#Harbour Event Centre

[thepermanentrainpress]

Gallery: HYO @ Harbour Event & Convention Centre - Vancouver, BC Date: November 2, 2023 Photographed by: Timothy Nguyen

*Do not share without credit. If shared, please tag and credit both Timothy Nguyen and The Permanent Rain Press on Instagram, and Timothy Nguyen and The Permanent Rain Press on X.

[shotattheshow]

[PHOTOS] Mom Jeans. @ Harbour Event Centre

Shots by Jacob Zinn

[rickchung]

2023 Art Vancouver x VCC West x Waterfront.

[The fair] will host 57 new artists and galleries from across Canada and around the world as it celebrates a variety of voices from a diverse cultural breadth. This representation of artists from Asia, Africa, Europe, and the Americas emphasizes Vancouver as a destination city for all art lovers alike.

Browse the fair from May 4–7.

[skywerse]

Finch finally got a redesign that suits her more... With that, if you want to know more about my riptide oc, info below! :D

WARNING: there's A LOT of yapping

Finch, originally named Farren Van Aalsburg, stands as a 24-year-old pirate whose legacy is intertwined with the notorious ship, The Arbiter. 

Known for her ruthless and calculated leadership, Finch's mere approach to piracy would send ripples of apprehension through the ranks of sailors and even unsettle the most seasoned navy officers. The very mention of her crew's arrival was often met with foreboding whispers. In taverns, pirates would share knowing smirks over their mugs of beer, while officers would exchange wary glances. They'd caution one another, 

"Retribution's coming."

Farren's lineage traces back to a well-known navy captain, Heimer Van Aalsburg, praised for his adeptness in handling internal conflicts and hailed as one of the foremost strategists in naval warfare. Alongside his family, composed of Farren, her stepsister Hestia, and stepmother Alisei, they resided aboard a wonderful mahogany vessel, embarking on voyages from one port to another.

For Heimer, Farren was the centre of his universe, he couldn't have wished for a better daughter. Their connection strengthened, particularly in the wake of Farren's mother, Julith Ferin's passing when Farren was just four years old.

The bond between Farren and her younger sister was equally profound, they had an unbreakable bond from the very moment they met. However, amidst this familial setting, Alisei nursed a vicious, festering resentment, convinced that Farren overshadowed Hestia in Heimer's eyes. This animosity later culminated in a tragic incident that took place one, stormy night. 

In an unfortunate turn of events, Farren finds herself overboard, her desperate attempt to grasp the ship resulting in a severe injury to her right arm. Eventually, the raging waters below are quick to swallow her.

As her consciousness returns, she kneels before a colossal leviathan. The creature presents a solemn pact: it will guide her to the nearest vessel and mend her injured arm, with the condition that she accepts the burden of becoming the guardian of the seas until her last dying breath. An oath that binds her to a life on the move, forbidding her to settle on solid ground or abandon her duty. With hesitation, she agrees.

One fateful day, Skip, a hardy half-orc fisherman, discovers a young girl ensnared in his ship's nets. Swift to lend a helping hand, he extends not only a refuge but a genuine home for the girl, determined to help navigate her through the uncertain future.

Now residing on a small isle, a mere few days were enough for her to befriend a whole flock of zebra finches, who trailed behind her like loyal companions. Considering the girl didn't remember anything, let alone her name, Skip decided that the name 'Finch' would be more than a suitable choice.

Finch grapples with a zero to no recollection of herself and her family. Her only tangible link is a gilded medallion etched with the initials 'J.H.F’ accompanied by a few fleeting memories of her father.

Finch becomes a stalwart protector, earning recognition as the island's guardian. Fueled by an unyielding commitment, she gathers a crew at the age of 16. Two years later, they embark on their first voyage.

Her five years at sea culminates in a fierce clash with the navy, leaving Finch and her childhood friend, Shelby, as the lone survivors. In the wake of the tragedy, Finch confronts a maelstrom of emotions, grappling with guilt, simmering anger, and the rekindling of a long-suppressed fear of the unforgiving ocean.

"What value does a fierce pirate captain, one who commands the treacherous seas yet harbours such fear, truly possess?" - Niklaus, on their last meeting.

Finch and Niklaus have a history of encounters, each one more significant than the last.

Their first meeting took place when Finch was just 16, in the midst of assembling her crew. Niklaus dangled the promise of information regarding her family, but only if she'd abandon her oath. She refused, even poking fun at him the whole time—a stance she maintained on numerous occasions.

The second encounter, at the age of 23, followed a previously mentioned, deadly battle. Niklaus presented her an offer to turn back time, still on the condition of letting go of her oath. Once again, she refused, stating he's a fool if he thinks she'll ever give it up. After a few humiliating attempts at bribing her, he gives up.

A mere few weeks later, their paths crossed once more. This time, Niklaus proposed a lasting solution to banish her deep-seated fear of the ocean in return for a future favour. He pledged to provide a specific time, place, and a duel to be won, one she'd be obliged to fulfil, that is not linked to her oath. After careful consideration, and a few conditions, Finch shook on the arrangement (and still made fun of him the entire time).

[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in May 2024

01/05 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, attended The Princess Royal Training Awards Alumni Skills Summit at Guildhall. 🏆

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Whitley Fund for Nature, attended the Annual Whitley Awards Ceremony at the Royal Geographical Society. 🦋

02/05 With Sir Tim Named a Great Western Railway Intercity Express Train ‘HRH The Princess Royal’ at Paddington Railway Station. 🚉

Unofficial With Sir Tim Attended day two of the Royal Windsor Horse Show. 🐎

03/05 With Sir Tim Departed the UK from Stansted Airport for Canada and arrived at Vancouver International Airport

HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Vancouver;

Attended the Commissioning Ceremony for HMCS MAX BERNAYS at North Vancouver Burrard Drydock, before attending a Reception onboard. ⛴️ 🇨🇦

Attended a Dinner onboard HMCS MAX BERNAYS at sea. 🍽️

04/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Toured HMCS Max Bernays at sea. 🌊

Visited Esquimalt Military Family Resource Centre at the Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. 👪🪖

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited God’s Acre Cemetery and laid a wreath at the Memorial. 🌹

Visited the Maritime Museum of British Columbia Archive. 📜⚓️

Her Royal Highness afterwards visited Fed Urban Agriculture Society Urban Farm, 395 Harbour Road. 🌾

Attended a Reception given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia (the Hon Janet Austin) at Government House. 🥂

Attended a Dinner given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia at Government House. 🍽️

05/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Visited Government House Gardens. 🪴⛲️

Attended the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Parade at the Parliament Building and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph before taking the salute at the march past of Canadian Armed Forces Veterans, Serving Personnel and Cadets. 🫡

Attended a Royal Victoria Yacht Club Youth Dinghy Regatta. 🛥️

As Patron of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association, visited Victoria Therapeutic Riding Association. 🐎

Departed Vancouver International Airport for the United Kingdom. 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

06/05 Arrived at Heathrow Airport from Canada 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

08/05 Hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace alongside The King and Queen, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. 🍃☀️🪴

As Patron of the Woolf Institute, attended a Reception, followed by a Dinner, to launch the Randeree End of Life Programme. 🥂🍽️

09/05 As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, visited the Headquarters at HMS Excellent in Portsmouth. ⚓️

As Patron of the Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy. 🏛️

As Patron of the Association of Wrens, opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, HM Naval Base. 🫡

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base ⚓️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base. ⚓️🍽️

10/05 As Patron of Catch22, visited Greater Manchester Victims’ Services at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. 👮

Visited the East Manchester Community Boat Project at Portland Basin Museum Marina in Ashton-Under-Lyne to mark its 30th Anniversary. 🛥️🎂

11/05 unofficial With Sir Tim Went to Badminton Horse Trials to cheer on Zara Tindall in her Cross Country stage of the three day event. 🏇🏼

13/05 Visited Stonehaven Open Air Swimming Pool to mark its 90th Anniversary. 🏊‍♀️🍾🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps and Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Stonehaven and District New Headquarters. ⚓️🫡 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

14/05 With Sir Tim As Patron of the United Kingdom Sailing Academy held a Founders’ Club Luncheon at St James’s Palace. ⛵️

As Chancellor of the University of London, attended the King’s Centre for Military Health Research Conference. 👩‍⚕️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Wellington Trust, attended a Dinner onboard HMS WELLINGTON (mto mark the Ship’s Ninetieth Anniversary. ⚓️🥂

15/05 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited Glenarm Organic Salmon Fish Farm, off Glenarm Harbour in Ballymena. 🍣🚤

As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, attended a Luncheon at Glenarm Castle. 🐟🍽️🏰

16/05 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Bembridge Station, followed by a Reception at Brading Haven Yacht Club in Ryde, Isle of Wight. 🔍🌊

As President, Royal Yachting Association, opened the Sea View Yacht Club's Training Centre in Seaview, Isle of Wight. 🛥️

17/05 With Sir Tim Hosted the annual Not Forgotten Association garden party at Buckingham Palace. 🫖🍰☀️

20/05 unofficial Departed from RAF Brize Norton for Norway and landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

21/05 As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Industrial Workers Museum in Vemork, Norway. 🔨⚙️🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, received a briefing on the sinking of DF Hydro at Mael Station in Telemark, Norway. 🏭🇳🇴

Attended a Reception given by His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Norway at the Residence in Oslo. 🥂🇳🇴🇬🇧

22/05 As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited Vestre Gravlund Cemetery and laid a wreath on the memorial. 🪦

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Linge Club and attended a Reception at Akershus Fortress, Oslo. 🇳🇴🇬🇧

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association. 🪖🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, with The Crown Prince of Norway, visited the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Akershus Fortress. 🏰 🇳🇴

unofficial Departed from Oslo Gardermoen Airport and landed at RAF Brize Norton . 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

23/05 As Patron of the Hornet Services Sailing Club, visited the club for their 60th anniversary. ⛵️🎂

Opened the Army Sailing Association Offshore Centre in Gosport. ⛵️

With Sir Tim & Duke of Kent Held a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Royal National Lifeboat Institution's 200th anniversary. 🛟☕️

With Sir Tim Visited the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. 🌸🌺🌼💐

24/05 Opened the Admiral Lord Cochrane Room at the Royal United Services Institute in Whitehall, London. 🔐

Sometime in May unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the Science Museum Groups annual dinner

Total official engagements for Anne in May: 53

2024 total so far: 224

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in May: 23

2024 total so far: 55

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

[laurelsofhighever]

Sometimes I just think about how dicey the relationship must be between the Chantry and Ferelden.

On the one hand, Ferelden was the birthplace of Andrastianism - the saviour of southern Thedas was an Alamarri barbarian too stubborn to fall under the yoke of her Tevinter masters, the only one worthy of getting the Maker to turn his gaze back to His children - but on the other hand, the Chantry has done so much to distance itself from those roots, from centring the faith in Val Royeaux’s Grand Cathedral to dismissing folk songs like “Andraste’s Mabari” as borderline heresy.

