you could with him fully on top of you. “It hurts. Please…”

Whatever well of self control he’d been drawing from seemed to have dried up. Snapping his hips into yours, he kissed you.

His tongue dominated your mouth, not giving you space to breathe. Or think. Or do anything other than take what he was giving you. Your nails dug into his upper arms, leaving little crescent moons behind. His soft gasps of encouragement had you writhing beneath him.

“Perfect little… You take me so well, honey. Like you were fucking made for me…”

His words alone threatened to take you over the edge.

The burning came to a throbbing head in your core and you arched up into him, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. Anything to quell the fire inside you.

“Poe… Commander… P-please let me cum…” You weren’t in control of your words anymore. You weren’t in control of anything. “I need you.”

You wrapped your legs more tightly around him and his hips stuttered but he wasn’t stopping. Not for fucking anything.

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.” He growled against your neck.

And you unraveled.

The relief washed over you in waves as you lay beneath him. Between each peak, you could hear your own panting, feel the way your body fluttered around him.

You floated in the bliss.

Vaguely, you felt yourself roll over. Something cold dug into your side, but you couldn’t figure out how to move. Or figure out how to want to.

Your chest was still heaving as he traced along your ribs. A warm body came flush with your back. Fire trailed his dancing fingers.

“Sweetheart…” A soft moan at your ear. Breath, warm on your neck, sending a ripple through you. He pressed his hips forward, his hard cock sliding against your ass. “I need more. Please?”

You shifted your aching hips back towards him. “Please.”

You weren’t sure how long passed before you returned to normal – sated and thoroughly exhausted, but normal. Your skin no longer burned at the gentlest of touches. You could stand to look at him, to draw over the planes of his chest as he laid beside you without feeling the unyielding need for his cock inside you.

Your fingertips traced gently over the straining cords of muscle in his neck and he shuddered.

“You bit me.” He finally whispered.

You dissolved into a fit of giggles, curled up against his side. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed against his neck, kissing over the hickies you’d left behind.

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

“Where’d I bite you?” You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

He tapped his upper arm, right underneath a series of bite marks. Ducking your head, you kissed over them, murmuring soft ‘I’m sorry’s between pecks.

“It’s okay. Really.” He tapped under your chin and you met his gaze. “Was that okay? We’ve never used cuffs or anything before and I’m really sorry--”

You kissed him to cut him off. “I’m okay. I trust you. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled on top of you, an intensity in his eyes that would have scared you if you didn’t know him.

“I’m glad it was you.” Forehead pressed to yours, you shuddered as his soft breaths fanned across your lips. “I was hoping it would be you.”

Your breath caught. Gently, you brushed away the curls that fell in his face, tilting your face up and bringing your lips to his again.

He mumbled between kisses, “Can I take you for dinner?” You were too stunned to say anything, letting him kiss your bottom lip gently. He lingered at the corners of your mouth, leaving light kisses behind. “Hm? Will you let me take you out, sweetheart?”

“On a date?”

“If you don’t want it to be a date, it can just be a thank-you dinner--”

“It can be a date. Can it be a date?”

Giggling against your mouth, he said, “It can. I’d like it to be.”

“We should probably get out of this shuttle first.”

“Maybe put some clothes on before that?”

“Maybe.” Your nose brushed his. “Maybe I’d like to kiss you first.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron smut

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bamboo72498 · 2 years ago

Text

Find The Word Tag

This is my first time playing this game, so sorry if I do it wrong. Tagged by : @mrsmungus

Tagging: @thefifthmarauder @justlovely @bunysliper @bwayfan25 (and anyone else who wants to play!)

My words to find: shake, lost, never, past, rain Your words: blue, going, smile, ate, sleep

Shake- found in my Christmas gift exchange story for our ER discord

“I have no idea,” Kerry agrees with a shake of her head. Henry looked so much like Sandy it was scary.

Lost- found in an upcoming FLM chapter featuring a meet cute between Austin and Christine

“Sorry. I was finishing up a lab; I guess I lost track of time,” Christine replies remorseful.

Never- found in the next chapter of my Bones winter challenge

“If you can do it, so can it,” Christine says, puffing out she chest. She was scared but would never let Michael know that.

