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joels6string · 2 years

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More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x f!OC

Chapter 3 - A Helping Hand

Summary: Settling in Jackson has proved far more difficult than you originally imagined.

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, slow burn, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, eventual smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix-it fic

“I had asked you,” you continued, voice shaking and hollow as the scar on the side of your leg began to twinge, “for one thing…and you didn’t—“ “You’re damn right I didn’t! I have lost enough,” his tone was hard and unwavering, unapologetic but desperate, “I don’t need any more blood on my hands.”

Chapter 2 || Series Masterlist

What exactly did it mean to acclimate? Was it an actual change that slowly rippled through your body and psyche alike rewriting scripts and forging new paths to lead you to new emotions, new experiences, a new life? Or was it simply taking the old and shoving it behind a door, your new reality boarding it up with whatever small blockades it could find to keep the past at bay? Every slam of it against the feeble barrier threatening to send you rappelling into ruin. That’s what it felt like.

Tommy and Maria had agreed to let you out on patrol with one catch, you spend half your required working time training up the patrolmen on what Tommy had referred to as a “dying art.” Three days a week you rode through the paths of the mountains that still felt more like home than the four walls that housed you, the other two or three dragging along as you tried to harness what little patience your frame contained to help the hopeless with the collection of bows and quivers that went unused in the armory.

“No,” you sighed, stomping over to a kid that couldn’t be more than 17 and lifting his elbow, “you’ll go straight into the ground.”

“Sorry…” he mumbled, guilt joining your agitation, the dark clouds rolling in representing your souring mood just as much as the storm you’d been warned about this morning.

“Pack it up!” Maria called, relief flooding you as she stopped beside you, “Not you.”

As much as Maria Miller was trying to become a friend, she was also the leader of Jackson, although she hated the title. Maria made decisions when she had to and never more, leaving the residents of the town to figure out as much on their own without risking anarchy, the rules established long ago and abided by without much resistance. On most days, she felt like an equal, but when it was time for business it was made very clear. Her face hardened, spine straightened, and her intonation sharpened, it made your stomach drop to the dirt.

“When’s the last time you went to the market?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest, “Joel says you haven’t been by. And Indy told Tommy you gave her your voucher last week.”

“Tommy gave me a bunch—“ you began, but Maria’s hand shooting into the air snapped your lips shut.

“We gave you enough for a week, maybe two. It’s been almost a month.”

And you still had more than half of it left. Although your fresh produce was eaten quickly so as not to waste it, the meat had gone untouched and the dried goods were used sparingly, meticulously rationed and stored for longevity. As Maria awaited a response you wouldn’t give her, the words you knew she’d respond with echoed in your ears. You’re not out there anymore.

“Go see Joel,” she finally conceded in your silence, “He wants his freezer back.”

If Joel wasn’t at the Tipsy Bison, he’d wait another day. Your stomach had yet to adjust to the food that was served, but scotch was something that had always gone down easy. The fire at the back of your throat was a comforting heat, that warmth radiating out from your belly to your fingers and loosening tension you always seemed to forget was there.

“When are you gonna pay this tab, Deacon?” Seth growled as he slid a second your way, the almost empty bar quiet enough to almost welcome his attempts at debt collection.

“Here ya go,” the sound of a plan backfiring drawled from your left, “Should cover it.”

The stool creaked beneath his weight as he took a seat, the glass perched between your fingers no longer feeling like a chalice of relief as Seth hummed in approval at Joel’s currency of choice.

“Fan of venison, Seth?” you taunted before draining your glass, sucking air through your teeth as you passed it back to him, “Trade ya.”

“He’s got more than enough to cover it,” Joel growled, Seth’s gaze sliding over menacingly to find an unwavering hazel stare only a fool would argue with, “You drink too much.”

“How would you know?”

“Cause I just paid your debt.”

“Technically I paid…”

“Technically.”

The silence, it was always so easy. Maybe it was because you both enjoyed it, that had already been established. The confidence of familiarity was a balm. This mutual respect born from the instinct to survive had morphed into whatever sat heavy in the inches separating your body from his, a constant weight that was both comforting and tangible.

“You got a haircut,” you finally chimed, enjoying the way the lines around his eyes deepened as he furrowed his brow.

“Yeah,” his voice practically vibrated in your chest, “Better than doin’ it myself.”

“I like it when it’s longer.”

He paused, your statement catching him off guard and derailing his intentions. You were looking just as thin as you were a month ago while both he and Ellie had packed on a few healthy pounds. The purple beneath your eyes was still dark and your skin sallow, and he hadn’t been the only one to notice.

“Ellie says there ain’t shit to eat at your place.”

Was everyone watching you?

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not hosting a dinner party anytime soon,” you replied, eyes focused forward though you could feel his own fixated on your face.

“Funny you mention that. Ellie insists you come by tonight, she found herself a cookbook. Tommy and Maria’ll be there too.”

“My ceiling leaks. So, might have to accept.”

“It what?”

The change in his face wasn’t subtle. His body went rigid as his attention snapped entirely to you, the speed at which he moved causing you to flinch and your eyes turn to find the source of his alertness. Then, you realized it was you.

“My ceiling leaks. It’s not a huge deal,” you brushed off, remembering the first summer rain that had woken you from a rare deep sleep a few days after moving in, “it’s just upstairs. I sleep on the cou—“

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, “Why the hell are you livin’ in a house with a leaking roof?”

Because it had been more than anything you’d been given before. Misery hadn’t turned you around on the map to gratitude as you’d begun navigating this new, disorienting life. The same four walls welcomed you home every night, gates and guards protecting a space you didn’t fear the people walking between like the ones before it. You’d smiled here, laughed, and despite your instance that you didn’t belong, the residents of Jackson had done nothing but prove you wrong at every turn. If the roof leaked, then so be it.

“I didn’t know who to ask,” you answered after a pause, just needing something to say, and you immediately regretted it the moment his nostrils flared.

“Me!” He sounded almost offended that it needed to be stated, “You ain’t eatin’, I’d bet my last dollar you ain’t sleepin’—“

“Yeah well, you don’t have a dollar so…”

Every muscle fiber in his body twitched with the urge to walk the hell away from you until the forests captured in the color of your eyes welcomed him home again.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he muttered, getting a drink of his own from Seth who still lingered close by, “Put this on her new tab.”

The amber liquid burned on the way down, igniting the fire kindling in his belly further. Muscle defined the freckle-dusted stretch of your arms, the tank top you wore snug across your torso, and your hair hung down from the half-braided updo you sported like a curtain cascading down your shoulders. You looked tense enough to snap, did he piss you off that bad?

“Hey Joel,” a voice too sweet called out from the door, his attention snapping instantly over to a woman you had yet to be introduced to, “Tommy needs you. Horde.”

“God damnit.”

“Maria is going to see Ellie.”

“Alright then.”

He felt you leave before he saw it, the rush of air your quick departure blew against his back had his attention snapping from Francine in front of him to you storming out of the door. The way your fiery locks stood in stark contrast to the darkened skies like an eternal flame, not even the rain pouring from the skies enough to snuff you out.

“Ready?” Francine asked after an awkward pause, her voice wary and confused.

“Yeah,” he grunted, pouring a second glass Seth had clearly sensed was necessary back in a single toss before venturing into the downpour.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Finally, those kitchen pots had a purpose. Enshrouded in the dark that had settled over the town, you sat on the edge of the bed, your eyes following each droplet of water as it plunked down against the metal, each pop immersing you back to a more familiar world. The putrid smell of the damp underground tunnels you’d found yourself crawling through more often than you’d liked transported you back, a shiver shooting up your spine as the reminder of the bone-chilling cold and decaying remnants of a world long-dead burrowed in your chest.

It was like a siren song the way that curved bow of wood sang out from the night. It sat right beside your back door, your hands aching to feel its taut string and tattered quiver. If the rain soaked you to the bone, at least you had a healthy supply of dry clothes to put on upon your return home. And a hot shower.

Your boots squeaked along with the old stairs as you stampeded down, a clap of thundering masking the slam of your door against the siding as you ran out into the rain, the drops cooling your sweat-slicked skin. The air was heavy and humid, the petrichor filling your nostrils so comforting you contemplated bottling it up and saving it for the next episode of melancholy that overtook you.

Upon moving in, Joel had somehow ensured a few bales of hay made it to your backyard. With the first fire of your bolt into the dense, compacted grass, you were reminded you had yet to thank him for that. It was too late for it now.

Within minutes you were soaked to the skin, your clothes clinging to your body in ways that felt too familiar and too pleasant. This shouldn’t be satisfying, but the flashes of lightning across the sky illuminating the mountainscape before your eyes welcomed you into its treacherous embrace.

Even through the pouring rain and booming thunder, you heard the crunch of a rock beneath a boot, your own feet too solidly planted to be the culprit. Your hand shot to your belt as you whirled, the blade of your knife mere centimeters away from a figure kept hidden by the darkness. When a white-hot blaze seared across the landscape again, the hazel eyes you’d seen haunting your dreams boring down on you flared, his expression nothing short of perturbed by his current predicament.

“Why do you have that?” he asked with an air of annoyance, his rough, calloused fingers plucking the weapon free from your iron grip.

“Never know,” you snapped, turning your attention back to the collection of arrows accumulating in your target, “Why are you here?”

“Walkin’ home.”

“Your house is closer to the stables than mine.”

“I took the long way.”

The arrow’s song as it soared through the air broke the silence that had reclaimed the space, and despite his intrusion, it wasn’t lost on you that your grip was slightly more relaxed, your jaw less tense.

“Lemme look at the ceiling,” he sighed, your fingers freezing as they ran along the feathers perched between them.

“It’s fine,” you lied, knowing the pot you’d used to catch the droplets was probably near full, “I’m already soaked.”

“Your god damn roof leaks—“

“I don’t care!”

He’d begun to close distance, the way his sodden T-shirt stuck to his body not lost on you as you dared a peek through the corners of your eyes. When he pulled the bow from your hand, you didn’t protest, instead widening the crevice left between you into a canyon as you approached the edge of your yard and plucked each arrow free carefully. The heads were still dry, the innermost layers of the bricks of hay still dry, unaffected by what was happening at the surface.

“Why don’t you go inside and dry off?” he suggested, this time you hadn’t heard him approach.

“I prefer it out here,” you replied.

“I’m startin’ to pick up on that.”

“Aren’t you perceptive?”

That quip had his face hardening. His nostrils flared before his palm swallowed his chin and mouth, his attempts to regulate his irritation failing. It had been weeks since you’d spoken to him, hell you’d barely held a conversation with him since you got here, and he hated how much that bothered him. He’d kept up with you through Ellie, and even she’d grown worried. When the initial shock of settling here had worn off, it had been replaced with something far more sinister. Something everyone had come to find concern in.

“Go eat somethin’” he sighed, “I brought you food—”

“For fucks sake,” you muttered beneath your breath, “Just give it up already.”

“Give what up?” His voice thundered along with the skies. “We ain’t out there anymore! Stop acting like it!”

“I’m not your responsibility anymore!”

“I just wanna help—“

“I never asked for your help, Joel!”

From the moment you’d fired that arrow off to land between his feet as he approached the building you’d been hidden in, you’d never asked him for help. It was Ellie that had insisted you tag along, and who were you to give a kid the weight of guilt to carry? You were burdened enough by it, saving her from that had been worth any cost. So every time he’d offered to keep you going, to find you a better place to settle, you’d accepted. And that landed you here, in a house you knew nothing about leading a life you were ill-suited for.

There was an undeniable tug you felt towards the man standing three feet away, staring at you with confusion and apprehension. It terrified you. The way your eyes shot around your empty bedroom searching for him when you woke with a scream and how your fingers brushed over his neat handwriting in the patrol logs; it made you want to run. You just couldn’t be sure in which direction.

“I had asked you,” you continued, voice shaking and hollow as the scar on the side of your leg began to twinge, “for one thing…and you didn’t—“

“You’re damn right I didn’t! I have lost enough,” his tone was hard and unwavering, unapologetic but desperate, “I don’t need any more blood on my hands.”

“Am I your penance then? The balm to your scathed conscience? Fix me and you’re absolved of your sins?”

“It ain’t like that…”

“It is exactly like that. You should have left me where you found me.”

It was like a knife to his chest. Your face was unreadable, hardened like stone, the night too dark to see if that flicker of vulnerability was sparkling in your eye. He’d seen it before. But even that might not have been enough to convince him that your words had been a lie.

“No,” was all he gave, it was all he needed to say, and when your mouth opened to retort he was already prepping to stop you in your tracks.

“What are you two knuckleheads doin’ out in the rain?” Tommy’s lighthearted voice sliced through the tension, both of your shoulders relaxing as he came into view, “You know there’s a whole house behind ya?”

“I was just going in,” you answered, eyes still locked on Joel, his not willing to lose whatever battle of wills you’d entered.

“Well, before you do, be ready at 0700 tomorrow. Both of you. We’re cleanin’ up.”

“Cleaning up what?”

“Oh, you didn’t tell her?”

No. Joel had somehow forgotten about the horde of 60 he and Tommy had stumbled upon. Not that informing you of that was why he’d come here in the first place. He listened as Tommy filled you in, begging your face to change, the corners of your lips to lift even slightly, any hint that the rage you’d been hurling at him had subsided. But you gave him nothing, simply nodding at Tommy’s instructions to be at the stables and leaving him to dwell on this exchange overnight.

“What’s the deal with you and her anyway?” Tommy inquired with a mischievous lilt as the light of your bedroom began to glow.

“How do you mean?” Maybe playing dumb would work.

“I ain’t ever seen you so smitten before.”

The reaction was too over the top, Joel knew it and Tommy certainly did. A theatrical wave of the hand and too loud a scoff was telling, Tommy’s smirk signaling the failure of his ability to keep the lid on whatever was brewing and ready to burst.

“The hell are you on about?” Joel snapped, just because he had given himself away didn’t mean he had to admit it.

“Oh c’mon Joel, I’ve known you most of your life. You think I can’t pick up on a thing or two?”

“Boy, you forget I’ve done all this already?”

“Please. We both know Rebecca wasn’t real. That was obligation. This is somethin’ different.”

Ire blossomed across his cheeks, that wasn’t a name he ever wanted to hear again. It didn’t matter that the wounds she’d left behind were over three decades old, they’d never quite scabbed over, the slightest scrape enough to reopen them entirely and send blood oozing over every clean surface he’d been able to wipe the evidence free from.

“Don’t…” Joel cautioned, malice thick in his gruff timbre.

“You brought her all the way here,” Tommy pressed, “Why?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Because you feel somethin’. That’s why.”

Your silhouette caught the corner of his eye, the curtains maintaining your privacy as he watched you pace past the window. He could practically feel your anxiety, the urge to storm in and quiet these demons that ran rampant in your head quelled by your final words to him.

You should have left me where you found me.

“Tell me the ground doesn’t feel more solid beneath those boots when she’s around.” Tommy’s insistence was only making this worse, harder to ignore.

“I ain’t listenin’ to this,” he sneered, it was his turn to run now, “You got your happy white picket life. Don’t shove it on me.”

“Shove what? God forbid you be content for a god damn moment of your life, right? Can’t be Joel anymore if you crack a fuckin’ smile.”

“That’s enough.”

Tommy’s hands went up in surrender, but Joel was well aware the war was far from over. In the years after Rebecca, he’d done the same thing, attempts at hooking Joel up with the women that threw themselves at him, each date ending in disaster until he’d finally put a stop to it. He hated that Tommy might finally be right this time, the ground did feel more solid when he found himself wandering through your gaze, the weight of you clinging to his torso a comfort he’d come to miss.

“Her ceiling leaks,” Joel parted with as he turned, his bed calling him in from the rain, “Fix it.”

Chapter 4

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction

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penandswords · 3 months

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About | Mobile Edition!