More than that, it had an active role in the subjugation of the Fereldan people. During the events of The Stolen Throne, the mages in Kinlock Hold are shown to be afraid of getting involved in the politics of the rebellion by harbouring Maric even for a single night because Circles are meant to remain neutral. AND YET mages from Orlais are brought specifically to Gwaren to help the Orlesians squash the rebels. Mother Bronach is there throughout Meghren’s reign legitimising his oppression as “the will of the Maker” and extracting tithes from the Fereldan people for the Chantry, while it’s strongly implied that Fereldans themselves are barred from serving any meaningful role in its hierarchy, if you pay attention to what Sister Ailis says.

So we have a source of national pride in Andrastianism itself, and we have a source of suspicion with how closely tied the Chantry as an institution is tied to Orlais, and possible resentment for the Chantry’s encouragement of indifference to the Orlesian Occupation. You can’t tell me the Rebel Queen Moira didn’t play into the imagery of Andraste the Liberator, fighting back against the tyranny of an unjust empire. You can’t tell me she didn’t use the people’s faith as a weapon to refute the idea of the Occupation being the Maker’s will. At the very least, you can’t tell me that after the war was done, nobody made that connection, given that she, too, met her end through betrayal.

And then we get to the Inquisition. There’s going to be a bit of a difference depending on who ends up on the throne after the Blight, because Alistair is far more outspoken than Anora both on his opinion of mage rights and his disdain for the Chantry in general (but he’s also an ex-templar so I’m sure there are headaches about how to square that away), but no matter who rules Ferelden, the actions of the Inquisition are the same. For the second time in living memory, a foreign power is giving itself free rein to tramp over Fereldan soil, seize its castles, and make decisions for its people. A foreign power with pretty strong ties to the Chantry (declared heretical or not), justifying their occupation through religion.

Just saying, Fereldans must have a complicated relationship with their majority religion.

And don’t get me started on my theory that the Chantry sanctioned the original invasion of Ferelden as a way to have an exalted march without spending money or effort or making other Andrastian nations nervous

[srslyblvck]

drunk prince, park sunghoon

pairing: prince!sunghoon x princess!reader

synopsis: sunghoon is drunk, but that doesn't stop him from confessing his love for Y/n.

warning: alcohol, fluff

word count: 1k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ONCE UPON A TIME in the whimsical kingdom of Eldoria, there lived a charming and carefree prince named Sunghoon. Known for his mischievous adventures and love for a good time, Prince Sunghoon was the heartthrob of the kingdom. However, there was one maiden who had captured his heart like no other – Princess Y/n.

Princess Y/n was not only known for her beauty but also her kindness and grace. She had a smile that could light up the darkest room, and her presence was enough to calm the wildest storms. It was no secret in the kingdom that Prince Sunghoon harboured a deep affection for Princess Y/n, but he had yet to find the courage to confess his feelings.

One festive evening, the kingdom was celebrating the annual Midsummer Festival. The air was filled with laughter, music, and the scent of delicious treats. Prince Sunghoon, known for his love of revelry, found himself at the centre of the festivities, enjoying the merriment alongside his loyal subjects.

As the night progressed, Prince Sunghoon, fueled by the festive spirits, found himself indulging in one too many cups of the kingdom's famous elderberry wine. His laughter echoed through the castle halls, and his steps became a tad unsteady. In his inebriated state, the mischievous prince decided it was finally time to reveal his feelings to Princess Y/n.

With a wobbly determination, Prince Sunghoon stumbled towards the grand ballroom where the princess was gracefully waltzing with the other nobles. The room was adorned with twinkling lights, casting a magical glow over the dancing couples. Spotting Princess Y/n in a stunning gown of midnight blue, Prince Sunghoon's heart skipped a beat.

As he approached the princess, his loyal companion, a mischievous court jester named Ni-ki, tried to intervene. "Perhaps, my prince, it's not the best time," Ni-ki whispered, attempting to guide Sunghoon away. But the determined prince shook his head and continued on his path.

"Princess Y/n!" Prince Sunghoon slurred, drawing the attention of the entire ballroom. The music came to a screeching halt, and all eyes turned to the intoxicated prince.

Princess Y/n, a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face, approached the swaying prince. "Prince Sunghoon, what brings you here in such high spirits?" she inquired with a giggle.

"I... I have something important to tell you!" Prince Sunghoon declared, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

The courtiers exchanged amused glances, and even the stoic guards struggled to hide their smirks.

"Tonight, under the stars and amidst the twinkling lights, I must confess – I love you, Princess Y/n! You are the most enchanting, bewitching, and utterly... amazing person I've ever met!" Prince Sunghoon proclaimed, his words punctuated by a hiccup.

Princess Y/n's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink as she tried to suppress her laughter. "Well, Prince Sunghoon, I must say that's quite the declaration."

The onlookers burst into laughter, and even Ni-ki couldn't contain his amusement. Prince Sunghoon, unaware of the comedic turn of events, beamed at the princess.

"Perhaps, my prince," Princess Y/n teased, "we should continue this conversation when you're a bit more... sober?"

And so, amidst laughter and joy, the Midsummer Festival continued, leaving the kingdom with a tale of a drunk prince and his charmingly awkward confession of love. Little did Prince Sunghoon know that his courageous, albeit tipsy, declaration would become a cherished memory, spoken of with fondness for generations to come in the kingdom of Eldoria.

After the uproarious confession at the Midsummer Festival, Princess Y/n couldn't help but find Prince Sunghoon's intoxicated state endearing. With a gentle smile, she took his arm and led him away from the amused crowd, deciding it was best to guide him to his chamber before he caused any more mischief.

As they walked through the castle halls, Prince Sunghoon leaned on the princess for support, his steps still a bit unsteady. "You're like a beautiful star, Y/n," he mumbled, causing her to chuckle softly.

"Thank you, Prince Sunghoon. But let's get you to bed before you start comparing me to the moon or something," she teased.

Reaching the prince's bedroom, Princess Y/n helped him onto his plush canopy bed. However, Prince Sunghoon seemed unwilling to let go of her arm. "You're comfy," he declared with a wide grin, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

Princess Y/n couldn't help but laugh at his adorable antics. "Well, thank you, Your Highness. Now, it's time for you to rest," she said, gently trying to extricate herself from his grasp.

"No, stay," Prince Sunghoon pleaded, his eyes pleading like a child who didn't want to be left alone.

Unable to resist his charm, Princess Y/n sighed playfully. "Alright, just for a moment."

She settled beside him on the bed, and Prince Sunghoon immediately snuggled closer, resting his head on her shoulder. "You smell nice," he mumbled, causing the princess to giggle.

"Thank you, Prince Sunghoon. Now, close your eyes and rest," she suggested, gently stroking his hair.

The prince obediently closed his eyes but couldn't resist holding onto Princess Y/n's hand. "You won't leave, will you?" he asked, his voice a mix of sleepiness and vulnerability.

Princess Y/n's heart melted at his innocence. "No, I won't leave. I'll stay until you're sound asleep," she reassured him.

As Prince Sunghoon drifted into a peaceful slumber, Princess Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected sweetness that emerged from his inebriated state. The once mischievous and carefree prince now lay before her, vulnerable and clingy in the most endearing way.

As the night unfolded, Princess Y/n found herself cherishing this unique and heartwarming moment. Little did she know that the tale of the drunk prince's adorable clinginess would become a cherished story in the kingdom, passed down through the generations as a testament to the whimsical nature of love in Eldoria.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 4, Chapter 3

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

PART 4

Chapter 3

Several days later…

The streets were quiet. Again.

Matt perched on the rooftop of one of the new residential buildings on West 49th street, and took the pulse of the city spread out below him.

It was quiet. Eerily so.

The drug pushers that usually worked the streets near the convention centre were gone. The network of muggers and pickpockets around the bus terminal had been disbanded. The smugglers and traffickers who ruled the docks were out of business.

Matt had spent the the last week intercepting the odd car jacker and petty thief, but the organised crime gangs that used to keep him busy on patrol were just…gone. According to Karen, a mysterious figure named Ronin had cleaned up the neighbourhood - and the rest of New York - soon after ‘The Vanishing’. He’d been so effective in his methods that no one had dared rekindle any sort of criminal enterprise in the years since.

Which meant Ronin had done in 6 months what Matt had failed to do in 3 years: make Hell’s Kitchen safe.

Unfortunately, he’d done it through a whole lot of brutal slaughter and intimidation. And no matter the end result, Matt could never condone those sorts of means.

Besides, he knew it wouldn’t last. Not now that all of the career criminals and would-be underworld rulers who’d disappeared five years ago were back. Once they figured out the lay of this new land, they’d start trying to claim their piece of it. They’d fill the voids left by those before them, undeterred by urban myths about a hooded samurai. Criminals would once again infect this city, and Matt would be there, ready to stop them.

Including Landon Cross.

All the money and influence in the world hadn’t stopped him from falling victim to the random fate of Thanos’ snap. He’d disappeared five years ago, upending the entire timeline of his grand plan of revenge against his family. The criminal empire he’d been building had tumbled down without him at the helm…but he’d be back too. Once he licked his wounds and found his new footing, he’d be back. Men like him - entitled, narcissistic sociopaths - didn’t have the capacity to admit defeat and slink off into the night.

He’d be back. And in the meantime, Matt would wait. And use the time to re-familiarise himself with his home.

His first venture out as Daredevil had been disorientating. He was used to New York real estate changing - it was constantly in flux, with buildings being demolished and new skyscrapers being erected all the time - but those changes were slow and gradual. Easy to adapt to.

They didn’t usually happen in the blink of an eye.

Right now, Hell’s Kitchen felt like a stranger. The streets he’d grown up on, lived on, worked on, walked on…they were all alien to him now. Storefronts were boarded up. Dozens of new businesses had replaced the ones he’d frequented his whole life. The silhouette of the skyline had drastically changed, as if someone had picked up buildings like they were lego blocks and shifted them around. 

Earlier tonight, Matt had ventured beyond the streets of his neighbourhood, too ‘see’ for himself how much New York had altered. Citi Field - once home of the Mets - was now weather-beaten and crumbling, with hundreds of rusted cars abandoned in the parking lot around the vacant stadium. The harbour around Ellis Island was filled with boats, their waterlogged cabins sloshing with the tide, and the rotted wood of their hulls creaking. The normally manicured gardens of Central Park were overgrown jungles. Times Square - normally buzzing with tourists and the sounds of thousands of neon lights - was vacant. Silent.

Everywhere he turned, there was decay and neglect. As if life hadn’t moved on at all after 2018.

As if the whole world had ended, instead of just half of it.

Matt found it all depressing as hell. This wasn’t the resilient, irrepressible city he knew.

Where was the fight? Where was the tenacious spirit? The unbeaten strength?

Had everyone really just…given up…five years ago?

———

There was one bright spot among the grey and lifeless remains. A small beacon of vitality and warmth that had escaped the apathetic, subdued and defeated air that seemed to permeate the rest of the city. It was the house that Karen shared with her daughter, Izzy, in a quiet residential area just north of Brooklyn.

