#and I never have the confidence to ask for the sideburns to be a bit shorter…..

[otaku553]

I got a haircut today and I’m so giddy about it,,,, it is so difficult to explain to my mom why I feel so giddy about the undercut sideburns I got

[in-flvx]

I saw a post a few days ago about the different shades of Sirius' eyes. Like.. It could be any colour. So I want to ask in which eyecolour for sirius you believe? And what eyecolour does Remus have? Aaand what about Sirius' hair colour? James has black hair in the books, and sirius just dark. But what is dark? Is it black as well? Is it a dark brown?

U know what, if you are in the mood feel free to make a whole physical description of the three 🌚

Hey you 🥰 sorry for the late reply but I think I have my answer now.

Sirius does actually have black hair in Canon, I wasn't sure after reading this ask, but I looked and he does (one of many - the hp series has a lot of white people with black hair idk why). I hc that hair to have some waves and curls in it that also show when it's short, and enough to turn a bit wild looking and coarse when they're not taken care of, but with relatively little effort it's sleek and shiny. In swm it falls elegantly into his eyes, but that man can't do anything without looking graceful, so that applies to his hair too.

I think he has the typical pureblood-grey eyes, but even though I'm pretty sure his eyes are described as light at some point during the books, I prefer to think they're more of a dark grey, with a touch of heterochromia into either green, blue brown or even just another shade of grey, you know, like damascene steel or the stormy sea.

He has full arched brows, and a somewhat pointed nose. He also has a few beauty marks, most importantly one right next to his eye, that makes it seem like he's wearing eyeliner. More so than his full black lashes do.

He's tall, and slim, but his torso is dorito shaped, giving him a slutty little waist and the appearance of more muscle than he actually has. His resting face looks bored and alone for that reason does it come across as arrogant when he is confident in anything, and when he wants to play the pureblood he let's his eyelids grow heavier to accentuate this. He is generally surrounded with an aura of crackling electricity, of great resting energy.

Remus is very beige in his general appearance, or rather unobtrusive. His hair is coarse but not exactly wavy or curly, and of a light brown colour. He starts to grow sideburns in the 70s and never let's go of them. He starts greying in his late 20s. He is of an average height and statue, though he tends to lose weight around his transformations. His eyebrows are light and slim but grow close in the middle. His hair gets lighter when he spends time in the sun and he tans well. His eyes are light brown as well, with a tendency to yellow that is part him and part werewolf. They look like dark honey or caramel. He smiles a lot, and has otherwise a mild expression, though he does get frowny when he starts to think. Enough so that even his more insane ideas and brash decisions seem measured and reasonable. Which brings his friends sometimes into trouble for things he had initiated and done.

James has black hair. It's a messy mop of curls, and he has a cow lick in the back that let them stand up there no matter what he does. He has a slim face with a long nose. He's generally slim, has a seekers body, like Harry, but does a lot to gain muscle and fat for his chaser position. HIs eyes are hazel, with some green spots in them that only really show when the sun illuminates them and makes his pupils smaller. His skin looks golden and perpetually sunkissed. He does have a bad case of akne that leaves him with some scarring in his face and gets his first white hairs at 19. Even though both makes him unhappy, he enjoys attention too much to let this make him insecure, and he'd be attractive on account of this confidence alone

[luceirosdegolados]

Marek, Mak to his friends, well he never thought much about Chayka. Not too much anyway; street kids, they're a dime a dozen, they come in various shapes and sizes, all a little dark under the eyes, some meaner than others, he knew from experience.

She was a grain under the wheel, human kid, perhaps too chirpy and cheerful for her own good. Got duped a couple times for being too trusting, but she still liked to trust. Never had the chance to learn music, but she still had the voice of a songbird.

And chatty, too chatty for Mak's liking that's for sure. Still, she knew how keep secrets like a tomb, and ran the Underduke's errands like the rest.

Mak took some time to teach her how to handle herself in a knife fight, even if she kept dreaming about studying magic.

Like that was ever going to happen.

.

And then, the elf. A tall fellow with long dark sideburns and even longer ears. Mak didn't know what to make of him, definitely seemed too old for his Chayka -8 years were just a blink for him and she was suddenly a young woman-, but hey, he was not her dad. Sure she was old enough to make her own decisions. Like dying bits of her hair the color of her eyes, piercing green. Like disappearing and reappearing with violet scars and sparks around the eyes.

Marek didn't know what to make of all that, but then again, it was none of his business. Street kids, they're a dime a dozen, and the ones that survive are bound to cut some corners.

But sometimes life throws you curveballs, doesn't it? You end up in a mindflayer ship, infected by some kind of disgusting worm, you crash through the planes, pick up some gorgeous company from the sandy beach you've landed on and then you find, out of the blue, that chirpy little street kid from almost 20 years ago, amidst the wreckage, trying to pull gods know what out a void vortex on a wall of rock.

"Chayka?"

"Mak!"

That little scare is enough; she turns so violently that a whole man comes through the purple whirlpool of magic. Whoever he is, he tries to speak, but Mak doesn't hear a word; Chayka is in his arms and has used the cant word for clan.

"What a shitty place to find you, kid." And he means it, he's sorry to hear that she's infected too, but he is also relieved. So relieved.

.

"Is that Wyll fucking Ravengard?"

It sure is. He vaguely remembered strutting around the fancier part of town, seizing up patriar houses to rob, when he saw the duke and his son make their way from wherever to who gives a fuck surrounded by flaming fist. Mak blended in with the shadows, and let a sigh of relief out when they were gone.

"I always thought he'd died," he admits.

Chayka smirks, "He's kinda cute."

He rolls his eyes, he reckons its a nice dream for an urchin, to be swept off her feet by a handsome prince of some sort, although he wonders if that sketchy elf fella from days past would have anything to say about it.

"Say Chayka, that fella with the sideburns you used to hang out with... he still around?"

Magic courses through her, eyes glowing bright. She smiles, charmingly confident, the picture of innocence, "He never left."

Marek understands.

Even so, when Mizora appears he has to ask again. What did you get yourself into and all that. The girl -the woman, he reminds himself, humans go about everything a little faster- has no good answers. She even says so herself.

"If I tell you he's different you would not believe me. If I tell you he's done right by me... he's not working for Zariel, at least."

Of course not. But it's not like fey are any more trustworthy than devils, though he reckons it could be worse, and it's not like he's her father or anything so who is he to judge? Is making a deal with the fey really worse than slitting someone's throat? Makes one wonder.

.

The bear was a surprise, but really it shouldn't have been, because they were looking for a druid after all, and because a man on a torture rack admitted so. A poor sight, that boy, beaten in all the wrong places. Shadowheart surprises even herself when she notes the goblin's clumsy work; pain without damage, without precision.

The bear is a surprise for Mak, but not so much for Chayka, who puts the goblin children to sleep before confronting their elders. An urchin is an urchin, Mak reasons, and goblin children have numbers for names.

It's not strange that the old man takes a shine to his Chayka immediately, after all, she was first to speak to him, animal form and all. What Marek was not expecting was for the street kid to be so fascinated by this agent of the wilds. Perhaps it's the fey pressence always over her shoulder. Perhaps he hasn't come to know her as he thinks.

.