General Info | Name: Rima Hayashi Age: 20 (Early 20s) Birthday: July 31st Height: 5 feet Quirk: Empathy | Post 1 | Post 2 - Her Empath Quirk Is Direct Touch, and direct Eye Contact based. - It works in 2 ways, she Can SENSE someone's emotions, and Project her emotions onto others. - This Quirks Weakness is awareness / Avoiding Touch / Or just avoiding eye contact. Occupation: Marketer / Digital Designer - At Endeavors Agency (Full Time) College Student (Part Time) Favorite Hero: HAWKS

Bio: (I am shoving this under a Read More because it is LONG)

Before (Canon Storyline Start 5+ Years before) (Rima at 15 - 16) _________________________________ Rima once lived in the countryside of japan. She is part of a large family composed of minor villains. Who had the generational belief that THOSE without quirks are beneath them. ( Headcanon Post ) Originally, Rima was suppose to take over the leadership role. But when their beliefs lead to the murder of a close friend, Rima made the choice to resist the future intended for her. The family was NOT aware that Rima's Quirkless friend had connections to an important figure in France. AS a result Endeavor was assigned to the case. They made plans to ambush him in the city in an attempt to avoid a ProHero coming to their small town. Rima, Made the choice that she would NOT be part of that plan. Instead she pretended to go along with it, just until she could enact her own plan. _________________________________ Leaving Home( 4ish years before Canon Storyline. ) (Rima at 16) _________________________________ On the night of her 16th birthday, Rima boarded a train to the city. She applied to UA behind her families back, and even sent warning that her leaving home would cause problems. She KNEW there was a risk. Her Younger Brother Rin, ended up hi-jacking the train in an attempt to make her turn around. Lucky for Rima A Pro-hero happened to be on the same train. With Rima's knowledge on her family member's quirk. She assisted her hero with navigating the situation to the best of her ability. The situation was resolved with a single major injury to her left shoulder, that landed her in the hospital. UA Was NOT her only destination. And she could not waste time sitting in a hospital. She snuck out, and went straight to Endeavors Agency with the minimal proof she had against her family, and information on the plan they would be doing. After dealing with the event, and Everything involved she filed for emancipation / and for a job at Endeavors agency. She started at UA shortly after that! _________________________________ During UA ( 4 - 2 Years BEFORE CAnon Storyline) (Rima Age 16 - 18) _________________________________ Rima Spent her UA days, Working as a Student Intern at Endeavors Agency, AND attending her UA classes. (IN the General Studies) Occasionally she would assist with giving information on her family members. (As members showed up, AND as she recalled specific details). Her parents did make a few attempt to get her back, BUT eventually gave up when she turned 18. When she graduated, she was moved into the marketing department at Endeavors agency, and applied for college) _________________________________ Current! (2 Years Before Canon Storyline - Current) (Rima age 18 - 20+) _________________________________ Currently Rima is a part time college student, and works at Endeavors Agency full time. While her primary department is marketing, she does have training from her Student Internship to assist on the phones, and will not hesitate to jump in and help when things get chaotic. She puts a lot of effort in being as useful as she can at her job. Both in her department and outside of her department.

#About #Long POST #/AH HA I DID IT i AM DONE THIS took so much time omg/

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selamat-linting · 8 months

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so anyway, there used to be this girl staying in one of the rooms our neighbor rented. lets call her F. one day F had to move and instead she stayed at my old house. i was too young for my mom to explain why but over the years i managed to connect the dots on my own. she got pregnant out of wedlock, her mom doesnt approve of her relationship and its not like the guy is eager on taking responsibility anyway. abortion is illegal here. and i guess somewhere along the way she had to lose her job?

anyway, F was living at my mom's place for a few weeks. i was a severe insomniac even as a kid and its nice to have someone to play with when i couldnt sleep. we watched animal documentaries and she taught me how to play board games like monopoly. during those days, she liked to talk about her siblings. especially this one girl who is a bit younger than me. F said she was a tomboy, and has always been a good, easy kid even in the womb. you see, when her mom was pregnant with her sister, they went through some marital problems that forced her mom to start working again. F was grateful her sister didnt make her mom sick so much and she was never a particularly fussy baby.

one day, F gathered the courage to see her mom again. she took me to her house. we met her little sister. at first i thought she was a boy, until i saw that she's wearing a necklace. it was the girl F liked to talk about. and she told me to play with her sister.

so we set off. this girl, lets call her C, she told me all of her favorite play spots. we walked around the fish market by the sea, we played in this park that used to be an old training ground for the military, it was amazing. i was ten or eleven years old at the time, and i thought C was the coolest girl alive. she could walk through an obstacle course without struggling, she knows how to fish, and she went on adventures almost every day. all i had going for me was that im good at browsing the internet and playing video games.

i wondered why C didnt have other kids waiting right by the door just to play with her. she was nice. definitely nicer than the ones i see at school. but then when we're in the middle of walking back, a bunch of kids saw us together and they start calling us a lesbian. C's cheery demeanor drops a bit and when i turned my head, she told me to just keep walking and ignore them. i remember feeling like i had to say something but i just didnt know what. years later, i think i know what kid me wanted to say, but by then it was too late.

anyway, we played again some more, and went back to her house. i promised next time we see each other its gonna be my turn to show her my stomping grounds (the internet). i ate dinner at their place, and F gave me a ride home. that was the last time i ever saw her.

okay no, not really. we met again. F decide to send the baby up for adoption to a relative of her ex-boyfriend. it was really sad. she couldnt stop crying. but after that, she seems to recover. at least she got herself a new job, a new place to stay, and the problem was over. on eid, she brought C at my house. yeah, C wore boy clothes on eid too. i was a bit envious of her ngl. we went on an arcade, met a kid who beg on the road outside the mall and she spent such a long time talking with them. i think C almost cried. she was a good kid. And then we played with toy guns, and C pranked a woman walking besides us by whistling at her. it was kinda mean ngl.

but thats it. there's no grand resolution. or any answer if F get to see her baby again one day. i went to middle school and liked another girl. F's visit got rarer and rarer and eventually become none as my mom moved out of our old house. with her gone, so as my continued friendship with C. we dont really have personal phone numbers as a kid and i cant find her on facebook.

when i was working at my first job, whenever i get terribly lonely, i'd get on a bus and stop around the fish market we used to hang out at. i walked by the bridge where she used to fish, near a row of stilt houses perched on top of the sea. it was almost like a pilgrimage. i hoped i'll came across C while walking around, or that i'll remember the way to get to her house. no such luck. pretty sure i'll never see her again, but i do wish her well. who knows man, maybe she'll taught me how to fish for the first time. i might know fish facts but i dont know shit about catching them.

#posts about my life #if she took me fishing she had to be the one hooking the bait on my gear #because im too squeamish to ever touch worms. ew! yuck!

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autumnalwalker · 1 year

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Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @druidx.

My words to find were decision, device, debt, & depth.

Passing the tag to @kahvilahuhut, @writingpotato07, @writernopal, @cljordan-imperium, and the usual open tag for anyone else.

Your words shall be hour, went, common, & water.

Decision: The Archivist's Journal, Day 97

It seemed like a fun enough time to me, and a good chance to further integrate myself with local customs, so I accepted. Here’s hoping I’m not regretting my decision an hour in when I’m covered head to toe in black cloth and the temperature is rising with the sun.

Device: The Archivist's Journal, Day 131

Well, levels of enthusiasm about the blackboard were mixed, but overall positive. A few of the kids were disappointed that it wasn’t something more spectacular, but even in this place people have an appetite for novelty and that goes doubly-so for children. I gave all of them a turn to try writing out their names on the board and followed up by congratulating them on being the first class in the Village ever to use such a device and went on a bit about how even after those names are erased the traces of those first impressions will still be etched upon the board. Even if a new layer of paint is applied, those signatures will still be there, unseen underneath. Today they’ve signed their names into a part of the Village’s history.

Debt: The Archivist's Journal, Day 30

Back on topic, I’m not completely sure what the differences are between a seamstress and a tailor, but either there’s a lot of overlap or this seamstress, Kala I think her name was, was both. Or at any rate, the measurement taking and garment altering she did were things I personally associate with the word “tailor”. She was brusque, but ultimately respectful, both with us and her assistants. The old archivist’s clothes were handed over for alteration, and I was given a date to come pick them up. There were also some finished pieces hanging up that would normally have been taken out on market day that Lin encouraged me to try on to see if there was anything that fit well enough without needing alteration. As it happened, there was. Lin handled the negotiation of payment; a token amount in coin and a promise that this service now would be remembered as an advance on the next time Kala needed to call upon the services of the doctor and/or archivist. It seems that sort of business agreement and social debt is common around here, especially with occupations like ours that near everyone is expected to need eventually.

Depth: The Archivist's Journal, Day 31

After a great deal of internal debate in a surprisingly short amount of time I joined her, albeit much more cautious in my immersion. First just a finger in the water for a couple of minutes to see the effects and verify that they were temporary and not painful, then a foot dangled over the side before slowly lowering myself in as Lin alternated between teasing and cheering me on. I kept one hand on the boat at first, keenly aware of the depth of the water beneath me and the awkwardness of trying to swim whilst fully clothed, but eventually I let go and swam the short distance over to where Lin was paddling in place.

The water itself was actually quite clear and it became apparent that the lights (other than those on the fish and other animals) were coming up from the lakebed far below. Clear enough that I was easily able to look down and see my own skin and clothes change color and begin to glow. Unnerving yes, but at the same time exhilarating in its own right. I’d taken long enough to get in that Lin’s face and neck had returned to normal from her initial plunge, giving the illusion of a disembodied face floating above the water. I imagine I looked much the same. Up until she splashed me anyway. I returned the favor and we played like that for a while; laughing and splashing until we both looked like creatures of void and starlight and laid floating on backs watching the true stars above us until we realized we were getting tired enough that we needed to get back in the boat and row back to shore.

#find the word tag #manuscript search tag #tag game #writing tag games #my writing #writeblr #The Archivist's Journal

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blinditcms · 1 year

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FAIZAN MIRZA on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the age 39 YEAR OLD looks like RIZ AHMED, but i don’t really see it. while the CEO is known for being GALANT my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be CONTROLLING. i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song FIVE MORE MINUTES –– JONAS BROTHERS

BASIC INFORMATION:

name: faizan ali mirza. nicknames: fai. pronouns: he/him. gender: cis man. age: thirty - nine. date of birth: june 28th, ‘83. place of birth: london, england. astrological sign: cancer. orientation: bisexual.

APPEARANCE:

height: five foot eight. hair colour: black. eye colour: brown. wardrobe style: smart casual , lots of muted colours , button ups , etc. tattoos: none. piercings: none.

HEALTH:

physical ailments: n/a. mental ailments: n/a. alcohol use: socially. drug use: cocaine, socially. addictions: none.

PERSONALITY:

positive traits: meticulous, galant, centred. negative traits: controlling, obsessive, detached. mbti: ENTJ-T.

ACTIVITIES & SKILLS:

skills: coding, web design, public speaking, leadership. weaknesses: taking accountability, patience. languages spoken: english, urdu.

FAMILY:

father: ali mirza ( alive, sixty - one ) mother: harpreet bajwa mirza ( alive , fifty - nine ) younger sister: tbd mirza ( alive, between 21 - 24 ) pets: pumpkin ( hognose snake , 2 )

BACKGROUND

faizan was born on south london , to young parents ali and harpreet mirza. ali sold computers and harpreet was a stay - at - home mother. ali was a born salesman and was soon offered a new job in ontario when faizan was three. from that moment on , they didn't stay in the same place for more than two years at a time. from ontario , they moved to san diego , then to cape town , new delhi , new york city , canberra , islamabad , and eventually when faizan was close to finishing high school ... they settled in san jose , close to silicon valley , because harpreet was pregnant again.

for a while , bitterness towards his little sister remained. anger that his family had settled when they had her , but not for him. as she grew up , he did his best to avoid her. he begrudgingly babysat , doing just enough not to put her in harms' way , but little enough for his parents not to want to get him to do it again. eventually. they stopped asking. instead of babysitting , he spent his evenings in the local board game cafes or at lan parties. he took lessons in how to code , visiting the company his father had risen up in rank , now deputy director of sales , learning from the programmers there and eventually going to college to study business. every weekend , however , he was developing games , coding with friends , making them small websites , and generally keeping himself entertained.

when he finished university , he went and worked for the same company his father worked for. he worked there for three years before he had to get out of there and get some distance from his family. while he'd been at university , he'd gotten over the despise for his sister , but being so close to his family was driving him up the wall. he started his own company , building websites and applications for large businesses and began making a name for himself. soon , he was getting offers from google , facebook , twitter. he worked for google for a while , but eventually was drawn back to his own business. wallet overflowed and he was often found among the hollywood elite.

then , he met someone who genuinely inspired him. he'd made applications and websites before , mostly for others , though some of his own and they all had decent success. meeting juliette arias , hearing her story , falling in love , it gave him purpose. he created onlyfans in 2021 , creating it for the purpose of providing a safe space for creators of all content to be paid for their work and have safeguarding in place. from the minute he created the website , he knew what people would use it for , though he marketed it as a website for all kinds of creators to show their craft and get paid fairly. he's gotten quite a bit of heat since and been catapulted into stardom , showing up in talk shows , podcasts , interviews and even being invited for cameos in films and red carpets. with the money rolling in ... he'll take it happily.

#hillzhqsintro #* ☆ faizan mirza. | muse.

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illegiblewords · 2 years

Photo

Navarre Shepherd

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #hyur #midlander #hyur midlander #ffxiv #ff14 #gpose #ffxiv screenshot #I SPENT SO LONG TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WTF I WANTED TO DO WITH HANDS/LEGS/FEET HOLY SHIT #I GROUND BOTH DUSK VIGIL AND SIRENSONG SEA TRYING TO FIGURE OUT IF THOSE BOOTS WOULD ADDRESS THE COMPOSITION ISSUES I WAS HAVING #EVENTUALLY GAVE UP AND WENT BACK TO THE MARKET BOARD #AT WHICH POINT I REALIZED THAT ADAMANTITE GREAVES REPEATED THE TRIANGLE PATTERN AND EMBELISHMENT OF THE TOP #AND I FELT MY SOUL LEAVE MY BODY LIL BIT #BUT THEN IT WAS JUST OKAY BUT WHAT ABOUT PANTS #DID NOT WANT UNDUE CROTCH ATTENTION #BUT ALSO LIKE IF IT WAS COMPLETELY PLAIN IT WOULD LOOK EMPTY #AND LO THERE WAS A LOW LEVEL PANT OPTION THAT DYED GREAT FOR THAT #But yeah holy fuck this was hard but I'm hype with the result

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noforkingclue · 3 years

Note

Ooh, I’d love to see Homelander with a reader who has really good regenerative abilities (from their blood and DNA). They could be Vought’s healing rat for tests and stuff. They can also find comfort in each other from being Vought’s puppet and plaything.

I tried to go for an protective verging on possessive vibe. Hope you guys enjoy the fic!

Title: His Healer

Warnings: abuse of America's healthcare system

The Boys tag list: @captainofmybigwetdream, @scraftskhu35

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian

You hugged your knees to your chest as you looked at the people entering Madelyn’s office. She gave you what you guessed was meant to be a charming smile but in reality it chilled you to the bone. You quickly looked away and at the whiteboard that was being set up. It was rare that you were allowed out of your floor. Vought had declare you too precious to go outside without strict supervision. However, that didn’t stop them from hurting you. They could get very creative, in ways that you didn’t know humans could go.

“So y/n,” said Madelyn eventually, “How have you been?”

“Oh y’know,” you shrugged and scratched at your wrist, where an IV had been moments before, the mark already healing, “The usual.”

“Good. Good. I’m sure you’d like to know why you are here today.”

“Well… Yeah?”

Madelyn got up from behind her desk and walked over to you. You looked at her suspiciously as she sat down next to you.

“Marketing has a presentation they want you to watch.”

“As you know,” one of the marketing guys got up and approached the whiteboard, “You are a vital part of the Vought family. The glue that holds the Seven together.”

“The healing grace that mends broken bones and stitches skin back together.” Said the other

You winced slightly at that. You remembered the training sessions. The amount of broken bones you had to repair when Black Noir went too far. You hated the sound of bones cracking back together, seeing blood seep back into bodies… It wasn’t as fun or as glamorous as Vought made it out to be.

“I mean,” the first guy shrugged, “Who doesn’t want healing powers in this day?”

“Medical bills being so high.” Said Two as he nodded sadly

“So we came up with this!”

One pulled away at the cover and displayed the board at you. Madelyn smiled widely at you while you looked at it in horror.

“Medicine.” You said weakly

“No,” said One, “Definitely not medicine.”

“Highly recommended vitamins,” said Two, “Approved by some of the country’s top doctors.”

“And,” One gestured to you, “The healing angel of Vought. Who doesn’t want to be touched by grace? To have you, personally, help them through their time of need?”

“With these pills,” said Two, “You too can have the healing powers of y/n helping you out.”

“Branding subject to change.” Said One with a shrug

“Woah wait,” you jumped to your feet and looked around the room, “My powers? Are you saying that my DNA is going to be in these pills? Is that legal? Is that safe?”

“No,” said One quickly, “Not your DNA.”

“Just heavily implied. Everyone knows that your powers can’t hurt anyone.” Said Two

“Y/n,” said Madelyn firmly, “Sit down. This has nothing to do with you.”

“My face is going to be on that bottle!”

“It’s already been approved.” Madelyn continued

“Without my permission!”

“Y/n, honey,” Madelyn stood up and cupped your cheeks, “Do you really think-“

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone in the room froze as Homelander marched in. The noise on his boots was the only sound in the room and the people from marketing shrunk back as he approached the board. Homelander studied it, his face eerily blank, before he said,

“What is this?”

