#I can’t wait for the port so I can write this properly

[vaguely-lavender-er]

Ace Attorney Investigations: Simon Blackquill Case 2: Simon Beefs with a Ten-Year-Old

Original Meme

[ajortga]

always for you

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

thank you for your support! honestly i'm so so grateful you guys like my writing<3 this was from a request that i loved making, (especially the texting part.) requests are packed! theres so many more so i won't be checking inboxes till i'm finished with the majority of them! to whomever requested, i hope you like this!

-

can I request another soft!jenna x r?? I know your requests are closed, and you can do this anytime if your free. I can wait.

Where r's phone is acting up but doesn't want to buy a new phone cause r is broke, jenna sees r struggle with the lag and buys r a new phone

-

(shes so cute)

Jenna always thought you were too thoughtful and selfless, you always thought of others before yourself, you gave love to every person you possibly could before you could even love yourself.

You gifted Jenna the new black noise canceling headphones for Christmas, you loved music as much as she did. But even with your immense love, you still managed to have wired earphones, though they were tangled almost everyday. 

There was a day the brunette noticed the way your phone had been acting up. She won’t mention how you dropped it in the bathtub while trying to give your cat a bath, and she’ll leave out how it somehow didn’t crack the numerous times you dropped it on the table or carpet. But whenever she texted you, you’d take longer to respond, apologizing endlessly.

“goodmorning my love! my phone was glitching again, it keeps bringing me back to this stupid dancing vegetable i put on for nephew cash last week. It took me a while to finally get back to messages! i'm sorry:((.”

“oh my god it did it again, now it’s a piece of radish dancing”

Sometimes you’d respond halfway and then stop there too cause your phone would crash

"y/nnnn, baby, i used the damn salt for our cookies instead of sugar and i put so much and i wanted to make a pickup line for you. i was literally pretending you were there and said "you're as sweet as a cookie" and i bit into it and it tasted so salty and i coughed so much"

“HAHA oh my gosh your like the silliest person i know, you literally remind me of-”"

10 minutes later

“MY PHONE CRASHED AGAIN”

“it did it again, it kept bringing me to different tabs so i had to get back in here. baby i can’t even talk to you properly anymore, i think we should-”

25 minutes later

“THE DANCING VEGETABLE IS ON MY SCREEN AGAIN”

"jenna? are you there?"

"i amm here"

"IT'S FRUIT NOW"

"baby 😭"

-

She did talk to you about getting a phone, she knew that you wanted to spend your money on others until yourself. You saved a little portion for yourself, so your portion made you a little broke. But you insisted that if it still worked and was helping the way it was supposed to, it would be okay.

It was funny to her, she would try charging both your phones before you snuggled to sleep together, but she always struggled on charging your phone because it wouldn’t charge.

You could hear her grunting as she cursed under her breath, “You have to use the first charging port and twist it at an 80 degree angle to the right, the phone has to be facing up.”

As it finally charged, she made a small sigh and smiled as she looked at you, softly saying, “You’re always too thoughtful Y/N, there’ll be one day where life will give it all back to you.”

You nuzzled into her chest, “As long as I can make others happy, that’s all I need to make myself happy,” you said drowsily as you rested on her chest. She kissed your forehead as you dozed off, cradling you to sleep.

-

The next day, Jenna got up so early and unattached herself from your grasp, making you make a small noise as you subconsciously looked for her embrace.

The bed creaked as you made a small murmur, looking up at Jenna barely awake.

You yawned, really sleepy, “Where are you going??” You said sadly, a little tired pout forming.

You sounded so drowsy as Jenna giggled, kissing your temple, “I need to pick up some strawberries, we need some pancakes for our breakfast and some other goodies sunshine. It’ll be packed in the afternoon, it’ll be quick, I promise.”

You made a sad noise, your hands reaching up for her and scrunching her arms as she hugged you, taking her giant stuffed animal and letting you hold it.

Soon enough from her scent on the stuffy, you were asleep, snuggling it.

Jenna changed into a sweater, jeans, and wore her headphones you gave her as she was off.

She was going to buy you that phone, no matter what you said.

Her footsteps crunched against the leaves as she listened to her music, getting a new idea as a proud smile sneaked on her lips.

She entered the electronic store, buying you the latest white phone that she had as well. She also went to the head gear section and bought you Sony headphones, a white one that would look so pretty on you. Her fingers signed the signature as she payed with her card, buying you guys two matching phone cases with two black cats on them.

Two hours later she came home, opening your bedroom door as she walked in.

“Y/N, sunshine, I’m here,” she whispered as you made a small murmur again, opening your eyes.

“Mhh…”

A small grin appears on her face as she shows you the new phone and headphones as you stare.

You were so tired you stared at it in disbelief and confusion.

Then you looked at her, your eyes teary as you pouted, “Baby.. Why? You didn’t have to-”

“You deserve it, you always think about me and all your friends hardly before yourself. And you deserve the world. I want you to be able to use your phone and those headphones. I like seeing you happy.”

Your pout turned into a wide smile as you pulled her collar to your level and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that for me," you said, your voice happy as you nuzzle into her, not wanting to let go.

“Always.”

“I love you.”

Jenna smiles, her soft lips pressing to your temple, "I love you too."

--

[thatdesklamp]

Oh my goodness! Hello!

I wanted to pop in and say that I absolutely adore Intrinsic Warmth. I honestly requested an AO3 account so I can stay updated with whenever you post. I literally read Intrinsic Warmth for the better part of my Wednesday. Chapter 12 was so heartbreaking, I really hope Gojo and Hebi figure things out stat.

If you dont mind, I have a few questions regarding Gojo (i dont know if you’ll expand on later or just leaving it be - so absolutely no pressure to answer this).

Number one is in the 2007 oneshot Gojo thinks about one time before the big fight where he thought of Hebi in a romantic light - will we ever figure out what that moment was?

and then my second question is: did Gojo ever speak to Jin Hebi in chapter 10 when Hebi left to go have a bit of a panic attack in the other room. I’d be super curious in what their interaction would be like now Gojo is an adult.

No pressure at all with these questions! You’ve created such an amazing character and I love how Hebi interacts with everyone in the story, I can’t wait for chapter 13.

Hello!! Thank you so much :( That's so cool and crazy--and bingeing a fic that's nearing 150k words in one day is absolutely insane, and you're stronger than me. IW is reaching my usual cut-off point for fics, lmao, in terms of word count--and I just know it's so likely we'll be reaching 200k at some point, which just gets a bit long for me LOL. So you're braver than me!! Huzzah!

And questions! For sure! I love getting questions because I either 100% know the answer and get to be like, oooh! they noticed!, or it's something I literally hadn't even considered and now I'm like, ooh! I've got to think about this some more!

The first one is somewhere in the middle. I've got one irl friend who properly knows about IW, and she's my first port of call when I have random questions about characterisation or how things come across in my writing (she's awesome), and something she said ages ago was actually the inspiration for the 2007 oneshot, about Gojo having dreams about Hebi without really understanding what it meant. Anyway, she's mentioned that she's always thought 15yo Gojo would've had the tiniest little inkling of some feelings, which honestly was why I put that in there.

Also, honestly because I thought it was pretty funny to put a reference in there without any elaboration. Will they notice? What will they think? ha ha ha he he he.

I can't say at the moment whether I'll circle back to it! If it comes up in IW then I might talk about it as a nudge-nudge-wink-wink to the tumblr people over here, but I also can't see myself writing a oneshot about it just because I do think the ambiguity is really really funny. tldr, I'm not sure! Maybe. It's up to future me.

Your second question falls squarely in the realm of, oh shit, I didn't even think about that but now I absolutely have to. I too would be super curious about their dynamic! Damn. I hadn't thought about what Gojo was doing when Hebi was off, not with any specifics, but I absolutely do want to explore how an interaction between him and her dad would work now they're adults.

Okay, after thinking about it for a little more: when he was younger, Gojo would have never missed an opportunity to talk to the Hebi family, esp. Jin, my girl's father. Usually to taunt them, show off, pretty ostentatious and superior. It'd stem from his hatred of them from what they did to Hebi, but also from the more immature desire to prove his superiority over everyone.

I think when he'd get older and more mature, when Hebi was retreating from her family, he'd see speaking with her family as somewhat of a betrayal of her, a la 2005. If she's not talking to them, he shouldn't either, to show solidarity. Also, it'd be politically wise: excluding the family from the company of Satoru Gojo is an intentional slight, and one that would have been felt throughout all of the society. But I can't see politics being Gojo's main motivator; it'd have to be his loyalty to Hebi. His hatred of her family wouldn't have changed, probably just getting stronger to be fair, but there would be less of that childish need to assert himself as the 'best' over her family.

But I think, at some point, he would have spoken to them, and properly gone off on them. I can't think at the moment as to when, specifically, but I just have a feeling he would have, as an adult. Maybe when she wasn't speaking to him? Not sure. But this is something I want to circle back to. If you see it in future IW chapters, you know why!!!!

[liesonthefloordramatically]

3, 5, 15

(Ask meme here!)

3. Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

LINEAR TIME IS FAKE and so is linear writing.  VERY few of my fics were written even vaguely linearly--I think two points of a triangle was probably the most linearly written, which is hilarious because it’s reverse chronology.  (string of beads to me was also mooooostly linearly written, iirc?)  Otherwise, I hop around wildly--not just between scenes but, like, I’ll write part of a scene, leave some impenetrable note for myself like, “[REACT, there’s more here]” and then jump to a completely different scene.  Also I write pieces of parallelism together.  (I have definitely talked about that before www.)

Just for fun, the first bit I wrote of all my multi-chapter fics:

linear time is fake: the bit right at the end of the first scene where Polnareff asks about the time stop and Jotaro dissociates so hard that time stops working for him

Buddhism fic: the frickin’ Four Noble Truths joke.  I know what I’m about

disjoint: this is a weird one, because the first bit of this I wrote was actually originally for a flower blooming and then got ported over, but it’s the bit right when Giorno resurrects Bruno about the difference between living and surviving.  the first bit I wrote for the fic properly was the bit where Abbacchio grabs Bruno’s arm as he’s getting off the boat and Bruno can’t feel it and is like, “hm, maybe I should be panicking, but this doesn’t really feel any different than normal.”

a flower blooming: Giorno wondering if he could build a body that his stepfather had never touched... again, I know what I’m about.

Moral of the story: first thing I write for the fic is the Concept (traumatic) and/or the best joke in the whole thing.

5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

God, I wish I knew.  Occasionally I am seized by The Passion and then I write...very slowly...for a period of time...until it’s done.