When Halsin steps out of the portal holding Thaniel in his arms, Chayka is the first one to go to him. When Oliver wants to play, she sticks out her tongue at the druid's scowl. Even so, he comes back for more.

When they go to sleep, he is the second to last person she talks to. Mak is the last. They sit down, and he pours them a shot of whatever strong stuff they got lying around. They speak in cant to each other, brief sentences and simple gestures. Astarion scoffs and chuckles when he manages to overhear something.

.

Often now, he is glad that she's around. He would've let Shadowheart kill an angel if that's what she wanted, but he was glad that Chayka was there to ask her if that was really really what she wanted. Because, Hells, Mak didn't want to kill a fucking angel. But he would've, for Shadowheart. If that's what it took.

"I don't want to waste any more time," says she, with a resolve he hadn't seen until now, and then, her lip trembles, her eyes darting past him, "unless... is Chayka...?"

A shiver runs down his spine. It almost feels wrong to think about it, "Fuck. No, I... gods, I watched that kid grow up."

A sudden realization clashes onto another. Want, tenderness, friendship, even, fucking love. Twofold, unfurling, no, cascading.

He holds Shadowheart close to his chest, like a treasure, "You're It to me. You."

He would've killed an angel, if that's what it took.

.

The street kid is now a grown woman of 27, in actions and words. Mischievous to be sure, but perhaps that's part of the charm. The druid must see it, because he tags along with their little troupe, and Mak is pretty sure he can't take credit for it.

"He's too old for her," he complains one day, watching them speak.

Shadowheart's laughter fills the space, "You sound like concerned mother."

"Well it's not like she has one so..."

He startles himself. Shadowheart tuts.

"Halsin is a good sort. Let them figure it out."

She's right of course. Chayka is radiant, Halsin looks like a literal shadow has lifted from above him.

.

One day, Mak even sees Him, the elf with the long ears. A glimpse of him, really. A trail of laughter only as Chayka pulls them both out of view.

Halsin stands next to Mak, with a question at the tip of his tongue.

Mak brings a toothpick to his lips and pretends not to be nervous, "You know about 'im? The uh..."

"Patron, I believe is the common term, yes. Although I am not sure this bond is altogether that common."

"You're right about that. You wouldn't catch Wyll giggling with Mizora in a corner table like a pair of teens."

"Marek..."

Shit. Full name. Mak steels himself, "Huh?"

"Do you think-? Ah, never mind me. Chayka is a formidable woman, if she's content I..."

He trails off. Mak catches himself thinking that, to him, Chayka will always be that chatty little kid with no parents to speak of.

That's why he is a bit startled when she resurfaces, back from whatever hiding spot among the trees, 15 years older than his memories, grinning from ear to ear.

"Halsin," she begins, "Would you...? I'd like to introduce you to someone."

Introduce. A formal thing for a wild pair. Mak kicks himself. As far as trust goes, he's only gained a wicked grin from the dark corner of a dingy bar.

.

"Mak."

It's her, eyes still red, a trail of tears still fresh.

"Kid..."

"You'll come with me, right? To get Halsin back."

"No question, I'm with you, kid." To the hells. He will always be there for his prodigal, he thinks, he'll kill a demon for her. He's going to. If that's what it takes.

He'll kill the spawn of Baahl and anyone who stands in his way. For his urchin.

[spiderlegeyelashes]

fucks me up so much that i love the way i look and i do believe i'm beautiful but i know that most people would consider me disgusting. i KNOW that, i've been made fun of so much and i've heard all the jokes about other people like me even coming from my own fucking friends. one time i opened up about this to my friend, about how i feel undesirable because of just how much bodyhair i have, and she said "just trim your bush man" AND I KNOWWW it was probably meant as a joke but god does it make me feel gross and pathetic. i really do find myself beautiful and i can't make my peace with the fact that to most other people i'm incredibly ugly because of my comically crooked teeth, moustache, sideburns, bushy eyebrows, happy trail and hair basically everywhere it can grow. even to some of my own friends my appearance is a fucking joke. it makes me so feel so fucking gross and alienated when i realise how much even people i trust fixate on the things they don't like about my appearance rather than idk my beautiful eyes or lips or nose or hair or figure or hands or legs or fucking anything. i hate that any confidence of mine is seen as political also! it's always the same, people love to talk about body positivity but the moment you aren't skinny, hairless, symmetrical, pale, unblemished and "normal" ur a gross fucking joke. i'm sick of it! i'm so sick of it, are there really no people who are genuinely fucking human around??? why do you have to go on the fucking internet and scour and wait and hope just to find a few people who don't find you fucking disgusting? why even if you surround yourself with people as queer as they come, you still hear these off-putting comments on the regular? and then they act like it's a matter of fucking personal preference. back when my friend made that comment about shaving ur pubes i asked her how is it that she's fine with eating someone out, but a bit of hair is where she draws the line, like that's gross and unhygienic as opposed to licking someone's piss slit, and she just kept arguing it's about preference. today she said "well i never said i wouldn't eat out someone with pubes, i'd just prefer not to...". like goddamn! and it gets hard to fight with the "it's just a preference argument", because yeah man preference is a personal thing that nobody can take from you, but good god is it used literally every time someone tries to open a conversation about sex and traits deemed undesirable by social norms. and what pisses me off even more is that this is such a small fucking thing! i'm just hairy, and i have crooked teeth. literally everything else about me is palatable. and yet still i am a fucking joke! how is this fair to anyone and how can people treat their own friends this way?

[ferociousconscience]

#1, #4, #25 character meme for Javert?

Original ask game post is here - Please do send me more! LM characters greatly preferred, but I'll take Anna Karenina and other such lit characters, try me!

All for Javert! children_shouting_yay.wav

Why do you like or dislike this character?

Everything? No? Too easy of an answer? Puts hands on my cheeks… Man… I just… I think Javert's so cool. Pathetic in his own way, purposefully ignorant, sad, but cool and confident nonetheless. I looooove characters who are incredibly confident and faithful to something that isn't good for them. I love characters who are misguided but nonetheless noble in their own right. I love characters that double down on the worst versions of themselves, only to have a big crushing crisis later. I could go on. I also just really like detective stories, not only cop dramas but all sorts of mysteries. I think they make for compelling storytelling... I also just really like how he looks, 40-50 years old, masculine, tall, stern, well-dressed, BIIIIG SIDEBURNS (favorite bit tbh), top hat… I really like that sort of thing… Characters with lots of clothes. Big facial hair, collars, hats, and sleeves especially. Pointing at Javert. This is my hole it was made for me

If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Hmmm… I do think about this a lot, but the answer I have for you is perhaps a bit odd. I've been reading a lot of books lately, and I often think about throwing all the book characters of a general time period into a big crossover hangout. LM, Hugo's other works, Anna Karenina, Phantom of the Opera, all those sorts of books. Putting them all in a box and shaking them around. In particular, I think Javert would be fond of (or perhaps just suck up to) Minister Karenin from AK. "A magistrate is never wrong" etc. I also have a Blade Runner au where Javert is a replicant Blade Runner himself. Maybe one day I'll do art of that!