“Just some new products,” said Madelyn as she dropped her hands, “Getting y/n’s points up.”

“I thought we agreed,” Homelander continued, “That you wouldn’t touch her.”

“The board decided-“

“And I decided,” Homelander interrupted, “That this,” he pointed at the poster, “Would not happen.”

He walked over to you and grabbed your arm. When he noticed you wince he loosened his grip but didn’t let go. Instead he pulled you against his chest and turned you around to look back at the poster. You wrinkled your nose and it and Homelander bent don’t and whispered in your ear,

“Don’t worry. You’ve always got me.”

A flash of red light caused you to immediately close your eyes. There was a yelp of shock and the sudden smell of burning. You heard Madelyn sigh from behind you and when you opened your eyes the poster was destroyed. The marketing guys were cowering in the corner but Homelander ignored them. Instead he scooped you into his arms and marched out of the door.

“We’ll be discussing this later.” Madelyn called

“No we won’t.” Homelander yelled back

He didn’t put you down until he was back in you room. You could feel your face burning the entire journey, people staring at you as Homelander carried you like a child. When you got back to your room he gently put you on your bed before burying his face against your stomach. You put your hand on his head and laced your fingers through his hair.

“I shouldn’t have let them do that,” Homelander’s voice was muffled against your stomach, “You were gone and I panicked.”

“I’ll always be here.” You muttered softly

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”

“Shh,” you closed your eyes as you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m here. They haven’t hurt me.”

Homelander looked up at you, his eyes glowing faintly red. You both knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt the corners of your mouth twitch as he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I’ll kill them all if they ever did,” he said as he held your hand and laced your fingers together, “All of them. I don’t care how many bodies there’ll be as long as you’re happy.”

“You don’t need-“

“I will,” he squeezed you hand, “Remember what they did to us? We’re all we have. Remember that.”

You sighed and nodded.

“I do,” you said softly, knowing that he was right, “I do.”

#fanfiction #the boys #reader insert #request #homelander #homelander x reader

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

Note

Uhm its my first time asking for the type of suggestions? 😂 Sorry for my English 🎉

If the four lords are died in the game and they will be reincarnated.. what are their professions or what life they get in their 2nd life?

Thank you 😊😊❤️❤️

hey so i kinda went a little off track so this is sorta like a modern au type of thing but i hope it’s okay

Alcina Dimitrescu

The Lady Dimitrescu is nothing short of CEO of her own company.

She’s the owner of a large winery where she produces her own wines and even some spirits but her company is especially known for the “maidens blood”.

Alcina is all class and style with tailor made suits and dresses that she wears to the office.

Her favourite outfits are the expensive gowns she gets to wear at fun raisers and wine tastings that potential business partners host.

Her daughters are all on the board of directors and mange the wineries while she works at the corporate office.

Alcina owns a large house in the valley where they grow the grapes used for the wine. It’s a large house big enough for her and her daughters to stay when they’re not working.

Having lots of wealth means she’s got an acquired taste for art and she loves to collect old renaissance paintings. She even had a family portrait done with her daughters.

Even though she’s a bit of a workaholic and very passionate about her job (especially with her daughters due to inherit the company one day) she’s still in love with having some down time for herself.

A weekend away at her holiday house is spent curled up on the couch in her nightgown, a glass of wine in hand and the fire place going while she reads her gothic novels.

Donna Beneveinto

Donna lives peacefully in a quiet town where works at a tailor shop. It’s one of those old fashioned ones with a bell on the wooden door that rings each time someone steps in and the floorboards creek under her shoes.

She was taken under the wing but the old lady that owned the store and she considers her as something of a mother figure to her. She was sweet and let Donna bring Angie to work with her.

The two spend their days making small talk and sewing on the garments the locals bring in.

They often have tea together, either on their break or in the afternoon where the sweet old lady brings in little cakes while Donna brings her homemade herbal tea.

As apart of the tailoring store, customers can also buy fabrics and other handmade pieces like towels, clothes, curtains and blankets as a way to make money and the old lady is adored by the locals. Donna was instantly included into the local community, getting to go to markets and gatherings.

The old lady even let Donna sell her dolls along with everything else in the store and it was very popular amongst the children.

Donna is very happy in her local community and they make her feel like she belongs and is loved, what more could she ask for?

Salvatore Moreau

Sal is a physician in a hospital in the big city. He’s always had a passion to help people and became determined at a young age that he wanted to enter medicine.

He came from a small town and worked as the local doctor, making house trips and assisting people that he grew up with. It always made him smile knowing that he made an impact and was able to care for people he loved.

Eventually he moved to the city where he could get a higher education and stayed there to work afterwards where he’s found his passion to help others.

He works in the children’s ward and always does his best to make them smile when they come in with broken arms from skateboarding or falling off the trampoline.

When he was a child he had an accident which left him with some deformities on his face and neck. It was one of the reasons why he fell in love with medicine when he was treated with love and care in the hospital himself.

Sal never let’s his appearance get to him and uses it for his advantage when he sees a child crying from their injuries or illness. He always reassures them with a soft smile as he lets them know it’ll be okay, he’s experienced it too and they’re not alone.

On his days off he curls up under a blanket with a block of cheese and a hot chocolate (a weird combination but he loves it) while he watches those cheesy medical shows and the occasional romcom.

He’s got a pet axolotl that he loves and spoils. In some ways it reminds him of himself by his appearance and its like his comfort creature and best friend.

Karl Heisenberg

Growing up was difficult since Karl was a bit of a troublemaker but he was extremely smart and gifted.

He didn’t get along with teachers at school so he ended up dropping out and getting a job at the local mechanic.

Karl immediately had a gift for working with metal, understanding blueprints and instruction manuals with minimal assistance or training.

One day he was working on a fancy car that belonged to a tech giant that owned a company in the big city. When he offered Karl a job working as an engineer he never looked back.

He’s incredibly happy with his job since it gave him the opportunity to get away from his old life that was full of deviancy and troublemaking. For Karl, it’s never been about making money or being successful, all he wants is a peaceful life where he can be happy.

Work lets Karl be flexible where some days him and his small team of co-workers are designing new blueprints while others are spent testing them out in their studio.

Karl owns a grungy apartment in the city, there’s always bottles of beer, takeout left on the countertops and the ashtray is always overflowing but it’s home and he loves it nonetheless.

He owns a cat that he found as a kitten in the alleyway one day. The poor thing was cold and hungry so he brought it inside and dished out the questionable can of tuna in the cabinet.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #salvatore moreau #salvatore moreau x reader #resident evil village #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil #asks #prompt

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atozfic · 3 years

Text

ateez & pirate roles.

pairing: ateez x gn!reader.

warnings: pirate au,, ateez as their roles on the ship + details of their relationship with their s/o. abuse (both physical and verbal), death, crimes, use of weapons, just general dark shit that comes along with a pirate au.

word count. 4.5k.

hyde’s input. this is messy! i used this to get inspired and have an idea of what the characters in siren will be like, so don’t treat this like it’s meant to be good or some masterpiece, it’s literally just me messing around with backstories and shit.

park seonghwa as the first mate.

so i know everyone wants me to say he’s the quartermaster

because of the kingdom stage

but i just don’t see him that way for this au,

so stfu and deal with it. /j

anyway, on with the story of how seonghwa ended up in the crew.

he spent his life on the sea.

his whole childhood was filled with periods of traveling all over the many nations, via the water.

this is all down to the fact his father was a member of the navy.

a very well respected general.

he was righteous,

and unafraid of teaching young seonghwa to be that way too.

to the naked eye, seonghwa had been groomed into the perfect little soldier from the moment he was born.

so, what went wrong?

a question many had asked his own father, after his rebellion.

the general blamed it on outsider forces.

“those damn kids he started hanging around, always knew they were no good for my son.”

those damn kids of course refers to kim hongjoong, jeong yunho and song mingi.

the three had been caught trying to steal from the navy ship, by seonghwa himself.

with his little soldier uniform on,

that to hongjoong didn’t look that little considering this was just another man who towered over him in height,

the three thieves were more than ready to be handed into an officer.

their jaws fell slack and their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when seonghwa offered up a better way for them to steal:

him.

for months they got away with it,

stealing little trinkets, all holding varying degrees of wealth.

seonghwa would hand it over to the three boys,

who would then sell it off at a market.

eventually, and slowly, more boys joined their little scheme

some from the north, some from the south, some from oceans away.

when they were a healthy number of eight,

they planned their biggest robbery thus far:

a ship.

the very same navy ship seonghwa had grown up on.

at the perfect time,

when all the soldiers had docked sparse for those left behind to scrub the deck,

the eight men gathered on board,

struck down the few bodies who stood in the way of their goal

and raised their flag.

the ship was renamed,

from his majesty’s royal naval artillery #5839

to the aurora.

no longer a navy blue colour,

the ship has been modified to best suit the pirates taste:

black and rugged looking.

as first mate,

there are times where the boys fear him more than their own captain.

seonghwa is, at his roots, a man raised for the navy.

he’s cold and calculated and often way too good at masking his own feelings.

he tends to deal with the unpleasantries that hongjoong deems unworthy of his time.

scolding, punishing, torturing are all things he’s had to become accustomed to,

whether he be the one inflicting or receiving it.

he’s the most technically talented when it comes to swordsmanship

and was the one to properly train the other boys.

it took some time but the seven men soon grew to recognise his little ticks.

they know that when he looks the other way it’s because he’s suppressing a smile,

or that when he purses his lips, he’s actually fighting back laughter.

when he glares, it’s just because the sun is in his eyes.

which gave them all the incentive to grow comfortable enough to start teasing their first mate,

small pranks of dunking a bucket of water on him

or mocking him at all times of the day.

never going far enough to actually annoy the soldier turned pirate.

overall, he’s equally respected as he is clowned on board.

we’ve already established how seonghwa met you here.

so let’s instead focus on the finer details of your relationship.

the two of you get off to a rocky start once you join the crew.

it’s not because he’s rude to you,

but because he’s so cold and unforthcoming about his desires.

literally doesn’t make a move until you force him to,

after the bathtub incident,

aka seonghwa getting you wet in more ways than one,

his walls slowly started to unravel.

he doesn’t become the most affectionate

nor the most vocal man when it comes to the feelings he holds for you.

but he does make sure to keep a hand on the small of your back wherever you two go

and he gifts you little treasures

and he pulls you against him every night like you’re his anchor

and he trusts you with the less than pretty details of his childhood.

surely that’s enough to get across how he feels about you.

“it’s no big deal.” he always does this, downplays the things he does with you in. one hand reaches up to sheepishly rub at the back of his neck and the sight of him alone, shy, restrained and unconfident, makes you wish you could kiss, freely, without the fear of his possible rejection. instead, you continue to admire the seashell he’d picked up for you, admiring the way the sunlight reflected off of it. “just saw it and thought of you, y’know?”

kim hongjoong as the captain.

he ended up forming the crew when [redacted].

as the captain, he is [redacted].

when it comes to your relationship, hongjoong’s [redacted].

answering all these questions would spoil siren (hongjoong’s installment of the disney reimagined series), therefore you’re just going to have to wait to find out.

for a sneak peak at captain hongjoong’s and your story, check out my pirate!ateez reactions.

jeong yunho as the quartermaster.

he ended up joining the crew when [redacted].

i’m kidding, dw, this one won’t be redacted.

for real this time,

yunho growing up to be a pirate was the last thing anyone expected of him.

actually, that probably applies to most of the boys, so get used to hearing it.

he was the golden boy of his village.

tall, well-mannered and kind.

and son to one the most liked couples among the villagers.

if seonghwa’s youth was spent on a boat,

yunho’s was spent inside the four walls of his parents’ inn.

whether he was helping out in the kitchen,

cleaning the rooms,

or charming the customers,

jeong yunho was a constant source of comfort to anyone in his vicinity.

apart from frequently being seen at the inn,

he could also be found with his lifelong friend, song mingi.

the very same mingi who rushed into his place

in the early hours of the morning,

hands soaked in blood

and a panicked look in his eye.

“i need... i have to go, yun. i’ll die if i don’t.”

after spending everyday by the man’s side,

yunho wasn’t about to part from it.

so they left that very morning,

nothing but small bags on their shoulders

and short, concise letters to their loved ones,

begging them to not worry.

the plan was to make money via stealing from those more wealthy.

only, the two friends forgot to counter in the fact neither of them had the stealth to pick-pocket

nor the wits to orchestrate a proper plan.

luckily for them, they ran into a man

inside an old, dirty tavern

who soon introduced himself as hongjoong and offered them a partnership in thievery.

thievery very quickly turned into piracy,

once they achieved a ship.

landed such an important role on the ship thanks to being one of the original founding members of the crew.

the fact he’s more level-headed when it comes to anger than the captain and the first mate also helps.

given his position, he’s capable of overruling a decision made by hongjoong.

which has saved their asses more than once.

because, for such a small frame, hongjoong packs a lot of anger

and no decision made in anger is a good one.

when he’s not babysitting seongjoong,

he’s found with mingi and jongho,

ransacking ships they defeat

and overseeing the navigation of the ship.

on board, he’s viewed as the easiest and fairest to deal with

at least out of the three who hold the most power.

was the first to befriend every member when they joined.

really, he’s still that same sweet boy from the inn

but now he carries a weapon and an air of authority.

authority he loses all control of when it comes to you.

from the moment you both met,

with yunho rescuing you from your imprisonment,

he’s felt this burning need to protect you.

to a degree where, admittedly, it might be a little unhealthy.

of course he knows you’re capable of taking care of yourself

but that doesn’t mean he won’t try make your life as easy

and as danger free as possible.

a pirate’s life makes that a little difficult

and, after months of arguing with him to let you pull your weight on the ship,

he reluctantly let’s you learn how to manage a weapon.

just in case there’s a rare moment he’s not close enough to protect you.

so far, it’s only happened a handful of times,

each ending with him scolding you,

contradicting his angry tone with the way he holds you against him.

“you should’ve listened to me.” all night, you’d been awaiting it. through dinner, through drinks afterwards, through dressing for bed, you were waiting for yunho to say what had been nagging at his brain all day, from the moment you and wooyoung stepped back on board, you with a gash on your upper arm and him with an apologetic look in his eyes. “i told you wooyoung is a shit swordsman, you should only try learn from me.”

kang yeosang as the surgeon.

again, yeosang + pirate life = unexpected.

his life was full of love and comfort,

never having to worry about a lack of food

or the need for a roof over his head.

yeosang had things made for him,

all thanks to his father being the mayor of his town.

unlike yunho, he wasn’t the golden boy

and, unlike seonghwa, his father wasn’t trying to turn him into another version of himself.

he was always just... there

during his childhood.

people of course knew he was the son of the mayor

and made sure to be extra nice for that very same reason.

but he never went out of his way to make himself known.

really, the first time people took note of him as anything more than just the boy related to the mayor

was when he was a teenager

and growing into his looks.

and again when the rumours began to spread of his relationship with the baker’s child.

the final time they took notice of him was when he was crouched over his father’s body,

clothes slowly reddening

just like his teary eyes.

“stop looking and go get help! please!”

no one expected such a booming, deep, guttural yell to come from a boy who’d always been so quiet.

then again, who could remain calm whilst watching the light slowly slip out of their father’s eyes?

no one in his hometown knows what came of yeosang,

all they know is he left with the night

and left two people behind, one he didn’t even know about.

he’s the seventh of the boys to join the crew.

by that time, they were already beginning to form their plan

to take a ship.

when they succeed, he’s the last one to be given a role on board.

in fact, his role was never officially chosen by the captain,

but rather a role he took on at his own free will.

a surgeon,

something so simple yet a key element on the ship.

because what use are their weapons

if they don’t know how to patch themselves up after a fight?

learnt everything he knows from the books he found in the ship’s infirmary,

a supply left behind from it’s time as a navy vessel.

apart from taking care of anything medical,

he also aids yunho in his activities

whether that be gathering supplies

or loading the canons.

now back to the baker’s child we mentioned.

aka you.

yeosang’s affection and love for you is something that he has to build up courage to express.

your return alone to his life was unpredicted,

but the added on pressure of your son,

a child he’s not fully convinced isn’t his own,

is something that crushes him under the weight of the pressure to do well by you both.

he’s somewhere in the middle of seonghwa and yunho when it comes to how he treats you.

he doesn’t hover over you 24/7

yet he doesn’t treat you so formally you would think he doesn’t care about you.

he’s there when you need him

and he’s gone when you need space.

prefers to let you come to him,

to call the shots and set the pace for how things escalate between you both.

at the end of the day, he’s more than aware of the fact he left you,

he has no right to come back to you before you’re ready,

before you want him.

and if that day never comes,

where you fully go back to him,

he’s happy enough to just be able to keep a watchful eye over you and your son’s safety.