But in general:

gotta have music going. people who write in silence are incomprehensibly powerful and/or don’t have PTSD-induced hypervigilance

weirdly it’s helpful if I’m writing something else for work at the same time (I have a habit of finishing diss chapters/conference papers and fics back-to-back)

cannot be writing a million words of student feedback and/or lectures at the same time

when I was in college I wrote most of my fiction late at night but that is 100% not true anymore; I think I do much more writing (not just fic) in the afternoon/early evening now

I can/do sometimes write chunks of fic on my phone in a Google Doc, but once it gets close to completion/once I have revision notes, it has to be all on my computer

Otherwise, it’s mostly a lot of waiting around for my brain to get into gear.  Sometimes it gets into gear in the weirdest places, like the Back Bay Commuter Rail Station (I wrote a shocking amount of blue ribbon there).

15. A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be?

Listen to me. Look into my eyes.  Shrine AU.  I want them to film Shrine AU.  Not because it’s my favorite fic, not because it’s the fic that would translate best to film, but because it’s content that’s so inexplicable that Hollywood would either be irrevocably changed by proximity or utterly destroyed.  It would be a critical failure at the box office.  I’d watch it in theatres multiple times.

[mi-i-zori]

Those are really good points !

As a French person who speaks English on the daily for fun (talking, writing, reading out loud…) and is also probably gonna use it for work, here are a few funny things I noticed happening to me pronunciation and vocabulary-wise, as well as to other people.

• -s and -th sounds can be really confusing and easy to swap when talking or reading out loud. They sometimes feel like tongue-twisters. Depending on how tired I am, or how long I’ve been reading, something like « The somber forest » can become « Ze thomber forest », or « The somber foretht », or something like that. Pretty funny when it happens once, but for me it’s usually followed by a general struggle to pronounce the following sentences or words correctly, which is increasingly frustrating the more it happens.

• On a similar note about -th sounds ; many French people pronounce it « à la française », which ends up with them replacing them by -z sounds. I think it goes with the French accent in general.

• French idioms are really funny, because we don’t fuck around with the images. When someone just woke up and says « j’ai la tête dans le cul », literally « I have my head up my ass », it means they’re still not really awake yet and pretty tired still. Last time, I said « le panneau ne pas déranger qui pend à la porte, c’est pas pour les chiens ! », which literally translates to « the do not disturb sign on the door isn’t for dogs ! » ; the « isn’t for dogs » part meaning that the object is here for a reason, in this case the sign asking people to not disturb the person in the room - we say this as a passive-agressive reaction to someone disrespecting obvious rules or not caring for the existence of something (bikes not using the bike lanes right next to them, people not caring about what a sign says, etc…).

Personally, I like literally translating some French idioms into English (or vice versa) when I want to convey a silly or strong image ; but I also sometimes don’t realise that I’m doing it, and end up being like « wait, that doesn’t sound right, is that a French/English one ? » and laugh about it. Bonus fun if people are actually confused by it.

• You know that feeling when you want to use a word, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t remember it for the life of you ? Well take that feeling, and apply it to people who fluently speak multiple languages (or are actively learning one, maybe !) and have that word in every language they speak except the one they’re currently using.

• One thing I’ve noticed between French and English is that we have words that sound pretty similar. Me or my friends who also speak English almost fluently sometimes accidentally use an English word that’s really similar to its French counterpart in a sentence. Sometimes I notice it right away, sometimes it takes me a few seconds, and I try to use the correct version according to the language we’re using to make sure I understood it well.

• On a similar note, French and English have very similar words in spelling, and it can be easy to forget how to spell it properly in the language you’re using. Example : the word « language » in English is « langage » in French. In the same context, we can also use « langue », « tongue », like in English too. In French, to get the sound -gh with a vowel, a lot of words are written « gu(vowel) », but some others ditch the -u after the -g and still use the same -gh sound. So I often switch the spelling of similar words like « language » and « langage » between English or French - even as I’m writing this now, the French word « langage » looks weird to me lmao.

• Also on a similar note, some words in French and English are the same when it comes to their spelling, or sound very similar to each other, but do not have the same meaning, which can end up being confusing sometimes. Take the example « flexible » in English - here you have an adjective usually used for someone who has a wide range of movement in their joints - like « wow, you can actually touch your toes without bending your knees ?? You’re so flexible ! ». In French, that same word « flexible » is used for an object you can bend easily, or for someone who is willing to be accommodating despite the rules - when talking about a person’s flexibility though, we say that they are « souple » instead (which can also be used for someone who is okay with bending some rules to accommodate others, honestly, but I’m pointing out how « flexible » isn’t really used for someone’s physical prowess). There are many examples like that, and it’s easy to confuse them.

That’s all I have in my mind right now. Please remember that those examples are based on my own experience, and things can be different for other people.

Though please, if you’re writing bilingual (or more) characters, please don’t make them go greet someone in their mother tongue if that person doesn’t speak said mother tongue. It’s pretty tiring to see this kind of example used to clearly state to the reader/viewer that the character is bilingual.

Use the accents instead, or quirks in languages. Or, if you really want them to speak in their native language, do it in a critical situation (like swearing when they’re in trouble/danger), when they get frustrated (speaking in another language is tiring and not as easy as it might seem sometimes - I know that when I get angry or want to vent, it’s sometimes easier to do so in my native language, much less frustrating than getting stuck and not being able to express the emotions I want to get out properly - or when I get stuck in one language, I switch to another, which can result in a weird mix I guess lmao). It can also be when they want to insult someone without them knowing, or when they can’t find a word so they revert to their native language to be like « damn, what’s that word already ? ».

A while ago, I had found a Tumblr post describing how you can write a bilingual character, which included points I have already mentioned. I’ll have to see if I can find it again, it was a really good post.

Hope this little addition helps, even if it ended up leaning more towards grammar and vocabulary than accents in the end. I guess I saw « French » in OP’s post and was like « !! :D ». Thanks for sharing your post in the first place OP !

Writing Character Accents in Fiction

Hey there, thanks for the question! I speak English as a second language; most English speakers I encounter aren’t native (yes, including fictional people); thus, this is a concern I’ve explored personally when I write. 

I think the core principle regarding accent writing is this: it shouldn’t be distracting. 

For the same reasons why Stephen King prescribes the basic dialogue tag “said” rather than fancier alternatives like “whispered”, “shouted” or “screeched”, dialogue must be first and foremost easy to read. It must flow like a real conversation – the pace and tone are a lot more important than how specific words are being pronounced by the character. 

Focus on what effect the accent has:

Using adjectives to describe their voice in general. Different types of English (American, British, Australian, etc.) will give off a different vibe, also partly dependent on how your character speaks in general:

Lilting: Having a smooth rise and falling quality; sing-song like. Welsh accent is often described as singing. 

Posh: from a high social class. This is the term generally used to describe the upper-class British accent.

Nasal: this happens when the sound goes through somebody’s nose when they’re speaking. North American accents are more nasal than, say, British pronunciations. 

Brash: harsh, loud, indicative of sounding a little rude. 

Slur: speaking indistinctly; words merging into one another.

Using metaphors.

Her voice was cotton and fluffy clouds. 

When he spoke, the ‘r’s scratched the insides of his throat. 

Mentioning their accent with a brief example(s). 

“Would you like to drink some wine?” she said, though her Indian accent gave extra vibration to her ‘w’s and ‘r’s, making the words sound more like ‘vould you like to drrrink some vine’.

“I want some chocolate.” His syllables were choppy and ‘l’s rather flat, saying ‘cho-ko-lit’. 

Some Tips:

Don’t phonically spell out everything. Perhaps give a few examples in the beginning, but stick to standard English spellings. 

Pay attention to word choice, slang, and colloquialisms. 

An Australian person would say “tram”, not “trolley; “runners” instead of “sneakers”

A Canadian may refer to a “fire hall” – what Americans call a firehouse or fire station

If your character comes from a non-Enligsh background:

Use vocabulary from other languages. 

“What time was the exam, ah? Two o’clock? Jiayou!” → putting “ah” or “la” at the end of sentences + Jiayou means “break a leg” in Singlish. 

“I can’t believe that 4-year-olds have their own SNS accounts now.” → “SNS” is short for “social networking service”, a term used to refer to social media in Korea. This would a subtle difference – even though it isn’t technically Korean at all!

Transpose grammar from different languages. 

For example, in French, plural nouns take plural adjectives (whereas in English, you would speak of ‘white cars’, not ‘whites cars’).

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[samblackblog]

here are two requests! I'm ok with whatever you choose of course!

You got into an accident and Carlisle finds you. You wake up to Carlisle working over you and he takes you back to the house. He gives you the option to be changed but you are super nervous. He is super sweet and helps you though it

Second option! you are a friend of the Cullen's and went to their house to wait for Alice. You are just chilling when you start to feel an anxiety attack coming. Jasper and Carlisle help you out

⎔ MASTERLIST ⎔ REQUESTS ⎔ TWILIGHT ⎔

The Accident [Carlisle x reader]

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Mentions of death, injury detail. Big talk of vampirism ;) non-romantic relationship between reader and Carlisle A/N: Thank you @lillybearblog for the request and sorry for how long it took to respond, I hope this will make up for it :) I chose number 1, but changed the order of events a little.

UPDATE: tumblr seems to be throwing a mare currently. When I uploaded this originally on my laptop everything was fine, but on the phone/tablet the writing was I black and therefore couldn’t be read. Please comment if you can actually see/read this, I’d greatly appreciate it x

The rain was coming down in heavy sheets, pounding against the windscreen of your car. The wiper blades whoosh frantically as they try to clear the view as you drive back from Port Angeles to Forks. The last sign you’d been able to read properly before the deluge started indicated that the journey was only half done and since the weather changed, your speed had reduced to almost a crawl. The journey would be long and tedious now but you weren’t used to the roads, only having passed your test a few weeks back, so proceeding with caution seems sensible, especially since the visibility is only a metre or two max.

However nothing could have prepared you, not the slow speed or the way you instantly jam your foot on the break. You feel the car dip to the right as you slip off the road on a corner; the wheels sliding over mud, unable to get traction. Instinctively you depress the clutch and break simultaneously but it’s far too late. The sudden loss of power and jarring action of the break causes the car to roll as momentum takes it onward. It clangs its way down the hillside, glass shattering; the shards slashing at your face and arms. You bounce in your seat, held in place by the belt which squeezes at your insides. Darkness seizes your body after your head crashes violently against the headrest. Something warm trickles down your neck and fear creeps in. 