What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

There are certain characters that have floated into my life through one channel or another that IMMEDIATELY leave a strong impression on me. I will hear a character speak, read a character's intro, or see their design, and it's like a lightbulb of "Oh I am going to fall in love with them, aren't I?" … I say this because Javert was one of those characters. I was very, very young when I saw a production of the LM musical (mom took to me a lot of musicals when i was a baby) and because of my burgeoning uniform appreciation (due to Barbie and the Nutcracker viewing at a critical moment) I saw the Javert come in and was like… Ooooo. I tried to read Les Mis when I was about 10 and simply lost interest somewhere in the MsurM chapters because of how awkward the translation was (it was that godforsaken purple paperback. you know the one). Still, Javert remained in my heart for all this time, albeit in the shadows until the surge of 2012 fandom... let's not talk about that time... and then, now. He's one of the foundational characters in my collection of blorbos. Now, I feel even "closer" to him, insofar as one can get close to a fictional character. The previous bouts of Javert Appreciation have been naught but fleeting things… Now. I am fully obssessed. This is my final form. Etc.

[angeltherubiks]

A year on Testosterone

My journey as FTM began fully late oct 2018. That’s when I realized that I was indeed transgender. I was a little bit scared yet relived about this new development of my identity, but it didn’t take away the anxiety of it all. I worried what friends and especially family would think about me, and I assume the worst, excommunication, being disowned, going through the world moving forward alone, it is so scary especially cause I’ve heard so many others going through this fallout.

I’m happy to say it wasn’t the case, well at least with my friends. Some members of the family are having a hard time with it still, my dad especially but he was never queer friendly to begin with so I knew if all else, I would get backlash from him.

I officially started Testosterone mid July 2021. The changes I have gotten from T have been good, really good for me yet perplexing to some of my friends lol. The biggest change has been my confidence and anxiety. My confidence overall has gone up this past year and my anxiety has gone down. The best example was when I went to finally get my drivers license. In the eve of my drivers test my friend asked me how I was feeling about the test. I basically said I was feeling indifferent, not exactly that I don’t care but like, if I pass, I pass, if I don’t pass, I’ll just retake the test. It short circuited their brain cause they couldn’t understand how I wasn’t getting anxious about it. To be honest I did get anxious but only once the driving instructor got in the car.

Physically the changes I have gotten where what I was hoping for although some changes I was not expecting. Before starting T, me and my doc concluded that I have pcos so some changes most ppl would typically get in the beginning I won’t experience because I have already gotten it to an extent, which ended up being the case.

My skin became oily, I was dealing with acne to the degree that I had as a teenager. I started getting facial hair on my chin and it slowly made its way towards my neck. Right now, its working on my sideburns so im excited to see how soon my face can theoretically form a beard. Body hair wise the ones I do have have become longer and darker.  No real change about my hair line other than discovering u can get pimples at the back of ur head from the extra oil the body is now naturally producing.

My voice has gotten deeper. I was already in an androgynous voice range before starting T so I could emulate a guy voice after warming up my throat a bit. A few months in T I noticed that it was becoming easier to fall into the voice range and a month or so later I got proper a voice drop. Its hard to say if it will continue to drop. Data I have gathered from the voice analysis app says im pretty much there and strangers in general don’t question my voice, even over the phone.

There are now things I understand as to why guys dress in a certain way. The main one being wearing shorts even though it is cold outside. Simply put, the body is hot on T, temperature wise lol. I was already wearing mens clothing before starting T so nothing different otherwise.

Before starting T I was passing 50% of the time. Although I was constantly being clocked by moms at my retail job and while my job kinda knew me as a guy, a few ppl put to and to together that I was female (curse u job schedule posting legal names in the back room). I never did get flack for it, other then one of the managers coming up to clarify what gender I was cause admittedly, I never said. He was totally chill with it and even tried to help figure out the system so that the schedule wouldn’t deadname me.

The changes downstairs have been interesting. I didn’t know that I had in a way, already gotten a T-dick from pcos till I started testosterone. I was already half an inch and right now im about an inch, inch and half although its hard to judge since the base isn’t quite clear compared to normal cis dicks. The horniness has also been real, some days it felt like I needed my hand down my pants just to have some peace and quiet in my brain. Especially during the 3rd month.

I also discovered that you have a higher chance of getting a yeast infection on T, that was a fun two week experience. My doc explained that since the downstairs is changing, it is also freaking out a little and trying to rebalance itself hormone wise. While it wasn’t the cause, it increased it and I did something that while I normally wouldn’t have gotten any repercussions of, I ended up having to. For those wondering it was a combo of shaving the downstairs for the first time since starting T (I was four months in at that point) and using a bar of questionable bar of soap to shower with. Most likely it could have happened anyway with the bar of soap but it was still something that happened during my first year on T.

Medically I chose to do injections, althou originally, I thought I was gonna do inter muscular injections until I went to my doctors office for my injection training. That’s when I learned about subcuticular injections. I became less anxious about my shots after that due to the fact that I was already chubby so fat wise, I was golden lol. The biggest problem I had thou was getting syringes and needles. When I finally got the vial after being in insurance purgatory for 3 weeks, I realized that it was only the vial, when I asked the pharmacist about it, they said that they don’t sell needles over the counter, so I needed to get a script from my doctor. For one whole week I had that vial taunting me as I waiting for my doc to come back to me about the syringe and needle. Finally, I got the prescription but then I had a new problem. The initial four I got from the pharmacy was all that they had. Turns I was now part of a new shortage other people where facing, a shortage of 1ml syringes and 25g inch needles because those where the sizes everyone was using for the covid vaccines. This was in the height of everyone getting their covid vaccines so I was a bit fucked. I ended up getting a packet of 20 online from amazon. Right now things have calmed down I think supplies wise althou I haven’t tried getting them from the pharmacy again.

The injections themselves arnt too bad, at least for me. Althou the first injection was very intimidating. That needle was inside me a lot longer then it should have but I did it. I started off biweekly then switched to weekly after I got my first set of labs back. The excitement has gone down so it kinda feels like a mini chore that I must make sure I do every Friday. For the most part it’s not intimidating anymore. There was a brief period of a month mid-way in to the year where I was nervous about injecting after I had a couple of drops of blood come out of the injection site. It hasn’t happened since *knocks on wood* but I think if it does happen again, I won’t be as freaked out by it.

I also didn’t realize how much my background as a biology major would be starting T. I had some experience dealing with needles from a few lab experiments I had to do but by far the biggest tool was knowing my chemistry. Specifically on converting dosages to figure out how much per week someone was getting of their dosage. Less towards me and more towards other people on reddit or on the trans discord server who wanted number to compare each other with.

Finally, the mental changes. I mentioned before how I gained a boost in my confidence and a decrease in anxiety but there are a few other things as well that have change. Its hard to tell if some of these are due to T, age or dealing with the pandemic but I know one change for sure that is due to T. having no thoughts on the brain. Seriously just not thinking about anything. I kinda had this going already but very rarely. It was more like having a stoner thought where I just inspect either the setting or an object like thinking about the small details and just getting lost in thought. Kinda like observation mode. But now I get proper moments where there’s no thoughts in my head, legit not thinking of anything sort of like observation mode but I’m not taking notes like I would. It perplexes my friends though. One of them especially as she has never experience anything like that before and might have assumed I was lying when I replied with “nothing”.