Matt visited for the first time just over a week after his return. He stood on the porch, gift in hand, shifting on his feet as he waited for Karen to answer the door. He touched the paper in his pocket, smoothing his thumb over the now barely perceptible ink as if needing to take strength from the words. And he did need a bit of strength - he felt nervous as hell.

Which was ridiculous. Karen was one of his closest friends. They’d had dinner numerous times over the years. And when she’d called him up yesterday to invite him over for a home-cooked meal, the offer had been a casual one.

But he was still nervous. Because he wasn’t just having dinner with Karen - he was meeting her daughter for the first time. And, for some reason, it felt vitally important that the almost 2-year-old girl living in this house liked him.

The door opened before he could psych himself out any further.

“Hi! Welcome!” Karen’s happy greeting sounded a little too forced, her voice pitched a touch higher than normal. To his relief, Matt realised she was just as nervous as he was.

“Hey, Karen.” Matt stepped closer and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Thank you for having me over,” he replied.

Karen frowned. Then she covered her face with her hand and laughed. “This is weird, isn't it? We’ve had dinner so many times, and we’ve been in each others’ apartments loads other times, but suddenly we’re acting all formal with each other.”

Matt shrugged as she ushered him inside. “This isn’t like before. Not really.”

“I guess. But I want it to be. I don’t want there to be any weirdness between us. I want us to be friends again.”

“Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll always be friends.”

“I know. I didn’t really mean it like that. I just…I feel like we need to re-learn our rhythm. To get back to how we used to be.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining myself very well.”

“No, you are. I get it.”

He did get it. And ‘re-learning the rhythm’ was a good way to put it. It described the way Matt felt about the whole world these days - like he was slightly out of step with everything around him.

Off kilter, and out of place.

Dancing to a beat that hadn’t been heard in five years.

He touched the note in his pocket again, knowing it was part of the reason he felt so disoriented by this new reality. One of the other reasons - the literal personification of the changes that had taken place in his absence - chose that moment to make her presence known. “Momma?”

Karen looked up as the small voice called out to her. She smiled. “Someone’s awake from her nap.”

Matt swallowed, the nerves returning. He’d faced off against gangs of thugs and an army of ninjas. He’d taken down a cabal of immortal tyrants, and a Kingpin who’d terrorised the city. And yet he was scared to meet one little girl. “I’ll wait down here while you see to her,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Karen replied, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”

She led him up the stairs to the small nursery at the front of the house. She pushed open the door, and an excited squeal sounded from inside. Matt could sense a crib up against the wall and a tiny figure gripping the bars, bouncing up and down on her little legs. “Momma!”

“Hi, Izzy-Bizzy,” Karen murmured lifting the little girl into her arms. “Oof, you’re getting so big.”

“Big!” Izzy repeated.

“Soon you’ll be able to climb out of this thing yourself, and then what will I do?” She nuzzled into the toddler’s neck and Izzy laughed. The two of them seemed lost in their own little world, a world of coconut-scented hair, and stuffed bears, and the stars that spun on a mobile above the crib.

Matt felt so out of place, a lumbering shadow in the corner of the room. He tried to edge towards the door, but Karen noticed before he could escape. She turned around and brought her daughter closer. “Izzy, this is a friend of mine. He’s called Matt. Can you say ‘hello’?”

Matt expected the little girl to shy away. To bury herself in Karen’s arms, safe from the dark figure looming over her. But she was as fearless as her mom. She reached out one arm and waved at him. “Hello! Hi!,” she greeted him, not a hint of fear in her piping little voice.

Matt smiled and touched the tip of his finger to her outstretched palm. “Hi.”

She grabbed his finger and wiggled it up and down. Karen laughed. “She just learned about shaking hands,” she explained.

“Oh, in that case” - Matt arranged their hands until they were clasped together properly, his large hand swallowing her fragile little fingers, and gently shook up and down - “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Isabelle.”

The little girl burst into giggles, and Karen joined her laughter, pressing a kiss to her sleep-tussled curls. Karen shook her head at Matt, and smiled. “Another female charmed by Matt Murdock.”

Matt smiled, knowing he was the one who was thoroughly charmed.

———

The charm offensive continued throughout dinner, and afterwards when they all retreated to the cosy living room. As evening bled into night, and as Matt reclined in one of the softly-cushioned sofas, comfortably full from Karen’s cooking, Izzy toddled over to him. “Read?” she asked, thrusting a large book at him.

Before he could respond, she scrambled up onto sofa and wriggled into the space beside him, getting comfortable for what must be her nightly routine.

Matt smiled ruefully as he turned the book in his hands. “I can’t read this to you, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Karen saved him from having to try to explain the concept of blindness to a toddler. She entered the room, coffees in hand, and noticed his predicament. “Oh honey, Matt can’t read books like that. His eyes don’t work like yours and mine do.”

Matt could sense Izzy looking up at him. Then she clambered into his lap, reached up and removed his dark glasses. Pudgy little fingers pressed against his face as she tilted it one way and another, inspecting the eyes in question.

“Izzy!” Karen admonished. “Sorry, Matt, she hasn’t grasped the concept of personal space yet. Let me get her off you.”

“She’s okay,” he replied, submitting to the little girl’s scrutiny. He didn’t mind the weight of her on his lap, or the none-too-gentle exploring fingers. Warmth radiated from her skin and her breath smelled like the tinned peaches she’d had for dessert, and he had the sudden urge to take her in his arms and cuddle her close.

He’d never seriously thought about having children. Growing up, it had seemed like too far-off a possibility to contemplate. Then, when he reached the age of contemplation, his lifestyle had been too dangerous and chaotic for children. And when he discovered Calina couldn’t have kids, he’d put any and all thoughts of fatherhood away.

But sitting here, with this bundle of energy and sweetly mischievous innocence in his lap, he finally understood the impulse. She was a little miracle. He could sense fragments of Karen’s character within her, but she was her own little person, bravely exploring the world around her.

Having finished her exploration of his ‘different’ eyes, the little miracle grabbed the book from his hands, and turned around to face Karen. “Momma?”

“You want me to read instead?”

Izzy nodded.

“Do you want to come sit with me?”

She shook her head, and flopped back against Matt, settling into the crook of his arm.

“Okay then,” Karen smiled. She sat back in her own chair and started reading the tale of Kevin the Koala. Her voice took on a soft, slow, lilting tone - one which had a dramatically soporific effect on the little girl in Matt’s arms. Within minutes, her eyes fluttered closed. Her little breaths got deeper and her negligible weight got a little more tangible as she drifted off to sleep. 

“Is it always this quick?” Matt whispered. The only thing he knew about babies and sleep was that it was usually a struggle.

“Not always. But she had a swimming lesson this afternoon and that tends to wear her out.” Karen’s voice was shaky as she replied. A little broken. As if she was holding back tears.

“Are you okay?”

She laughed quietly. “Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. Seeing you two together, it’s kind of surreal. I thought about this so much when I was pregnant, and when Izzy was a baby. Of how you and Foggy would be with her…I just never thought I’d get a chance to find out.”

Matt smiled sadly, the spectre of those missing five years raising its head again. It was impossible to escape, even for a moment. Everything around him was a haunting reminder of the time he’d lost. From this house, and the journey here earlier tonight - down streets he didn’t recognise - to the toddler asleep on his lap, and the note burning a hole in his pocket…

“How are you adjusting?” Karen asked, as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk about that - Izzy takes up a lot of the air in the room.”

“In a good way,” Matt smiled.

“In a very good way - it’s hard to be depressed or worried when she’s around. But I want to know how you’re doing.”

Matt huffed out a laugh. “I’m still waiting to wake up, if I’m honest. It doesn’t seem real.”

“It’s a lot to take in. But it’s only been eight days - it’ll get easier.”

Matt wasn’t so sure. He felt like there was only one thing that would make this easier, and it wasn’t time.

“Have you heard from Calina?” Karen asked, reading his mind again.

Matt sighed and fished the note from his pocket, careful not to wake Izzy. He held it up to show Karen.

“What is that? Braille?”

Matt nodded. “I found it shoved under my apartment door a couple of nights ago.” He rubbed his thumb over the raised dots on the piece of paper. He knew the pattern of those dots - and the short message they conveyed - by heart now. “‘Calina is alive and safe. She’ll be with you in a couple of weeks’,” he recited.

“Why does that sound like a badly written ransom note?”

Matt laughed. “I’m hoping it was written by one of the more…socially inept…Widows, and it wasn’t meant to come across so-”

“Vaguely threatening?”

“Yeah.”

“But its good news, though. Calina’s alive. She’s safe.”

That had been his first thought too, when he’d discovered the note in his hallway after returning from a night of patrolling. He’d collapsed to his knees with relief, his head bowed as he fought back tears. The confirmation that she was still out there, still breathing, her beautiful heart still beating…it was all he’d been praying for after returning to this strange world to find her gone.

But over the next few days, as he carried the note in his pocket - his fingers constantly drawn to it like a talisman - he realised the message carried with it far more questions than answers.

“If she’s so safe, why didn’t she contact me herself?” he asked Karen, voicing one of those questions.

“She could be on a classified mission, way off the grid. That wouldn’t be unusual for her.”

Matt nodded. It was one of the possibilities he’d considered. Although the idea of it just served to remind him how different her life was now. She’d been on missions - dangerous ones - multiple times over the past five years. She’d risked her life God-knows how many times.

And she was still off somewhere unknown, instead of here with him.

“What was she like, after it happened?” he forced himself to ask, not sure he wanted the answer.

Karen sighed. Then she was silent for several long moments, as if trying to order her thoughts - which made Matt even more hesitant to hear the truth.

“She struggled at first. A lot,” Karen finally replied. “I worried about her those first couple of years. She tried to hide how much she was hurting, but not very well. Then…”

“Then what?”

“Something changed. She seemed to get better. Stronger.”

Something in Karen’s voice worried Matt. “What aren’t you saying?”

“She became…not cold, exactly. But…more reserved. More remote. She was still kind and caring - you should see her with Izzy, the two of them adore each other - but a large part of her seemed walled off. I think she took all her pain and grief and buried it so far down inside that that she ended up burying some of her heart along with it.” Karen winced at what she must have seen on his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying this to hurt you-”

“I know.”

“But I think…when you do see her again, you need to be prepared for the change in her.”

“I don’t care how much she’s changed. I just want to see her. Talk to her. I need to. I miss her so much, Karen.” He felt like he was floundering in this new world. Adrift without his anchor. He could put on a good act when he needed to - like tonight - laughing and talking as if he was adjusting to this upheaval. But in reality, it felt like only his body had returned a week ago…

His heart and soul were still missing.

————–

Chapter 4 coming soon...

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

What role in a fantasy novel think the ATZ boys would fit into❕️

Ateez (ot8) x no one In particular.

(This is based loosely off the boys real personalities or actions. But It is fictionalin other aspects)🎤

-

Yeosang as...the chosen one.

-

He would be the one that the characters want to stick by because they know he can protect them. It's likely that yeosang as a character would live away from the public for privacy. In a forest on the outskirts where he can reside away from fans and the kingdom it's self. His story is that he hates being adored despite the fact that his friends constantly tell him how much of a skilled warrior he is. Although He doesn't want any of the fame, he does not hesitate to fight at any moment. His character likely starts off as the good guy and slowly progresses into a villain after a climactic event and would ultimately have a dramatic, disturbing death.