Unsure as to how long you black out for, you come round to the sound of metal being wrenched apart, only just audible over the high pitched ringing in your ears. You want to open your eyes and look to the noise but find yourself unable to. Something calls to you from the peaceful darkness that threatens to never let you go. It promises safety and warmth, eternal and everlasting, if you only let go. Curiosity picks at you as strange sounds evade your peace. Straining you make out voices, maybe even a touch but it’s hard to tell as your body goes numb. The voices drift in and out of range, every word sounding less important to you as you give in to the darkness. That is until you hear the one phrase that drives panic into your chest. 

“Quick, she’s dying.” There's urgency in the voice and yet it still sounds calm. This isn’t the first time the owner has looked death in the face and nor would it be the last. Instantly your eyes shoot open, the vision cloudy and indistinctive. They flitter from patches of light and dark as they try to gain focus, finding it unnerving as blurry shapes move, reaching out towards you at incomprehensible speed. That’s when it registers, something prods your throat, earning a strained gurgle from you as you try to speak. 

“Her pulse is weakening” the voice grows louder as the ringing subsides. 

Help. Please help me. You want to shout, but can’t find your voice. Your eyes shut as the darkness claims you once again. 

The next time you regain consciousness, the world feels as though it’s spinning as you stare up through the tree canopy, cold grey light flooding your irises, making them water. Someone enters your field of vision, blocking the light from view, their face pallid but expression filled with sympathy and kindness. Again pressure fills your neck as they press cold fingers into your pulse point, a shocked gurgle escaping your mouth. You’re aware of a bubbling hiss as wetness pools against your chest. 

The man above you moves his lips and you notice his appearance; from his blonde hair to his strange golden eyes. Coldness engulfs your body as you struggle to focus on anything other than how ethereal he is. For a while, you don’t realise he’s as the world rushes in all at once. Once adjusted, you notice his lips move again and his eyes staring into yours, intent on gaining your attention. 

“I’m a doctor, can you understand me?” The question cuts through the air, crisp and clear. There’s no mistaking what he’s said. A doctor? Elation fills your heart. Your memories are hazy but having a doctor could only be good, right?

“You’ve been in a nasty accident, the windscreen shards have pierced your chest, you don’t have long.” Again the voice deals a heavy blow. However this time the urgency is gone, replaced by a pitiful intonation. The statement is quick and to the point, yet still your brain hesitates in processing the information. 

“Do you understand?” He questions, watching as his heavy words sink in, sparking fear in your darkening eyes as the gravity of the situation hits home. Your hand reaches up to his, grabbing it in a death grip as you refuse to let go of life. Desperately you try to plead for your life, nothing but a gurgle comes as you choke on something hot and thick in the back of your throat. 

Oh god. 

“Puh…” you manage, “puh…” 

Please, for god's sake. Please help me. Tears brim from your eyes as you silently beg him. Surely there’s something he can do as a doctor, or at least help and end the suffering. With that thought your eyes change; defeat accepted. 

“She wants you to help her” another voice sounds from behind you, calm and peaceful. How could anyone be calm right now? 

Because they’re not the one dying.

“Carlisle,” that same voice repeats, “She wants you to end her suffering.” It comes as a warning, in case the blonde by your side was thinking the same as you. 

“I can’t. As a doctor I took an oath.” His eyes flash from you to the other “Edward-” he’s abruptly cut off mid sentence. Would it have been a plea for the other man - Edward- to help, or was there more to it?

“Then let me…” the voice trails off as your breathing quickens at the thought of death coming quicker. The doctor -Carlisle- looks down at you, renewed hope sparkling in his eyes, before he cranes his head to your ear. 

“If there was a way to end the suffering and still live, would you accept? Even if it meant having to lead a different life, shrouded in secrecy, away from family and friends, perhaps alone…isolated even” He leans back, watching as thoughts flicker across your expression. You’d accepted the hand that had been dealt. You’d begged for death as you realised there was no option to be saved. Confused and not fully understanding you nod your head, greedily wanting the life that had been taken from you. 

“Carlisle, you can’t, she doesn’t fully understand what she’s agreeing too” This time the warning is stronger, anger laces the words. The kind of anger one holds onto, that forms a grudge from past experience. 

“She’s given her consent, she’ll learn and understand in time Son” The doctor lowers his head once more. You wait patiently for what seems a long time, waiting to hear words spoken softly like the last, but they never come. You feel the cold skin of his face press against the crook of your neck and hear him inhale sharply. Pain briefly erupts over your neck, like nothing you have ever felt before but is one again in seconds. You notice something dark covering his once pale lips as he withdraws from you. You don’t have time to register what it is before pain returns, running the length of your body, your neck burning the most. 

“Help me get her back Edward” are the last words you remember of your old life.

Your eyes open, anew and restored to the world. Your senses are flooded with vibrant colours, smells and sounds as you take in your new surroundings. Gone is the dark dreariness of the crash site, replaced by a bright cheery start to your next life. 

[thefriskypanda]

Heyyyyy i head that ur new to Tumblr nice to meet you and I hope u enjoy the experience love❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

I was wondering if I could get Zoro with a fem crewmate who have to hide from marines and Zoro pulls them into small tight space. When zoro looks down at reader he could see her breast being pressed up against his chest and he can't control him self.

I hope this makes sense if not I can send it again

Now have a good day or night 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Gaaaaaaaaaah~ I really enjoyed writing this one, I may have gotten a bit carried away, hehe

warnings: again, this contains a female reader, kissing. The following is under the cut: a bit of nipple play, fingering, and sex in a small space.

ko-fi ♥

Enjoy!

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

Today started off like it usually would when the ship docked on an island. Part of the crew was in charge of gathering supplies, another was in charge of watching over the ship. You, on the other hand, had one of the most important tasks: looking after Zoro so he doesn’t get lost in case you needed to run. 

The first few times he absolutely hated it, feeling that he was being treated like a child. But after spending most of the time in land with you and realising that you were genuinely worried about his well being, he warmed up to you and accepted your company whenever he was wandering around. 

You two were talking inside a blacksmith shop about whether you should choose a single sword or a double handed one to defend yourself better, just in case you were left alone at any point. In any case, he promised to train you himself, not only to make sure you learnt how to fight properly, but it also served as an excuse to spend more time together.

When you finally decided and walked out of the shop, weapon in its case resting on your back, you heard a faint yell in the distance.

“The Strawhats are around here, search for them!”

The voice came exactly from the nearest path to the port, leaving you with no other choice than to grab Zoro’s hand and run in the opposite direction. He simply stared at you with an almost invisible blush on his face, not questioning your lead. Until he felt a presence coming from the front. With no other choice, he pulled you into an alleyway that came into view. Unfortunately, there was no way out, a simple door in front of you was your only option. Your companion grabbed your forearm, “Come here” he said quickly and pulled the door open, pushing you inside.

Your back met with a few wooden boxes that were neatly arranged in piles while Zoro closed the door behind him. He put his hand on the crate behind you and closed his eye, trying to listen if the Marines had followed you. 

There were voices right outside your hiding spot, prompting you to hold your breath and tightly close your eyes. The swordsman noticed your body going stiff against him, looking down with the intention of asking if you were okay, but he realized just how close the two of you were.

Your body was brushing his own, he could easily feel the warmth radiating from you, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore the fact that your breasts were pressed against his chest. The softness of your mounds felt good against his hard muscles, enough to make his legs tremble.

A gentle “are you okay, Zoro?” broke his haze, bringing his eyes up to look at your own, stopping briefly at your lips. He sneaked his arm around your waist, pressing you two even more. You felt something poking at your center. “Wha- wait... ” you couldn’t form proper sentences, blood rushed to your cheeks at the realisation of what it was.

When you were about to question him about his strange behaviour, he grabbed your hair with his other hand and sealed your lips in a passionate kiss, pushing your body against the hard wooden crate, your forgotten sword digging into your back. You gently put your arms on his shoulders, gripping on his clothes, overwhelmed by the sensual way his lips were moving. A bunch of emotions exploded, neither of you wanted to let go, not wanting for this moment to end.

The silence of the small storage room was filled with gasps and moans as his mouth explored your neck with intense adoration, sucking and licking wherever he could while his hands roughly squeezed your hips, grinding against them, trying to get some friction.

Low grunts rumbled in his throat at the pleasing sensation, but it wasn’t enough. Your sultry voice caught his attention, making him stop his movements, thinking about a solution for the new problem at hand.

“Hmmm, no. This won’t do” He said as he grabbed your hips with one arm. You shot him a questioning glance as he easily lifted your legs from the ground and pressed you even more against the hard surface. “Z-zoro!” you gasped. “What are you doing now?”. His free hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it down gently. “I can’t go back to the ship like this, wanna help me?” His eye was fixed on your face, all his movements stopped. Soon you realized that he was asking you permission to touch you. He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to the main act.

You brought your lips together, giving him a short, deep kiss while you wrapped your legs around his middle. A simple “Do as you wish” made Zoro immediately bring your left breast out of its confinement. Lifting your body a bit further up, he leaned down and started planting butterfly kisses from your mouth, all the way down your neck, chest, and stopped at your hardening nipple, giving it a few tentative licks before engulfing his mouth around it, alternating between swirling his tongue and sucking. The sensation made you feel an increasing tingle on your lower stomach, not noticing that his hand was traveling through your side, tenderly caressing your body, before opening your shorts and sliding them along with your panties through only one of your legs, letting the dangle on the other one.

He gently caressed your clit, drawing a sharp breath out of your lungs. His movements were controlled at first, but he easily lost his patience, driving him to let go of your nipple to watch your expression as he fastened his pace, inserting his middle and ring finger at the same time, curling them up at the right angle. It all felt so amazing, that your orgasm crashed down on your body, juices spilling on the floor under you while you tried to muffle your moans by biting your lower lip.

“The best part is yet to come” Zoro whispered in your ear, giving it a soft bite before grabbing his throbbing member and positioning it at your entrance. He slowly pushed in, engrossed at how deliciously hot and wet your pussy felt. You decided to bite his shoulder as he started to rock his hips into you, desperately trying to hide the lewd noises that resonated in your throat.

You could feel the rumble in his chest as he groaned, too lost into you to think of anything else than how good you felt, completely wrapped around him, as you also thought of him.

He immediately pulled out as his own orgasm arrived, cumming on your stomach, a few droplets joined your juices on the floor.

For a short moment, you could only hear your agitated respiration, but his husky voice broke the silence. “I think we are ready to go now. Can’t feel those marines with my haki anymore.”

He let you stand on your own, allowing you to balance yourself on him as you awkwardly put your shorts back on.

You felt a relief as a fresh wave of air entered the small room when he opened the door to peek outside, just to be sure that it was completely safe to go out. Before heading out, he turned back to you and kissed you once again. “We’re not done, but we better head back to the ship”.