Past- found in another upcoming FLM chapter where Danielle meets Ashley’s family

The street was lined with cars and a group of boys playing catch with a football moved to the side as they drive past looking for a parking spot. “Are all those people at your grandma’s?”

Rain- this one was so hard to find! It’s not from a WIP, as this chapter has been posted, but I still like it. From chapter 4 of ‘Double Helix’

November 25th arrives cold and rainy, and, after their traditional birthday breakfast of cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate, and seeing their dad off to work with lots of extra kisses, Carol bundles her four-year-olds in coats and hats and mittens and takes them to finally meet their sister in person.

#writing #tag game #castle fanfiction #er fanfiction

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billiejs · 4 years ago

Note

Julie and Luke been best friends since childhood and now older and puberty hit there afraid to admit feelings for each other unroll they get paired for a project together.

I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written (based on an experiment I did in high school).

Julie/Luke, alive!AU, best friends to more than best friends, extreme fluff, 1,1k

More than (bio)chemistry

Julie met Luke when she was six and he was seven, at the after school ROCK BAND! program her mom had enlisted her in. She remembers that meeting well because he almost drove her away from the program before it could even begin: she was shy and the idea of sharing a room with a dozen other kids didn’t do much to put her at ease. The moment she’d walked into the room she had to run for cover behind the bass drum of the drum set, because a boy no taller than 3’5″ in a Jedi t-shirt was swinging an electric guitar around laughing like a maniac, shouting about wanting to be called Jimi Helix or something like that.

Ten years later, Julie knows that although Luke might have outgrown the Star Wars outfit, he’s still as excitable and unruly as that first day in ROCK BAND! when he’d ended up tripping over the amp cable and knocking out his two front teeth in the process.

And despite having been his best friend for ten years, Luke still terrifies her sometimes. Especially when he smiles at her after she helps him figure out a chord progression for a song they’re writing. Especially when they’re entranced by each other while harmonizing a duet and Julie knows, from the bottom of her heart, that nothing in the world matters to her more than Luke at that moment. He makes her feel vulnerable, he makes her feel powerful, he makes her want him. And that’s the scariest part of it all, because Luke isn’t just her best friend, he’s also her bandmate and songwriting partner. Luke is the embodiment of all the things she likes the most about her life, and Julie has no qualms keeping her feelings hidden if it means protecting what they already have. Julie doesn’t blame herself, though. There’s only so many love songs you can write and perform with a cute guy before you inevitably start falling for him.

On a much less romantic note, Luke is also going to make her fail Biochemistry.

“Stop it Luke, are you out of your mind?” Julie hisses, taking the boy’s hand in hers to stop him from messing with the Bunsen burner on their lab table.

“Relax, Jules,” a lazy grin spreads over his face and Luke runs his thumb along the veins in Julie’s right wrist. “I’ve done this already.”

Julie jerks her hand away when she realizes she’s been holding her breath for several seconds.

“You mean you’ve failed this already,” she points out. Luke shrugs noncommittally and rests his cheek on the cold lab table, watching her upside down.

“Who cares about school anyway?” He makes a show of yawning right when the teacher is looking at them and God, Julie is going to murder him.

“Come on, this experiment is kind of cool,” she murmurs, because they’ve had this argument a million times already and she hates the sad face Luke makes when they disagree.

Luke glances at the two test tubes in front of them, where white filaments of their DNA are clogging up in what looks like white little blobs.

“Exciting,” he replies, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “There’s only one reason I’m in this class anyway.”

Julie glances around the room, a weight in her stomach. She’s always wondered if the obvious crush that Martha, second row and pretty blue eyes, has on Luke is requited. She’s not sure she wants to find out.

“What is it?” She mutters anyway. Luke blinks at her and his cheeks get inexplicably pink for a second.

“It’s because you’re in it.” He says. Julie’s breath hitches in her throat. It’s not like they’re lacking quality time outside of school, because they spend almost every afternoon with Alex and Reggie in her garage. She feels the same goosebumps that have traveled over her skin a minute earlier, when Luke had traced the lines on her wrist with his thumb. She lets herself picture it for a moment - her and Luke, together. Luke knowing that when she sings “I never knew a love so real, we're heaven on earth” she’s not just stepping into the shoes of her songwriting alter-ego. She means every single word.