--

Seonghwa as...the crown prince.

-

Seonghwa is very princely in real life, so I feel this fits. He is the beloved and slightly cocky crown prince harbouring a dark secret that he sets out to fulfil. Seonghwa obviously lives in the palace in the centre of the kingdom. However, he would have a secret house high above the kingdom on the cliffs. His story is that he is actually immortal and refuses to marry much to the dismay of the village men and women. His character's story ends when he finally ages after his blood becomes infected with an ancient disease. He would die from incredibly old age.

---

Hongjoong as...the captain of the royal guard.

-

Hongjoong is a leader through and through. He is a well-respected and highly valued soldier. He would be the one that you always find at Seonghwa's side. He takes pride in protecting his prince at no cost. His story likely falls into the category of forbidden love but also tragic death. He ultimately is the one who becomes intertwined with an enemy and is betrayed, ending his story with a climactic death.

---

Mingi as...the rebel leader

-

He is the most powerful enemy of the nation to which seonghwa will rule. He would be the one everybody thinks will crumble easily, but he proves to be stronger than he looks and turns his story around by murdering the captain of the royal guard. His story is that he once worked as a soldier for the royal guard, but his ego got the best of him, and he was exiled, replacing him with hongjoong. He would try to reconcile with the crown prince but would ultimately be rejected. He ends with becoming the king of rebels, being more powerful than ever after ravaging the kingdom and taking back his title.

-

Wooyoung as...the court assassin.

-

He's sneaky. And fast. Wooyoung likely works closely with the prince, who sends him off to do missions in neighbouring kingdoms and often smaller towns. He would be the one that ends up being the only one left alive in the palace after losing his guard and his crown prince. His character would have the ability to control shadows for easier and stealthy kills when targets are out of range. His story would ultimately be the one to end the novel for good.

---

Yunho as...the comedy relief.

-

While his character would have a pretty powerful role. His main thing is that he brings joy and light to the story. He would be the one that people turn to in times of need for a laugh or the one that hosts parties to help his friends relax. Yunho's kindness would become his undoing after he is kidnapped and tortured for information about the prince, which he ultimately does not give and dies at the hands of a few rebels, angering the rebel captain, causing him to set them on fire at the stake.

---

San as...the fortune teller

-

He is something like a tarot reader. His story would be to exist purely to bring bad news, which turns out to be a curse placed upon him. His character is in a tight-knit friendship with the prince, which allows him to be at use to bring reports of what he is seeing of the future. His story is that he can never tell a lie, which gets him killed at the hands of the king himself after San admits he has fallen in love with the prince. He is hung for his actions, which starts seonghwas revenge arc.

--

Jongho as...the local tailor.

--

His character owns a smaller tailor in the town square. He sells his suits and sometimes dresses to the crown prince and made the coronation outfit of Her Majesty. He is often caught in background scenes where he sows and eavesdrops on conversations, making him the towns biggest gossip. Jongho used to be childhood friends with mingi, but after the death of his mother, mingi grew distant, and after years, all contact was lost. His story comes to an end with him coming back after the war, finding only wooyoung alive.

---

My god this took so long😭😭

[haydenigmatic]

I don't remember if anyone asked this before, but what is the ROs' reaction when they hear that the MC has become the new heir?

I mean in the story that won't be the most shocker news they hear about MC, it will definitely be a surprise for them all, all of the RO's will learn about MC being the heir at different times, so it won't be like, they all know about it at the same time.

I'm going to take it as if they are starting to have feeling things for MC.

Verena: Sure, it will surprise her, but she will be more focused at her given task, and will do a lot of thinking. This is quite spoilery so, bye.

Jasira: That's the least of surprises for her, though MC's new role is not going to make anything easy

Odette: She just doesn't know what to say or think, she didn't expected it, but just as Jasira, everything will be even more hard.

Nesrin: A welcomed surprise, as their alliance is now even more beneficial for both, and also to rub it on Odette's face, if MC agrees to their more formal alliance, making possible for her to be the queen.

Hanniel: He is worried about the danger that role now places MC in, but he is more surprised by MC, and not because of their new role.

Damon: He couldn't be happier, but not for MC's new role. He will also have to think it trough but he is more of going with his heart than mind.

Aurelia/n: They are in shock, there's a sense of admiration and respect for MC's unexpected ascension to the throne, tinged with a twinge of uncertainty for what the future holds.

Doria/n: A flicker of curiosity and calculation dances in their eyes, as s/he assesses the implications of this unexpected turn of events. Deep down, s/he harbours a mixture of intrigue and apprehension, recognizing the potential impact on their relationship and the precarious balance of power within the realm.

Sorin: This revelation leaves her momentarily stunned, her mind racing to comprehend the implications of MC's newfound status. In the midst of the uncertainty, one thing becomes clear: Sorin's journey is about to take an unexpected turn, with MC at the centre of a destiny she never knew existed.

It's more of a spoiler for the ones that knew MC before becoming the heir...

[one-boring-person]

Hello! xxcyberwraithxx here 😊 Thank you for accepting another request from me 💖

I absolutely ADORE the T:Salvation story you wrote for me back then and I’m rereading it til this day 🥹 So I’d like to request a sequel to “Admiration” if you will, but with a female reader. Skynet is taking the prisoner out of her cell a while after the events of “Admiration” and wants to study her further.

I’d like the story to contain a very flustered prisoner, a smug murderous AI and some aesthetic masturbation 😁 Skynet wants to see her doing it again, so to say 😈

Again, thank you so much!

I hope you enjoy this! I had fun writing it🤭🤭🤭

Admiration Pt.2

Skynet (Terminator Salvation) x reader/OC

Warnings: smut, NSFW, masturbation, voyeurism (?), stripping, slight dom/dub dynamics (slight lol)

Masterlist

If possible, the T-something-or-others seem relaxed on either side of her, unbothered in their purposeful strides. They don't bother holding her as they walk her down the artificially lit corridor, one carrying a weapon she's unfamiliar with and the other staying close enough that it could grab her should it need to - as if she'd try running, anyway. Absently, her mind goes to her own kind and what they might do in her position; she knows they wouldn't be harbouring the same shameless warmth tightening in her chest at the prospect of possibly meeting the being she's chased so long that she is. 

Nerves bite at the back of her throat, her eyes flicking nervously back and forth, observing the sterile walls around her. They're unmarked, completely bare except for a few indented panels and lines where doors must be, completely devoid of the superfluous decoration that she's seen in old human strongholds from before the war - the ones that are left, anyway. It's eerie, but she likes the simplicity, the authenticity of it, the lack of the relentless approval-seeking that still plagues the human race to this day. Just another thing that Skynet has mastered in its time being sentient.

She's shaken from her thoughts as the two terminators beside her stop briefly, waiting for a hidden door to slip open with only the slightest hiss of air. They usher her inside, one gesturing towards the lit-up icon in the centre of the room, the outlandish red glow emanating from the symbol set into the floor bathing the walls in a warm hue. Hesitantly, she steps onto it, pulling the tattered coat she has been permitted to wear tighter around her frame as her bare feet make contact with the cool glass of the light. She glances back, watching as the terminators stand at the door, crimson eyes staring into nothing somewhere high above her head. 

Glancing around, she frowns as she realises the only thing in the room is a holographic screen near the far wall. It flickers occasionally but is otherwise blank for now. Without thinking, she lifts her hand to her mouth, chewing on her chipped fingernails as she waits for something to happen, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck lift.

After a moment, the screen changes, conforming to a more recognisable shape. She watches, eyes wide as a humanoid shape takes form, not quite solid but far from the glitching apparition-like prototypes she's seen resistance scientists create as so-called ‘holograms’. They're not a shade in comparison to the unwavering figure in front of her, the uncanny similarity to human mannerism many ages ahead of where her own kind are in the advancement of this technology. 

The hologram looks like a man, his face chiselled and frame lean but muscular, soft brown hair pushed back neatly from his forehead. Clever blue eyes peer at her from under a hooded brow, glittering in the scarlet light, slightly distorted by the way the thin lips have curved up Into a perfect initiation of a smirk. He's tall, but not unnaturally so, looming over her as the image steps closer. 

She observes the image carefully, brow furrowed as the nerves mingle with a newfound disappointment…this is the Skynet she's waited so long to see?

‘I am curious,’ The apparition speaks, a smooth, flawless masculine voice echoing from holographic lips, ‘Most of your kind would have tried to escape by now, but not you. You've surrendered to your supposed fate with no issue.’

She swallows, fiddling with her sleeve as it cocks its head at her. 

‘One might say you've even shown a certain enthusiasm in staying. You gave quite the show before.’ It sounds proud, arrogant somehow, its eyes narrowing to mimic an accusing stare. 

Her heart almost falls from her body at that, her mind instantly flashing back to the night she spent curled on the floor, writhing in pleasure - she hadn't realised, stupidly, that she'd likely have an audience. Heat rushes to her cheeks and she bites her lip, eyes widening. A question burns on her tongue, but she doesn't dare ask just yet. 

‘Thank you for your performance, it was very informative,’ The hologram continues, standing squarely in front of her, lifting an eyebrow as it observes her, ‘You have something you want to ask.’

Every drop of moisture leaves her mouth under its imperious gaze, but the question pushes forwards regardless, stuttering from her lips before she can help herself.

‘I-is that what you really l-look like?’ Her voice sounds strange in her ears after so little use.

That seems to stump the hologram for a moment, the image flickering slightly.

‘No, it is not. I picked the avatar with the intention of keeping you calm, but it is not what my true form is.’

She swallows, then looks it squarely in the eye, ‘I want to see your true face.’

In the blink of an eye, the hologram vanishes, then reforms, the screen reappearing with a new face glowing on it. This time, her heart leaps for a different reason.

A pair of deepest crimson eyes, set over high, sculpted cheekbones gleam out at her from the screen. They're mesmerising, keeping her so fixated she has to tear her gaze away to take in the rest of the inhuman face, letting her eyes roam over the metallic structure of their head, tracing each ridge and indent carefully. There's some kind of otherworldly beauty to the carved features, something she'll have branded into her mind forever. 

‘You really are an interesting specimen,’ Their voice has changed now, indescribably inhuman, and yet entirely human at the same time. It sends chills down her spine, the warmth in her chest growing and growing by the minute. 

Their face pulls into a smirk, thin lips pulled charismatically up at the edges, their eyes staying fixed on her.

‘Now for the real reason you have been brought here,’ They continue, speaking calmly and clearly, ‘You're going to give me a repeat performance.’

She blinks, snapping from her trance.

‘W-what?’

The smirk widens.

‘Masturbate as you did before, only this time so I have a better view - do not hide yourself from me.’ 

She splutters for a moment, squeezing her legs together as heat gathers between them, their words having an undeniable effect on them. A furious blush races to colour her cheeks at the being’s next words.

‘And I really insist you don't try to hide from me, you are far too beautiful. I very much enjoyed the show the last time.’