Sudden heat crept its way to your face at his words, but with a smile, you nodded and grabbed his hand to lead him. “Sure, I could use some ‘training’ with you”.

Later at the Thousand Sunny, everyone wondered why you two were so eager to go to the Crow’s Nest, but innocently dismissed it when they saw your new weapon, oblivious at your intertwined hands.

[defiblover27]

Old Friends

Sorry that I have been gone for so long. Finally back to writing again. If you ever have any ideas for a story my DMs are always open. Enjoy!

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Bek is a 37 year old female with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. She is slightly on the heavier side with and stands at just five foot three. Bek and one of her closest friends Ryan have decided to meet up at her house after they have both been busy with their professional careers and have not had the time to sit down and catch up in quite a while. Bek puts on her jeans and a shirt and then finally pulls a hoodie on over top while she waits around for Ryan to arrive before he has to go into work later in the morning. After Ryan arrives the two sit in the living room and start chatting about their current lives and reminisce the good old days of growing up together. The chatter quickly develops and they sit and laugh together as they recall some embarrassing stories that they experienced together. "I can't believe that we really did that.... Would you care for a cup of coffee before you have to leave?" Bek asks. "That would be great" Ryan responds. Bek gets up from the couch and heads into the kitchen just a few feet away. After picking up the coffee pot she turns to the walk to the sink to get some water when she suddenly feels very light headed and her tongue starts to tingle. Before she can do anything her vision goes dark. There is an audible thud and the shatter of the glass coffee pot is heard in the living room as Ryan jumps up from his seat. "You okay in there Bek?" as he turns the corner he sees the glass shards across the floor and Bek lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Oh my god Bek" he quickly rushes over and kneels down beside her. He shakes her shoulders to get a response and after a few shakes Bek lets out a sigh as she begins to regain consciousness. "What... what happened?" Bek asks shakily as she attempts to sit up. "You must have passed out has this happened before recently?" Ryan asks as he helps her up into a seated position. "No nothing at all, I've felt a little under the weather since this morning but besides that nothing." Bek responds as she slowly picks herself off the floor into a standing position. "I'm calling an ambulance" Ryan states as he heads back into the living room to get his phone. "No I'm fine really" Bek pleads but Ryan is already gone and dialing 911. Bek hobbles over to a bench in the kitchen by the table as she leans up against it. She can hear Ryan in the other room talking to the emergency dispatcher. She still feels lightheaded and a little woozy but brushes it off without another thought. Ryan reenters the room and stays by Bek and explains that the ambulance is on the way. After a few minutes the EMT's arrive at Bek's house and Ryan lets them in and leads them to where Bek is leaning up against the bench in the kitchen. They set down their bags and ask a few initial questions. After checking her vitals they explain to Ryan that she should be okay but they want to transport her to the hospital just in case. Bek tells Ryan to go to work and that she will call him later. The paramedics get his contact information before he leaves and he tells her to make sure to call him later. Ryan leaves the house and heads to work even though he is still worried about Bek. Jayden, one of the paramedics, asks his coworker Alex to go to the ambulance and grab the gurney since she is having trouble walking. Alex leaves the room while Jayden stays behind with Bek. "My... my chest... it..." Bek collapses to the ground for a second time. Jayden catches her as she collapses and lays her gently on the floor. He feels for a pulse and breathing. Finding none he quickly places his gloved hands between her breasts and begins CPR. He felt as each compression caused her chest to cave in and return to its position each time. After giving thirty aggressive compressions he tilted her head back, sealed his lips over her mouth, pinched her nose, and delivered a breath. He gave two full breaths into her still lungs causing her chest to rise and fall with each one. He did another round of thirty compressions as he felt a few ribs pop out of place due to

the force of the compressions. Again he gave two breaths as Alex returns with the gurney to see their patient unconscious on the floor. "What happened?" Alex asked quickly as he grabbed the heart monitor and AED from the gurney. "She went into full cardiac arrest, I've done two rounds of CPR and still no response. Alex grabbed some shears from his pocket and cut away Bek's hoodie, shirt, and bra causing her breasts to fall to the side. Jayden placed his hands between between her exposed chest and continued CPR. "We need to attempt to stabilize her before transport." Jayden announced. Alex grabbed an orange ambu bag from the O2 bag and sealed it over Bek's face. After every thirty compressions Alex squeezed the ambu bag twice to inflate her lungs. While Jayden was performing CPR Alex also attached the electrodes and AED pads to Bek's bare chest. The monitor whined to life as the line bounced up and down in v-fib. The AED charged to 200 joules as the paramedics backed away. The shock button was pushed and Bek jerked on her kitchen floor as the electricity coursed through her dying body. With no response Alex took over CPR as the AED charged to 300 in preparation of a second shock. Alex used the full weight of his body to compress Bek's chest as he felt a few of her ribs break under him. The AED announced that it was charged as they backed away and pressed the shock button. Again Bek jerked on the floor before relaxing again. "Still no response, lets give one more shock and then transport regardless." Jayden announced. Alex was already giving Bek CPR and simply shook his head in agreement. The AED was charged the 360 as CPR continued on Bek's dying body. They backed away once more as the AED was charged and shocked her again. This time the increased voltage caused Bek's chest to rise slightly off the kitchen floor before crashing back down causing her breasts to shake. "Asystole, lets roll out hopefully the ER can do something else to help her" They rolled her over before placing her on a backboard and loading Bek and all of their equipment into the ambulance and sped away. Alex hopped into the drivers seat and flipped on the lights and sirens as he attempted to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. Meanwhile Jayden was in the back of the ambulance compressing Bek's chest which now had a grayish look to it as her body began to shut down. The first few minutes of the ride were uneventful as Bek remained in asystole while her chest was being pounded away on. After pushing another round of cardiac drugs into the IV Jayden was able to force Bek's heart into v-fib as the AED was charged to 360 again. The shock caused Bek to jerk violently on the gurney before going still again. There was no change in rhythm so the AED was charged again as Jayden quickly tilted her head back and slid a metal blade into her mouth and down her throat slightly. He then passed a 8.0 ET tube down her airway and secured it with a blue holder. Attaching the ambu bag he gave a couple ventilations as he placed his stethoscope onto her cold and clammy chest to ensure it was placed properly. He was able to get it right on the first time so he dropped the bag so it laid against her face and pressed the shock button again. Bek's feet jumped off the gurney slightly and clenched up showing off the wrinkles of her small feet. Jayden began to lose hope of saving Bek as the monitor went flat once again as she went into asystole once again. Jayden pounded away at her chest as a purple bruise began to form in-between her breasts from all of the aggressive CPR. Her complexion started to fade and her lips turned to a bluish purple as her body was shutting down. She was now cool to the touch other than the center of her chest where Jayden's warm gloved hands have been so often. Each compression forced her breasts to shake violently as her chest was caved in rhythmically. He pushed another round of drugs into her dying body and gave to quick squeezes of the bag hanging out of her mouth before continuing CPR. He lost track

of how many cycles he has done so far or how long she had been down. All he knew is that he wouldn't stop until he got her heart beating again.

As they arrived at the ER Bek was still under intense CPR as her chest caved in rhythmically. They rolled her out of the ambulance as Jayden straddled the gurney. His hips placed directly on hers as his body hovered over hers as he continued aggressive compressions. Alex picked up the ambu bag laying on the gurney and gave a few squeezes every few seconds in attempt to give her much needed air. They took her directly into the trauma room as Alex gave the report. Jayden hopped off of the gurney and helped transfer Bek to the bed. They rolled her to her side and slipped the backboard out replacing it with a CPR board to get her chest in the correct position. Her nude body now laid dying on the bed as a nurse took over CPR. Jayden backed away slightly trying to catch his breath from all of the CPR that he had just performed. They placed another IV port and gave Bek her next dose of epi and continued CPR. The monitors beeped in tune with each compression that she received as her body shook around from the force. The attending doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils. They were sluggish but reactive meaning that she still had a chance at coming back. They had no time to waste before it would be too late though. A day that went from hanging out with an old friend turned into a day where a team of medical professionals did everything they could to bring her back to life. The monitors began to bounce erratically as Bek converted into Vfib once again. The paddles were taken off of the crash cart, a large amount of gel was placed on one of the paddles as they were rubbed together, placed on her bare chest, and discharged. The shock caused Bek to flop on the bed and after the shock there was no change. CPR was resumed as the paddles were charged again to 360. In a moments notice the cold metal paddles were back on her skin as she was shocked again. This time her arms flailed to the sides and her feet scrunched up and relaxed again. Bek still did not convert so another nurse centered their hands between her large breasts as the paddles charged again.

Jayden was near the nurses station as soon as they left the room and called Ryan. "Hello is this Ryan?" Jayden asked. "Bek is not doing very well and I think that its important for you to get to the hospital as soon as possible. You are the closest thing to family that she has." He hung up the phone and looked into the trauma room as he watched the resuscitation continue. A few minutes later Ryan busted into the ER and ran toward Jayden. Jayden had to catch Ryan in his arms before he could burst into the trauma room. "What the hell is going on? She seemed okay when I left. I should have stayed with her." Ryan frantically pleaded. "She went into cardiac arrest shortly after you left. We have been doing everything that we can for her. She is in good hands." Jayden responded. Ryan could barely see into the trauma room but was able to see as everyone backed away and then as her body shook around on the bed. He fell to the floor as Jayden caught him and tried to console him.

"Asystole doctor" the nurse in charge of ventilations announced. "Push another round of epi and continue CPR please." he replied. The team worked in silence as they continued resuscitating Bek but they all knew that she was inching closer and closer to death. After three minutes at her 40 minute mark of her code the doctor asked "is there any family here?". A nurse informed him of the situation and he asked that Ryan be brought into the room. Ryan could barely hold his own weight as Jayden guided him into the room. "I'm the attending here and have been in charge of Bek's case. She was brought into the ER 20 minutes ago in full cardiac arrest. Her heart hasn't been beating for over 40 minutes. We have given her all of the drugs that we can and have done everything in our power. I am going to check for any signs of life again. Come on over and hold her hand." The two of them approached Bek as Ryan placed her hand in his. He could feel how could it was. "Stop CPR and check for pulses." The team backed away as they checked her carotid, and femoral pulses. The attending checked her pupils for the last time and found that they were fixed and dilated. "Time of Death 10:46am. I'm very sorry." The doctor announced. He left Ryan and a few nurses in the room as they started post mortem care. The disconnected the ambu bag, leads, wiped the gel off her chest, hung a toe tag on her right foot, and finally draped a white sheet over her nude body. Jayden stayed in the room with Ryan until she was taken down to the hospital morgue. Her autopsy found that she had suffered a massive heart attack.