I did had to relearn my anger as it became different being on T. not a bad different, more like the triggers of it changed and the response as well. So I had to briefly relearn the new triggers and how to prevent myself so I don’t accidentally go off on someone. Luckily, I caught it before I actually did but im still figuring it out a bit. Who would have thought being isolated due to a global pandemic would make it harder to get angry at socially.

I also noticed I don’t cry as much, granted even before T I only cried on average twice a year, typically once though. Funny enough its also going to be year since the last time I cried. I had a moment a week into T where I was super upset and ended up balling my eyes out. I wont get into details as to why I was upset, just that I was. It had nothing to do with me starting T and I’ll leave it at that. Not to say that was the last time tears left my eyes, my eyes get super watery from having wind blown on them or onions being cooked. But legit crying, haven’t really done it since that first week on T.

That’s about all the changes I can think of for this past year as far as testosterone changes goes. I hope this helps someone else going along the journey either starting or already on it. I wanna add my voice to the void of other FTM’s to help others in their journey. Especially since I’m not a Caucasian skinny person.

To whomever does read this, I hope ur journey goes well and there are less headaches in ur journey to being you.

Best wishes from ur fav online chubby 28 year old mex-american

[canary3d-obsessed]

Shen Wei Serving Lewks Part 8

(Masterpost)

Shen Wei wears a lot of cosplay looks in Guardian! Ostensibly some of them are actually different characters but...whatever. 

Look 36: Black Robe Envoy

Black Robe Envoy is always a hit at the Dragon City DixCon. This robe is very nicely constructed, with gauzey curtain things on the back and a hood that keeps its shape well.

The mask is...something he got in the paper-mache department at Michaels and painted with craft paints.  He seems proud of it.  

The mask does actually make him look different, unlike, say, Wei Wuxian’s mask which anybody can recognize him under. This mask has those cheek parts that change the overall shape of his face.  

Look 37: Gold Mask Bro

Gold Mask bro is a look that is similarly hampered by the craft-store aesthetic, but gaudier. 

Combined with the scenery-chewing villain thing, I’m always pretty eager to get this guy off of the screen. 

Look 38: Hot Bro

Once the gold mask comes off, on the other hand, Shen Wei as Ye Zun  is stunning with long grey hair.  I mean, goddamn.

(More behind the cut!) 

OP understands why Da Qing makes ridiculous cat paw gestures while dreaming about Ye Zun because this look is a scorcher. 

OP makes ridiculous cat paw gestures

The Princess Leia gown needs some help, though. This thing has a cowl neck so stiff you could bake a cake in it and there is a curtain sewn onto one half of the chest. It’s confusing.  The belt is nice, I guess. 

Masks

Important question: Why did both Ye Zun and Shen Wei buy the same paper mache mask? I mean, they chose different craft paints but both masks clearly came out of the same mold.  Ye Zun started wearing his mask specifically to avoid looking like Shen Wei, back when Shen Wei had a different mask. 

So did Shen Wei deliberately copy his brother’s mask just to fuck with him? Because that is some next-level sibling trolling right there.

Look 39: Downtown Ye Zun

Then there’s the time Ye Zun decided to cosplay as Shen Wei. It...doesn’t go well. This look fits so poorly that I refuse to post a full view of it, because Shen Wei would be embarrassed if he knew his brother was making him look like that.

This entire outfit/disguise is terrible, and fits worse than Swamp Coat 1.0. Ye Zun even knows it’s terrible because he points it out to Zhao Yunlan and asks if it looks good, as if Shen Wei ever needed to ask a thing like that.

He does his best to make up for it by serving memorable facial expressions.. Thank you, Ye Zun.

Look 40: P.I.M.P.

This completely impractical getup, OTOH, fits like a dream. I am slightly obsessed with how good Shen Wei’s Ye Zun’s his feet and ankles look in this outfit, when I normally am grumpy about baggy ankles. But these trousers are so nicely fitted that the crumpled ankle looks like a statement instead of an accident. With the frock coat and the walking stick he looks long and leggy, and if Shen Wei isn’t covered in grass stains the second he takes off his terrible cosplay hair and mask, Zhao Yunlan isn’t the man I thought he was.

Hair Lewks

Other characters also get in on the cosplay, with Da Qing looking much less ridiculous than he does in his modern-day clothes and hair. Zhao Yunlan wins Most Beautiful Hair, with metal beads and those side-bangs that frame boys’ faces so nicely.  (His post-shacking-up hair also wins most beautiful hair in the modern era).

Baby Envoy’s braids (see Look 41) make him a close second, and Hot Bro’s grey hair is a close third, but the weird locks that the Zhu Yilong brothers grow out of the sides of their faces are distracting. I get that they aren’t exactly human and that there are certain artistic conventions at play but...this is not how sideburns work.

Other Cosplayers

Other cosplayers include Tea-Party Princess, Crow Bitch, and Snake Uncle who is Never a Snake.

And here’s Old Chu cosplaying as..as...ok fine this isn’t cosplay, it’s just Old Chu flexing, sweating, and bleeding.   

I like what I like, ok? 

Look 41: Baby Envoy

The last look in this post series is Young Black Robe Envoy from the time-traveling Kunlun bit. When the mask is off, this is one of my favorite Shen Wei looks, because he is so young and vulnerable, and the robe has a nice edge detail and stamped metal accents that aren’t part of his later look. 

This would be a pretty good mage-in-light-armor getup in whichever RPG Shen Wei would play if he understood technology. He would play DA:Inquisition and he would be an elf and he would romance Dorian  OP always romances Cullen it’s a bit of a problem 

The mask is ugly craft-store nonsense, but makes a nice contrast to his sweet bare face when Zhao Yunlan yanks it off.  

Now I’m going to take a dive into into this scene, because we’ve run out of Shen Wei Lewks (*sob*), and this scene is lovely. And there really can’t be too many gifs of WeiLan eye-fucking each other Shen Wei sucking a lollipop.

In one conversation, Shen Wei falls permanently in love with Zhao Yunlan, and you can see that Zhao Yunlan really is as wonderful as Shen Wei thinks he is. He's kind and encouraging; he's confidently romantic, and he gives Shen Wei a name that has a LOT of thought behind it. 

Being as hot as a fresh pancake doesn’t hurt, either.

The high point of this interaction is probably the most sexual moment of the show, In which Zhao Yunlan teaches his true love to suck on a lollipop. The moment’s sexual energy is only partly because it suggests other activities. 

I mean...it’s definitely suggestive. 

But let’s look at what is literally, not metaphorically, happening in this moment. This is the beginning of their present-day sexual connection (within the bounds of Chinese TV, yes, yes. Het couples don’t bone on-camera in C-dramas either, so let’s assume off-camera boning when the story supports it. These two have been coded as lovers since the closing moments of Episode 14).

Zhao Yunlan puts sweetness into the mouth of this young, stressed out, serious man. Then he unabashedly, delightedly, watches Shen Wei having this new sensory experience while he *explains it* to him. 

Imagine the dopamine hit Shen Wei is experiencing here. He’s got a mouthful of sugar and he’s got Zhao Yunlan projecting waves of cheerful, undemanding lust at him while dropping bars about life and sensuality.

With a single lollipop, Zhao Yunlan uses his short time with Young Shen Wei to teach him the concept of pleasure. And takes his heart in return. 