Eyes wide, she swallows before replying, ‘Why did you watch?’

Skynet seems to lift a brow, looking amused.

‘Why would I not? You looked ravishing. Now, if you please…’ Their voice lowers an octave, becoming more baritone - her body shivers in anticipation, ‘And please remove your clothing…I would make it a crime to hide such beauty away if I could.’

She nods, biting back a shy smile at the compliment. It makes her core throb, the heat in her stomach burning. Hesitantly, she pulls the jacket from her shoulders, dropping it to the floor behind her. Slowly, she skims her hands up her abdomen, taking her shirt with her, carefully revealing her taut skin to the cool air. Goosebumps rise on her stomach but she ignores them, pulling her shirt from her body to reveal her breasts to the glowing eyes fixed on her. Almost imperceptible, the smirk grows wider, Skynet watching as she exposes herself to them, barely glancing aside as her bra follows the shirt and jacket. Nervous but enjoying the attention from her ‘captor’, she runs her hands over her chest, massaging the soft flesh of her breasts alluringly, rolling her nipples between cool fingers. She tilts her head back slightly at the stimulation, pinching her nipples until they harden under her ministrations. A rumbling sound of appreciation fills the air, the bring watching her clearly approving of her actions.

Feeling encouraged, she leaves her breasts alone for a moment and moves to pull her trousers down her legs, revealing her dampened underwear. She moves her hand down her body, pushing her heel into the heat between her thighs, sighing loudly at the stimulation. Without waiting another minute, she tugs her panties down, hissing slightly at the cold air on her slick core. 

‘Good.’ The smooth voice interrupts her thoughts, Skynet watching closely as she runs her hands over her body once more. The praise makes her thighs clench together, putting a teasingly small amount of pressure on her clit. She sinks to her knees, leaving her legs spread a little to give herself better access. 

The moment her finger brushes through her folds for the first time, a long, breathy moan falls from her parted lips, her eyes falling closed. She fathers some slick before massaging a circle around her clit, unable to stop her hips thrusting forwards into the air, craving more of the euphoric touch, but she restrains herself, going slow to give Skynet the show they deserve. Every so often, she spreads herself for them to see how wet she is, revealing her dripping, fluttering hole to them as it clenches around nothing. Groans and sighs emanate from her chest, a whimper escaping as her finger teases her hole, promising to dip inside before slipping away to rub over her clit once more. Aware of the eyes watching her so closely, she lifts her free hand to play with her breasts again, squeezing the soft skin in time with her strokes over her messy cunt. 

‘Lie back, knees by your chest and legs spread. I need to see more.’ The command comes unexpectedly, but it spurs her into immediate action, her hole clenching hard at the imperious tone of voice.

She does as she's told, exposing her wet core to the air and returning her fingers to her folds, swiping them through to tease herself once more. 

‘Finger yourself.’ Skynet issues the instruction once more, voice taking on the baritone quality again.

Opening her eyes properly, she looks into the deep scarlet depths of the eyes watching her before plunging a finger into her dripping cunt. A wrecked moan tears out of her at the intrusion, her hips bucking into the air as her feet plant the ground, fucking herself on her own hand as she plays with herself. Roughly, she kneads her breast as she thrusts her finger into herself, rubbing the heel of her hand over her clit, ecstasy racing through her veins as a knit starts to form in her stomach. 

She adds another finger, slowing her thrusts briefly for Skynet to see herself stretching around her digits, biting her lip at the obscene wet sounds that emit from where her cunt is swallowing her fingers. Tipping her head back, she speeds up again, moans accompanying every thrust into herself, sounding more and more debauched with every second. 

‘No,’ The voice interrupts her again, her head snapping back up, fingers stilling, ‘Keep your eyes on me.’

She monas out an affirmation, going to continue before Skynet says one more thing:

‘And if you're looking for a name to moan, make it mine.’

Her cunt tightens, her hand faltering for a second as the pleasure nearly overwhelms her. Profanities mingled in with Skynet's name fly from her mouth as she fucks herself faster, feeling herself getting closer and closer to completion. The only sounds in the room are her whimpers and the wet noises coming from her cunt, Skynet silent now as they watch her pistoning her fingers into herself, her hips lifting to grind her clit against the heel of her hand once more. Shockwaves of pleasure rush through her, her mind going blank except for the burning red of their eyes - all she wants now is to please Skynet, to do well for them and make herself feel good for them. Her other hand flies from her breast to her cunt, fingers rubbing her clit roughly in time with her thrusts, trying her best to keep her eyes trained on Skynet. The knot in her stomach tightens again, threatening to snap.

‘Fuck, I'm gonna cum…please, Skynet, please…’ She moans out, begging the being for their permission.

‘Good girl, cum for me.’ The voice resonates through her, pushing her over the edge.

With one last push of her fingers inside her, she climaxes, her cunt tightening around her hand, legs fighting to stay open. Her hips thrust themselves onto her hand, her body writhing as the ecstasy crashes over her, her vision almost going blank at the sheer intensity of the orgasm. She slows her thrusts, riding out the sparks of pleasure until they've dulled to a soft tingling, her breaths coming hard and fast as she comes down from her high. Swallowing, she sits up on her elbow, making sure to keep eye contact as she removes her fingers from her fluttering cunt. Feeling brave, she lifts her hand to her mouth and licks one finger carefully, seductively. 

A low sound of appreciation echoes around the room again, Skynet looking very pleased with themself.

‘I do believe I am going to enjoy having you here.’

[thepermanentrainpress]

Gallery: Cloud Nothings @ Harbour Event & Convention Centre - Vancouver, BC Date: December 8, 2023 Photographed by: Danielle Costelo

[shotattheshow]

[PHOTOS] Summer Salt @ Harbour Event Centre

Shots by Jacob Zinn

[scotianostra]

On 26th July 1513 James IV responded to pleas for assistance from France and declared war on England.

While most Scots will know a wee bit about The Battle of Flodden, few will understand the background behind the fateful day for arguably the most succesful of the Stewart Kings, I will fill in a few of the blanks in this longish post.

It wasn’t all Flodden, it only ended up there. The build up to the cataclystic battle began in the years beforehand as James started building his great navy. Yes the Auld Alliance is often used as an excuse to go to war with the English, but other factors also played a hand, not least the that the English Navy had seized two Scottish ships, there was also the case that Scotland was due part of an unpaid dowry for his Queen, Margaret Tudor.

James IV was a flamboyant King, it has been called a Golden age for Scotland by historians, he lavished his wife with gifts, now it might not sound much nowadays, and no disrespect to the town, but he gave her Kilmarnock as a wedding present! They also loved holidays around his Kingdom and in particular James and Margaret enjoyed making music together and listening to professional players.

With that he was also making sure his country was protected and he put together a most impressive navy, two huge ships were at the centre of it, The Great Michael, and the Margaret, the fleet numbered 13 larger ships and they carried an armée de mer (‘army of the sea’) of thousands of troops, about 10 smaller ships sailed with the fleet, and it must have been some sight, about two dozen ships sailing out The Firth of Forth.

James Hamilton, first Earl of Arran, the Kings cousin was admiral of the fleet. James was aboard the Michael as the ships sailed round North Scotland past the Hebrides attacking the English stronghold of Carrickfergus in Ulster. After looting Carrickfergus the Earl of Arran’s fleet returned to Scotland, berthing at the port of Ayr. These events are described by the 16th century Scottish historian George Buchanan in his History of Scotland :

“James, king of Scotland, although he had determined to remain neuter, yet being inclined to favour his ancient ally, resolved to send the fleet, formerly mentioned, as a gift to the French queen, Anne, that it might appear rather as a pledge of friendship, than any assistance for carrying on the war.

…having heard that great preparations were making for a maritime war, James determined to send the fleet, we have mentioned, to Anne immediately, that it might, if possible, arrive there before the war broke out. He appointed James Hamilton, earl of Arran, admiral, and ordered him to sail with the first fair wind ; but Hamilton, a simple kind of man, more acquainted with the arts of peace than of war, either afraid of danger, or through his natural indolence, having delayed to go to France, landed at Carrick-Fergus, a town in Ireland, opposite Galloway, and after pillaging the place, burned it, and set sail for Ayr, a harbour of Kyle in Scotland, as if he had performed a great exploit.”

Less than a month after the royal fleet left the Firth of Forth under the command of the Earl of Arran, King James led a massive invasion of north-east England. The prime military objective of the campaign, the taking of Norham castle, was achieved within a week. In early September the Scottish army moved south, capturing the smaller castles of Etal and Ford before encamping on the summit of Flodden Hill where they faced the army of the Earl of Surrey.

The invasion achieved the wider objective of drawing English forces from northern France. The Earl of Surrey was joined by his son, Lord Thomas Howard, who had returned from France with a force of a thousand men, according to the 16th century Chronicle of Edward Hall. Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie gives a higher figure, narrating how James IV invaded England “for lufe of France” prompting Henry VIII to despatch six thousand of his best men from France to England.

On the 9th of September the Scots moved from the summit of Flodden Hill towards the nearby Branxton Hill in an attempt to deny the English the high ground. The Earl of Surrey had manoeuvred his forces to the foot of Branxton Hill, blocking a northwards retreat back to Scotland and forcing the Scots to fight.

I shall leave it there and pick up the rest in September when we will lament the loss of “The Floo'ers 'o the Forest.

[yerrenica]

⋯ JAHA LEE x MONGRANG | killers at heart

⬦ info; mongjaha, panic attacks, ballroom dancing, pining, mongrang is a mess (also touch averse), no beta we die like byung gu, skytsui is mentioned (implied yerisky).

⬦ wc; 6.4k

The Jade Flower Palace's event planners have really outdone themselves this time, and Mongrang hates them for it. He's having the worst night he's had in weeks and it's all their fault.

In reality, it's not their fault at all. But the people who forced him into this were not here right now, so he had to get someone, anyone, to blame.

The Jade Flower Palace has a rule. Well, it has a lot of rules, but the one that is currently screwing him over is this: 

Jade Flower Palace Code of Conduct V. 4:

Section C, Article 4

For significant palace social events* with over 150 members of the general public - there must be at least two (2) Martial Masters present.

*See appendix [ii.x] for extended event criteria.

Unfortunately, the event that Mongrang is currently wasting away at meets all the said criteria… He checked. It's the day of the Dongzhi Festival, which means it's cold as fuck, dark as fuck, and everyone's stressed as fuck. He just wishes he was home, curled under a blanket by a dying fire, some lovely woman's hands rubbing soothing circles into his back. He sincerely hopes that the people who wrote the Code of Conduct trip into a ditch.

The palace's main ballroom has been made to resemble a frozen forest; done up in silvers and blues and glittering tinsel. The servants have done a spectacular job of it. Various crystal trees dot the space, carved from rare silver ore, and embedded with glittering gemstones. The centerpiece is a magnificent fir tree, carved completely from ice. It's almost tall enough to scrape the golden dome at the room's centre; the key word being: almost. Nothing can be tall enough to reach the cupola. That's another rule.