[saphirered]

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

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Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

[pixiedust-designs]

if you're looking for writing prompts, how about Philza and Techno live in a world were tinys and humans both lived together. Philza is a tiny and Techno is a human. They met online and are finally meeting in real life. One issue though, although Philza knows that Techno is a human, Techno (cause people with ADHD are dense AF) has no clue that Philza is tiny.

(Oh yes I can relate to Techno in this one lol)

Phil was excited to meet Techno. They had been talking about meet up for a while and now they finally where. He had flown to where Techno lived and was waiting for him to pick him up. He was at the waiting spot for tiny’s he looked around for techno as he waited. His phone buzzed. He looked at it. It was Techno.

‘I’m here. Where are you?’ He had texted him.

‘I’m at the waiting spot for tiny’s’ he looked up. He didn’t see Techno anywhere.

Techno was confused why Phil was where the tiny’s where. But he didn’t question it. But he had to walk to the other side of the air port to get there. After a few minutes he got to where Phil’s said he was. He thought he would see him standing by the platform they had for tiny’s. But he still didn’t see him.

‘I’m here. I still don’t see you’ He texted Phil.

Phil saw Techno walk over to the platform. But he didn’t look down. He seemed confused? He got another text. Techno didn’t see him? He was one of the very few on the platform. He wasn’t even looking over here.

‘On the platform’ Phil texted back.

The platform? Techno questioned. Phil couldn’t be- he wasn’t a tiny though? He looked over at where the platform was. And sure enough there stood Phil. A very much tiny Phil. He walked over to the platform confused.

He smiled seeing techno finally see him. He walked up to the railing. “Hey!” He smiled.

Techno starred in shock at Phil. “You’re a tiny?” He asked.

“Umm... yes? You knew that. Right?” He was starting to think he might not.

Techno shook his head. “No I didn’t. I- I thought you where a human...” he wasn’t sure what to do now. He had things planned for them to do while Phil was here. But he hadn’t planned for Phil to be a tiny. “You never told me you where.”

Phil sighed. “I didn’t think I had to? I thought it was obvious.” He felt a little bad for Techno. He never tried to hide it. He thought everyone knew.

“It wasn’t obvious to me.” Techno sighed. He had never been around tiny’s much. He wasn’t sure what to do around Phil.

Phil chuckled shaking his head. “Well I guess you know now. How about we get out of here. We can talk more about this later.”

Techno nodded. “Yeah.” He looked nervously at Phil. Was he supposed to pick him up now? How did he pick him up properly?

Phil smiled seeing Techno was nervous. “It’s alright mate. You can pick me up.” He shrugged on his backpack.

“Alright...” Techno gentle curled his hands around Phil scooping him up off the platform. He was amazed just how tiny he was. “Is this ok?”

“Yea you’re good.” He seemed more nervous then most picking him up. “Have you ever held a tiny?” He asked.

“No.” Techno shook his head. He held Phil close as he walked back to his car. He was being very carefully of what he did.

Phil nodded. That made sense why Techno was being so overly carefully. Soon they got to Techno’s car. He got into the car with a sigh.

“I’m not sure what to do. I really thought you where human.” He looked down at Phil.

“You’re doing fine Techno.” Phil patted his hand. He smiled looking up at his friend. “I would’ve said something if I knew you didn’t know.”

Techno sighed softly. “Ok.” He would have to change his plans. But he was still going to hang out with Phil. He wasn’t going to let this meet up go to waste because Phil was a tiny. They where still going to have fun while Phil was here. He set Phil down on the passenger side seat. “Guess you can’t use the seatbelt huh?”

“Nope.” Phil laughed.

(This didn’t came out exactly how I wanted. But hopefully you like it!)

[soukokuwu]

angsty angst with atsushi discovering his s/o’s dead body 🥴

NO GOODBYES.      genre; pairing; word count. angst; atsushi x pm!reader; 1,750 words      warnings. death, mentions of abuse, gaslighting, toxic relationship      synopsis. the one thing you did right, and it came a little too late.      author notes. hi there (sorry for the super long wait too), but i combined it with this as requested by another(?) anony, i hope you like this! let me know what y’all think <3

What you tolerate, you encourage.

What you permit, you promote.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been so caught up in who you used to be, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. Perhaps if he hadn’t been in love with the idea of who you could be, then he would have had the strength to let you go. But love makes people stupid sometimes.

And Atsushi is no exception.

No matter how many times Kunikida or the others tried to interfere, to warn him that you were no good, Atsushi wouldn’t listen. Why? Because he’s inherently kind, and sometimes to a fault. This time, it would be considered a fault. The weretiger is so blinded by you that he believes everything you do is out of love; because you can’t bear losing him. He uses love to justify your actions.

But nobody questioned this: Atsushi doesn’t understand what love is.

At least, not fully, and not yet. Especially when he acts as stubborn as a mule when it comes to you. Whatever heinous thing you did to him, he makes an excuse for it, hides it from everyone he works with every single day. And the worst part is, everyone in the agency can tell why.

A young boy, growing up in an orphanage with an abusive headmaster and nearly killed what, how many times? Once? Twice? A young boy, who grew up scared yet with a heart of gold. Starving, but wouldn’t steal. Lost, yet wouldn’t ask for help. He has never known proper care, proper love. So how could he be so sure you really loved him as he claimed you did?

The ones who could think more objectively — Dazai, Ranpo — they knew. Kunikida still let his personal feelings get in the way, he and the others didn’t give you the time of day. But back to the other two, they knew the answer. Why does Atsushi make up so many excuses for you time and time again? Why does he firmly believe that your feelings for him are true?

Because once upon a time, you really did love him.

In the beginning, before things took a wrong turn. Before his passiveness led to you taking advantage of him. Who was at fault? Maybe if he wasn’t so meek you wouldn’t have had that much control over him. But then again, you could’ve been a good person with a decent moral compass and not sucked him dry. Although, no one is surprised you behaved that way.

You are a member of the Port Mafia after all.

Atsushi remembers every single horrible thing you did. He’s blinded by love to stay with you, yes. But he isn’t totally lacking in common sense. He knows the things you do are wrong. He just hopes that each time you do it, there is a good enough reason behind your motivations. Besides, they always say it’s the thought that counts, right? And he thinks no differently.

One can only learn so much apart from experience.

He thinks back to everything now, while he slugs forward, slowly walking back to the dorms. He thinks about everything his coworkers have confronted him with. Atsushi doesn’t know what he plans on doing with the information, but with everyone pressuring him to at least reconsider the relationship, maybe he should think on it.

The first thing they told him: he is way too lenient with you. More often than not, they pointed out your jealousy to be irrational and unfounded. You’ve been with the Port Mafia longer than Atsushi’s been with the ADA, so you know of the existence of Yosano and Naomi, and now you’re aware that Kyouka’s part of them too. And somehow, without rhyme or reason, you always accuse Atsushi of having the hots for one of them. On occasion it’s Yosano, sometimes Naomi, but mostly Kyouka, which the weretiger is frankly very appalled by. Taking the age difference and her age itself, she has always been more of a sister to him, of course he’d take care of her.

But you didn’t buy that. You always manage to hang it over his head, always needs him to assure you countless times over and over again that he loves you and only you. Even then you doubted his words.

His colleagues’ take on this? It’ll never end. It’s an endless cycle. Because he let it go on for far too long. And now it’s too hard to pry that habit away from you.

Two. Ranpo was kind enough to put his two cents in the situation when bribed with snacks. He knows how abusive you are — you’re just lucky that Atsushi has the healing powers of the tiger, lucky that no bruises every stay on his skin for all to see. But Ranpo knows, and Dazai, because it’s just like that. They just do. And nobody else in the office doubts their word. Atsushi doesn’t fight back against you, because he knows he’s that much stronger than you. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you if he even grips your hands.

And it’s exactly because he doesn’t resist that he ends up getting hurt instead. Most of the times he just blames himself though — why did he have to go and do that? He knows that will make you mad, why did he still do it? He’s the utter failure here. He should be punished. And there you have it, he takes whatever you throw at him (pots, pans, coat rack, everything, basically); gets blue and black, sometimes gashes and cuts that all heal almost instantly anyway. Funny thing is, he hates it, because he thinks it’s some sort of cheat code, that he isn’t properly punished.

“How can anything like that be healthy?” Tanizaki’s words ring in his head.

Three. When asked why he’s even with you in the first place — he hesitates. Why is it that “I love her” doesn’t come to his mind straight away? Everyone knows he’s in denial and always has been. They all know that he’s hoping for the old you to come back. The one he blames himself for coaxing out of you in the first place when in reality it isn’t on him in the slightest.

That was the last straw — that was what made him storm out of the office. Because he knows that no reason he gives now will satisfy them enough to get them off his back. And perhaps… it is for good reason. Because honest to god? He’s tired. Tired of feeling wronged every time you accuse him of having an affair when he barely bats an eye in any of their direction (not since the last time you threatened to hurt them if he even dared to talk to them). Tired of being beaten up for something he never did, when it should be your colleagues who should be taking the heat of your anger. They were the ones who made you mad, not him. And he’s tired of constantly having to dread going to work because he has to make up a thousand more excuses for you, to defend you when he knows very well you wouldn’t do the same courtesy to him.

The ring of his cellphone makes him sigh. That’s probably you again, checking up on him to make sure he’s not up to no good.

Atsushi breathes in, throwing his head back, eyes closed as the faint light of the setting sun hits his face. His fingers fumble in his pocket for his phone, and he answers it. Another deep breath.

“Look, I don’t think—”

“Weretiger?”

His eyes snap open and he checks the caller ID. Unknown. He hears a familiar voice on the other end, it’s the one who’s always with that devil incarnate, the one they called the rabid dog. What’s her name?

“It’s Higuchi.”

Oh, right.

What do they want with him now? To surrender himself, maybe? But like hell you’d let that happen.

But what the blonde says next makes the whole world around him cease to exist. Every complicated feeling, any positivity, they’re all gone and he feels like he’s in a void. Black; everything is black. His fingers are twitching, palms shaking as Higuchi finishes what she says, but she doesn’t hang up without telling him one more important thing:

“It’s all your fault!”

Not an hour later and he’s kneeling down next to your bullet-riddled body, fingers ghosting over your now blue, chapped lips. The blood pooled on the concrete stains his pants, but he doesn’t care. Because despite wanting to break up with you, he didn’t want you to die.

And especially not for him.