One Last Lewk

Ass Chain Congee is love.

Thanks so much for joining me on this ride! Next I’m leaping off of the cliff of good sense into a full rewatch of The Untamed. If that sounds like fun to you, please come on along to my Episode 01 post, over here.

[septicstories]

When Will You Realize (UNEDITED)

A/N: @you-said-yes is a bloody freaking genius and came up with this idea for the multiverse twins, and I'm in love. So, I'm gonna write this (Peter-centric, of course) and attempt to do it justice! I just hope I don't goof this masterpiece up too much.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: cursing (duh, it's me), family drama, Charles + Logan + Hank ignore Wanda and Pietro because they need Peter, very brief mentioning of a needle, sad Peter + Wanda + Pietro, Pietro having the nickname "Piet" (pronounced as the first bit of his name, not diet with a "p"), no beta readers or edits (sorry)

Word Count: 3.3k (3,380)

"Peter! The cops are here! ... again."

When Wanda had yelled that down to him, Peter only found himself sighing. What store manager is accusing him of shoplifting this time? Did that punk-ass kid behind the counter at 7/11 rat him out again?

But Peter didn't do anything about it.

Nope.

Well... actually... maybe a quick pick-pocket wouldn't hurt, right? Just see who the hell these cops are, maybe spook them when he says their names. Unless he already knows them, then that'd be weird.

Peter let go of the paddle he was using, calmly walking upstairs as time just slowed around him, nearly to a halt. He was greeted with three new faces, all three of the men. None of them looked like cops.

He went into the pocket of the man with hella sideburns, opening up his wallet, only to see a folded-up piece of paper instead of a badge.

After looking over the paper for a moment, Peter found himself grinning. This was a rental agreement for a car. These guys were from out of town.

Peter folded the paper, replacing it into the man's wallet before slipping it back into his pocket. And with new confidence, he went back to his basement and continued to play his solo game of ping-pong as he waited for the men to come down.

He heard one of the stairs creak, a sure sign that it wasn't one of his siblings. A very particular spot on one of the stairs made the most obnoxious creaking noise, and it was the only way he was able to identify anyone new.

"What do you guys want?"

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Peter just kept going from one end of the table to another, waiting for his brother to come down so the two could go even faster.

"I didn't do anything!"

Of course, that was what he was waiting for before the cops showed up. But now, he was just waiting for them to all get down here. He was just showing off at this point.

Peter dropped his paddle once again, slowly stretching across his couch. Well, slow for him. To the three men, it probably looked like it happened in the blink of an eye.

"I've been here all day."

A shit-eating grin spread across his face as the three men turned to him, one staring at him as though he were an animal at the zoo. The other two seemed exasperated.

"Just... relax, Peter. We're not cops--"

"'Course you're not cops, if you were cops, you wouldn't be driving a rental car." Peter interrupted.

"You're not cops?"

Peter didn't even hear Pietro come down the stairs.

"How'd you know we got a rental car?" the man with long hair and sunglasses asked.

"I checked your registration while you were walking through the door." Peter shrugged.

"Peter!"

Wanda must've recently come down as well, as she lightly smacked Peter's shoulder, like a scolding mother rather than an older sister.

"I also had some time to kill, so I went through your rental agreements and saw you're from out of town." Peter's shit-eating grin just spread across his face, before it dropped into a look of confusion. "Are you FBI?"

Peter shot up, grabbing the nearest wallet, which came from the guy with sunglasses. Nothing that a cop would carry. But there was a business card.

"Nope, you're not cops," he said in a near-mumble, reading the card.

"Peter!"

"Hey, what's with this Gifted Youngsters place?" Peter asked, ignoring his sister's scolding tone as he dropped the wallet, heading over to one of his many mini-fridges.

Peter grabbed two popsicles out of the fridge, slightly melted but still solid, handing one to his brother before beginning to munch on one.

"When I knew him, he wasn't so... young."

That was all he caught out of the conversation the three men had.

"Young?" Peter asked with his mouth full. "You're just old!"

"Peter, don't be rude," Pietro said, opening his popsicle and beginning to eat it at a monstrous pace.

"Both of you, stop!" Wanda said, her eyes beginning to shimmer a bright red color.

"So you're not afraid to show your powers." one of the men said.

"Powers, what powers?" Wanda squeaked out, her eyes flaring red before returning to their usual color.

"You see something strange here?" Pietro asked, leaning against Wanda with an empty popsicle stick in his hand.

"Nothing anybody would believe if you told them?" Peter asked, a massive smirk on his face.

When he saw the tired look on one of the men's faces, he did a little internal victory dance, patting himself on the back for that.

With the cockiest fucking look on his face, Peter went over to the pong machine in his room, turning it on.

"So who are you, what do you want?"

"We need your help, Peter."

"With what?" Wanda and Pietro asked in unison, glaring daggers into the three men.

"To break into a highly secure facility. And to get someone out."

"A prison break?" Wanda asked, her eyes widening.

Peter just chuckled, smirking. "That's illegal you know."

"Well, only if you get caught."

"Okay, no. Peter's not going." Wanda said, her fists clenched by her sides.

Exactly as she said that, Peter asked "What's in it for me?"

"Peter, no, this is an awful--" "You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the Pentagon."

Peter's fingers froze on the joystick, pausing. The Pentagon? The fucking Pentagon? Wait, were these guys actually cops? Like, undercover cops who are actually good at their jobs?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Peter asked, arching an eyebrow, slowly turning from the machine.

"Because we're just like you."

Peter stiffened, eyes bouncing between each of the three men. They all look normal, albeit a bit like hobos, but still normal. They didn't have any of the physical bits to a mutation, the lucky sons of bitches.

"Show him."

An absolutely disgusting squelching noise filled the room as the man with sideburns had bone breaking through his clenched fists, into a trio of boney claws, gnarly and super gross.

Peter's breath hitched as he watched, before gulping and nodding. "It's cool but it's disgusting."

"So? Are you coming with us?"

"No, he's not," Wanda spoke up again. "Listen, I don't know who the hell you are and why you're asking for Peter to help you break into the Pentagon, nor do I want to know who you're breaking out of the Pentagon, but my baby brother won't be joining you."

Peter rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Who are you to make decisions for me? I'm fucking 17, Wanda! I'm not gonna be staying in this damn house my whole life!"

Peter stood up, going over to his closet, and grabbing a backpack.

"Look, I know you guys are gonna drive me there and there's probably a plan. Fill me in on our way there. I need to bring food so I don't pass out on you guys."

"Peter, ple--" "We'll meet you outside. Thank you, Peter." the man with the sunglasses said as the three left the basement.

Pietro and Wanda shared a glance before heading up the stairs. "Wait for a second!"

Peter shook his head, grabbing the nearest box of food and stuffing it into his bag.

I'm not a baby. I'm 17. I can't stay here for the rest of my life because of humanity. I can't do that to myself. I'd rather be slaughtered for my mutation than sit the hell still and never leave this fucking house.

Pietro and Wanda couldn't keep him here. He loved them both to death, and he'd absolutely come to visit. But he couldn't stay. Even just a taste of adventure like this would be enough to sate him for the day. Maybe a few.