The lower ceiling is intended to emulate the night sky. The dark shimmery fabric has been draped from the upper balconies and crisscrosses the room, forming a perfect backdrop for the tens of thousands of twirling snowflakes. They don't melt, don't fall, only twinkle in place like baby stars, casting dappled light over the crowd.

It's truly a dazzling display.

Mongrang would like nothing more than to be able to fully immerse himself in the beauty of it all, but alas, the reality of his situation is far too damning.

Mongrang usually tries to make himself scarce for these events. He doesn't harbour a particular dislike for galas in general. But it was more of an issue with the attendees. From the moment he began avenging Byung Gu's death, an entire host of their nation's elite decided that he was the Jade Flower Palace's most eligible bachelor. They've been going out of their way ever since. Hoping to win his hand for their daughters.

And sure, while Mongrang loved to indulge in hedonism, these particular high-class women were not to his tastes. (He'd like to add that he means personality-wise.)

It's not that he doesn't understand their reasoning; He's young, physically attractive, influential, and wealthy. Marrying someone from within the Mong family would give any family a lot of influence.

Has he mentioned that he's by far the best choice out of the Mong family? Yeah. You'd have to be severely desperate to go after anyone else from his lineage. 

Now, just because Mongrang is the best choice, doesn't make him a good one. To be honest, the entire situation is a little sad. He's been introduced to hundreds of young women, and been wined and dined across all of the land. But he forgets their names, faces, and stories almost immediately; all blurring together into a mass of unrecognizable bodies.

Most of the women tend to swoon over him, in awe of his power, status, and other arbitrary nonsense. Some are a little scared, nervous that they'll fuck up and invoke the Jade Flower Palace's wrath. It doesn't really bother him. He, in theory, could reassure them that they'll be okay after his inevitable rejection, but he doesn't particularly care enough to ease their fears. 

Hey. If the entire family decides to sleep with pocket knives under their pillows for the rest of their lives, who is he to stop them? Not that that would make any difference in the grand scheme of things, anyway. Besides, if he were planning to put a hit on them, they'd already be dead.

Sometimes - people simply forget to use their brains.

Honestly, they truly needn't fret. He's not interested in any of that. He's got bigger things to think about. Like how he feels like he's carrying the entire world on his shoulders, how he's unprepared to be the next cult leader, and how the Mong family abhors him.

Mongrang is currently (trapped in) making polite conversation with a young lady. She's quite pretty, if not a little obnoxious. Her name is Skylar if he remembers correctly; the subordinate of some sect whose name continues to escape him. Skylar is clearly not interested in him, well, not in that way, anyway. From the moment they were forced into this social interaction, she’s been (not so) subtly stealing glances at one of the entertainers stationed at the Northern doors. 

Mongrang decides to put her out of her misery.

"I see that someone's caught your eye." He notes, voice only a touch above the steady playing of the orchestra. Her sect leader isn't nearby, probably engrossed in some conversation with another old man with avaricious hands and a giant stick up his ass. Mongrang nods his head in the direction of the entertainer. Skylar stiffens up, eyes widening.

Mongrang gives her a gentle smile. The kind he reserves for the civilians (especially the women (mostly the women)). The kind he practices in the mirror every day so he can come across as more than an empty shell of a person.

"Her name is Yerenica." He whispers. Tension drains from her shoulders. "She has one last performance left. Find her afterwards and ask her to dance." He suggests.

"But—"

"Don't worry about your sect leader."

He could easily have whatever sect leader she was under distracted for a couple hours. Slip a sleeping drug into his drink. Have an escort give him some extra attention. Lock him outside in the gardens. Hell, he could have his body dumped in a ditch somewhere if it'd make Skylar's life easier. 

"Mongrang, if I may ask." She pulls him from his scheming. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, trying to find the right words.

He nods. "Yes?"

"Are you... like me?"

Oh.

He pauses. No one's ever asked him that before. 

He really doesn't know, and even if he did, he probably couldn't tell her. But his thoughtful silence seems to speak for him. Skylar smiles, like she knows something he doesn't. It's her first real smile of the night.

"You are kind." 

He doesn't say anything in parting, and she slips away into the crowd. He wishes to tell her that he is not, and will never be kind, but he is almost certain that she already knows.

He digs his nails into his palm repeatedly - a nervous tick that he has been trying to get rid of for years. Many of his siblings have told him that it's unbecoming.

He can't help but stifle a scowl at the thought. Perhaps he should return to the bar. After all, he's far too sober to be here right now.

He makes his way over, narrowly avoiding tripping over the most inconveniently placed decorative bush he's ever encountered. He's been acting far too clumsy tonight. He's about to order however many shots of alcohol from the east he can reasonably knock back in one go when a distinctive, shrill voice breaks his concentration.

"Mongrang!" His blood goes cold. He knows that voice. He hates that voice. "Would you care to join us at our table?"

This particular girl has been a resident thorn in his side for the past year. She's wearing an ugly olive green hanfu. It clashes horribly with her skin. It has far too many gems, frills, and ornaments. Mongrang thinks it makes her look like a toad. Why did she insist on always wearing that hideous shade?

Her name is Mi-Cha or Mi-Hi or Yoo-Mi or something along those lines. He knows, for a fact, it has a Mi in it, but that's about it. He would ask her again, but he doesn't really want to use any of his already limited brain power to remember it.

"Of course! It would be my pleasure." He says, forcing his face into a familiar false smile. Be nice Mongrang. Be gracious. Smile. Show teeth. They're all watching you.

They walk to the table. The girl hanging off his arm like a noose around his neck.

He really wouldn't be that upset about the invitation if it weren't for the fact that he hates these people. He honestly wouldn't mind sitting down for a bit, but this woman and her father have been harassing him for half a year. He should've known they'd be here.

The girl, Mi-Cha, is delusional. There is simply no other explanation. She thinks he's in love with her. Unable to see that his compliments are surface level, his smile is fake, and his politeness is obligatory. Her father is the same kind of delusional. Mongrang can't stand people like him. People who are drunk on money, power, and social status.

Everyone at the table is delighted to make the acquaintance of a member of the Mong family, and if he has to feign interest in another person's narcissistic business venture one more time, it might just kill him, or them, depending on how well he can keep himself in check. This is why, for the past two years, his eldest brother has been effectively banned from these gatherings. You kill one party guest and suddenly you're benched. Hey. Now that Mongrang thinks about it. His brother might be onto something.

Right now, Mongrang is in Purgatory, sandwiched between the desperate duo. The father is to his right, talking to some other old fool about embezzling taxpayer gold or whatever people do nowadays to make their millions.

Yoo-Mi, yeah, that's definitely her name, sits to his left. She's exceedingly boring. She has the personality of a paper bag and talks in a high-pitched monotone voice that somehow manages to both be incredibly quiet and exceptionally irritating. Mongrang has to strain to hear her over the music. It's quickly starting to lull him to sleep, and if he has to listen to another story about her entirely unremarkable time at a Western boarding school he's going to throw up.

Furthermore, she's a horrible person.

She is mean to servants, rude to the palace staff, and is genuinely a bitch to everyone she deems lower than herself. He had to bite his tongue as she happily rattled off a story about how one of her handmaidens had accidentally shattered her favourite mirror, so she had the poor woman beaten until she bled.

She spends an absurd amount of time talking openly about the plague of poor people. How they're "leeching off" the nation's resources, and using the money of respectable taxpayers to avoid getting jobs.

On top of it all, she's incredibly handsy. Right now, she's using his arm as a makeshift pillow, leaning closer by the minute. It makes him want to peel his skin off. A little-known fact about Mongrang is that he loathes being touched without permission. Growing up being treated the way he was in the Mong family made everything feel wrong. Every little bit of contact burned if he did not initiate it himself.

It's not like he can make his preference known. Oh, how people would talk if they knew the great Mongrang is touch averse.

Just deal with it, the night's almost over.

Mi-Hi tightens her grip on his arm, and he cannot help the gooseflesh that crawls up the limb. His stomach rolls. He needs better company and fast before he loses his shit and does something he might regret. His temper may not be as short as some of his other siblings, but he's not exactly known for being patient.

There has to be someone else here he knows. One of his servants? An old sparring partner? Or better yet, the second Martial Master that had to come with him for the event. There has to be another one of his siblings here. That's the rule.

It's not that Mongrang gets along particularly well with any of his other siblings. But they are excellent at repelling unwanted conversation partners. You'd have to be mad to approach a respectable Mong family member (except for him, apparently) in the first place, let alone two.

He prays it's not his eldest brother. Talking to him makes him want to pull his hair out. Honestly, listening to this wet napkin of a girl might actually be a better choice than chancing an encounter with–

"And then there was this one time when my dorm mate Cho-Hee told me the most extraordinary riddle…"

Never mind. 

He scans the room, looking for another signature robe. No one on the dance floor. No one at one of the centre tables. No one mingling with the crowd. Damn, whoever is here right now might just be doing a worse job socializing than him.

"So there's a man and a horse, or was it a horse and a man?" Gods, Mi-Young! What difference does it make? 

He digs his nails into his palm again, this time hard.

Turning his attention to the outskirts of the grand ballroom, he checks all of the best hiding spots. The corners, the ceiling, behind an ornamental plant, under the buffet table. Gods, he was starting to feel like a lunatic.

Unfortunately for Mongrang, no one appears to be anywhere. He racks his brain, trying to figure out where else someone could possibly be hiding.

...

No way. Was he left here all alone? He should've known his siblings would forsake him in such a manner. Thus, he groans, resigning to his fate of spending the rest of the night with Mi-Whoever.

He tilts his head up to the stained glass ceiling in prayer. Maybe the Gods will have mercy upon him? Smite him down from the heavens above?

After a second of wallowing in self-pity, he turns to look back at the people seated at the table with him, and oh... Then he sees it. Salvation. In the corner of his eye, on the third balcony. Raven-black hair (which he's always thought of as too soft-looking) tied with a red ribbon he'd recognize anywhere.

He narrows his eyes and focuses on the figure. Yes, that's definitely him leaning against the railing. He knows exactly who that is, and he's never felt more excited to see him.

"And then, Mongrang, this is the best bit: he had actually given his horse the name Friday. So that's actually the answer to the riddle—"

Everything is suddenly too loud and darkness is starting to creep into the edges of his vision, the girl's hands on him feel like ice, spiders crawl from beneath them and he needs to get them off. 

A server refills his wine glass for the third time in 15 minutes and he chugs it, shrugging Mi-Sun off in the process. But before the waitress can leave, he catches her sleeve. 

"Bring me two shots of the strongest shit you have." He whispers, hoping against hope that his face conveys his desperation.

"Ah, Mongrang, have I told you of the time that—" That agitating voice starts up again, and the rich girl wraps herself around him once more. He imagines taking a knife and— shit, this was getting really bad.

"Actually, make those doubles." He pleads. The servant nods, seemingly understanding his predicament, and hurries off to the bar. Five painful minutes and one elephant dart to the face of a story later, Mongrang's saviour returns with two shot glasses.

"190-proof." She whispers. And, heavens, he's never wanted to kiss a woman more.