You did a lot of wrong in the relationship. Abusing, gaslighting, and many more. The other detectives always put it upon themselves to show Atsushi who you really are, and how unhealthy every aspect of your relationship is. They always argued about which facet of your relationship is the worst. But now, they all know they’ve come to the same conclusion. No discussion needed.

It’s in how the black circles under his eyes have grown darker. It’s in how he’s so dejected, so forlorn every single day — at least before he could still deceive himself that you were there at the end of the day to possibly make him feel better. It’s in how he’s tried too hard before, and now not trying at all.

The conclusion? The worst thing you’ve done to him? Ironically, laughably, is to have loved him right just before you ceased to see the light. Sacrificing yourself just because you didn’t want to give his location away to the enemy, even if you knew Atsushi had a high chance of surviving? Honestly, the only thing you did that everyone else agreed was done out of actual love.

But you left behind a weretiger that now blames himself for your death. Whenever anyone asked he’d say that he killed you.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Atsushi used to be able to see beauty in the world; he practices it by striving to always see the good in you, in what you could be. Even if it is partial deception on his own end. But now… now he barely sees any good in any thing. Self-pity is a dangerous thing.

And somehow, by loving him right in the last moments of your life, you’ve sentenced him to an eternity of being a prisoner to his misery.

tags. @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @animatedarchives

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[straymackerel]

Hey! Would you like to write something for mori and his female s/o with bondage? A scenario would be amazing! Maybe was sie trying to tease him the whole day!

➽─{uwu i would love to ~ the doctor is in ❤️☠️}─❥

warning(s): nsfw, bdsm, oral (receiving)

You’re restless, hungry, agitated on the lookout for slick black hair and white wrist-length gloves. A group of young mafiosos pass you, all eyes cautiously averted. Pleased, you relish in your hastily planned attire: one of Mori’s white button-ups, and not much else underneath. If anyone was caught leering at the boss’s plaything, they would surely be punished––though the word “punishment” barely even begins to describe it.

Sighing as you round another dead end, you ponder your options. Either wait in Mori’s office, or try the room you saved for last. It’s the one place you’d normally have the good sense to steer clear of, but your desperation is reaching new heights. Waiting is simply out of the question. You make a beeline for the main meeting room, as you’ve passed it dozens of times by now.

Oversized walnut doors loom over you as you stand outside of your final destination. The voices inside are dampened, but not muted; the room is soundproofed, but not completely. When you reach out to grab the handle, the heft of the door resists your pull as if asking, “are you sure about this?” You prop it open anyway, just wide enough to slip through, grazing the polished wood as you enter.

Inside, a pack of mobsters surround a long rectangular table, at the end of which your lover eyes you calmly––but is that a hint of a disapproval you see? Many heads turn towards you, but few linger. The most daring of the group shoot quizzical looks at Mori, but his expression reveals little to nothing. Back bathed in sunlight, face hidden in shadow, he continues to lead the discussion as if nothing peculiar is happening. A professional as always. Your visit is largely ignored.

You maintain your gaze as he talks shop, but you bore instantly. Twirling your hair and nibbling your lips from across the room hardly evokes the reaction you came to spark. Though he never takes his eyes off of you, he otherwise acts as if you aren’t there. No choice but to get closer.

Grabbing the nearest chair, you walk Mori’s way as his eyes narrow, still focused on you. Your gait is as unwavering as you can manage in front of a criminal syndicate. Some of the executive board shift uncomfortably in their seats, and as you near the windows, Mori realizes why. You prop your chair up next to him, leaning into his ear:

“I just thought you should know that I’m dripping wet.”

The boss of the Port Mafia is the very last to get a clear view of your bare thighs, their innermost surfaces gleaming in nature’s lube. He simply nods his head, trying his best to maintain the illusion of control––but when you sit yourself down, putting your hands on his legs, he immediately cuts his losses.

“We’ll stop here for today. This meeting is adjourned until further notice,” his voice booms, teetering on the edge of annoyance. Good; you want him just as worked up as you are.

As the last of the Mafia members filter out, not so heedless as to glance back, Mori turns to face you. Hands fumbling with his clothes, he folds his trench coat over his chair and slips something out of its pockets. Its metallic glint threatens to blind you with natural light. When your senses adjust, you realize it’s a pair of handcuffs, but not before a loud clinking reaches your ears. Your hands––they’re locked together now, cuffs fastened shut behind your back.

“Rintaro?” you protest, but your voice falls upon deaf ears. He hoists you up by the waist and sets you on the meeting table, eyes undressing your already scantily dressed form. You smirk. “You like?”

“I like?” he says back, mockingly. “Such a disobedient, troublesome girl like you? I wonder about that.” Gloved fingers unbutton your (well, his) shirt, but your restraints prevent the garment from completely coming off. Starched fabric bunches at your wrists. The chains jingle behind you as you test your strength against the stainless steel, but not unnoticed by your lover.

Mori’s voice drops a notch: “I swiped them off of a police officer this morning. He was getting in the way of a business transaction, making my job very… difficult.” A certain iciness laces his words, sending shivers down your spine. “Perfect for a slut who doesn’t know her place, no?”

Hands awkwardly positioned, you struggle to keep yourself upright under his smoldering gaze. You’ve barely gotten comfortable when he starts to go down on you.

A small yelp escapes you as Mori greets your clit, spreading the wide of his tongue across it. His tongue flicks upwards as one, two fingers slide past your drenched slit, and you’re quick to realize that he hasn’t even bothered to take off his gloves. The silky fabric introduces an effortless glide to each Mori’s slow, drawn-out dips into your pulsing pussy. His fingers rock back and forth inside of you, continuously curling towards your g-spot with leisure. 

Just when you’re getting used to the rhythm, Mori’s tongue begins to rub circles upon your swollen clit. Your legs buckle beneath you when he pushes them back for easy access. It’s hard not to quiver under his hold, but it’s even harder not to let your voice out. Soft mewls overflow into melting moans. His methodical motions almost get you shaking when he suddenly stops, and you can’t help but whine in response.

The gloves come off, soaked through and through, and he moves to loosen his tie next. Your anticipation grows almost tangible as more and more clothing comes off, but he stops at his belt buckle, flashing a wicked smile at you.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You wanna know what I do to loud and impatient girls?” Before you have a chance to answer, your lips are forced open, a thick cloth slipping between your teeth. His red scarf stuffs your mouth, restricting your breathing somewhat. You are virtually silenced, unable to speak properly. Muffled noises substitute your every word, something that obviously brings great pleasure to the sadistic doctor. 

“I make them take responsibility,” he continues, edge in his tone. He releases his bulging cock from black trousers, stroking it to your wide-eyed form. “It’s all your fault. Just look what you’ve done to me.” His free hand flutters at your waist, tracing your curves. You’re pulled from the table and bent over it, the cold metal cuffs cutting into your skin, certain to leave red marks. You feel the scarf tighten, pressing against your cheeks.

“If you want me to stop, you’ll have to scream.” Mori pauses to admire his handiwork, perhaps a beat too long.

“I wonder what sorts of sounds you’ll make when I use you..?”

--

sources:

link i

link ii

link iii

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x12: Don't say we'll have to let it go...

After a very stressful morning and several moments in which I was close to a full sanity slip completely unrelated to this, it is high time (heck, it's the highest of times, if you know what I mean) I got to the new HSMTMTS, the last one for a while.

I'm honestly scared, though. This morning I thought nothing could make me more nervous today than the whole ordeal I had to go through, but now that I'm here, I'm super scared and anxious. I don't even want to say it, but... what if this is... you know what I'm thinking. We're all thinking it. I just hope we're wrong in a good way.

I feel like I might die of anxiety, so I guess I'll just dive in. Whatever will be, will be.

Supportive Nini is best Nini. Honestly, I haven't liked her all season as much as I do now. The background, behind-the-scenes role seems to fit her a lot better than the lead. I hope to see more of her like this when (fingers crossed!!!) the show comes back.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, is a perfect lead. She was born for this, and it shows. It shows so much that everybody has finally noticed it. They took their time, didn't they?

Ugh, I hate, hate, hate this kind of moment that happens every time when someone has prepared a surprise for someone else — and we saw that twice this season — once with Carlos at his Quinceañero, and now with Ashlyn. I mean the moment before they find out about the surprise and they feel like they've been forgotten and it's all so sad... at least I know whatever my boy Reddy has planned for his girl will make up for that sort of feeling. I can't wait!

Ahhhhh @redlyncentral you called it! You called it big time! I can't say I wasn't expecting it to be something like this, though, because I trust your sixth sense more than I trust mine — and I trust mine a lot. Also, if anyone deserves to have their name in lights, it's Ashlyn. And remember when she told Big Red that, to make things light up, he just had to walk into a room? Or when he told her that the only thing he'd throw at her was a brighter spotlight? You know, I think that, just like airports are Portwell's thing, lights are Redlyn's thing. And that is so beautiful... I am legitimately crying.

Yikes... see, it's one thing when Nini calls Ricky 'Richard'. But it's another thing entirely when Kourtney calls Howie 'Howard'. Gosh, I hope they clear things up. If Howie has something to say (as in, some secret to come clean about, if you catch my drift), he'd better do it now. I was never too invested in Kowie, but it still hurts to see tension between them.

Ok, but... these two are too dorky for words! I mean, you're telling me Howie was acting that way just because of how nervous Kourtney's talent made him? Oh well, I feel like I can understand that, actually. She's a powerhouse. But also, everyone around here needs to learn a lesson or two from Redlyn. About communication, reciprocity, expression of feelings... it's no accident that they're the parents of the drama club. But this is not about them. Oh, who am I kidding? With me, everything is about them. Unless it's about Seblos or Portwell. Never mind. Moving on.

I am trying very hard not to have a visible or audible reaction because my brother is in the room and I'm supposed to be working, but... EJ had his dad put in a good word for Mr Mazzara at Caltech. And that is something that makes me feel feelings I can't very easily put into words. Also, what does that mean for Mr M's future at East High?

As clear as the imprint of Jamie's words is to see on EJ's face, I feel like he's not giving up on Portwell quite yet. 'Play it by ear' sounded quite promising to me, all things considered.

Not Ricky and Nini writing the same thing in slightly different words... again! I absolutely get why people ship them, at least on the surface level I do, but I really can't see them as a couple anymore. That is not to say, however, that I'm not rooting for them on their way to figuring out how to be 'just' friends. (See, I'm not a big fan of the expression 'just friends', as if it's something less than a romantic relationship, so...) They could be the best friends ever. If, and only if they learn to communicate properly. All kinds of relationships require good communication. I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but, you know, if it's true...