Besides, it wasn't like he was leaving for good. He was gonna come back. Probably. Y'know, assuming he doesn't get caught and shot to death.

Peter gulped.

That won't happen... right?

"Nah, I'll be fine," Peter mumbled to himself, grabbing another box of snacks and opting to grab a hair tie as well. The clock on his wall was ticking slower and slower the deeper into thought he got.

They wouldn't let him get hurt, right? He'd be a-okay.

"Slow down, you crazy child."

Peter stiffened for a moment.

That creaky stair was a blessing and a curse.

Reluctantly, he looked at Wanda, giving her a glare as time sped up. Pietro was right behind her.

"You're so ambitious for a juvenile."

Peter rolled his eyes again.

With this shit.

"But then, if you're so smart, tell me, why are you still so afraid?" Peter asked sarcastically, a scowl finding its way onto his face.

Wanda and Pietro give each other another look before they come closer to Peter. Peter went over to another side of his room, grabbing another box of food, this one already opened.

"Where's the fire? What's the hurry about?" Pietro asked, letting out a nervous laugh as he joked. The tension in the room was making everybody uncomfortable.

They get a bit closer, and Peter forcefully shoved what was bound to be a squished Twinkie into his backpack.

"You better cool it off before you burn it out. You got so much to do."

Pietro and Peter's eyes met, making Peter's resolve crack. Just a little bit. Not much. But a little bit.

Wanda's hand landing on his shoulder wasn't much help.

"And only so many hours of the day."

Wanda's voice was always soft and soothing. The Sokovian lullabies she'd hum to him when he was a child would sometimes play through his head when he was stressed out, and he'd even find himself mumbling the lyrics.

But not right now. Now wasn't the time for her calming voice. No, he had shit to do.

Peter brushed Wanda's hand off of him, storming away from them before speaking, "But you know when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

His tone was sharp, like a blade cutting open old sutures.

Pietro's brow furrowed, with a frown making its way onto his face, his own tone becoming less playful.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through."

The scowl on Peter's face only deepened as he turned away from his siblings. He didn't need to hear all of this. Not right now.

Wanda, with that voice that made Peter want to cry, spoke up again. "When will you realize..."

Peter stiffened, a lump growing in his throat. They couldn't do this to him. They couldn't persuade him to stay. They couldn't do that.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro and Wanda spoke together, Pietro's tone had softened a tad.

When the twins saw Peter's face when he turned around, their hearts broke a little.

Their younger brother had tears in his eyes, his mouth twitching as he took in one shaky breath after another. His mouth opened, only to clamp shut, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight.

Peter sped over to his dresser, digging through one of his drawers, in search of his goggles.

"Slow down," Wanda began, her voice making him stop for a single second. "You're doing fine."

Pietro piped up again. "You can't be everything you want to be before your time."

Peter clicked his tongue, fresh tears beginning to roll down his face. They had the motherfucking audacity to pull that shit on him.

"Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight," Peter said sarcastically, turning around and spreading his arms out as he gave both of his siblings a teary-eyed glare.

To them, it probably looked like the glare of a child. Pathetic. Weak. Fragile.

Did he care?

"Tonight," he mumbled again.

Nope, not one bit.

Wanda took a step forward as Peter turned back around, still looking for those damn goggles.

"Too bad, but it's the life you lead," she said calmly.

She was going to start losing composure soon, Peter was sure of it. She had to crack soon. He wasn't going to let his dam burst anymore until he knows he's not the only one who wants to cry.

"You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need."

Peter winced as though he just got a needle stabbed into his arm. A painful pinch that'd be sore for a bit, but he'd forget about it soon.

Wanda sent Pietro a glare, which made the other speedster back down a bit. But only a bit.

"Though you can see when you're wrong, you know you can't always see when you're right." Wanda and Pietro spoke at the same time, making Peter shiver.

It bugged him the hell out whenever they did that. Creepy as shit.

Wanda made it even creepier by repeating herself. "You're right."

She came closer as Pietro spoke. "You've got your passion."

"You've got your pride," Wanda said softly, taking Peter's shaky hands into her calm grip.

They need to stop. They needed to stop doing all that shit to him. They were trying to get him to stay. They shouldn't be doing that.

Peter yanked his hand out of Wanda's grip, his other hand grabbing his goggles before stuffing them in his pockets.

"But don't you know only fools are satisfied?" Peter said bitterly, staring between the twins.

He gulped as he watched Pietro glare at him, his arm going around Wanda as he did so.

"Dream on," Pietro said dully as Peter turned his back on the twins.

"But don't imagine they'll all come true." Wanda and Pietro did their freaky twin thing again, speaking at the same time.

Peter zipped up his backpack, just trying not to cry. He just needed to get past them, and into that car, and then it would be smooth sailing from there.

"When will you realize?" Wanda asked as Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder.

"Vienna waits for you." Pietro finished with a soft murmur.

Peter didn't even need to turn around for Pietro and Wanda to know what Peter's face looked like.

Hot tears burned down his face as he shoved past his older siblings, Pietro purposefully knocking Peter's shoulder with his own. A little thing they'd do when they knew they had a rough day ahead of them. A sign. A quick "good luck. I love you."

A sob got stuck in Peter's throat as he went up the stairs, hitting that creaky stair on the way up.

Wanda, with a defeated sigh, fell back onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. There wasn't any way to stop Peter. Once his mind was set on something, he was going to do it if it were the last thing he'd do.

She just worried that this would be the last thing he'd do.

Before Wanda could even speak, Pietro's hand rested on her back as he sat beside her.

"He'll be okay, Wanda."

Peter was about to leave, fingers grazing the doorknob before he paused.

He turned to the small stand by their front door, grabbing Wanda's locket from when she and Pietro were children. Carefully, he opened it, revealing pictures of Wanda and Pietro as children.

Peter's fingers clumsily fiddled with the locket before placing it around his neck before taking in a deep breath and wiping the tears from his face.

The front door of the Maximoff household swung open as Peter left the house, his hair falling in front of his face as he left, walking at a pace that seemed a tad bit too fast to be human.

The guy with sideburns was sitting in the driver's seat of the car while the two other men stood outside the car.

"Ready?" the man with the sunglasses asked.

Peter found much more interest in the markings on his shoes, staring down at his mixed shoelaces before giving a weak response.

"Yeah."

Slow down, you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.

Peter got into the back seat of the car, slamming the door shut as the other two men piled into the car. He swears he heard Pietro and Wanda in his head.

It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two

His backpack got tucked by his feet on the floor of the car, buckling his seat belt before releasing a sigh. He wanted their voices out of his head. They needed to get out of his head, or else he may actually get fucking shot because he wasn't focused on the mission.

The Maximoff house was now quiet. The only noises came from the basement.

"When will you realize?" Pietro asked, his voice barely carrying over a whisper.

"Vienna waits for you." Wanda finished softly.

The two were leaning against each other on the couch that Peter called his bed, looking around the messy room.

A picture sat on his desk, the three of them all together and smiling. Peter was only eight when they took that picture. His two front teeth were missing from his massive grin, curly brown hair framing his face. He just looked... happy.

Peter, at that moment, felt far from that young kid he used to be. His arms crossed over his chest, doing his best to seem nonchalant. But he was stressed as hell.