“there, see?” yeosang asks, voice as soft as warm butter, just like it always is when he bends down to talk to your son. right now, he’s got one hand supporting the heavy sword and another carefully helping the little boy wrap his hand around the hilt of it, finally giving into the child’s begging to try use his sword, even if it is under constant supervision from yeosang. it’s heartwarming to watch how naturally the man and the boy get along, like they were made to be that way. “hold it like this, with your thumb here.”

choi san as the gunner.

choi san + piracy = no one being surprised.

this one’s lowkey sad

so buckle in, baby.

in the little sea-side town he grew up in,

not a single person expected much from him.

unless, of course, it involved anything criminal.

to the untrained eye,

choi san was nothing more than a delinquent.

a boy without a single moral in his body

and a thirst for wrecking havoc.

he was known for starting fights,

known for stealing from anyone and anything,

known for having run-ins with the law.

but, what wasn’t known was the reality behind his situation.

the reality being his lack of family,

lack of home,

lack of love.

unwanted from the very same day he was born,

his mother left him on the beach,

down by the shore,

not even a blanket to protect him from the brutal wind.

thankfully, or regretfully,

a nun found him,

still wailing and begging for food.

as he grew older

and came to understand what had happened to him,

he came to the conclusion that his mother was hoping the sea would drag him along with it,

swallow him under it’s waves.

if not even you own creator wants you alive,

why bother living?

most of his crimes were his attempts to get himself to guillotine

but only wound up with him being banished from his hometown,

sworn to not return.

“if i catch you anywhere near here, boy, i’ll cut you down myself.”

he hit the road,

nothing to his name

and little care for his own safety.

landed himself a job as a swab for a pirate ship.

all those hours of scrubbing the decks and being spat on by the grimy pirates

was just time spent watching and observing how they behaved,

how they spoke to people,

how they wielded a sword and aimed their guns and fired their canons.

he was the fifth member to join the crew.

whilst making a run for supplies,

he overheard four boys talking over a plan

and a very, very rough drawing of a ship.

finally made his presence known when he heard them incorrectly listing the roles on board a pirate ship.

easy to say, he was very relieved to be anointed the gunner of the ship instead of a swab.

despite seonghwa being better in the technical department of artillery,

he’s far more experienced from witnessing it first hand

and his skills are far superior.

therefore, once the members all had a basic idea of how to fight,

he took over for seonghwa in training them further.

he’s surprisingly affectionate

yet still lacks the trust to share much about himself and his past with the members,

luckily they never pry and let him do his own thing,

no questions asked.

except for when it comes to you.

because all of them can see there’s something more than just friendship between you both.

and if they couldn’t see it in the fleeting stares

and the stolen glances,

then they heard it most nights in the form of a creaking bed frame

and not-so-quiet breathy moans.

it’s wooyoung and yunho who confront him to his face,

demanding to know if you two are together.

but san just shrugs it off,

claiming you’re two individuals and not a pair.

even if he does feel a twinge of jealousy when you give attention to another member

or you allow yourself to be flirted with in a tavern

or when you slip out of bed before he can be blessed with the sight of waking up next to you

or when you go to seonghwa for help in combat training.

or... you get the point, right?

with little trust

and no experience in love

choi san only knows how to keep you at a safe distance,

no matter how much he wants to cross it.

“you could ask me, you know?” his voice rings in the darkness of your shared room, nothing but the space between your two beds between you two yet he feels oceans away. he’s felt distant so much recently, that you’re beginning to forget just how much you like the sound of his voice. “if you want to train, i mean. you don’t need to go to seonghwa. i’m better anyway.”

song mingi as the sailing master.

another kinda sad one.

except he at least has a family, unlike san.

but that by no means does that equate to him being loved by said family.

it’s pitiful to admit but song mingi was a mistake.

at least in the eyes of his father.

in the lead up to his birth,

his parents were excited,

elated to be starting their own little family.

but when the time came for mingi to arrive,

his birth brought along someone’s death.

his mother,

in too much pain

and having lost too much blood,

passed away before she could even hold her baby in her arms,

he lost both parents on that day,

his father too broken from the loss of his wife to care for his infant.

growing up, his household was risky territory.

some days, his father would ignore him.

mingi liked those days best.

others, he yelled and screamed about how mingi had murdered his own mother.

mingi cried on those days.

on the worst of days,

typically the ones when his father had been drinking,

the insults turned into pounding fists

and harsh kicks.

on those days, he ran to yunho’s place.

until that fateful night,

where the old man pulled a knife out on him

stabbing it into the back of his shoulder just as he turned to run out the house.

he arrived at yunho’s place more bloodied up than ever before,

spewing out nonsensical words of needing to leave

that only a friend like yunho would ever agree to.

“i promised you when we were kids that i would kill you for stealing my crush, and i’ll be damned if that dick kills you before me.”

out of the two boys, he was the first to approach hongjoong in the tavern that they met.

at first, he was only heading over to ask why the smaller man had been listening in on their conversation

yet he wound up agreeing to sit down and share a beer with the stranger,

urging yunho over too.

when all was said and done

and they achieved their ship,

the rest of the crew were a little surprised by mingi’s ability for memorising

and calculating distances.

that and his more muscular build landed him his role of the sailing master,

rarely seen without a map

and typically found stood at the ship’s wheel.

is the least enthusiastic about fighting among the boys.

they all respect it,

never grueling him for participating less in any fight

and allowing him to focus more on loitering whichever enemy ship they conquer.

he carries a sword but it’s more for safety than to actually start something with someone.

in the long run, song mingi is just a giant dork

who loves maps,

and ships

and owns a sword he’s used about four times in his life.

in fact, you’ve used it more than he has.

just like how your relationship began,

with you taking care of him in his injured state

and nursing him back to health,

it continues just like that.

with you taking care of him,

you protecting him,

you holding him.

and he repays you for it,

with his declarations of love

and goofy smiles

and warm limbs that keep your shared bed warm on the colder nights out at sea.

to be honest,

you’re probably feeding into his mommy and daddy issues

but that’s okay.

he’s just happy to be shown what it feels like to be loved unconditionally.

“careful, please.” it’s nothing more than a whisper yet it sends a shiver of guilt down your spine, especially paired with the heartbroken look in his eyes as he soothes his thumb over the bruise on your cheek. without saying a word, he leans down to press his lips against it, like that’ll cure your pain away. it oddly lessens it. “i don’t like seeing you hurt.”

jung wooyoung as the cook.

welcome back to the final installment of “no one expected him to become a pirate”!

he grew up loved,

and cherished

and well taken care of.

the love both he and his parents had for each other was widely seen by all of his village.

the happiest day of the family of three’s life was the day they became four.

the day jung wooyoung became a big brother.

even if it was nothing out of the ordinary for siblings to argue or not get along,

especially those with a fair age gap between them,

wooyoung and his younger brother were never like that.

everything wooyoung done,

his brother repeated in tiny.

if wooyoung smiled,

so did the boy.

if he ran straight into the sea,

so would his little brother.

if he accidentally sent a football flying through the window of a neighbouring house,

the little boy would try and repeat after him,

only to be scooped up by wooyoung

who would already be running from the angry yells of the home’s owner.

everything turned to shit the one night.

it was during one of his shifts in a local tavern,

where he’d been hired as a cook.

the shift dragged on later than expected

and he never returned home till the early hours of the morning.

he’d come to never wish he’d returned.

the door was open wide for the world to see upon his return.

everything uncomfortably silent.

he smelt the blood before he saw it,

smeared all over the walls of the home.

too much to not carry death along with it.

he found his mother first,

her once blue dress now a dark, scary, ugly red.

his father was further along in the room,

or part of him was.

his detached head was a little further away,

with a note stapled onto his forehead.

“blackbeard sends his regards.”

it was sickeningly relieving to not find his brother’s body,

only to make his gut wrench more when he realized what that meant.

they’d taken him.

as he watched the sunrise for the first time in his life that day,

he grew a desire for revenge,

to do to those pirates what they’d done to him.

he was the last to join the crew,

by accident.

originally, he’d believed them to be workers of blackbeard’s crew.

only to realize they were far too clueless and new to being a pirate to be part of such a fearsome crew.

but they were his ticket into the pirate life,

his ticket onto the sea.

originally he only wanted to be their cook,

no interest in learning the craft of carrying a sword

not when he knew one had cut down his family.

but push came to shove and he had no choice but to learn,

to not only defend himself

but to stop anymore pirates from taking the new family he’d found

in those seven men.

and then, later, to stop anyone from taking you.

it’s during a sunrise

when you’re both tired

and clinging to each other for warmth

as you watch from the deck

when he tells you about his past,

about the reason he’d become the man he is.

about his need to get his little brother back.

when you reply with encouraging words,

when you tell him to make that the crew’s next mission,

after they find hongjoong's stolen treasure,

he tells you he loves you.

tells you he wants to always love you.

tells you you’re his new family,

and that he can’t wait for you to meet his brother.

“do you know he ate peanut butter and jelly, because of me?” he continues to talk, and you let him, knowing it’s good to get these things off his chest. you want to pull him closer, to erase the shake in his voice but you don’t want to make him feel like he can’t grieve, like he can't hurt in front of you. “the kid hated it yet still struggled to eat it just to be like me.”

choi jongho as the boatswain.

choi jongho is what can only be described as a victim of circumstance.

it came as no surprise to anyone that he became a pirate

because he was born as one.

as the son of one of the most feared pirate’s on the sea,

blackbeard.

his childhood was a mess of strangers taking care of him,

from simple crew mates

to whores hired for a new nights to keep the pirates company.

his father rarely spoke to him,

unless he was being scolded

or given an order.

the orders usually consisted of scrubbing the decks,

changing dirty bed sheets

or cleaning the blood off of his father’s shoes.

when he reached his early teens,

he began to grow fed up of his life,

of his father,

of the boat he’d never once been allowed to step foot off of.

it takes a few failed attempts

and quite a few beatings

fro jongho to successfully sneak off board

and run off to find his own way in life.

really hadn’t meant to become a pirate again,

he just wanted friends.

and he was a pretty good thief too,

so the fact becoming friends with the small group also earnt him money was a bonus.

was the sixth to join them,

yet the last to realize they had the intention of stealing aboat and becoming pirates.

he really thought they were just joking about it,

until they were raising their flags

and taking off with the ship.

thanks to being the youngest,

he’s anointed the role of a boatswain

which doesn’t exactly render him powerless

but it is incredibly boring to know your job is just to make sure the supplies are in order.

and that the ship is maintained.

typically aids yunho and mingi in ransacking any ships they conquer.

or he can be found clowning around with wooyoung,

both of them seeming rather dim-witted on the exterior from the way they carry themselves.

but are two of the sneakiest,

most cunning and unforgiving pirates.

he’s never told the boys about his past.

no matter how much they all care for each other

and have become closer than brothers

he knows it’ll all change the moment they find out who is father is,

the moment they realize he has a target on his back

and that he’s accidentally carried them right into the firing zone.

in his mind, it’s easier if they never know about he danger they’re running from.

and that applies to you too.

at first he suspected you knew,

that you were a worker for his father.

especially when you’d kidnapped him on that fateful day you both met.

but is surprised to find you’ve never brought it up.

not even after you two have been...

whatever you two are, for so long.

he doesn’t avoid defining your relationship because of an aversion to it,

like san,

but rather because he doesn’t know what it is that’s happening between you both.

all he knows is you check up on each other,

fix each other’s wounds,

seek each other out in crowds

and occasionally share a bed.

the occasionally part is slowly becoming frequently.

and the’s enough for jongho,

he’d rather not explicitly have the world know about you

and your questionable affection for him,

because it’ll only be another head to add to his father’s hit-list.

“sorry, i didn’t know you were sleeping.” he apologises yet makes no attempt to leave. in fact, he pulls the door more open and steps in your room. the white shirt hangs loosely on his chest, yet tightens up at his broad shoulders, truly a vision to wake up to. “just wanted to check if you were okay, i know you got hit pretty badly during the raid.”

#ateez headcanons #ateez scenarios #ateez pirate au

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cherrysha · 4 years

Text

Run

Remember when i posted abt lumberjack a/b/o Uvo? well here it is!! shoutout again to ram fr helping me with this piece!! This is my first attempt at a longer story with more plot. Part of me wanted to break it up into more chapters but I like the build up thats there by keeping it in one piece. Its my take on abo (I know some people love it and some absolutely hate it but the lewding potential was too much for me to pass up) Very loosely based off of this song by hozier

Summary: Alphas are rare, Omegas even moreso. The standard for society is being a Beta, but unfortunately you weren’t born as one. Being an Omega is a presentation so detestable that it’s hard to even survive. In an era where it’s completely normal to cast you from the village for simply existing, to keep you blind from what it is to truly be an Omega, will there be any respite for you? (Yes, this is a period piece)

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: A/B/O, dubcon (since the readers in heat), predator/prey, a little blood, one slap, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“Do you ever get the feeling that they are lying to you?” you stare at the weathered wooden boards of the porch before you dare to glance at her face. The miller’s daughter was an omega as well, and often you found yourself gravitating to her if only out of comfort. The one of few in the village that could relate to you. She looked so soft in the morning sun, so lighthearted and gentle as she picked at the frayed patchwork of her dress.

“I don’t like to think about it too much or else I scare myself, y/n” she giggles.

So Naïve.

You mull it over before coming to the conclusion that you and her are not the same. “I guess I understand”

Her father always says she’s too kind, but that’s exactly what was so endearing. A world where it was normal to treat people like you and her as lesser, and she was still so kind. Absently, you wondered if you'd ever see her again after her next heat. It had been too long since an omega went missing.

“Will you still be walking with me to the market?”

“Ah, mother seems to have found some extra fabric that had been tucked away somewhere, so I suppose not. However, I’m glad you came to visit y/n!” she giggles as you stick your tongue out at her like a child.

The walk there gives you an opportunity to think of her words. Was denial better than the fear that came along with the truth?

Plenty of omegas had gone missing. When you were younger, the elders would tell you that there was a man who lived on the edge of the forest. He wasn't an alpha, or a beta, or even an omega. He was only a monster.

The path stretches before you and the heat of the summer sun is almost enough to make you turn around. But you persist, the idea of returning home empty handed was enough to make you ignore the sting on the back of your neck.

This man, this beast, would eat omegas. That’s why it was important to return home before dark, the man in the forest used the cover of night to hunt; to take. that’s why omegas always went missing in the village.

You momentarily take refuge in the cool water in the creek on the outskirts of the village, watching idly as water swirled around your bare feet.

When were you old enough to realize the flaws of that story? Was it your first heat? When with shaky hands, your mother had packed you enough provisions for the week and whispered for you to leave? Or was it the anger in your father’s voice when you asked to stay and he bitterly told you that omegas only brought misfortune?

You sigh. No, it was the day you'd found out one of the few remaining omegas hadn’t come back and that truth had only been a hard pill to swallow for you. No one seemed to care, it was as if the man in the forest didn’t scare them, had never scared them.

Not much sooner had you made the connection. Alphas were few and far between, but omegas were even more scarce. The ones who couldn’t find omegas settled down with betas, but what would a married alpha do when an unclaimed omega went into heat? Only the forest knew.

Sometimes you wished the beast was real, and still the lie had persisted. The younger omegas believed it to be the wood smith and while he was a recluse, so much so that you'd never even seen him, he was far too young to be the monster from your youth. He’d only made his appearance in the village every so often, and in truth he hadn’t lived in the area for that long. You let them hold on to their delusion instead, not wanting to be the one to burst their bubble.

Your heat was many moons away, but the fear of living still persisted.

The water feels nice on your neck, gentle and cooling as you scoop handfuls of it over your burning skin. It makes you forget about everything for a second, soothing over you like an expensive balm. Somehow, It reminds you of when you were little, before you presented and the friends you'd made in the village. Small and unassuming, no worries about presentation or etiquette. Just young and carefree. The thought brings a smile to your face.

Now, boys your age would rather die than be seen with an Omega, not that you cared about their indifference. In their minds it was completely warranted, and in yours the Betas had nothing to offer you. You both saw each other as fundamentally useless. No one gave mind to insects, most of the time they were just there. Some were cruel, yes, but most went their way, and you went yours. That was the best you could ask for.

Sighing, you pick the coin purse out of your pocket, taking a moment to count the few coins your mother had given you.

It was barely enough to buy thread, but you weren’t surprised. Her and father were still angry that you'd ripped another hole in your dress again since it was one of the little clothing items they had granted you. If it weren’t for the fact that the hole steadily became bigger, threatening the integrity of the entire garment, you don’t think it would’ve been mended at all.

The wind swirls around you, reminding you of your task and the repercussions of wasting time.