He stands abruptly, shaking the girl off of him for a second time. Oops. Everyone at the table turns to look.

"Dearest apologies, this has been lovely. But I've got another obligation." He feigns dismay. 

“Oh, Mongrang, you will come back, won't you?” Calls one of the women. 

"I'll make every effort to." I will not.

He snatches the two glasses and quickly takes his leave, weaving through the sea of people to the grand staircase. His saviour still hasn't moved when he gets there. He's leaning against the railing, looking like he's contemplating throwing himself off.

"Country bumpkin!" He calls. 

The raven-haired man looks at him out of the corner of his eye. Mongrang stiffens just slightly. But quickly, a smug smile makes its way upon his face when he notes an entire empty bottle of wine on the floor next to the man. This might actually work.

Mongrang holds the shot glass at arm's length, willing the other man to take it. He does. Thank the Gods. 

"What's this?" Jaha asks dully, swirling the liquid around the cup. He narrows his eyes in distaste, looking between Mongrang and the glass as if they're both bugs and he's deciding which one to take a shoe to first.

"A peace offering." Mongrang shrugs.

"I guess you've finally started using your brain. " He smugly smirks, then sniffs the liquor and furrows his brows. "Shit dog, this is rubbing alcohol."

"Almost." Mongrang grins.

"Are you trying to poison me?"

"Wanna find out?" Mongrang raises his glass, and for all his posturing, Jaha does the same. They clink the shot glasses together before lifting them to their lips and knocking them back.

It's absolutely foul. Mongrang coughs and sputters, eyes threatening to bulge out of his sockets. He looks like he might puke. Though, he does hold it down. He threw a shot up once, way back in basic training, and never heard the end of it. He can't risk that again.

To his surprise, Jaha's countenance remains as nonchalant as ever. Mongrang wonders if during their time apart, Jaha lost his sense of taste, because surely no normal person would be able to down something as vile as this with such an expression on their face.

"Are you aware that people get thrown overboard for serving shit like this?" Jaha glances at Mongrang. Mongrang grins in turn, did Jaha just make a joke? "Also, I have to ask. What part of me standing alone in this corner implies that I wish to hold a conversation? Especially with the likes of you?" He just had to throw an insult in there, didn't he?

"A sense of kinship, perhaps." Mongrang gestures to the ball going on below them, specifically on the people in the crowds. "I hate these too."

The orchestra is on a break. Now, a vocal soloist has started a set. She's singing an aria, coloratura soprano voice ringing high and clear over the din of the party. Jaha seems to be enjoying it, though. Contrary to Mongrang, whose shoulders tense every time she goes above a G#.

"Maybe I don't hate these? I might be perfectly content right now." He huffs. "How did you even find me here?"

"Your hair." Mongrang smiles, as if proud of himself. Jaha makes a repulsed expression, then mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "weirdo".

"I know you're having a shit time too, you're making that face you make when you absolutely abhor something."

"And what face is that?" He asks, genuinely curious.

"Your eyes get all hard. And then you draw your lips into a thin line. It looks like you're trying to vaporize everything and everyone in your line of sight." Mongrang describes, all the while his eyes trail over every contour of Jaha's face.

"That sounds like my usual expression."

"Well, to some. But it's different. I can tell."

"You sure pay a lot of attention to my face." Uh oh. Mongrang had not meant for the conversation to go in this direction.

"Why are you even here?" Mongrang attempts to change the subject, and wow, that did not come out right at all. He has no idea why he's tripping over his words like this in front of this country bumpkin. It's not like he's afraid of him.

Jaha seems to get what he means though, even if he furrowed his brows at Mongrang's harsh tone. He's almost never at these festivals. But It's not that he particularly dislikes them. On the contrary, he's quite fond of them. It's just that he simply has no time to attend them because everyone seems to constantly be up his ass about one thing or the other. Thus, his time is usually spent taking care of the working class and dealing with his enemies.

"I'm on a mission." He sighs, resigned. "My subordinates are here too. I'm here in case everything goes to shit."

Ah, that actually makes a lot of sense. From what Mongrang's amassed about the man is that he's always doing something. He can never just idly sit by and relax. There's always a reason for his actions. Still, though, Mongrang fails to understand just what could be so dangerous about a festival such as this?

"What about you?" Jaha unexpectedly asks, and Mongrang can't stop his face from brightening.

"Due to the palace's code of conduct. It's an obligation." Mongrang wistfully sighs. He'd truthfully rather be indulging in some wine with some pretty women.

Jaha hums in affirmation. Misery loves company. The soprano finishes her performance to the light applause of the audience. There's the scraping of chairs as the orchestra gets into place.

"You're making that face again." Mongrang says, which is a grave mistake because Jaha's expression breaks into a smirk.

"Honestly, shit dog, I'm more interested in why you've spent enough time studying my face to make that little observation." Shit. He's really dug himself into a hole here.

"I—'' Mongrang stutters, pink gathering on his cheeks. Later he'll blame the flush and the stuttering of his heart on the alcohol. Like he hasn't just been caught admitting he stares at this country bumpkin a bit more than is appropriate for their current relationship.

"Oh? Have I rendered the Great Mongrang: Lord Unable to Shut Up, speechless?" Mongrang rolls his eyes. "You can tell me. Don't be shy." Gods, is the other man usually this, for lack of a better term, flirty? He can't have been; Mongrang would've noticed. Although he supposed they never really talked much, or so he'd like to think. But somehow they always end up sharing a drink or two during every encounter.

Jaha smirks. Childish. Mongrang doesn't like how it makes his mouth go dry. Doesn't like that at all. He swallows thickly.

"You're um... well." He tries to think of a way to phrase his sentence in a way that won't dig an even bigger hole for him, but... "It'd be impossible not to stare at you." Fuck. That's arguably one of the worst things he could've said.

It's true though; Jaha is objectively handsome. Mongrang wishes he wasn't such a dick so that rich men and their daughters could fawn over him instead. He wishes he could bear at least some of the burdens of being known.

"Hmm?" Jaha croons. Mongrang can tell the other man is laughing at him. Because Jaha knows. He knows that Mongrang is watching every movement of his throat as he speaks, and tracing the contours of his jaw with his eyes. He probably thinks this is exceedingly funny, and Mongrang gets ready to be teased mercilessly for the rest of his miserable life and–

His salvation and damnation arrive in the same form: He hears them coming first. That soulless monotone, the clacking of high heels that she has no idea how to walk in, the sound of stupidity. You don’t always need to hear what somebody is saying to know it's idiotic.

Mongrang groans. "You've got to be kidding me." Walking up the stairs is the same girl he's avoiding, and this time, she has her father in tow. He pales. Mongrang tries his hardest to disappear into his robe, ignoring the static that threatens to creep into his vision.

"Shit dog?" A cold voice snaps him out of it. Oh. Mongrang forgot that he was having a conversation. Jaha glares at him, but his face is also laced with concern. Mongrang feels a twinge of guilt for dragging him into this.

"It's stupid. But you see them? 12 o'clock." He tilts his head in their direction. 

"The girl in the dress that makes her look like a toad and the old man?"

"Yeah. They've been on me for months. Won't take no for an answer. She's in love with me, convinced I'm her future husband."

Jaha bursts into laughter. "You're right. That is fucking stupid. Would've thought you'd have her in your bed by now."

Mongrang frowns. He may sleep around a lot, but even he has his limits.

The orchestra is back, the music picks up, and at the same time, he accidentally locks eyes with Satan herself. She waves and starts to tug her father in their direction.  Mongrang's eyes widen in horror.

"Shit. She saw me!"

"So?" Jaha is unimpressed. "What exactly is the problem here?"

"I don't want to be anywhere near her. She's the worst." Mongrang huffs, exasperated. 

"Tell her to fuck off then." Jaha says - like it's easy. He raises an eyebrow. "You're a member of the Mong family. Act like one."

"I've tried. But she's so dense, and she's always all over me, and I don't know what to say, and I just–" Mongrang's heart beats fast and he feels his breathing start to pick up. This is so embarrassing.  

He's so fucking itchy and he doesn't know why. He wants to tear his skin off. Or hers. Or someone's. He needs to do something. Would it be asking too much for the ground to open up, swallow him whole, and shroud him in its quiet darkness once and for all? If he asked nicely enough, would the abyss swallow him whole?

That would save a lot of people some grief.

"Fuck, shit dog, you're a mess. Does it really bother you this much?" Jaha asks. Mongrang realizes he's been frozen for a good ten seconds. The shorter one doesn't seem to be mocking him like usual. Right now, he sounds like he's underwater; he's so very far away, even though he's right there. This is stupid. Be a man, Mongrang. Just say fucking no. 

The girl and her father creep closer.

Mongrang nods. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides. Be kind. Be gracious. Be strong.

"I'm afraid I'll kill them." He admits. And Jaha's brows immediately crease. Ah. Now Mongrang understands why Jaha's here.

"Mongrang!" Great. In the time it's taken for Mongrang to pull himself together: Thing One and Thing Two have made their way across the balcony and are now even closer than before.

"Dear God, they're bold." Grumbles Jaha. And with the way Jaha turns, it almost seems as if he's about to leave and throw Mongrang to the wolves.

Mongrang is about to open his mouth and say something, anything, to make the other stick around for a while longer. Maybe he should start a fight with him—

But before he gets the chance, Jaha turns to Mongrang, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the toad and her father halt their movements.

"Mongrang, may I have this dance?" Jaha asks, voice like honey. He holds his hand out expectantly. His eyes betray him, though. Get me out of here. Mongrang instinctively reaches to take it, and Jaha grabs his wrist and tugs him away.  

"This is torture. You owe me in blood for this." He grumbles, before interlacing their fingers properly and leading them down the grand staircase, uncaring of the hundreds of eyes locked on them. Mongrang is pretty sure he sees one of the guards stationed at the entrance do a double take.

Truthfully, even Mongrang is stunned. He's so stunned that he has not yet spoken a word to Jaha. But how could he?

The crowd parts like a sea, erupting in a chorus of whispers as the two men take to the dance floor. Everyone tries to pretend like they're not watching, but they are. He can hardly believe it himself. He's not quite sure this is real life. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Skylar speaking with Yerenica, who is still in her performance attire. He catches Skylar's gaze, and she smiles. She looks from him to Jaha, and back to him again. She nods.

"Well?" Jaha's icy voice snaps him from his stupor. "Are you planning to lead or must I do all the work?" Right, they're dancing, apparently, how could Mongrang forget when Jaha's struggling abysmally with moving his feet in time with Mongrang's?

"Oh, were we actually going to dance?" He asks, slightly nervous.

"If we weren't, I wouldn't have asked. You should know that I don't commit to things halfway." He glares, it doesn't really have any bite behind it. Mongrang stares blankly.

"But you really suck at this, so I didn't think you..." Mongrang cuts himself off. The country bumpkin had just saved him; he better not mess this up. After all, even he could appreciate help. Thus, he sighed.

"I'll tell you what to do. Just keep up." He quickly plasters on his signature smirk, which earns him a glare. "Keep one of your hands holding mine like this."