In Sokovian, Peter mumbled to himself "And you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old."

Peter could live with dying young. As morbid as it may be, he's accepted his mortality. He knew people wanted him dead because he didn't share the same species name as others.

His eyes looked out the window while the man in the sunglasses and the man with the sideburns spoke in the front seat. Hopefully not to Peter, because he wasn't paying attention.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing an empty doorstep, Pietro and Wanda were standing on the porch.

Pietro's hand was still on Wanda's back, and Peter could see the tear streaks on Wanda's face from within the car.

"You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through," the two whispered, Pietro beginning to choke up "Why don't you realize?"

"Hey, kid, you alright?"

Peter turned to look at the guy with glasses who sat with him in the back seat, nodding with pursed lips.

"I'm good, man. What's the plan?"

Wanda and Pietro still stood on the doorstep, watching Peter look away from them. Wanda bit her lip, looking down at the ground as fat tears streamed down her face.

"Vienna waits for you." she and Pietro were so choked up, their speech was barely audible. "When will you realize?"

Peter listened in on the plan, nodding, but once they stopped saying his name, he looked back out the window. His sister was in tears as Pietro wiped at his face, making Peter's eyes well up a bit too.

With all he had in him, Peter mustered up a small, sad smile on his face. Luckily enough for him, his siblings looked up right then.

Peter gave a small wave, getting teary smiles and waves from his siblings.

The car's engine roared to life, and the group began to pull away from the Maximoff house. Peter turned in his seat a tad, watching as his siblings grew smaller and smaller in the window as the car pulled away from the Maximoff house.

At the same time, the twins watched as the car pulled away from their house, Wanda's body shuddering as she kept in unshed tears.

Pietro let out a heavy sigh as Wanda's head hit his shoulder.

"He'll be okay, Wanda. He always comes out of these things okay."

"He's breaking someone out of the pentagon, Piet. I don't want him to... y'know."

"Yeah... I know."

Peter turned back around in his seat, letting out a heavy sigh of his own.

"They'll be okay." the man with glasses murmured beside Peter.

His only response was a nod and a yawn. "I'm gonna rest up real quick, okay? Save up energy, and stuff."

Because I'm absolutely fucking drained.

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (03)

Chapter 3

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...  My Masterlist

Word count: 1700. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) language?

Poe ran a hand through his hair, looking at himself in the small shaving mirror. He tilted his head back and forth, finally letting out a short curse. He’d messed up his sideburns this morning. One of them was noticeably higher than the other. It would grow back within a couple of days but today was the day he was supposed to retrieve BB-8 from the Droidsmith. He had kind of hoped that he would look good for it.

He leaned back, trying to see as much of himself as he could. He undid one of the buttons on his shirt and then quickly shook his head and did it back up. There was no reason the woman needed to see his nipples just yet. Anxiously, he pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, buttoning the cuffs in brisk movements. Then he hooked his thumbs into his belt, settling his weight back on one foot.

"Hey," he told his reflection, raising one eyebrow. The man in the mirror did the same and Poe groaned. He looked like an idiot. Scrubbing a hand across his face he grabbed his blaster belt and buckled it on, leaving before he spent the next hour trying to figure out how he could make a curl fall across his forehead just right. His hair was always doing that. Always almost in his eyes. But not today. Of course not. Today it was sticking up in seven different directions and no amount of cursing or trying to flatten it down with water had helped.

Pushing aside the cloth he used for a door, Poe nearly ran head first into Snap. The older man stepped back and Poe caught himself before falling on his face.

"Whoa there," Snap muttered, "what’s got you in knots this morning?"

"Nothing," Poe said quickly. Too quickly.

Snap raised an eyebrow, "Nothing eh? Does this nothing have something to do with finally getting your little droid back today?"

Poe released a breath. Oh, Snap thought he was anxious because he missed BB-8. He was, and he did. It was valid. "Yeah," he smiles at the older man, "that’s it."

"Come have breakfast first," Snap told him, falling into step beside Poe. They had to duck under the nose of Black One. Like every pilot on base, Poe slept within twenty feet of his ship. "If you don’t you’re going to be so caught up petting that little guy that you’ll forget to eat and then I’ll have to deal with hungry Dameron the rest of the morning."

Snap gave a dramatic shudder and Poe punched him lightly on the arm. "I’m not that bad."

"Who’s not that bad?" Pava asked, intercepting them as they passed Black Three.

"Dameron when he’s hungry," Snap informed her before Poe could say anything.

"Oh Gods no," Pava took a step to the side. "Is he hungry now? Are we going to get food? We can fix this Commander, hold on."

Poe gritted his teeth, glaring between the two of them. "I’m not that bad," he repeated.

Pava gave him a sympathetic look. "No caf and no food? Dameron, we’re all that bad."

Grunting, Poe undid his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows as he shouldered past them. "Insubordination," he muttered but neither of them seemed to pay any mind. They had gotten into a discussion about what food they missed most and Poe felt his own stomach grumble. Maybe stopping for breakfast first wasn’t the worst idea. Fainting from hunger in front of the Droidsmith probably wasn’t going to make a great second impression - and considering how… mediocre the first one had gone he was really hoping to be charming this time around.

By the time he was done eating and had gone through his morning briefing with the Squadron Poe was sweating. The humidity on this part of Ajan Kloss was never something to be sneered at, and today the air was still and hot to go with it. There was a storm coming, if not today then certainly tomorrow. He made a mental note to remind everyone to be sure their lightning rods were up. The last thing they needed was to lose a ship to electrical repairs.

Maybe he should go do that right now in fact. BB-8 could wait a bit, there was no need to… Poe shook his head, squaring his shoulders. The fact that there was finally someone on base who he was both interested in and could in good conscience pursue was secondary to the fact that he needed to get his astromech back. Flying yesterday with R2-D2 had been fine, but it wasn’t the same as having his little buddy onboard.

That settled, Poe strode confidently between the trees towards the Mu shuttle. The Droidsmith was in the front portion of her workshop today, her back to him, sitting at one of the tables and working on the R4 unit.

He coughed, not wanting to scare her. After a moment, he coughed again, louder.

Still no response.

He was getting ready to cough a third time when the little translator droid rolled out from under her stool. "Hi hi," it said, tilting up to look at him.

"Hi K-0," he greeted it. "Can you tell…" Shit. He’d forgotten to get her name. He could feel his eyes bugging out as he struggled to finish the sentence. "Her that I’m here for BB-8?"

K-0 flashed a red light at him. "No. Go. No. Not here."

Poe dropped to one knee, propping an arm on it as he tried to meet K-0 at its level. "What do you mean not here?"

"Bad droid," K-0 said fiercely. "Go. No come back. Bad."

"K-0-" Poe started but the droid raced off, running a circle around the Droidsmith’s stool and looking at him from behind her feet.

"No. Go. No."

The Droidsmith finally seemed to notice something was going on, pushing herself away from the table so the stool was leaning back on two legs. She looked down at the droid and then turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

Shit, he was still kneeling. He rose quickly, dusting the knees of his pants off and smiling at her as she settled the stool back onto all four legs. She was prettier than he remembered, if that was even possible.

"Hi," he said and K-0 beeped, echoing him.