With a grunt, you force yourself back up and onto the road, sidestepping a rather large man carrying probably one of the largest baskets of wood you'd ever seen.

Mother says that its impolite to stare, so you don’t let your gaze linger for too long, but the sight was unusual to say the least. He’s tall, so tall in fact that you have to peer up to even try to see his face, eventually you give up and your gaze ends at the well toned muscles of his chest that are thinly veiled underneath a rather dingy tunic. You couldn’t judge him, right now you were wearing the same dress that desperately needed patching up. Still, he was somewhat of an unbelievable height, it was hard not to wonder of his presentation. Surely, there couldn’t be Betas that tall, but it was even more so unbelievable for him to be an Alpha. The Alphas in your town were well known, their large presence in the village applauded by most and avoided by Omegas. Like the tavern owner with wandering hands under the guise of drunkenness and the butcher who stared a little too long that one might find it indecent.

as you make your way through the village opening you can feel his presence pressing closer behind you with each step. It’d be easier to know for certain if the wind carried his scent, but at the present moment it was blowing yours in his direction, a thought that was a little unnerving to you. Nevertheless, you persisted, pushing past the mounting feeling in your chest that seemed to get worse the louder his footsteps became behind you. Surely, he was just selling the basket on his back at the market. And since he was a stranger to you, It would make sense for him to follow you so closely there if he wasn't from the village.

You let yourself relax, tense shoulders easing up as you finally come to the only conclusion that made sense. You were an Omega; A Beta had no better reason to follow you other than directions.

The sun still beats overhead, making the exposed skin of your face damp with sweat. With little thought, you wipe it away with the handkerchief stashed inside your pocket. It was little more than torn fabric that mother had no use for, but you appreciated when she had given it to you nonetheless.

The market wasn't busy for this time of day, which you were grateful for. Less people to cast you a distasteful glare as you silently perused through the stalls in search for thread. It only takes a few moments to find it at a stand with colorful fabrics, pins and needles and textiles that were definitely worth more than anything you'd ever own.

The smile on your face lights up as you find the cheapest option available, speaking quietly to the stall owner you ask for it.

You're met with silence, its only when you look at them that you realize they aren’t even looking at you. Instead, you follow their gaze behind you, to the burly man who had somehow gotten close enough to block out your view of the sun.

“Gorgeous too, huh?” he smiles down at your shocked face, even daring to lean down, hand gripping your jaw to force your head up, leaving your neck exposed to him. He’s not quick about it either, his nose coming to scent you as he indulges himself in the smell he finds there.

“And where have you been hiding?” he whispers it, a secret between the both of you that your too scared to acknowledge. In stark contrast, you've been rooted to the spot, too scared to do much of anything as the complete stranger ungracefully takes his time mulling you over.

It’s a funny thing, he can smell just how frightened you are, but it doesn’t mask the scent that made him follow you in the first place.

The scene is far too intimate for such a public space, and subconsciously, you're aware of that. You know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be letting yourself get so carried away by the stranger, even if he does smell wonderful. Nothing like any Alpha you’ve met. Although his presence is completely overwhelming, his scent isn’t, and he lets out a breathless laugh when you subtly try to scent him back.

The only thing that snaps you back to reality is the stall owner clearing their throat, forcing you to realize how blatantly improper you were being. It’s far too embarrassing to handle, and mortification sets into your bones. The man pays them no mind, instead using one of his large hands to slam a few bills onto the counter.

“Whatever she wants” his voice comes out as a low and guttural thing, hoarse from days of disuse, as his breath fans across your face. He thinks it’s cute, the way your eyebrows shoot up makes his grin even wider.

With shaky hands you point to the cheapest bobbin of thread, hands fumbling for your coin purse before he grabs your wrist. “What did I say, Omega?” its stern, but all you can manage to do is bumble over your words, eyes cast downwards as you try to ignore the embarrassment settling on your face. He was just trying to be nice, maybe he was a tad bit uncivilized about it, but his impropriety shouldn’t make it okay to decline such a kind offer. The thread is taken from the counter, his hand slowly ruffling the folds of your dress as he finds your pocket and drops it in.

At this point you’ve become a spectacle, passersby muttering not so subtly about just how close you are to him, how rude it was to make a scene like that in public. With a cough you back away, surprised to find that he doesn’t follow, only aims a grin at you as he continues to stare. Not wanting to leave on a sour note, you ask

“What’s your name?”

Maybe one day you could repay the favor, although he didn’t look like the type to need to buy thread. He didn’t look like the type to care that much about his appearance at all, if you were being honest.

“its Uvogin. Gimme what’s in your pocket.”

“The thread?” with a wolfish smile he shakes his head no. It takes you a moment but clumsily you pad at the dress before finally finding your pocket and dipping your hand in to pull out the tiny wad of fabric in question. The only other thing in your pocket besides your coin purse. Your handkerchief. You don’t think about it as you hand it over to Uvogin, your head feels fuzzy just by his proximity. Don’t even think about how closely he must’ve been watching you to see that you had one, or how long he’d been doing so as he walked behind you and into the market. Right now, he could ask for a lot of things and you'd gladly hand it all to him with no second thoughts about it.

“You should head home. Maybe get some rest before it happens” he leans closer to sniff at your throat one last time, albeit a lot quicker than he had in the past “Although, I don’t think you’ll have much time.” The end of his sentence comes out in as a laugh, jovial enough to make you forget how sinister his final words were. With little grace, you slowly backpedal, eyes still on his before you turn around and walk out the way you came.

You smell. You reek of him. It’s the only thought in your mind as you clutch at yourself tightly, eyes cast downwards to avoid the shame of looking at others. There wasn't a pair of eyes that didn’t linger on you, most likely smelling exactly what you smelled; The stench of an Alpha. So thick and cloying that you couldn’t pretend it was anything other. Maybe you could rinse it off in the creek before you got home, but you doubted it. The smell permeated through your dress and settled into your bones. Quickly, you head out of the village and towards the sound of running water.

He was handsome, his scent so alluring that it made your mind wander as you tried desperately to rinse it off of your skin. A hint of sweat, pine and something sweet you had no name for. Sitting on your haunches, you let out a whine at the fact that nothing you did could rinse it off, and part of you didn’t want to, anyway. He’d ruined your dress by doing little more than touching it. If your parents smelled it, who knows what they would do. Probably cast you out like they’d planned on doing when you tore your dress. Any little infraction was worth your disappearance. This would give them every reason not to want you around.

It seemed to be getting hotter. So hot in fact you were half tempted to wade into the creek, dress and all, just to get the feeling to go away. The sun had been hidden by an overcast sky, clouds threating to burst at any moment, and you prayed they would. It could drown out any scent lingering on your skin, your clothes, the far recesses of your mind that held onto it like a bloodhound. Why was it so hot?

Wordlessly, you waded into the water, thinking little of the repercussions of coming home with a sopping wet dress as you sat down, letting the stream flow over you and around your shoulders. It felt soothing at first, like a cool bath when you were sick, but all too soon the water felt just as warm as you were. It. Was enough to elicit another strangled whine from your throat.

Slowly you stood, the weight of the fabric hugging tighter against your skin all too noticeable. This wasn't right. The sun was gone, the water cool, so why did you feel so sick all of a sudden?

It took a minute to fully accept it, as part of you didn’t want to. But you couldn’t excuse the need growing in your abdomen as anything else.

You had to leave here, quick. Get as far away from the village as possible. Away from the Omegas and your family, away from everything in order to have a chance at saving yourself.

Wading out of the water, you give no pause to the way your skirts cast dark droplets onto the dry ground.

With little to no hesitation, you make your way back onto the road before veering right, into the underbrush as you picked up the pace. Before, you'd have a day’s head start to get as far away as possible, but this was different. The telltale signs of your heat stirring low in the pit of your belly was a fortnight too early. Your thoughts were already starting to fog around the edges, an in a few hours all you'd be able to do was cry out from the sheer pain of it all.

With every step you find yourself walking faster, legs getting whipped by the low lying brambles. The way they so easily tear into your skin going almost unnoticed by you in your sheer panic. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it’s a type of confusion that adds on to the delirium already buffing away at your subconscious.

After a few minutes of running, only your panicked gasps keeping you company, the clouds burst above you. Fat drops soaking the underbrush and you along with it. In no time the ground beneath your feet becomes even more treacherous, mud and leaves and errant roots making you stumble and fall at every opportunity. After one nasty fall, you can't help but sit for a moment, a manic chuckle ripping through your chest as you examine your skinned palms. Your dress is filthy, the tear even larger than it had been when you set out this morning. Absently you wonder if mother will let you try to mend it before she casts you out for it. Without looking down at your legs, you already know the bruises that will be there from every bump and fall you’ve taken on your little journey. It does little to worry you, once the adrenaline wore off, maybe then you'd feel yourself start to care again.

With a sigh you let yourself rest. Hypervigilance slipping as you gaze up at the canopy in awe. How could rain be so loud?

Mentally, you try to assess your location. There was a place not far from here that served as your hideaway in times like these. A fissure in the face of a sheer cliff, only big enough for you and any other Omega that had the misfortune of being cast out into the woods. It wasn't much, the crack was uncovered, the rain and wet still able to reach you, but that wasn’t what was important.

Standing up gives you a better view of your surroundings. With little thought you start to head in the direction you remembered, down the slope of the hill in hopes of finding your salvation at the bottom.

It doesn’t take long before you hear it. Crackling branches under heavy, heavy footsteps. It’s not a promising sign, to say the very least. Feverishly you pick up the pace, mind racing as you try to figure out who would’ve followed you. It’s not like you did much to hide where you were going, in truth you didn’t think about it at all. Mind glazing over, you don’t notice the thick tree root that’s in your way, stumbling over it as your palms meet the forest floor once again. Ungracefully, your body tumbles easily down the rest of the slope, a cry leaving you as you hit the ground repeatedly.

Uvo’s laugh is audible over the thunderous sound of rain. Its jarring. A wretched reminder that you're actively being hunted down like an animal.

“Sounds like I’m getting close, huh?” he yells, still too far away for you to see him under the darkened canopy. His voice echoes and you can't tell where exactly he is behind you, only knowing that its entirely too close for comfort. Hazily, your mind makes the connection, his voice rattling back in your ears over and over again as you pick yourself up.

You can’t say that you've gotten any faster after realizing who exactly was chasing you. The ache in your body from multiple falls was finally catching up to you, along with the heat that was settling low in the pit of your stomach that seemed to be burning even brighter than a few minutes ago.

After a few minutes of running, you see it and almost sob with relief. Thick with vines, the opening of the rockface, your salvation, is almost within distance.

“I hope you're not thinkin’ of doing what I think you're gunna do.” Its not a yell. Not anything other than an irritated statement thrown so casually and so, so close to you that it causes goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. Quickly, you look behind you, a slight yip leaving your throat as you take in the distance between the both of you.

In a last ditch effort, your body works on autopilot. Fear drives you, pushes you faster and faster until the only thing you can hear is the thrumming of your own heart in your ears. He’s loud behind you, yelling something unintelligible as you try to make your escape. You're within reaching distance of the opening now, but his hands grab at you. The slickness of the rain serves in your favor. Easily you slip from his grasp, body lurching forward and into the opening as he tears at the shoulder of your dress.

The air surrounding him seems to vibrate with raw anger, something akin to a roar tearing through him at just how close he’d come to having you.

Big hands come to slam against either side of the opening as he peers down at your shrunken form. Chest heaving, the rain glints off of his skin and the image alone is enough to make you whimper in submission. He’s so tall, broader than any Alpha you'd seen, and he’s incredibly angry. Uvo’s gaze doesn’t leave you as the seconds tick by. After a few moments of him trying, and failing, to collect himself he finally speaks

“I’m not gunna hurt ya, now come here” he says, and it sounds sincere enough that your fuzzy brain almost believes him. Almost gives in to the temptation of his scent, his open arms goading you to leave the small space.

“I don’t believe you” you whine, shaking your head ‘no’ as if he wouldn’t understand the meaning of your words.

It’s so unbelievably hot. The fat drops of rain hitting your face and soaking you through to your very core did little to relieve the feeling. if anything, it overwhelmed your heightened senses, every little drop on your skin felt like something you needed to pay close attention to.

“Just wanna make you feel better” the statement alone forces a whimper out of your throat, body edging backwards as if to physically deny him

“You can't make me feel better, no one in this damn town can make me feel better.” it’s a lot more hysterical than you meant it, but Uvo’s face contorts in confusion all the same.

It’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you. Big green eyes rake over your shivering form, more anger than pity bubbling to the surface of his features as he realizes how much he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You don’t know anything, huh?” he mumbles to himself, letting one of his large hands swipe away the excess water on his face before settling on his hip “What’s it gunna take for you to come out then?”

You want to tell him to leave, to let you be alone but another part of you wants something. Something you can't explain enough to even know yourself.

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?” no matter how much you try to calm yourself down it still comes out too whiny and nasally for your liking.

Uvo laughs at that, boisterous and loud and it almost seems to overpower the sound of heavy rain hitting the tree branches around you.

“I just told you I wouldn’t, you forget that already?” you have half a mind to nod in affirmation, “Come on out then” he gestures towards you, wolfish smile marring his face.

As if to try and soothe you, he asks for your name. The question eats away at the open air before you finally find your voice enough to answer him.

In the quiet that precedes your answer you realize numbly that It’s getting darker out. You have no provisions and now you’re drenched. If you didn’t listen and stayed put, the rest of your heat would be torture. There’s a lot to consider, truthfully too much to consider in your current state. The ramifications of your actions, the honesty of the large man in front of you, the means in which he planned to help, how long you could actually survive out here without him. Your brain functions moved with the viscosity of syrup. The more you thought about it all, the less it seemed to make sense.

Quietly, you make your way to the opening, Uvo lets out an excited laugh as you crawl ever closer to him. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before a gasp is being torn from you as he grabs you by the arm, pulling you completely out and into his embrace. It feels nice, albeit a little jarring, but you won’t deny the full feeling in your chest at his proximity. A big and sturdy hand rakes up your side as the other holds you to his chest.

With little thought, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the scent that hasn’t been completely washed away by the rain. Its calming, maybe he’s pumping out pheromones to induce that emotion within you, but at the same time it makes the coil in the pit of your stomach reach incredibly high temperatures. It hurts, oh god, it hurts

“Hurts, huh? I can fix that.” You don’t remember saying it aloud, but the burly man responds quickly by tearing the flimsy fabric of your dress, making sure to rip through your underwear as well. When you whine at the sensation all he does is mutter “Didn’t expect me to let you keep that ratty thing did you?”

It’s a makeshift blanket once he tosses it onto the ground, saving your back from most of the drenched forest floor as Uvo sets you down, his own body hovering over yours. His warmth is so nice, nothing like what’s eating you up inside, and with needy hands you run your fingers through his hair, a high pitched whine leaving your throat at the groan you coax from him.

“Fuck” he growls “M’gunna knot you so good. Bet it’ll only take one time before I get you nice and round”

You nod up at him, delirious and wanting. The only thing on your mind being the feel of him under your fingers.

With little finesse, Uvo thumbs at the opening of your sex before sliding over the bundle of nerves that lies just above it. He smiles at the confusion on your face before slowly, slowly sinking one of his large fingers inside of your heat. Your body writhes with broken sobs at the feeling. Its unlike anything you ever experienced before.

“All this for me, huh? Must really want it.” It comes out in a huff, his smile ever growing as you nod in affirmation. You can hear the slickness he’s referring to as his finger pumps in and out of you.

Right now the wind was bustling, rain beating down harder than it had been all night, but all that you could feel was the comfort Uvo gave you. As if his wandering hands were stroking your very soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Uvo’s already dipped another digit inside of you, marveling at the way your body so easily opens up to his touch. It’ll only take him a few more minutes of his fingers dutifully scissoring you open before he’s able to lay his claim.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” he smiles as you shake your head, mouth open and panting as your lovestruck gaze meets his “Of course it doesn’t.”

He takes his time, languid strokes and teasing bites against your chest. No rush in his movements until you brokenly sob for him. The feeling in your gut was only getting worse with every movement. With weak hands you claw at him, trying desperately to pull his body closer.

His hand moves from your cunt, popping his digits in his mouth with a groan. When he finally sucks them clean, his hands go to his belt, “Impatient little thing” whispered from his lips.

The sight alone makes your mouth water. Too long and jarringly thick, his cock slaps up against his stomach.

“Gunna make you feel a loot better” he mumbles, taking himself in hand. God, you want it, want every bit of him no matter the repercussions. He kneels above you, chest wet and heaving with excitement as his gaze lingers on your exposed pussy. A Grecian God chiseled from marble and sent here just for you.

With steady hands he presses you your legs up, folding you in half until hes achieved the angle he’s looking for. You have no choice but to comply, whimpering as he guides himself into your aching cunt.