I can't look at Miss Jenn the same way after last week's episode. The Menkies have turned her, quite frankly, into a monster. She's too obsessed with beating Zacky Roy to notice how she's treating her students who have always been nothing but devoted to her and the play. Well, some of them anyway... I feel like it's time for Carlos to reconsider his opinion of her... and I know it must be painful, and the least thing I'd ever wish for him is pain, but... sometimes certain painful things are necessary. I just hope everyone comes out of this alright. I think I might not, though. I've been crying for a while already.

No... why is Gina crying? My girl needs a hug... Oh, here comes Nini. This seems like it's been a long time coming.

This was beautiful... only one character played by an actress named Olivia will be redeemed today. And it's the right one, if I do say so myself.

Alright, who called it? Gina connecting Nini with her brother about her music, I mean. I know for a fact someone here called it. If you happen to be that genius and you read this, please come forward in the notes to get the credit you deserve. This is... a little too perfect to be true, but I feel like it's the best way to connect and wrap up several storylines with one blow. And I love when that happens. Gosh, why does this feel like a series finale? Please tell me I'm wrong. I am not ready. I will never be ready. Ok, maybe one day I will be, but not anytime soon. Please tell me my feeling is deceiving me this time.

Oh, good, it's being addressed. The 'jump off of something high' comment, I mean. It would have been wrong not to address it. I kind of really liked the way they did it, too. Also, 'getting there' really is the most accurate answer to the question whether Ricky is happy. I feel like he's got a long way to go before he does get there, but he really is closer to that destination than he's been in a while. This boy deserves all the happiness. He's been through way too much. And I'm glad Miss Jenn is finally seeing her part in his struggles throughout the year.

Ahhh it's the song! I've been so excited for it all week, ever since that teaser leaked. But, once again: why does this feel like a finale? I want to curb my anxiety and watch this episode with a free mind, but the episode itself just isn't helping me. Ok, let's go back to the song for now. Whatever will be, will be.

No... EJ's verse... just no. Somebody tell that boy not to be so hung up on the words of somebody who doesn't even know who Gina is today. I've had 'the majestic S.S. Portwell' for a couple of weeks and I'm not ready for it not setting sail after it was almost out of the... port(well). Have I ever told you I make bad puns when I'm anxious?

Carlos doesn't even remember being on stage... that's too relatable to be overlooked. See, I used to perform on stage (I've decided to quit for good now and it makes me cry only slightly), and that has always been how I've felt about it. I feel like my favourites are who they are because I relate to each one of them to an extent — some are who I think I am, some are who I used to be, and some are who I wish I could become... and so much more on top. I'm being so emotional. I'm not ready to let these kids go. Please someone tell me I won't have to, at least not quite yet.

The Wildcats' reaction to... Capital-B-witch and Fake-French-Git-who-is-apparently-French-for-real (as I've taken to calling those two because calling them by their real names would mean showing them respect which they don't deserve) was exactly the same as mine. No one invited them there. They're not supposed to be there. Someone kick them out.

'Big Red... you were... also there!' Um, excuse you, he was not just 'there'! I mean, I know we didn't get to see him on stage (we've been robbed!!!), but I'm sure he was the most amazing LeFou to ever grace a theatre stage. That being said, we have been robbed! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I want to see what Big Red's reaction will be. I've been fantasising about this moment for weeks now.

Ok... so I said a couple of weeks ago, in my post on 2x10, that Ricky has been given a chance to prove what kind of friend he is right then and there... and, well, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it, but it was nice. I think that's the word for it. Nice. Ricky is just too nice to do what I kept seeing in my fantasy. And Big Red is doubly too nice to do it. But I... I surprise myself sometimes with how aggressive I can get in defence of other people. Maybe it's better this way than my way.

Did that capital-B-witch just say what I thought I heard her say? Because there's no way she just said that. Also, 'sometimes people deserve a second chance'... well, yeah. And sometimes they don't, you... well, I don't use words like that, but you guys can put two and two together, right?

'I'd trade it all for this group right here tonight'... me too, Eej, me too. I'm not even going to pretend I'm not crying because, guess what, I'm bloody bawling my eyes out! I kind of stopped for a moment when you-know-who and her second-in-command came in, but now I'm crying again. I am so not ready to let these kids go.

So... they're dropping out? Just like that? Well, that was anticlimactic! But hey, I absolutely get it. That's the Wildcat spirit, after all, isn't it? They did win already. They won something that some of North High's students can never understand. And that's more important than just about anything. [side note: I've got to say I appreciate the fact that my boy Reddy is now able to joke about his opening night predicament. See, that's another thing I relate to. I go through the craziest stuff, and then I laugh and tell stories to anyone who will listen. And I think that's the best approach to that kind of stuff. I just wish I could be less dramatic about the little things, too. It seems to me it's easier to laugh about the big, serious stuff once it's over, but not about some things that most people would deem unworthy of their attention. But hey, I'm working on that. Also, this post is not supposed to be about me. Moving on.]

Bless Ashlyn and the fact that she's good at communication. Even if she's a little late. She's not too late yet. Portwell might still be saved.

No, Ricky, you so did not just call you-know-who! I will not stand for any of that. Unless it's to shut her off once and for all, in which case I say go for it and go full steam. But why do I get the feeling it's not going to be like that? Ok, never mind, let's set that one aside and focus on Portwell for a second.

Ok, that was... that was going to be so beautiful, and then they cut it off. Is Portwell about to be Redlyn 2.0? Oh well, if it really is, that isn't going to be so bad after all. But now all I can think about is... when are we getting the renewal? How am I supposed to sleep at night until we know for sure?

Not them making me cry with a BTS montage... as if I wasn't crying hard enough already. I'm not alone in the house, you guys! In fact, we're having a bunch of guests from overseas in... wait, I think they're at the door. I'm not ready for people! Not now. Pray for me, you guys! (In all seriousness, though, don’t pray for me. Pray for a season 3 announcement to come soon)

[prongsisabadger]

The Wolf Pack

Chapter 2

Master Plo's ship was not the first I'd seen, the port at Mos Eisley was full of them; but it was the first ship I boarded that I could remember. Jedi master Plo Koon had been returning from a peacekeeping mission in the outer rim, and had stopped in Tatooine for fuel. It was a coincidence that he heard the Meilooron vendor talking about me. When I told him this, He said it had been the will of the Force. An energy field he had said. Then what had the Force deemed special about me? I asked him this.

"Tell me, Child. What would the tusken say are your best qualities?" He asked in return.

I thought about it for a second.

"Well, I can always tell when someone is following us, or how far a sandstorm is from our position. A'Koba once said I have very good instincts, but I do believe it comes from growing up in the desert." I answered as we walked up the ship's ramp.

"Kriari, the tusken have lived in the dune Sea for eons, if one tells you you have good instincts it is not a hollow complement. And neither is it entirely true." Said master Plo as he took the Pilot's seat and started pushing buttons and turning switches.

This puzzled me.

"How so, Master?" I asked as I took a seat on the copilot's place, still admitting the interior of the beautiful ship. It was much bigger than I'd imagined.

"You are a force sensitive, Child. Your midichlorian count is higher than the average life form, and as such, you have a deeper connection to the Force." he answered absentmindedly, like it was simply a fact of life. "When properly honed, your abilities can allow you to become a Jedi Master and help keep the balance of the universe."

The engine hummed to life as Master Plo pushed one final lever and started the takeoff sequence. I watched it all in awe and with unwavering attention. One day I would be able to pilot a spaceship, one day. Slowly, Mos Eisley started shrinking beneath us, and we approached the sky with every second that passed. The sky, the final frontier, that unreachable place where ships disappeared to, sometimes never to be seen again. The clouds parted before us, light blue turned to navy and then to black, and finally, Tatooine was a terracotta sphere behind us and the absolute emptiness of space was the only thing separating us from both setting suns.

"It's so odd to be so close to them." I muttered.

"Them, Child?"

"The stars, Master. We use them as a reference to navigate the Dune Sea. They are much prettier up close."

Master Plo Chuckled.

We are still very far from them, Kriari. Up close, a collapsing star can be quite daunting, not to mention deadly."

"But are they pretty, Master?" I insisted.

"In their own colossal, terrifying way, Child, yes. They are quite the sight."

The navigation droid that had been standing by the corner plugged in to its station and set the coordinates for our destination. Master Plo looked at me one more time before jumping to hyperspace. I don't remember if he said anything, I was too busy watching the galaxy fly past me.

…

The journey would be long, he told me. We should get started on some training exercise so I don't get cabin fever. And that is how I ended up cross legged on the floor staring at a rock. Master Plo sat by the table, writing his report for the council, he'd said. My mission was to make the rock move using the force. So far, all I'd been getting was eye strain.

"Staring at the rock won't make it move, Child, use the force." Said master Plo, never looking up from his working station.

I sighed in frustration. I would not let my journey end here, it was only beginning. I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling it all. I closed my eyes. The force was an energy field in all living things, that bound the universe together. So, technically, the force was inside me too. I didn't have to look at the rock to get it to move, I had to look to myself. Figuring out how the Force worked with my body. It had always been there, so it wouldn't be easy to find, but I had to try. Meditation was not a foreign concept to the Tusken, it took a lot of patience and confidence to wait out a sandstorm. It took a lot of determination and calm to find your way when lost in the Dune Sea. The Sand People might have been ruthless, but they also were a very spiritual people. The desert of Tatooine might be an inhospitable place for some species, but there was a delicate balance to its ecosystems and the Tusken tried their best not to upset it.

Keeping this in mind I started to regulate my breathing, making it longer, deeper. Connecting with my body, with my surroundings, with the Force. There was a sense of total awareness in the stillness of my mind, a certainty of things, of presences, of movement. There was the ship, the droid, Master Plo, the rock. And what if the rock moved? A little to the left at first, slowly, so as not to overdo it. Then, It would move to the right, a little faster, decidedly, with more purpose. And then it would be lifted in the air, level with my head and floating steadily as if held by an invisible hand.

I opened my eyes.

And smiled.

"Good job, Kriari." He said beside me. I dared not look away afraid the rock might fall. "Your focus is strong and steady. Is meditation a part of tusken tradition?"

I shook my head.

"No, Master. But it is common practice to meditate when waiting out a storm or when one is lost. Keeps us from panicking."

"I see. Now try that again with something bigger. It will only be more difficult from here on out."

He said as I let the rock down as gently as I could and took a pair of binoculars from my pack.

Then, I got started.

…

The first time I saw Coruscant I was six years old. The entire planet was like a miniature galaxy of blinking lights against a dark background. In the light of gay, the metallic and glass surfaces reflected the light like water in a pond and ships and speeders alike were like a shoal navigating the currents. It was beautiful, and crowded and busy, and nothing like I'd ever seen before.