Julie racks her mind in search of an answer, but before she can find the right words, Mr. Adams slaps a little box in front of them, shattering the moment.

“Patterson, try not to ruin Molina’s GPA this year, will you?” The short, balding teacher adjusts his glasses on his nose to send a nasty look Luke’s way. Unbothered, Luke waits until he has his back to them, then makes a face at him. Julie stifles a snicker.

“Let’s see what shape it is, this time.” Luke opens the box and his expression softens. He empties the contents in his hand and shows it to Julie: it’s two little plastic hearts, transparent in color and empty on the inside. They’re supposed to put their DNA fragments inside once they’ve finished with the experiment - they even had to pay five dollars for those plastic charms.

“Cute,” Julie laughs, her breath short for some reason. Following the teacher’s instructions, she takes the permanent marker Luke hands her and signs her initials on one of the two tiny hearts.

Luke is toying with his, a strange pondering expression on his face.

Julie waits for him to snap out of it until she can’t take it anymore.

“What?” She says. The experiment is almost finished. Both of their DNAs are tiny white blobs swirling slowly inside the test tubes, almost perfectly aligned.

“I was thinking…” Luke clears his voice, and doesn’t look her in the eyes, “I was thinking, it would be cute to exchange them, wouldn’t it?”

Julie blinks, not sure she’s following.

“What?”

“I mean, the charms. The DNAs. We exchange them.”

“So… you put my DNA inside yours and I put yours inside mine?”

“Yeah,” Luke finally looks at her and his face is bright red, but his trademark cheeky smile is back. “So you always have a piece of me inside your heart.”

Julie stares, mouth hanging open, until Luke’s face begins to fall.

“Sorry, it’s a stupid idea, I don’t even know why I said that…”

He begins to shuffle away from Julie and she acts on instinct: she grabs Luke’s hand and exchanges the little plastic hearts, then proceeds to use the pipette to gently suck her DNA from the test tube and into the charm marked with the letters LP. She seals it and gives it back to Luke, who looks at her as if he’s never really seen her before.

“Just for the record,” Julie says, speaking before she starts doubting herself, “I don’t need a piece of your DNA inside a plastic charm to hold you in my heart, Luke. You’ve pretty much lived there rent-free for the last ten years.”

____________________________________________ Thank you for reading! Click here (x) for more cheesy silliness. ❤️👻❤️

#Jatp #Julie and the phantoms #jatp minific #juke #jukebox #my fics #juke fanfic

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realityhelixcreates · 1 year ago

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By Talos, This Can't be Happening pt 6: Bruma County Blues

Oh is it going to let me post this one? Marvelous!

Our heroes(citation needed) finally reach Bruma! What absolute horseshit awaits them there?

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions @whocares-idont

?~?~?~?~?

Helix thanked the elves profusely while Swag laid out their single bedroll. Yeah, this wasn't going to enforce the elopement theory at all. Oh well. It was probably better than saying oh yeah, we're super into each other, years long relationship, but we're both so traumatized by previous experiences that we're mutually afraid of commitment baybeeeeee~

Yeah no.

What they had was fine, and he didn't worry about it.

Helix and the elves got a fire started and some food cooking. The elves swapped stories of their people and their old home at Helix's curious prodding, sang elven folk songs in a lovely, flowing language Helix seemed able to understand. Hearing their words tumble from her lips lit a little flame in him.

It was funny. She could speak the languages of elves and dragons, demonic and celestial beings, but on Earth, only English. His grasp of Italian delighted her.

Well, it was very sexy after all.

While Helix caroused with the elves, Swag located the needle and thread he'd appropriated from the waystation, and began fixing his damaged clothes and backpack.

“Oh, you've a steady hand.” one of the elves pointed out. “Didn't think Nords were really into that sort of thing.”

“His family are tailors.” Helix lied rather easily. “From Markarth. That's how we met.”

“She's been my canvas ever since.” he said locking eyes with her over the fire. If they were going to craft this lie, they were gonna do it together. She smiled, and the elves exchanged knowing looks.

Yeah, yeah, they were adorable. But more importantly, they now had a more solid existence in this land. Just so long as they didn't run into anybody else from 'Markarth', wherever that was...