The stretch of it burns, it makes your body quake almost as if the size of his cock alone has rendered you weak. It’s an overwhelming sensation that eats away any rational thought until you can only focus on the piercing sharpness of it.

“Stop, please, s’too much.” You can't recognize the sound of your own voice. Its hoarse as if you'd been yelling for hours. Uvogin buries his nose in your neck again, hands coming up to press your legs to even further against your chest.

“Here… got somethin’ to take your mind off it”

With little warning his teeth are in your neck, tearing a wretched scream from your throat as Uvo draws blood. True to his word, he sinks the entirety of his length within you without your notice. Only thing on your mind is the feeling of your flesh being torn open by him, claimed by him.

There’s’ little compassion in the way his hips snap against yours. Its brutal, making you cry out even more as the force of it jostles the teeth still buried snugly in your neck. Your hands claw at the ground before eventually settling on his back. Uvo groans at your nails digging into him, spurring him on to go faster, harder, to give you everything he’s got until you drain him dry.

The noise of Uvo thrusting into your warm cunt is loud, almost deafening compared to the rain around you. It’s all you can hear; All you can feel as he doesn’t waste any time in finding the exact spot within you that makes you scream.

Every shift of his hips is maddening. Every sharp thrust enough to push the air out of your lungs. Eventually Uvo’s mouth pulls away from your throat, lapping at the bloodied mess he’d left there. You can't focus on it too much. Can't focus on much of anything at the present moment, only the slick sounds of his cock dragging in and out of you filling your mind.

“Gunna need you to do somethin’ for me, doll” his words are almost too far away for you to hear. As if he’s underwater, it takes a light slap to your face in order for you to process them.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly. You can't remember if your voice always sounded that small. That meek.

“M’not gunna last long with the way you’re suckin’ me in like this” he growls “Gunna need you to bite down.” One of his hands that was previously holding your thigh up reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you up until your face is flush against the side of his throat. Something is growing inside of you, burning through your very being and he’s the cause of it. It’s mind numbing, this pleasure you’ve never felt before. Lazily you recognize it enough to know that your own orgasm is mere seconds away.

“Right here.” you nod, heat searing through you as his hips stutter. There’s something catching against your cunt now, impeding every kiss of his hips against yours as he struggles to fit the rest of his cock inside.

With an audible groan being your only warning, Uvo cums inside of you. It sears against your insides as something finally stops his movements, his body unable to do anything besides grind against your own. So full, you jerk with the feeling, finally letting the coil inside you snap. The scream that leaves your broken throat is cut off by Uvo shoving your face harder against his neck and, dutifully, you bite down. Its mere instinct driving you, or maybe the need to drown out your warbled cries for him. Either way, the wound makes him laugh, his hand pushing harder against you as if to force your teeth further into his skin. The tang of metal in your mouth does little to stop the ebb and flow of your orgasm as it washes through you. It’s too good, so good in fact you find yourself pulling away only to be met with Uvo’s unshakeable grip. Tears prick at your eyes at the sensitivity of it all, the overwhelming buzz that courses through you with no end in sight.

It takes a minute of blindly thrashing against him before you give up and settle on the wet ground below.

It’s completely pitch dark now and the rain has quieted into a slight drizzle. You can't see him, can only feel as the hand not gripping your neck finally lets your other thigh down to ghost over the plains of your face.

“You're mine now” he whispers. Silently, you nod your head in agreement, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. It didn’t matter. Nothing truly mattered anymore besides the man above you. Uvo presses a lingering kiss to your neck, your jaw, before landing on your spit slicked lips. It’s almost soothing, the gentle touches his attentive hands leave on your body. Soothing enough to make you forget how you got here.

With a gentle tug, he finally pulls out of your sex. The laugh that leaves his throat as his fingers explore the wetness that paints your lower body is euphoric. Soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms and standing up.

“Feel better?” it sounds like more of a statement coming from his mouth, but you nod all the same. As he starts to walk your eyelids droop in exhaustion, mind focused on the way his chest vibrates with every garbled sentence you can't quite hear.

#abo uvogin #uvogin x reader #Uvogin #uvo x reader #uvo

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askaalaska-vdeppressed · 3 years

Text

Seeing Stars and Stripes

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

This is just porn, I have no excuse for it other than I need the practice

Here you go babes

You were sure that many would see the upturned lip, the finale of the cacophony of scars that marred his face as off-putting. They’d see the way the injured skin forced his lip up into a permanent snarl as a warning. Yet as you stared at him from across the room you couldn’t help up imagine what it would be like to run your tongue across it. Letting the tip slide quickly over the before quickly jumping back and smirking. Would he grow at you? Call you a minx? Drag your head back to do it again? Put you over his shoulder and take you away to have his way with you? You hoped a version of all three.

So engrossed in your daydreaming you completely forgot where you were or whom you were with till one of your friends—Alma-- cleared her throat.

“Y/n?..... Y/N?” She playfully slapped your shoulder getting your attention. You turned to her, still clearing your head of the vision.

“Are you going to continue to make eyes at strangers or are you going to take your turn?” Your other friend at the table Jordie chimed in.

“Are you saying I have a choice?” you replied. As they both laughed you reached out to grab the dice that were in front of you on the table.

“I say you just go for it” Jordie said looking down at the scores for the game and then back up at your roll,

“Damn Y/n, 650 you gonna take it?”

“What’s my score again?” You asked coyly. Jordie looked down at the board with the scores and back up at you.

“Plenty high” She said not giving you a proper answer. You had been ahead of both the girls for quite some time. Poor Alma having only just gotten on the board about three rounds ago.

“I’ll take it” you answered passing the dice to Jordie.

“I’m with her on this one” Alma stated splitting her attention between you and Jordie’s rolls “You never go after men on our girls’ nights, if this stranger’s got something that’s getting you going I say chase after it”

Jordie let out a small curse as the dice went cold for her. You waved a server down to refill your drink as you contemplated Alma’s words.

It was true you never were one to go get lost in a man’s arms. It wasn’t that you were prudish or that you lacked offers. It really boiled down to two factors. The first being that your town was small. And any news, especially who slept with whom was bound to get spread as soon as your legs were. The second being that all the men and near all the women for that matter lacked depth. There lives were firmly planted in this village. They were born in this land, they grew in this land, they will die in this land and they will eventually become this land. Every thought in there heads was of this land. Even your friends were not immune to this. Sleeping with men here felt more akin to sleeping with a very polished rock.

Your mother blamed your wanderlust on all the reading you did. Your family was the only completely literate one in the whole village. You and your mother being two out the three women that knew how to read. The third being Jordie. Together you were trying to teach Alma, though she insisted it was a wasted endeavor.

Altogether the village was simple, routine and safe. You had given up years ago of trying to force yourself to be complacent with it. You soothed your wanders heart by travel for business. From a family of farmers you took up soap making to cure your boredom. During the summer months you would travel to different markets to sell your wares and see the different villages and cities. But one woman can only travel so far on her own, and summer can only last so many months. And then it was back to this. Back to the cage of a home set in stone.

Yet looking at the traveler he seemed to ooze an aura complexity. You imagined he had seen many places, fought many fights and tasted many flavors. For a brief moment when you first saw him you contemplated asking him to tell you of his travel rather than anything untoward.

Then he’d rolled his neck, thrown down his pack with a clamor, and with a voice of gravel ordered a meal, a bed and an ale.

And it was all over for you.

Alma smiled as she rolled a cool thousand points in one role and surpassed Jordie on the board when you put your hands on the table and forced yourself up. Both girls gave you a wink as you passed the server from before grabbing the pitcher he had brought to refill your drink. You sauntered over to the man in the red striped jacket. He was looking absentmindedly at the wall when you approached—the sound of the pitcher landing on the table breaking him out of his daze.

He looked up to meet your gaze and his golden amber eyes hypnotized you for a moment.

“Can I help you lass?” The low tone of his voice mixed with the roughness of it made you weak at the knees. You got control of your legs and broke the spell his eye had cast on you and fixed a smile on your face.

“You looked like you could use some company” You grabbed your skirts and swished them to the side in order to sit on the chair cattycorner to him. He turned his body to you, his eyebrows held high on his head in a face of skepticism. He looked around the room before addressing you.

“It looks like this place is filled with men that are much more suited for you company” He gave a half hearted gesture to the lively bar.

You gave a snort and rolled your eyes.

“Oh believe me I’ve tried but the whole lot of them is either boorish or simple” You scooted your chair closer to him not touching shoulder. You pointed at a blonde gentleman in a green vest.

“That’s Karlson, he is completely convinced that boiled beaver testicles are curing his wife’s monthly pains” The man pulled a face and your let out a snort.

“She replaces them with boiled eggs when he’s not looking. The real thing helping her is the whiskey she mixes in her tea.” The strangers hand shot up to cover his mouth as he struggled not to laugh.

You turned a bit and pointed at another gentleman. This time a balding man in a shirt much to small for him.

“The man one bend over from busting a seam is Magnus. He once lectured me for two hours on the science behind putting grooves in your teeth to make you a better warrior.”

The man scoffed looking up. His hair fell from his face falling behind his ears in a motion like water.

“Humans will try anything to be more than they are” You fixed him with a look.

“You say that as if you aren’t one” He turned to you perplexed.

“I’m not”

You made a big gesture out of looking him up and down. Inspecting his eyes and hair. You stuck your hand out and poked his arm—careful to avoid the spikes that poked out of his shoulders.

“You seem pretty human to me” You looked over to him smiling from ear to ear. Your cheeks forcing your eyes to squint. He broke your gaze as a small smile crept onto his face for a moment.

“Your too cute for you own good….”

“Y/N” you filled in for him

“Y/n” He parroted back.

“And I don’t know…”

“Eskel” he provided.

“I don’t know Eskel” you started “I think I balance on the perfect ratio of sweet timid kitten and sexy goddess” You waited until he was posed to take a drink to continue. “After all I came over here too see if you wanted to fuck my brains out”

Your timing had been perfect and Eskel’s hand shot up again to his mouth to try and stop the spray that was currently coming out of his mouth from the shock of your statement. He wiped his hand with his mouth and gave a harsh swallow.

“Your funny Y/n.” he choked out. You put your arm on the table and placed your head in your hand.

“True, I am masterful in whit” your gaze lingered on his lips, a small amount of ale his hand had missed dripped down his chin. You moved fluidly reaching one hand to wipe his chin and the other to rest on his thigh. You leaned in close as your thumb moved from his chin to his bottom lip.

“But I was being quite sincere with that request” His eyes seemed to take you in for a moment. In his irises he seemed to be fighting something. For a split second he looked like he might start crying before his gaze turned hungry. He leered down your top then back up to the pout of your lips, slightly ajar.

“Eskel” you regarded him, the name low in your voice.

“Y/n” he returned. The combination of his gaze and his voice sent a shiver down your spine and caused your cunt to clench. You caught your breath for a moment, ever so slightly rubbing your legs together.

“You have a room upstairs?”

“Indeed I do” he smirked at you. That damned notch in his lip driving you even crazier. You lifted yourself up going to grab your bag from your friends quickly. You three had planned on staying with Jordie that night since her husband was away.

You were sure she’d understand.

As you passed they both smiled and winked at you again. Eskel—having gathered his own belongings—met you at the entrance to the stairs. He stuck out his arm, making you giggle. You hooked your hand into it as you made your way up. You looked more like a pair of nobles ready to meet a monarch than you did strangers on their way to hook up in a backwater inn. He lead you too one of the inn’s three rooms. You made your way across the threshold, heading to place your bag in a chair in the corner. When you turned around Eskel had set his belongings down and was anxiously shifting on his feet. A hand behind his head playing with the skin of his neck.

The moment was awkward. Back in the crowded bar you had both been in high confidence. Safety in numbers giving you courage to speak boldly. When the doors were closed and it was just the two of alone it was a different story.

Fearing he may be getting cold feet you strode across the room. A woman on a mission. At the very least you were going to fulfill the fantasy from earlier. Coming this far you were not about to walk away with nothing.

When you reached him your hands sought either side of his face. Pulling him towards you. Your lips met tenderly. The plushness of his lips not being lost on you. Eskel became more and more receptive to the kiss, the two of you now beginning to push against the other. Your thumbs caressed the bones of his cheeks. The sun ravaged skin providing just the slightest bit of drag against your finger pads. He stepped into you deepening the kiss and your hands migrated so that your arms were hung on his shoulders. You rubbed your core against the leg that was nestled there, releasing a small moan at the friction. You broke apart for air for a split second before diving back in. His mouth much more open this time. It was now or never

You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip first. Then migrated up. In a split second you ran your tongue into the divot in his upper lip. Sliding it back and forth before pulling away. You looked at him through your lashes, biting your lip to try and control the giddiness inside you.

Eskel looked wild. His mouth was still agape and his breath was ragged. His brain seemed to need a second to catch up. With a jolt he fixed you with a stare. His pupils blown out and his lips in a snarl. Eskel grabbed your waist and lifted you with no effort. Instinctively you wrapped you legs around his torso as he all but slammed you against the wall. The force of the impact causing a tapestry to fall from it’s place on the wall.

Ravaged against a wall… You were so close.

Eskel pinned you again the wall with his hips. The pressure of it causing you to whimper. With his hands free he violently wrung the jacket from his torso, dropping the leather to the floor unceremoniously. The blue undershirt underneath open and loose on him. You reached out push open the center. Running your hand down the firm muscles of his neck and into the coarse field of hair on his chest. The muscle underneath was firm and the heartbeat usually slow.

Eskel leaned into you, his mouth making its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, forcing a breath out of your lungs. You brought your hands up to tangle into his hair and bring him closer. Pushing him into you. As Eskel began littering your chest with bruises he started to grind you into the wall. You whimpered at the friction, griding back with enthusiasm.

Eskel had made his way to the tops of your breasts, giving one a playful bite as he looked up at you through his lashes. You felt his hand grab your ass lifting you with his arms. He slid down to his knees as you yanked up your skirts to see what he was doing. Eskel fixed your plush thighs on his shoulders, moving his hands up to play with the band of your undergarments.

“You’ve had your dinner, am I dessert?” you asked, quickly scolding yourself for never being able to stop your mouth. Eskel laughed, the puffs of air cooling the damp fabric surrounding your pussy.

“Do you want to be?” he smirked, giving your waistband a quick snap. You let out a high pitched “mmhmm” and it was all the confirmation he needed. HIs large and calloused hand peeling the garment down, flinging it behind him with no regard for where is landed. He moved in closer, at first nuzzling your thigh and placing languid open mouth kisses on it.

You fisted the skirts in your hands, trying desperately to be patient. However as he continued to tease you, you started to inch your cunt closer and close to him, using the wall as leverage. Eskel caught on to what you were doing and gave out a tisk before pushing the pair of you closer to the wall. Using the same momentum he dove head first into you. Flattening his tongue and lapping at the excitement that was dripping from you. You pulled the skirts up higher in your clenched fists as he ate you out like a man starved. Alternating between long broad stokes and precise attacks using the tip of his tongue on your clit.

Eskel shifted on his knees. One hand coming to press your sternum to the wall. And the other coming to join him at your pussy. He suctioned his lips around your clit and gave a hard suck as he thrust two fingers into you. The double assault caused you to convulse. Moaning out his name, glad that his room was upstairs and not closer to the crowded bar downstairs. You switched to hold your skirts with one hand, tangling the other into his hair. Your pleasure becoming tug of war as he fought to push against the wall and you fought to push away from the wall to get even closer to him.

As the pumping of Eskel’s fingers continued he added a third finger to the mix, causing you to hit your head against the wall as you panted up towards the ceiling. Just as you were starting to look down again he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that soft spot in you head on. The intense pleasure sending your hear careening once again with the wall. Eskel began to hit your g-spot full on increasing the pressure and speed. It only took a minute at this speed before your legs were clamming on his head and you were coating his face in release.

Eskel worked you through your release, stopping as you dismounted your legs to try and stand. He stood up backing up to give you room. The first step was rocky but it didn’t take long for you to reach him and slam up into him in a kiss. You felt the very need to consume him as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands forcefully yanked his shirt from where it was tucking into his breeches. He broke the kiss to toss the shirt over his head to join your undergarments somewhere in the room.

Your hand reached out to him, nails dragging over the chords of muscle and scars. Eskel’s hand traveled over your waist to the back of your dress, unlacing it. As the fabric dropped to the floor his hands stayed in there position beginning to unlace your corset. However after the dress he seemed impatient, because all you heard was a growl and a quick “fuck it’ before a second hand joined its brother and pulled the corset open. The laces violently popping out of the weaving. It would be a pain to relace in the morning, but right now your mind was elseward. Mainly on trying to get him to join you in being naked.