The Jedi Temple was, in my childish eyes, the most beautiful structure of them all. The eternal flights of stairs, the massive pillars that flanked the entrance, the numerous structures that combined to form a pyramid-like building. The sun was setting on the city, on the planet, and the orange reflection of the sun rays bounced from one structure to the other. Everything about the temple was beautiful in it's own simple way, it was big, but it was elegant and the shades of white, ivory and tan made it all feel like it was indeed a spiritual place. A place of knowledge and of wisdom, and most of all, a place of calm and strength, and balance.

The guards at the landing platform stood tall and proud at the entrance, and they both acknowledged Master Plo with a nod and nothing more. I followed suit. They did not look at me twice, so I thought I can't have been the first child they'd seen through the gates, nor would I be the last.

"Do not fall behind, Child. We need to report to the council." Said Master Plo when he felt me get distracted.

I picked up the pace so as not to get reprimanded again. If there was something you learned when living with the Tusken was not to make anyone repeat themselves. Ever. The Jedi didn't seem to be the type to discipline children, but I didn't want to find out the hard way. As we walked the never ending corridors, underneath the high ceilings and through the heavy metal doors, we passed many Jedi, and many children as well. Most of the Jedi carried a metal cylinder with them, just like the one Master Plo had hanging from his belt. It seemed to be a symbol of status among these people, the children didn't have one, and neither did the maintenance staff.

We took one of the elevators to the top floor, and it opened to an antechamber lined with ivory seats. On the floor there was a symbol I'd seen in all the Jedi's left shoulder pads. I guess this is it. We stood in the centre of the room and waited. Before long, the doors opened and a Master came out followed by a Togruta child. She could not have been older than four.

The guard ushered us in, and once we made it to the centre of the circular room they closed the doors behind us. There were fifteen seats with their backs to the windows, facing the centre of the room, but only twelve were occupied. Whether the members were absent or dead, I wouldn't ask.

"Master Plo, you have someone to introduce us to, I see." Said a little green life form sitting on one of the chairs.

"That I do, Master Yoda," he said motioning me to step closer. "This is Kriari Foreas, she was living with the Sand People in Tatooine."

"A Zabrak living with the Tusken? I did not think that possible." Said another, his skin dark and his eyes piercing. "How high is her midichlorian count?"

"It is surprisingly high, Master Windu. The Tusken claim her mother left her there for protection. They found her dead in the dune sea a few days later." Answered Master Plo.

Meanwhile, I stood my ground, watching the interaction between them, waiting to be addressed. The other masters whispered in speculation, but none of them spoke up.

"Then, this curious child shall we meet? Hmmm.

I stood forward, and approached the masters until I was a few feet away.

"Tell us, Child, How was your experience with the Tusken? Did they treat you well?" Said the man with the sharp eyes.

"Yes, Sir. I was treated like one of them and helped the trade with the merchants in Mos Eisley."

The masters of the Council exchanged looks.

"Were you not sad to leave?"

"No, Sir. I knew I didn't belong there, not really. I wanted to learn about the galaxy. I still do."

"If we give you a little test, mind you?" Asked the little green one.

"No, Sir." I answered.

Master Windu took out a little pad and had me guess which figures appeared before him. I had to close my eyes for a while, to block out everything else. The nerves, the eyes, the strange place, the strange people. In the end It went well, or so I thought. One image appeared after the other and within a few minutes, the test was over. I opened my eyes and looked back at Master Plo. He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed lightly.

Well done.

"Her midichlorian count is high, but it is her history with the tusken that concerns me. They are known to be a ruthless people." Said master Windu.

"Discriminated on species before, have we? Hmmm Master Windu?" Asked the one called Yoda.

"No, Master Yoda."

"A decision to make you have then child, want to be a Jedi, you do?" Master Yoda asked me.

"I want to learn how to be the bridge between races and cultures, Master." I answered after a moment's deliberation.

"Made then, the decision is. May the Force be with you, Child."

[gukyi]

prince-napped | ksj

summary: life is simple for a wanted pirate like yourself: leave nothing behind, and don’t stay for anything. but when you suddenly become entangled with a runaway prince who clearly has never left his palace before today, you suddenly realize that life is much, much more complicated than you thought it was.

{pirate!au, begrudging allies to lovers!au, prince!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: gun mention a/n: a huge thank you to @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ for commissioning this piece and for donating to the #blacklivesmatter movement!!! this is from my fic titles game, and is also something that i wish i could fully write if i had the time.

You have two policies when it comes to town-hopping: leave nothing behind, and don’t stay for anything. 

Well, at least you’re still following one of those rules. 

The bag that you had forgotten at the tavern has probably long been stolen, along with your only gun and money that was meant to feed you for a few days—or at least keep you off some local ‘WANTED’ lists—but you’ll survive. You always do, even with setbacks. So long as there was nothing that could identify you within its contents. Wait, was the picture of your parents in that bag?

Shit. 

Too late for that now. You can’t risk going back and getting caught by local authorities. Nobody in this town can see your face more than once. You keep your head down and move quickly, with purpose. People don’t question folks who look like they know what they’re doing and where they’re going. 

And even if you are winging this whole pirate thing, at least you have your destination in mind. 

The pier is a good couple of miles away from the town square, a bustling center lined with shops and houses, chimneys always smoking as everybody shouts at each other. Townsfolk are always the same, no matter where you go, no matter what port you dock your little dingy at. They say the best way to be invisible is to hide in plain sight. And no one ever notices a sad, insignificant boat on a dock the size of two town hall buildings.

Something cracks behind you. You whip your head around to look for the culprit, but nothing sticks out. No officers rushing to arrest you nor citizens pointing and whispering. Still, you pick up the pace, ignoring the way your feet are aching and the relentless beating of your heart. To be a lone pirate is dangerous, but to come with a crew brings too many liabilities. You work alone. 

When you reach the docks, you take a sharp left turn and shift from your speed-walking to more of a relaxed jog, making it look like you’re just casually headed towards something as opposed to looking like you’re on a mission. Your dingy is tied to the pier two boats from the very end of it, inconspicuous so as not to draw attention.

But as you turn the final corner, you spot something exceedingly out of place. 

It’s an extremely attractive man, well-groomed and properly-dressed, pleading with one of the sailors for supplies. He looks rather desperate for someone so rich, like he has somehow managed to lose all of his wealth in the last hour and now has nothing. He also is almost certainly not from this area, if the sailors are anything to go by. 

You stop for a moment to inspect the situation. If the sailor and the man spot you, you could potentially be dragged into the conflict, which is not ideal. But you seriously doubt you’ll be able to slide by the both of them, judging by how distressed the man looks. You watch suspiciously, waiting for a sign that will let you move past them without incident, when you see the sailor brandish a gun from out of near-nowhere. 

“You want to beg for a boat some more?” The sailor spits, looking menacing. “You got anything else to say, huh?”

“Whoa, it’s alright, seriously, I can pay you, I swear!” The man sputters, hands up in surrender. “I’m wealthy.”

“You don’t look it,” the sailor sneers. “Hopefully no one will miss you when you’re gone.” He cocks the gun and aims it straight at the man’s heart. Oh, shit. 

You can’t believe you’re doing this, but you rush in, putting on the most desperate expression you can manage, grabbing onto the man’s arm. 

“Oh my god, what on earth are you thinking, James?” You shout at the man, who clearly has no idea what you’re talking about. You press on. “You know better than to speak to strangers.”

“Who are you?” The gruff sailor asks. He’s lowering his gun, which is a good sign. 

“I’m his sister,” you explain, hoping that the man will catch on. “Normally I try not to leave him alone but I went shopping for some food for our trip and he wandered off.” You try to sound as helpless as possible. Maybe he won’t kill you both if he thinks you have some sort of empathy. 

“Wha—”

You elbow the man in the stomach, effectively shutting him up. 

“I’m terribly sorry for anything he may have asked you for. He thinks that we don’t have enough as is, ungrateful brat,” you say, already trying to usher yourselves away from the sailor. 

“Better keep a damn close eye on him,” the sailor eyes carefully. “I won’t ask questions next time.”

“Of course, sir,” you say with a dutiful nod, pulling yourselves away until you reach your dingy. When you’re out of earshot of the sailor, you round on the man. “Tell me, just what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He counters. 

“Saving your goddamn life,” you spit. “Do you have no social skills? No awareness? You think you can just ask for things and get them?”

“Yes…?”

You heave out a sigh. Who does this man think he is?

“My name is Seokjin, by the way,” he says snootily, crossing his arms as he turns away from you. 

“Whatever, Seokjin. Get in the boat.”

“What? I’m not getting in there with you, I don’t even know who you are!” Seokjin shouts, incredulous. 

“I’m Y/N, and if you don’t, then you’ll probably be dead in the next twenty-four hours,” you say. Why is he disagreeing with you? Didn’t he just get a gun pointed at his face? Does he really think he’d make it? “Get in or don’t. I’m not gonna offer again.”

Seokjin contemplates his options for a few seconds, but you’re almost certain that if Seokjin doesn’t come with you, he’s done for. And yeah, you don’t really want the extra baggage, especially one that’s so goddamn naive, but letting him die on your non-action seems like bad karma. At least he’s something of a looker. 

“Fine,” the man mutters, stepping awkwardly into the dingy. There goes your second rule. He shrieks when the boat rocks on the water, like he was expecting it to stay still or something, reaching out to clutch onto your hand. 

You roll your eyes, getting in after Seokjin has settled from his fear of being in a boat. Quickly, you detach yourselves from the pier and begin to row away as rapidly as you can. Sticking one hand down at the bottom of the boat, you pull up another oar. “Here, row.”

“What? Me?” Seokjin asks. 

“No, the mosquitos flying around you,” you say sarcastically. “Yes, you. Chop, chop.”

You almost explode when you see Seokjin holding the oar upside down, sticking the wooden pole end in and out of the water like someone dipping sweets into chocolate. He’s hopeless. Eventually, you snatch the oar from his hands and just row yourself, making your way to your ship, hidden amongst the outskirts of the island, in a bushel of overgrown trees. 

“Where you from, anyway?” You ask, trying to make conversation with him. He’s not from anywhere you’ve been too. Too nicely dressed. 

“Oh, uh, Lumor,” he says, scratching the nape of his neck. You recognize that town name—it’s a big more inland than the one you’re at now. You suppose he hasn’t gotten far, then.

“What do you do to afford silken shirts, Seokjin?” You ask him. Obviously something lucrative. Maybe he’s just a really bad hitman. 

Seokjin grins awkwardly, looking nervous. “I’m, uh, I’m actually the prince.”

What.

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