They ate dinner, and Swag finished repairing his things, then Mels bid the 'youngsters' retire in preparation for their early morning.

“Does he not realize that we're like, thirty-seven?” Swag whispered, once they'd crammed themselves into the bedroll.

“Maybe not.” Helix whispered back. “Elves live a really long time, so they might not be good at judging human ages. Besides, you still look fantastic.”

“Right back at'cha. You are timeless.”

“Here's hoping.”

With a quick smooch, they settled down.

Twin red stars in a twilit world, the air floral perfume. His eyes stung from incomprehensible beauty, scent, sound, sight, overwhelmed, but two red stars, always.

They blinked.

“Challenge.”

Feminine voice, everywhere at once, inside. A woman in a dress of flowing starlight, a statue given breath.

She lifted her arm and pointed to the west and green. A grimy man lifted his arm and pointed to the west and green. A monk lifted his arm and pointed to the west and

Red.

A path split, and split, and split again, into rays like starlight, starlight, starlight-

“Mornin' Starlight.”

They wore rings and lived a cozy life in a stone walled shop in the largest and most prosperous city in the world. She was happy, even though she barely remembered anything these these days, and he took what joy he could in caring for her.

Like starlight, starlight, starlight-

“Stay with me, Starlight.”

He knelt before the statue with her in his arms, like a Pieta in parody, making a pledge to the being whose evil crept up from the ground to claim the words from his mouth.

Rays like starlight-

“I miss you, Starlight.”

The rope was tight around his neck, and a thousand eyes were on him, waiting to see the ultimate fate of the Gray Fox, but he was simply relieved to be finally leaving this tiresome world behind.

Rays like starlight, which curled back in on themselves and disappeared as in dawn. There was no road before him. It was on him now, to step into that unknown, and set himself on one of many possible paths.

He lifted his foot.

He opened his eyes.

Nice and snug with Helix in their shared bedroll, and a gleaming white statue gazing down upon them.

Helix mumbled at his movement, floating into wakefulness.

“Mornin' Starlight.” he yawned. “Weird dreams?”

“Mnn. No...none at all.”

“You're awake? Excellent. Pack up and get prepared.” Mels said from the other side of the clearing. “I'm afraid I really can't let you stay any longer. This is no campsite, after all.”

It was fair. Back home, the churches talked a big game about mercy and generosity, but they sure as hell didn't let the homeless shack up in the sanctuary. The Daedra priest had shown more forbearance than them.

They got their things together, and tended to their hygiene as best they could, then followed the elves back to the main road.

“Hey sorry again about the troll.” Swag said, and the elves waved him off.

“It wasn't as if you did it on purpose.” Mels said “Who would expect such a thing to happen? I haven't heard of there being any trolls in these parts for many years.”

Swag could feel the eyes of the statue on him, mocking and amused. He bid the elves farewell, grabbed Helix firmly by the hand, and began walking off to the west.

“No more going off the road, okay?” Swag said. “If something is growing within arms reach, fine, but we can't get lost like that again. We're not equipped to take on monsters.”

“Agreed. We'll get to Bruma, and then do something to scrounge up enough money for some equipment. Don't know what yet, though.”

“You leave that to me. I've got skills. Now don't you judge.” he said, noticing her side-eying him.

“No, of course not. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret.”

He barked a short laugh.

“Baby, I regret so much. Don't worry, I won't do anything I wasn't already willing to do. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me anything else you know about this world?”

She spoke as they walked, about the world being created by Aedra and Daedra, about the moons being the body of the one who tricked them into doing it, and the sun being a hole torn in the firmament, created when the god of magic decided to abandon the project and return to his home dimension. About the great towers scattered across the world, places of enormous power that supposedly stabilized material reality.

The White-Gold Tower was still visible from the road, rising high and slender through the morning mists. Maybe it held the key to getting home?

The road began to wind upward again, though this time he could just barely see the top of a crenelated stone wall poking out above the snowy trees.

“You think that might be it?”

“I think that might be it.”

A city. Civilization at last, for whatever that meant here. Helix of Verdancy might be an ethereal forest witch, but Edward Nigma was definitely a city rat. The cities he was used to didn't have things like tall stone walls or guarded gates, but they also didn't have bandits and trolls and giant rats. Well not that kind of giant. You saw things on the Gotham subway, but still...not like that.