Your hand fumbled with the belt and Eskel granted you mercy in helping you take it off. Once rid of it you took hold of his pants and underwear and pulled them down in one fell swoop. Caught off guard by it Eskel stumbled back, landing with a bounce on the bed. You knelt down, finalizing your mission in making him naked. You looked up at him and he looked as if his mouth had gone dry. You moved your hands over his thighs, his breath hitching up as if the gentle touch had scared him.

Lifting up even more you threw your arms over his thighs his cock coming into your direct eyesight. Thick was the first word that came to mind. It was thick, the head starting to turn purple as it leaked onto his stomach. You moved you hands up over his stomach you brought your mouth closer. You followed the prominent vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue as you made your way up.

You readjusted his cock with your hand and placed you mouth just so over the tip. You looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“You will have to forgive me Eskel” you started, “I’m quite starved” and that was all the warning you gave as you sunk your lips down over the tip. Eskel let out a groan, bending over slightly as he twisted a hand into your hair. You played with his tip a bit. Giving it a hard suck using your tongue to play with the slit. Trying not to tease him to much you sunk down quickly, using your hand to stimulate what your couldn’t reach.

Eskel seemed to struggle holding back as you sucked his cock. With each pass of your tongue over his head or hard suck on his shaft the string seemed to fray more and more. Eskel moved you off of him, urging you up and onto the bed. He pressed you down onto your stomach with an almost shocking tenderness. As he mounted you he pressed a languid kiss over the back of your neck, breath coming up to tease the shell of your ear.

You felt him spread your lips pressing his head in through the first ring of muscle. Being so close to your ear you cloud hear each and every delicious sound as it escaped his mouth. The gravel of it only deepened as he pushed further into you. The thick cock pushing your further apart and your walls clenched around him. He fully seated himself and pressed his chest into your back. As if Eskel was trying to get as much skin to touch as possible.

Slowly he pulled out, the tip just barely in as he slammed back home, causing your to shriek out in pleasure. He set a brutal pace. Simultaneously sweet and sinister at the same time. His hands gentle as he toyed with you, roaming over your sides. Yet his thrusts were brutal and punishing. His mouth was ajar and pressed into your shoulder.

Eskel’s thrust began to get erratic and your legs began to shake. The sounds he was making into your shoulder going up in tone. He slithered a hand to play with your clit and your body gave a jolt. Bucking up into him his paced increased even more. Suddenly his thighs began to shake and he gave a few hard thrusts before spilling into you. His bottom lip between his teeth as he pressed a far into you as possible. The fingers on your clit continued to speed up and combined with the feeling of his release inside you, you clenched down onto him in your second organism of the night.

Eskel stayed on top of you for a few moments before heaving himself off and onto the other side of the bed. His chest still driving up and down. You crawled your way over to him, grabbing the blanket that lay on the end of the bed with you. You halfheartedly draped the fabric over the two of you as you rested your head on his chest. As the fuzziness of sleep began to over take you, you reminded yourself of one thing.

To ask him if he would be interested in a traveling partner.

#eskel x reader #eskel is a pussy eating god and your can't change my mind #smut #lemon #yes i will use the old tagging system #pwp #not plot to be found #eskel smut

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azenkii · 4 years

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Sokka/Suki/Zuko Brotp Headcanons

These three are a god-tier brotp and i'm here to prove it

100% that one friend group who does the stupidest, most impulsive shit but they’re also super nerdy at the same time?

Like they'll be left alone together and you can guarantee that by morning they'll have broken into several heavily guarded government buildings. But like,,they didn't even steal anything important? they just wanted to see if they could find bosco's birth records and figure out why he's a regular bear

The last time they got drunk together they woke up on the Beifongs' roof in librarian's robes with a fully labelled diagram of a nonbending submarine in front of them

Suki and zuko braid each other's hair and sokka got jealous that he couldn't join in so he grew out his hair until it was long enough to braid

Suki teaches zuko how to fight with kyoshi warrior fans and he's absolute shit at it

In return, he teaches her how to fight with dual broadswords and she is not shit at it, which zuko thinks is unfair

all three of them spar together, all the time

sokka’s the unofficial leader of the group

he’s almost always the one who suggests the dumb/smart ideas

suki and zuko are pretty much on the same wavelength as him when it comes to plans so whenever he suggests something it goes like

sokka: so you guys know the new ozai society? well i was thinking about the pipes under the city-

suki: that’s a great plan. dibs on scouting the eastern block, zuko can you-?

zuko, nodding: the night market? on it

no one else can ever eavesdrop on their conversations because they just don’t make sense

the story of their escape from the boiling rock becomes legendary and they make a game out of retelling it. every time someone asks about it they’ll add something new. eventually the story ends up involving a platypus bear named Mai II, Chit Sang’s identical twin, a rope made out of bedsheets and three separate riots

sokka and zuko thought for a solid year that suki didn’t really like drinking because she always ended up relatively sober whenever they went out. turns out she drinks more than both of them combined and she’s just really, really good at holding her liquor

the amount of decrees they’ve passed while drunk is honestly ridiculous. only half of these decrees were cancelled afterwards because the other half actually made sense

suki once genuinely threatened to throw hands with one of zuko’s ministers. her reasoning was ‘he kept making weird faces whenever sokka suggested anything’

sokka and suki once ganged up against zuko. they called it ‘nonbenders solidarity’

zuko retaliated by creating a super-secret best-buds-only handshake with toph and they did it in front of sokka and suki whenever they could. sokka and suki eventually went ‘okay OKAY we GET IT also can you please...teach us the handshake it looks really cool’ and zuko was like ‘hm. no i dont think i will’

he then proceeded to drive them insane by immediately teaching the handshake to everyone he knew. aang? knew it. katara? knew it. mai and ty lee? knew it. every single one of his ministers knew it. the kyoshi warriors knew it (and wouldn’t tell suki). hakoda knew it. iroh knew it. that random regular visitor to iroh’s tea shop knew it.

sokka and suki gave up on ever learning the handshake. exactly one (1) day later zuko and sokka were playing their own modified version of pai sho with suki watching them and then zuko just casually went ‘so now that you’ve given up do you want to learn the handshake’

sokka and suki went FERAL and suki flipped the board

sokka: HOW DID YOU KNOW WE GAVE UP

also sokka, exactly 0.02 seconds later: also yes please teach us the handshake sifu hotman

the handshake is the stupidest most needlessly-complicated thing in the world but they learn it anyway and they don’t stop using it for approximately a month

and oh did i not mention that they made their own version of pai sho? they call it die sho and it features 16 homemade tiles and a set of rules that only suki understands. one game can last anywhere from 2 minutes to 2 days

they once wrote a book together under the pseudonym Wang Kyo-Lee. The book was a 500-page rant about plant husbandry. it became a bestseller in the earth kingdom.

they also once did a role swap for a day. zuko dressed up as a kyoshi warrior/the fire lord’s elite guard (complete with makeup to hide his scar), sokka was acting fire lord, and suki was his water tribe ambassador. that was how they discovered that they worked together so much that their jobs were literally interchangeable

there are rumours that the three of them are involved in a poly relationship. when asked, none of them will give a definitive answer

sometimes they’ll just go on holiday to some random obscure place without telling anyone and come back four days later with a frog, three new swords, a crate of theatre props and a valuable compilation of historical accounts that’s been lost for over a century

the most memorable thing they ever brought back was druk, aka a literal dragon

out of the three of them, suki makes the best tea. however, she’s also the worst cook

sokka learnt how to knit and promptly made them matching scarves. the scarves were ugly af but suki and zuko wore them anyway

when zuko overworks himself sokka and suki will literally manhandle him away from his desk and into his chambers, all while lecturing him as he nods sleepily and dozes on his feet

when suki overworks herself sokka and zuko will bring her tea and wrap her in blankets until she eventually falls asleep

when sokka overworks himself suki and zuko will drag him out somewhere under the open air and just sit with him until he relaxes and falls asleep on one or both of them

they have a running joke where suki and zuko will, in the middle of a discussion, go ‘GODS you remind me of this one guy i met while i was travelling’ and then proceed to describe sokka until he realises they’re talking about him

they all have a very dark sarcastic sense of humour that can honestly be alarming to anyone who doesn’t know them. mai thinks it’s hilarious

suki knows how to juggle. she tries to teach sokka and zuko and they both fail miserably

sokka takes them ice-dodging. sokka (once again) earns the mark of the wise. suki earns the mark of the brave. zuko earns the mark of the trusted.

(does zuko earning the mark of the trusted make him cry? perhaps)

hakoda takes one look at suki and zuko and immediately goes ‘oh ok youre my children now’

zuko can handle himself pretty well in the cold (breath of fire, remember?) but that doesn’t mean he likes it. sokka and suki constantly tease him about it whenever they visit the south pole

zuko once startled suki while she was sleeping and she accidentally chi blocked him. sokka laughed until he cried

they 100% have heated debates about super niche topics

anyway they’re all bffs who may or may not be dating each other send tweet

#atla #headcanons #sokka #zuko #suki #zukki #platonic zukki #zukka #sukka

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a-froger-epic · 4 years

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Interview with a Queen “groupie”

Cross-posted to AO3. I encourage you to leave any comments you have there.

---

I compiled this interview following a long email exchange with J, a very sweet lady who went to Ealing Art School between 1972 and 1974. She knew all four members of Queen personally and was part of their larger circle of friends.

First off, you may find this hard to believe. I don’t blame you. But I assure you I’m not pulling your leg. As well as the pictures I share in this post, I have seen current pictures of J (which I will not share to protect her privacy). There is no indication as far as I am aware that she isn’t who she says she is.

Nastally, hold up. How exactly did you find this lady?

She found me. It turns out that she has been following my story Dawn of Aquarius for quite some time. The story is set in 1969. A lot of research about the era went into it, because I wanted to portray that time period - and Freddie’s and Roger’s surroundings - as accurately and realistically as I possibly could. That was what drew J in. She tells me it brought back a lot of memories for her. One of the reasons I love DoA so much is the nostalgia, she says, which genuinely means the world to me. Eventually, she talked to me in the comment section. Of course, I freaked out!

And then, I asked her for an interview, to which she replied: I will give it a go, but you must remember that I am 65 and there were great drugs in the 70s, and at 16, away from home, I had a lot!

And so...

Here’s what is IMPORTANT TO KEEP IN MIND when you read this interview.

These are one woman’s 50-year-old memories and subjective impressions. J has been incredibly kind to let me pick her brain, trying to recall everything as best as she can. In her own words:

Just remember that when I answer the questions, it is from a 16-year-old who is 9 years younger than Freddie and a little girl with no family and friends in a strange country trying to fit in. The only reason I was there, was because some hippie thought I had a unique art style.

---

J as a teenager.

[I have edited the interview together from our long, and somewhat messy at times, email exchange. Typos have been fixed and some punctuation added for clarity, but I have not changed anything J has written to me. Again, bear in mind these are personal opinions and impressions.]

So, J, how did you end up at Ealing Art School in 1972 and what was it like?

This was the painting done for the Australian school-leaving certificate.

It placed first and gave me a scholarship. I could pick France, the USA or England. As a dual citizen of the UK, the choice was easy. The scholarship paid for board and fees, so had to be and sell whatever for spending money.

This picture is from the dorm. We all had a 10pm curfew and a very thick rule book that, I am proud to say, I broke every one of them, one by one. The rooms were on the 1st and 2nd floor. We were on the first floor, rooms one side and admin staff the other end. We had two bathrooms for 18 girls. One of them had two baths. The walls were your standard half wall, so it was a given that if you had a bath you run the risk of having a bucket of cold water dropped on you. Downstairs was the kitchen and lounge room.

I want to ask you a few things about life in London in the early 70s, to get a picture of what it was really like. For example, was there alcohol at the music gigs you went to?

If it was a school, church or community hall, no. If it was a pub, yes.

Did you and your friends drink as much then as young people tend to drink now when you all went out?

No, we didn't. I think it had a lot to do with money. We didn't have the disposable income, and it was unheard of to still be living at home with the parents after the age of 20.

Was weed and LSD as big and easily accessible as depictions of the 60s and 70s would have us believe?

The drugs! Got to have drugs. Pot (weed) was easy to grow, very cheap. Used to smoke it in bongs rather than joints, more bang for your buck. Trips [LSD] were cheap, I think. About 2 pounds and you were on the high for over 24 hours with no sleep. My drug of choice was hash. Either the oil or the block. It was a nice high, but you could not function well. But if you listen to the music of the time it really does reflect what it was like, to have a group of friends over for a session. Having said all that the most outlandish and shocking drug I ever saw anyone use was the birth control pill. Didn't you have to hide that stuff away?!

Can you tell us some 70s slang that isn’t really in use anymore? What in the world does “ultra-blagging” mean? (As written in a letter penned by Freddie to his friend Celine in 1969.)

Abso-bloody-lootely!

Man, I thought I was the bees knees to be on a scholarship in London. But that didn't stop me from jigging or having a skive day. They were the days that I blagged my way into a pub, had too many lagers and ended up chundering in the gutter. That was how you knew your night was ace. I would get a right bollocking if anyone found out. It would be a bugger when all that you could find at a car boot sale was chavtastic, but sometimes you could be Jammy Dodger and tickety-boo you find something brilliant. Bob's your uncle. Anyways, I need to see a man about a dog.

[It seems to me that J uses a bit of Australian slang here, like chundering, which makes sense because she is, after all, Australian. She also provided the translation:]

Cheers

It would be my honour.

I felt very privileged to be given a scholarship that let me study in England. But being so young and having no family to guide me, it was often tempting to not turn up or give a false excuse for being sick. (I had a lot of food poisoning). These would often happen if the night before I had been drinking beer and ended up vomiting outside the pub. But in my young mind that was a good night. If any of the teachers found me drinking I would be in a lot of trouble. Often I would have to say I was holding it for someone else. Not having much clothes with me, I would buy them second hand from church jumble sales or other students and, yes, Kensington market (the market). Some of the stuff would not be very tasteful or in good condition. But sometimes you would find something that was cheap and in good condition. I will stop this text now as I must go to the toilet.

PS: Ultrablagging sounds very Freddie. Blagging was used, but not ultra, meaning to persuade someone to do something or act better than you are. They were always rock stars.

Sincerely

[It was at this point that I realised I was talking to an absolute legend. She also told me then that the majority of her old photographs had sadly been lost when her house was flooded in 1988, including most of the photographs from her stay in London. Noooo! :(]

When you went out to dance, did you have only live music? Were there DJs yet?

You know, that is hard. We did not have a DJ. Sometimes there would be a band. Often we looked for places with a band or the jukebox. I think pubs closed at 10pm and some stayed open to 12 or 1, but public transport stopped at 9. So if you had not arranged a lift then you had to make the last bus. Most of the time we would be heading back to someone's place to get stoned and then crash there. In the morning you would have to work out where you were. When I got back to Australia, the discos were all the rage. They could have been in London too but it was not cool to like disco.

How many people would show up to Queen’s gigs when they played in pubs or at, for example, the Imperial College?

Depending on the location and the night: 10 to 1000!

So how did you first meet the Queen boys?

I was at the pub talking about a band we saw last week when Brian stuck his head into our booth telling us he knew a better one. Thinking about seeing them at the stall... Roger not often, Freddie quite a lot. Often on different stalls, I think that is why I can't remember the name. [The name of the stall. Other sources confirm that Freddie also worked at Alan Muir’s stall, for example, selling shoes.]

How well did you know them?

Just looking at your tumblr account. [she has had a look at my blog, where somebody asked if ‘groupie’ meant she had slept with the band] No, I never slept with the boys. I would not say I was a close friend, but I started at Ealing Art College in ‘72 and moved in the same circles. I loved the music and could be called one of the first groupies. I had to sneak into the pubs because I was 16. Roger always teased me for being so young. They all did seem to be one very large family, not just the band. It was a group of about twenty regulars, both male and female. Everyone knew that Fred was too gay to function. We were all at the gay rights march in London in 1972, had to run after the march. Lots of sharpies [Australian slang: youth gang, thugs] wanting to bash us. Back then I was in every protest that was going, student union rights, even the secretary protest. Just part of the times, stick it to Man or Woman. I left London in ‘74 for Australia, been here ever since and lost track of the boys but have never stopped being a fan.

What do you remember about them? How would you describe their personalities?

Don’t let the trolls hate me, but I did not like Brian. I found him to be rather full of himself. Space was a subject you never brought up around Brian or you would die of old age before he stopped talking. He was always the first to speak and start a conversation and then quickly passed you off to John, who was always tired and shy. Roger was also quite shy at times. He was very self-conscious of his looks, as he felt being pretty, nobody would take him seriously. Fred, well, he was not yet the big star, so I think he was working on his stage persona. When talking to groups at parties, he had the best stories of things that had happened to him or close friends. They were very funny and very descriptive. He was the life of the party. When he had a few to drink or was the centre of attention, he would take a cigarette out of the closest person’s hand and start smoking. Now remember this is the point of view of a 16-year-old girl that was a fish out of water, trying to fit in and not having much worldly experience.