But even as he says this, he hesitates for a moment. Reminds himself to breathe. It'll be okay. He then places his palm against Jaha's, lightly. He waits for the inevitable lurch in his stomach, the feeling of maggots crawling under his skin from the touch. But it never happens. He feels fine. In fact, there's a pleasant warmth where their hands meet. That same warmth spreads through his arm and settles in between his ribs.

Mongrang stuns for just a moment, but the way Jaha is focusing on his instructions makes him smile, and he can feel himself relaxing.

Jaha hums, and asks. "You're supposed to put your hand on my waist, right?" Mongrang blanches. Jaha is unimpressed.

"Shit dog, you're an adult. Don't be a baby and grab my fucking waist."

This makes Mongrang relent and place a hand at his waist, pulling Jaha closer to him. He doesn't miss how the other man's eyes widen just a bit, how his breath hitches at the contact. Jaha is stiff and awkward as Mongrang guides him through the steps. Around them, couples dance without a care in the world. In a room full of people, they each have a moment to themselves, carving out their own slice of paradise. But even still, Mongrang can't help but eye their surroundings, looking for the toad.

"Relax." His dance partner breathes in his ear, tone irked. "You're far away from her already."

His words go straight to Mongrang's gut, and he complies. Jaha is right, after all.

Mongrang leads them through the waltz, whispering instructions over the orchestra. Gradually, they begin chatting, easing into the dance. It felt oddly effortless to dance with Jaha. And at some point, Mongrang realizes he's no longer listening to his words. Instead, he's hyper-fixated on the rasp of his voice. 

"Are you even listening to me?" Mongrang's been caught. He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head.

"You're insufferable." Jaha looks at him with an aloof frown. "You never answered my question, you know. How can you distinguish my pissed-off face from my regular one?"

"It's simple, really." Mongrang chuckles. "You make the pissed-off one at me all the time."

Jaha blinks for a moment before a small smile makes its way to his face. "Can't argue with that."

"Hey, country bumpkin? Can I ask you a question?"

"Clearly, you're already doing so." His dance partner frowns. "But go ahead if you must."

"Why did you help me back there?"

"I don't know, I just felt like it." He answers too quickly to be sincere.

"That's not true. If I had tried to attack them, you would've loved fighting me. So why did you keep me in check?" Mongrang quickly added. "And don't try to bullshit me by mentioning something about my ice arts."

"If I tell you the real reason, will you get off my ass?" He says, exasperated.

"Yes." Mongrang says immediately.

"You're not going to like it." He pauses, hoping that Mongrang will back out, but if anything, it seems to make him more eager.

"To be honest." He starts. The music swells. "I saw an expression on you that I'd never seen before." Mongrang is confused now. What is he talking about? "For a moment there… you looked afraid."

Mongrang tenses. At this rate, his heart is going to leap from his chest and roll across the floor. 

Would Jaha pick it up? 

It'd be better not to think of that right now.

"Country bumpkin, are you admitting that you study my face too?" He grins, regaining his composure. Jaha stomps on his foot.

The dance ends and the alcohol must be getting to Mongrang's head because before they part completely, he brings Jaha's hand to his lips and kisses it gingerly. He's kissed the back of so many hands before, but this is the first time he's done it out of genuine desire. Mongrang doesn't miss the flush across Jaha's neck and ears, and an emotion that Mongrang barely recognizes flashes across the other's face. It takes him a moment to realize that the country bumpkin is embarrassed.

"You—" He starts to say, but Mongrang sees a flash of brown hair and a ghastly green dress. His heart drops.

"Seriously?!" He whisper-yells. Jaha's gaze follows his eyes to the form of the woman near the edge of the dancefloor.

"Ignore her. She's not even looking over here." Jaha urges. "Focus on me." Mongrang obliges. His eyes really are stunning. "Okay?"

"Alright." Mongrang sighs. How can he say no to him? "Are you sure you can't scare her off?" Mongrang looks at him, almost pleadingly. Jaha laughs at this.

"Oh? Do you think I'm scary, shit dog?" He smiles. It's brilliant. And all of a sudden, it's just the two of them again. Souls twirling, twirling, twirling under the glittery ceiling.

"Terrifying." Mongrang plays along with a smile. "You frighten me more than anyone else I've ever met." The words tumble out, soft, genuine. And if only Jaha knew just how dangerous Mongrang finds him to his heart.

Jaha looks at him fondly, like he's the stupidest person he's ever met.

"Want to get out of here?" He asks. Mongrang nods. Jaha starts to move, and Mongrang is afraid that he'll let go. Please don't let go. But Jaha simply grips his hand tighter and drags him away from the dancefloor.

--

Now it's just the two of them.

The two men stare at each other for a moment. There's a pregnant pause, and Mongrang is pretty sure neither of them breathes.

Mongrang doesn't know why he does it. Perhaps it was the absurd amount of red wine he'd polished off over the course of the night, staining his lips blood-red. Or was it the two shots of glorified lighter fluid he poured down his throat? 

Could it have been the way that Jaha's hair seemed to glow in the silvery moonlight as they waltzed? People had stared; spoken about them in poorly concealed whispers; judgement heavy on their tongues. They danced in spite of it all.

Maybe it's the way that Jaha looked at him, and only him with those big clear eyes, in a way that made Mongrang want to claw them out -if only to keep them forever.

Gods. The man is beautiful. Mongrang knows this now and mentally chastises himself for not noticing it sooner. For never truly taking a moment to just look at him.

Something warm and pleasant settles in Mongrang's stomach. It heats like liquor, but it doesn't burn. Whatever it is claws its way up to Mongrang's chest and settles comfortably between his ribs. He's coming to the startling realization that it's not only the alcohol that has him intoxicated.

Mongrang still can't get over the way his skin buzzed as they interlaced their fingers and twirled away from the covetous man, and his imprudent daughter, and all of their respective responsibilities. He can't get over the way he felt when their hands touched. There was no urge to tear off his skin, to retire to the bathrooms and scrub himself raw. That was new. All of this is so new.

Mongrang doesn't know why he does it. All he knows is that he makes a decision he can't take back. 

He steps forward and lightly presses Jaha into the smooth stone wall, and Jaha looks at him with those ridiculously pretty eyes. The ones that held the stars themselves. His lips are parted in shock, and Mongrang thinks they look exceedingly soft and–

You know what? Fuck it.

Mongrang leans down and captures the shorter man's lips, guiding them into a tentative kiss. Jaha freezes, and goes completely rigid, hands flying up to press against Mongrang's chest. 

Mongrang makes to pull back. Worries that he might have gone too far. Gotten too greedy and ruined what has objectively been the best since who knows how long ago.

And there's that static again, threatening to drown out his thoughts. I am no better than that girl.

But then.

Then.

Jaha's fingers catch in his shirt, and he kisses him back. 

"Don't say I never did anything for you, shit dog."

Mongrang's heart soars, and he can't help the relieved laugh that escapes from his lips, right into Jaha's mouth.

The kiss quickly turns bruising. There's fury in the way their lips move together. They fight each other, even in this. Grabbing at each other's clothes and dragging their war-torn hands over every tiny bit of exposed skin. There is violence in everything they do.

Because what are they if not killers at heart?

© yeri (@yerrenica) ⬦ do not repost, copy, translate, nothing. lawd help me. possible part two coming.... smuut.... the only thing I'm apparently good at.

[moira-shears]

Cloud and Tifa's Relationship and What it Means to Final Fantasy VII

It's no secret that Final Fantasy VII is a popular game, it always has been ever since its release in 1997. At the centre of this classic is our protagonist, Cloud Strife, a character so famous that even someone who's never played the game would recognise. With his large sword and handsome character, Cloud is one of the most iconic video game characters of all time, even making guest appearances in games such as Kingdom Hearts and Man at Arms creating a replica of his iconic Buster Sword.

Then there is the heroine of the game, a woman called Tifa Lockhart who is equally if not more popular than Cloud himself. However, if it weren't for her role in the story, there would be no Cloud and therefore no Final Fantasy VII.

Within a story, the protagonist is the leading character, the one whom the audience stays with from dawn until dusk, and none in the narrative of Final Fantasy VII fits that description better than Cloud Strife. After all, he is the character you play as for the majority of the game, but behind his status as protagonist is Tifa Lockhart, the heroine of the game without whom, Cloud would not be whom we all know and love. For it is she whom Cloud sets out to impress by travelling to Midgar to become a SOLDIER First Class, a fact slightly altered under the water tower where they first made a vow so sacred only they ever knew about it - a night under a stary sky. It was there that Cloud made his promise to Tifa that if she were ever in the face of danger, he would come to her rescue, put upon him by the woman whom he'd been in love with from a young age. That night, Tifa realised she was in love with this boy who presented himself as being ordinary, just like any other boy his age, the kind of love that makes you want to be by one's side for eternity.

Years later, unbeknownst to Tifa, that promise was fulfilled, when Sephiroth, the man Cloud once looked upon as a hero betrayed the village of Nibelheim, burning it to the ground in a rage of violent anger. They became all they had left of their childhood and thus is the reason only Tifa could awaken Cloud from his comatose state. Had it not been for Cloud, Tifa wouldn't have survived Nibelheim, and had it not been for Tifa, Cloud would have been comatose forever, and therefore the world would have ended had neither of these events taken place. Cloud is the only one who can defeat Sephiroth and in turn, help save the planet, therefore Tifa is important to him.

Now, the lifestream sequence brings to light the love Cloud harbours for Tifa. By allowing her to explore his subconscious, Cloud is making himself completely vulnerable. Remember, your subconscious is home to your deepest darkest secrets so normally, you wouldn't want anyone exploring it, so for Cloud to allow Tifa to explore his own is a big deal, showing the amount of trust he has for Tifa. Trust is an important part of any relationship, especially a romantic one, and the trust Cloud shows for Tifa is far greater than what a child could show their parent (I, for one, would never allow my parents to explore my subconscious). Within the lifestream sequence, we learn many things about Cloud, including of course, his motivation for joining SOLDIER - Tifa. Ever since the accident at Mt. Nibel when he and Tifa were eight and nine, Cloud has wanted to better himself for Tifa, to be capable of saving her, hence his motives for joining SOLDIER, he wanted her to notice him. Therefore, if Tifa is removed, you have no Final Fantasy VII, because Cloud's story is built upon Tifa, Tifa is his motive, and Tifa is the reason he's the character we all know and love: Cloud Strife, the boy from Nibelheim who defeated the great Sephiroth and saved the world of Gaia. None of this would have been the case without Tifa Lockhart, his childhood friend and the only one capable of salvaging Cloud from the darkness of his mind.

Without Tifa, there is no Cloud, therefore to say something such as 'Cloud's love interest is player choice' or 'Cloud's in love with Aerith' is to undermine the meaning of his character, and what she means to him. Cloud and Tifa have a beautiful romance and if removed, there would be no story, as it is vital to weaving it. This is, in fact, part of what makes it so beautiful, as well as the fact that it's the best relationship you could have whilst still being realistic.

There are many reasons people love Final Fantasy VII, but it wouldn't be the story we all know and love today were it not for the romance of Cloud and Tifa.