The gate guards wanted nothing more than their names and business, and that was easy enough. Helix and Edward, and just passing through~

That was all this world needed from them, but he felt like it was going to try and take more.

Bruma looked old. Lived in, but built on the bones of history, in the way one could go walking down the street in Europe and be suddenly confronted by a building from the sixteen hundreds. A reminder that people had been here for centuries before you, and would be after.

The city was split into clear business and residential districts, centrally divided by a huge stone cathedral. It looked like the kind of church that could be found in the older portions of Gotham, though he doubted there were any crosses hung in this one. Houses clustered around it, like chicks around a dark, brooding hen, or orphans around a dark, brooding bat, while shops and public buildings squatted on stone tiers like a collection on display.

Helix approached a guard who was warming himself next to a large brazier.

“Pardon. We're new here, could you point us to a boarding house?”

The guardsman looked the two of them up and down, and from the slight sneer on his face, Swag guessed they didn't make a favorable impression.

“Yeah, you'll want the Tap and Tack. It's...inexpensive. Other side of the chapel. Keep on the right side of the law while you're here.” he said dismissively.

Helix shrugged and they headed toward the chapel, Swag throwing one annoyed glance back over his shoulder at the brusque guardsman.

Dick.

The Tap and Tack certainly looked...inexpensive. Like a rickety shack that would blow over in a storm more like, but it was clearly a high traffic area, and warm inside. Customers filled the common room which smelled strongly of ale, bread, and smoke, and they were shouted at upon entering to hang up any weapons they had that were larger than a dagger.

Helix held up her hands.

“Sorry man, they don't come off.”

A few half-hearted laughs from other patrons, and they were promptly ignored again, having to shove their way up to the bar.

“How much for a room and a meal?” Helix asked.

The innkeeper eyed them both with the same dismissive attitude the guard had shown them, and shrugged.

“Three septims usually, but if you're short, I'll take that polypore you got.”

Helix had collected so many plants that she'd had to string them around her waist and over her shoulders. She removed a yellow mushroom from a string, and plopped it down on the counter. Swag had watched her pry the sulfurous thing off a rotten stump two days ago, and could not imagine at the time what use it might be.

The innkeeper supplied two wooden bowls and utensils, half a loaf of bread, and directed them to the stew pot over the fire. They opted to eat in the room provided, instead of trying to squeeze in at one of the crowded common room tables.

Swag had hoped for a bed, but there was only another furry bedroll. At least it was clean.

Helix lit the lamp and settled on the floor, laying out her large collection of plant parts, organizing and bundling them up. She selected a handful of stalks, and began stripping their silvery leaves.

“Is that going into the soup?” Swag asked, going through their backpacks, taking inventory of their remaining supplies. One of their water bottles had been cracked in the troll attack and was slowly leaking. Their bread had been soaking it up all day, and Swag drooped a little more with each handful of mushy goop he scooped out.

What a damn shame. All that effort, wasted.

Her lips tightened slightly at the sight of the loss.

“Sorry.” he said. “Troll fucked it up.”

“Better that than you.”

She took his hand, pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles, and went back to her silvery leaves.

“These aren't going into the soup. They could, but they're more valuable for other things.”

“They smell great.” it was a green, herbaceous scent, hard to place yet somehow familiar.

“It's mugwort. Were you ever into absinthe?”

“I've tried it. Great aesthetics, but didn't enjoy it like I thought I would.”

“Mugwort and wormwood are related. Tomorrow, I will seek out whatever mage, alchemist, or apothecary this city has to offer, and I will sell this, along with whatever else I've gathered that I can get decent value from. Some of these are uncommon, not things that can really be cultivated. I might also be able to get some information out of whoever I sell to. Some clue about what to do next. How to proceed.”

They ate in relative silence, Helix getting her wild wares prepared while Swag examined his knife, looking it over for dirt, damage, or rust. There were two bedrolls now, so they had space to stretch out, but...

They pulled the furry sleeping bags close to one another, so they could rest to the sounds of each other's breath.

?~?~?~?~?

#swag!riddler #Helix #elder scrolls

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