It is said that Freddie and Roger were very stylish. How did they dress in everyday life?

Fred would do his hair and makeup to check the mail. Yes, he was always turned out, but so were a lot of people. Freddie did go over the top with hats, scarfs and jewellery. With Roger, it is a surprise he was able to have kids his jeans were that tight. And his shirts were always open unless he was in a jumper. I think it could have been so that you knew he was male, as it was the start of the unisex clothing. When I travelled out of London I realised it was a London thing. When I got back to Australia everyone thought I was a show-off.

There are some disagreements about how tall especially Freddie was. I know this is a difficult thing to try and remember accurately. But do you remember?

Freddie was taller than me but everyone was. Roger was shorter than Fred, but I never saw Roger in platform shoes. I did meet up with the band by chance at Sydney airport in 1984, said ‘hello’ but they did not remember me, or if they did then they did not say anything and I did not want to be a dork. At that time Fred was the same height as me (5ft 8in/1.72m), Roger was taller than me. It made me think at the time that he had a growth spurt! John was shorter than me and Brian has always been tall. [I have a feeling the platform shoes - or lack thereof - played a vital role here! Although 172cm for Freddie seems likely.]

You said everyone knew Freddie was “too gay to function”. Attitudes towards homosexuality have changed so much that it can be hard for us, now, to fathom what exactly people must have thought of him. Was it more of a joke that he was so camp? Was it something he would have been teased for? Also, he had a girlfriend. Did you ever meet Mary or the other girlfriends?

In 1972 a whole group of us - and I am pretty sure that Fred, Roger, Brian and Tim were there - were in a gay pride march. [Since then, J has found and showed me a picture of a boy she thought was Tim Staffel, and it wasn't, so Tim was most definitely not there. Whether Freddie, Roger and Brian really were there or if J is misremembering, who knows?] Us youth believed you could not choose who you fell in love with and if it was same sex, so what? However, if it was two girls then it was every guy’s duty to change her!

It was also a time that the gayer the guy was, the more the girls were interested. Also, if a guy was gay then you did not have to worry about him and he was a good person to take with you if you were going out drinking. However, the police, parents, teachers and anyone of authority were horrified and treated them badly. I did meet Mary a couple of times at pubs and once after a gig. This is just my opinion, but I found her a bitch. It could be that I was so young. It could be that I was very Australian. It could be that she felt threatened as my accent was a magnet to people around. And the boys (Queen) were no exception. Brian had a cousin in OZ and was always asking questions. I remember that my close group of friends thought that Mary made the perfect girlfriend for Fred as they were as fake as each other. Having said that about them, I often wonder if I would think the same now and if my perceptions were just because she would not give me the time of Day. Chrissy and Jo were a lot of fun.

This was before your time, but I read that Freddie's nickname at Ealing Art School was ‘Freddie Baby’. Any ideas how this came about? His showmanship or maybe personality traits?

I don't think so. There were an older crowd that would talk like that. I think the slang ‘baby’ was a 60’s thing, like groovy baby.

How long, roughly, did Roger and Freddie have their stall? I can't find anywhere when it closed down. What did it actually look like? Was it a sort of wooden stall type of thing? Or an actual room? What were some of the other things people sold at Kensington Market? Mostly clothes or all sorts?

The markets were little divided shops. The back was brick and the walls wood. I have been trying all day to remember the name. [Of the stall.] I think it was something hard to say. More often than not it would be Freddie's dad in the store. It was still open when I left. Roger and Freddie were both in the store on Saturdays and some Sundays. There was a girl, I think Jill, who was in the store more. And during the week it could be anyone. You name it and you could get it at the markets. Second hand or designer clothes, shoes, jewellery, pot and assortments. Hair cuts, food, bric-a-brac.

Wait, wait. What? Freddie’s dad? Really now?

Yeah, it was an older Indian man. so we just assumed it was his father. It was my understanding that he started the stall then the boys would work it as the whole markets were set up for younger people, but if needed he would work there. I don't think the boys would be able to pay the rent on their own. [I have since found out that the stall closed in late 1971, and Freddie continued to work at the Market until '74, for Alan Mair and possibly others. So the stall J witnessed wasn't their original stall - explaining all the different people she saw there - but she had no way of knowing that it wasn't.] They always had incense burning that was very big in the 70s. I still occasionally bring out the sticks, but it does not last like the candles and diffusers of today. If you could get in touch with Robert Daniels, he ran ChaChaDumDum it was the stall across from Freddie. He would know the dates.

[J says it’s this look, in a picture she happened across while looking at my tumblr] Yep, that is the one. It usually means that he does not believe or agree with something that was said and is working out how to respond, or he has lost the plot.

You mentioned Roger seemed shy to you at times. Was he also quite charming? We read a lot about what a chick magnet he was. Was this the impression you had?

My favorite subject! I had a thing for Roger. Everyone has a type and mine is the blue-eyed blond. Now, before you ask, was he brunet? No, he was a mouse/dirty blond. If it was summer he would have blond streaks mostly at the ends. He knew he was pretty and was always dressed in the latest fashion and had the current hairstyle. So, being my type I was constantly watching him. Everyone slept around during that time. I did not notice Roger doing it more or less. 80% of the time he was with Jo. Yes, he was a chick magnet, but he did not do the chasing. He was always very polite to everyone. If it ever looked like there would be any conflict he would be the first to leave it. It was not that he was a coward, just not into conflict. If he saw anyone that needed help he was right there, and often had to have Freddie's back. I never saw him in a fight. He could always talk his way out of things. He was also very patient and would listen for hours to other people talk. However, he would get this vacant look in his eyes at times.

And Freddie would either click his fingers, change the subject or just give up. I don’t think that Brian noticed, and it would be fair game for John, he would see how far he could push it. Roger liked to drink a fair bit and when drunk he would be hanging all over Jo. If she was not there then he missed Jo. If, however, he thought that he or his friends were not being respected, then look out! It was a verbal volcano heading your way. That is what happened to me one time. I was trying to talk with my friends close to where a drunken Roger was and I yelled at him to shut the hell up, you wannabe blond. We/I coped a mouthful back, all in the same sentence, that finished with: Sorry, I didn't realise you were on your rags (period)! I have to have the last word, so I told him the truth: I don’t get them yet! (I was a late starter.) He went so red in the face and called me JB [jail bait] from then.

You also mentioned Roger’s cat Ziggy having kittens. I read about this but never when exactly it was. Do you remember?

I think it was winter ‘73. I remember being cold when he was asking around the pub. [To find homes for the kittens, I gather.]

Is it quite strange reading fictional interpretations of real people you knew? When did you first find out there was Queen fanfic?

No, we used to make up stories about people all the time, a verbal fanfic. Was looking up Adam Lambert and came across the fanfics. Some had me in stitches! Others, like DoA, had me hooked.

Please, allow me to be a little self-indulgent at the end. What's one thing I got totally RIGHT in DoA?

All the Ibex stuff.

What's one thing I got totally WRONG in DoA?

Roger did not have a temper, and I don’t know what the go with his father was, but he would talk about him quite a bit and was always visiting his mum. [Absolutely fair, not only did I change the timeline of Roger’s parents divorce in DoA - for lack of information at the time - but also created a completely fictional narrative around it for the sake of storytelling.]

J, thank you so much for all this, sincerely. Can you tell me a little more about yourself? Are you still an artist?

I don't paint or draw any more. At the age of a 50 the doctors operated on an aneurysm or three, and now my eyesight is very bad, I have no fine motor skills and a tremor. I was married in January 1984 and have just celebrated our 37 year anniversary. I have one daughter who is 30 and two great, although tiring grandkids. A girl, 11, and one boy, 5. I have lived my life as the average middle class Australian with great memories. Talking with you has helped me a lot to remember a time when the world was mine for the taking. When I returned to OZ I started nursing, met my best friend, and we planned that once we graduated we would go back to London to study midwifery. But I fell in love instead.

J's wedding in 1984. As you can see, she found her own blue-eyed blond.

---

Upon request, J has shared some of her past and present artwork with me.

These are from her time at Ealing Art School:

These were done later, back in Australia:

J: Did this just before Christmas as you had inspired me. It did not require fine motor skills!

So there you have it! I hope you found this little glimpse through a 16-year-old girl’s eyes as much of a fascinating read as I did. I urge everybody one more time to remember that J did not have to share any of this, and I think we all owe her a big thank you for delving into her memories. She is likely to see the responses on AO3, so I have comment moderation enabled there as I will not let anybody harass this lovely lady. The tumblr she created is @since72, but she isn’t really an active user and also very new to it all. Again, I can only urge everybody to be respectful.

If you have other burning question for J, feel free to leave them in the comments on AO3. I will either pass them on, or she may want to reply to them herself directly.

#Queen band #Freddie Mercury #Roger Taylor #John Deacon #Brian May #interview #i am so excited about this #so much into #information #JB

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aeonmagnus · 3 years

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Happy 20th Anniversary Robots In Disguise!

This year, and today in particular, marks the 20-year anniversary of Transformers Robots in Disguise airing in the United States. This was the official English language dub of the Japanese show Transformers Car Robots, which aired in Japan the year before. This show and it’s accompanying toy line were a big shift in the Transformers brand and affected how things moved forward in the new millennium. It was also a big influence on me and this website in it’s early years, so both the brand and TFW2005 may not be what it is today without it.

We hope you will read on after the break to check out our celebration of Robots in Disguise on it’s 20th!

Intro

The following is not a comprehensive article on the show proper, but rather a trip down memory lane from my personal perspective. It was a period of change in my life, in the fandom, in the brand, and in the world – all happening at once. Robots in Disguise was smack dab in the middle of it all and I think that’s why it still resonates with me all these years later. For a deeper dive into the world of Robots In Disguise you can check RIDForever.info, a site I maintain just about RID and Car Robots. The 2021 updates are here, and the 2017 round of updates are here. I’d also suggest checking the TFWe issue all about RID over on the 2005 Boards. Now, onto today’s festivities…

The Show

RID, and yes I say RID as if it is the only RID. If you must reference that other RID show and it’s off-shoots, refer to it as RID 201x, thanks. 😊 RID aired during the Fox Kids programming block on a Saturday morning, with additional episodes set to air each weekday during the afternoon hours. Instead of stretching the show out over the course of 30+ weeks with only a new ep each weekend, they were going to blaze through it non-stop. By the end of the first week, we would have been 7 eps in. That however hit a big roadblock due to 9/11 just three days later. While some local markets did air the episodes, many larger city networks, and especially east coast markets, stuck with news coverage. Many of us did not catch the early episodes on TV the first go around. In addition, several of the episodes got pulled from TV due to depictions of buildings being destroyed and other similar visuals which understandably could upset children that just experienced 9/11. So right off the bat, the new millennium and new era of Transformers were dealing with a new reality.

The show, for those that don’t know – was a weird one-off in Transformers history. We had G1 and then the G2 remixes for a bit. Beast Wars came on the scene and ran all the way through 2000 with it’s successor – Beast Machines. During the Beast Wars era – Japan did a couple of their own Beast Wars shows, non-CGI extensions of what we saw in the US. Their market wasn’t quite ready for full CGI so they stuck with traditional anime. When Hasbro decided to continue Beast Wars into Beast Machines, Takara went a completely different way – a traditional animated show which brought back Autobots and “Decepticons”, mixing them in with the beasts. They focused the toys on a couple new and complex molds, then filled the rest of the line with repaints of previous toys. Old 2nd tier Beast Wars toys, G2 Laser Prime, and even some Generation 1 molds in the form of the Combaticons got new life as new characters in this show, capped with the biggest TF of them all at the time – a repainted G1 Fortress Maximus, now Brave Maximus. It was the prototype for what the Transformers brand did for years to come – repainting old toys into new characters. Universe, Classics, Botcon, and even some Generations runs used this method to give us some great toys in the 00s.

While there is a very complicated and long explanation for how every single Japanese show is one continuity, to someone casually starting with Car Robots it was a refresh, a new story, a new arrival on Earth. The Autobots vs the Predacons, and eventually the Combatrons/Decepticons. It was a hard cut from the last 5 years or so of CGI Beasts. Hand drawn traditional animation featuring vehicle Transformers. It wasn’t G1, but many of the folks who grew up with G1 were just getting out of college around this time. They were rediscovering their childhood love of Transformers through Beast Wars, flea market finds, raids on their parents’ attics and basements, and for the internet savvy – imports of Japanese reissues from Takara. It was a perfect storm of nostalgia; a return to Autobots and Decepticons was welcomed by kids and adults alike.

RID and TFW2005

In the years leading up to Car Robots, I was just getting into the internet, coding, design, some digital music, and all the possibility that came with it. Beast Wars, especially when it hit Season 2/3 and the inclusion of G1 lore, really got me focusing on Transformers again as a hobby. I eventually combined the two newfound hobbies into one and Transformer World 2005 was born. At no point did I ever think it would last 20+ years and take over my life in the way it did. I started the full version of TFW2005 around April 2000, with some starts and stops before that. That was right around when Car Robots started airing in Japan. Through the magic of 56k internet, I was able to connect with folks in Japan and get them to send me VHS tapes of Car Robots. Really nice, high-quality tapes too, I still have them hehe. To the younglings reading – try to picture this: no youtube, no video sharing. The concept of streaming anything did not exist yet. Napster and the eventual peer to peer stuff hadn’t fully kicked off. Plus, we were all viewing the internet on giant computers in our rooms at the speed of 1x on your phone. Less than 1 bar 3G mobile speeds today.

Yes, someone recorded episodes from TV to video tape over there, did that a couple weeks at a time, then physically mailed them across the world to me, who then got them on the internet. Can you imagine waiting weeks to watch an episode of TV the size of a twitter profile avatar? Crazy. Uploading a full episode to the internet was a big pain in the ass, not easily done. I decided to get a converter that allowed me to plug my VCR into the computer and encode the tape into digital format. From there, it was reduced using Microsoft’s WMV technology so that the episodes were about 5 MB each. 30 minute episodes at 5MB each. Dimensions – 176 x 144 pixels. 4k video today – 3840 x 2160 pixels. You can imagine that video looked like crap. But we didn’t care – we were blown away. Old school animation, vehicles, some cool Japanese anime vibes, it was what we as G1 fans kinda had in the back of our heads on what Transformers should be in a new era, and we were seeing it. Most of us had no clue what they were saying or what was going on. Also didn’t care. I still to this day think CR/RID is better like that.

So one of the first things TFW2005 did on the internet was provide these super small windows into Car Robots and what was going on in Japan. It helped get US fans hyped up for what Transformers could be. It got us wanting the toys, and importers bringing the Takara toy line over were moving serious product. It helped swing Hasbro, who was planning to return to Autobots and Decepticons again down the road, to move that schedule up. Instead of running Beast Machines until 2002 and then starting what we now know as the Unicron Trilogy, it was cut short. Robots in Disguise as a toy line and show came over in 2001, ran fast and hard for a year with non stop releases, got extended because it did so well, and then faded into the Universe line of repaints. The new millennium of Transformers was here and Robot In Disguise kicked it off with a bang.

Wrap Up

As we all continue with collecting Transformers now, regardless if you tagged into the fandom during G1, Beasties, the Unicron Trilogy, the Movies, or just yesterday – let’s take the time to give Car Robots and RID some props! It set the tone for what the new millennium of the brand would be. It gave us some toys ahead of their time. It solidified the repaint as an accepted thing in the hobby. And it gave us one crazy 39 episode run of TV that’s still a fun ride 20 years later.

For those that would like to learn more about RID and Car Robots – I still maintain a Robots in Disguise website that archives everything I have or came across. There is a lot there if you want to go on a tour of all the awesome Car Robots and Robots In Disguise era stuff. Check it out at RIDFOREVER.INFO! FIYAH!

Let us know what you think and remember from the good old days of RID on the 2005 Boards here!

Epilogue

If someone over there at Hasbro is reading – can someone please figure out who owns the rights to the show in the US market and then get it out on DVD in full, finally? Work all that funky licensing stuff out (if there is any) and get it done. The US has never had access to it via an official release. Maybe get it up on YouTube like G1? Something. Announcing plans for that before the end of 2021 would be a nice 20th anniversary tribute.

#Transformers #Transformers: Robots in Disguise #20th Anniversary #Robots in Disguise #Optimus Prime #Megatron #Car Robots #Transformers: Car Robots

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givemethatgold · 4 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet! (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it.

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet.

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?”

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest.

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!”

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to.

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Catfish Morales #frankie x reader #catfish x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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