She gave a dubious whistle and K-0 translated, "Hello." Then another whistle and a tsking sound with her tongue. "What you do K-0?"

Poe blinked, then looked down at the droid. "I didn’t do anything to K-0 - I was just looking for BB-8."

K-0 translated for him and Poe saw her eyebrows draw together and then she relaxed, rolling her eyes and looking down at the little droid. A series of whistles happened, interspersed with clicks of her tongue. He couldn’t understand her, but could pick up K-0’s side of the conversation in Binary.

"BB-8 is bad droid. Want replace K-0."

A low whistle from the Droidsmith and a fond smile.

"Bad droid. Bad man."

She snorted and looked over at him and he held his hands up in his most non-threatening pose. More whistling.

"Bad man keep bad droid."

Poe didn’t want to interrupt but did feel the need to defend his own honor. "Look, BB-8 might be my droid but he’s got a mind of his own. Whatever he did, don’t blame me. I’m just here to keep him from setting himself on fire."

K-0 translated his words into Binary as he talked and the Droidsmith winked at him. Maker, she winked at him and he felt heat flash along his body that had absolutely nothing to do with the burning Ajan Kloss sun. She whistled and K-0 turned to him with what Poe could only call smugness.

"Bad droid not here."

Poe blinked, "Yeah, you said that before. What do you mean he’s not here?"

The Droidsmith furrowed her brow before replying. "Rey take bad droid."

"Rey," Poe muttered, looking down at K-0 as it translated. "Rey took BB-8? Where?"

More whistling. "Rey say take you."

Poe grunted. "When?"

"Morning," K-0 replied, not needing to wait for the Droidsmith.

So Rey had been by this morning and left with BB-8. The Jedi often took BB-8 out with her when she was training. It just meant… Poe had spent the night before thinking of several topics for conversation that he could have with the Droidsmith today. But they all had kind of relied on having BB-8 there as he was the focus of most of them.

"Oh, okay," he fumbled, trying to think of something else to say. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. The language barrier, coupled with only getting garbled sentences back from K-0 made conversing difficult.

"Need more bad man?" K-0 asked after a gentle prompt from the Droidsmith. Those deep brown eyes were on him and he swallowed, gaze dropping to her pursed lips before snapping back to more appropriate locations. Poe looked at her workbench, at the pieces of droid strewn across it. She obviously had work to get back to.

"No, no," he backed away, tripping slightly when the workshop ground covering gave way to dirt. "I’ll just…"

He wouldn’t say he ran away. But he did walk quickly. If someone wanted to be very particular perhaps he jogged. But he definitely didn’t run - Poe Dameron didn’t run from things.

After a minute of walking quickly he slowed, then stopped. Raising a hand he rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. That had… that had not gone well. Maker had it really been that long since he had flirted with purpose and not just for the sake of flirting? Long enough that he was a bumbling mess about it?

It was the translation problem. That was it. Nothing to do with him. If she understood Basic or he understood… whatever it was that she was speaking… this would all be going a lot smoother. Maybe he could bring Threepio next time. While the protocol droid could be annoying, he’d at least translate full sentences without color commentary - something K-0 did not seem to be capable of.

Yeah, that was it. He’d bring Threepio by next time. Then they could have a nice conversation. Just him, Threepio and….

Well shit. He still hadn’t gotten her name.

=

Chpt 4

[succulentsunrise]

Where the Fire Lilies Grow

Content: SFW!

Time to see how far Tani gets in the Royal Knights Exam!! 

Also, a guest appearance of @thoughtfullyrainynightmare‘s Solara Equinox! She is so cool, I couldn’t help but have her here (with her permission, ofc!!) 🥰

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Chapter 4: The Trial

“You learn something valuable from all of the significant events and people, but you never touch your true potential until you challenge yourself to go beyond imposed limitations.” Roy T. Bennett

“They don’t seem to be taking the bait,” Tani remarked quietly.

The group had been holed up behind the remnants of a ruin for quite a while now, all slightly scattered in preparation for an ambush. The forest behind them provided some cover for them as well. They had chosen these further away ruins in anticipation of the other team advancing on them, but they were nowhere to be seen.

“Anyone have any detection abilities?” Adrastea asked, her eyes scanning the area.

Gamma shook his head decisively.

“If we were in a more fiery environment, perhaps,” he started, but shook his head again. “No, no.”

“I could try to locate them, but it would take a considerable chunk of my mana,” Tani offered hesitantly.

In such a large area, using the spell would drain most of her mana, probably. Unless one of the other group’s members used water magic while she was using hers, she’d have to go through the whole area slowly and carefully.

“Do it,” Adrastea snapped, her brow furrowed. “We are on a time limit.”

Tani gave her a glare, but dropped on her knees to the ground.

“You better protect the crystal then. This will take a while - and suppress your mana.”

She placed both of her hands on the ground and took a deep breath. Nature was her element, her home. She could do this.

“「The Thirst of the Cacti」,” Tani spoke, drawing on her mana to create a fat spine of a cactus. Its roots rumbled to the earth, vanishing from sight.

Still, she could feel them moving underground, seeking, being drawn onto mana signals. She was grateful for the silence and tension around her, as her teammates waited for results. Tani concentrated on the roots as they stretched beyond their natural limits in their thirst. They would only stop growing once they found what they were looking for. The more mana she poured into it, the longer the roots spread. Then - water. Yes, she could sense water.

“They are doing something to the east of us. In the forest on the other side of the battlefield, I believe,” Tani informed her team quickly. “One of them is a water mage. My roots picked up his magic. Gamma, can you throw that far?”

“Not in a million years,” the blonde boy answered, glancing towards the eastern parts.

“Let’s move forward, to the ruins in the middle,” Adrastea suggested, wrapping silken scarves around the crystal to both protect and move it.

“I should be able to hit them from there,” Gamma confirmed, also getting up.

Tani held a hand above her cactus, looking fondly at it. It would have to wither now without a source of mana, unfortunately. She moved to be behind Adrastea, protecting the rear while Gamma took the front. They moved quickly. They’d have to hope the other three hadn’t noticed anything, or otherwise Gamma’s projectiles wouldn’t be able to hit them. They duck behind another wall, this time all together.

“「Silken Embrace」,” Adrastea chanted, wrapping further layers of silk around the crystal.

It looked more like a cocoon than a crystal by now. Gamma lifted himself up to the wall of the ruins without much trouble. Tani quickly entwined her fingers and cast another spell: 「Ginseng Gaze」. From her fingers flew red, star-shaped petals of a ginseng flower, entwining together into a plant. She gave it to the blonde boy, who tucked it behind his ear.

“What’s--oh!” he started, but stopped as he seemed to realize its effects.

“It’s helping you work with your mana,” Tani still explained. “You should have better control over your abilities.”

At least she hoped it did. Icree went on and on about how she should learn about other types of magic so that her magic could support them better. Knowing is stronger than any amount of mana, Icree kept telling her. Tani had only ever augmented her friends’ abilities. It had been a little bit of trial-and-error-thing even then. A giant mass of hot magma suddenly appeared in Gamma’s hand, as the boy smiled widely. He stood on the wall now, a wave of heat pulsing from his magic. There was no doubt that he was a noble with an intense pool of mana. Gamma jumped onto another segment of the wall, at the same time twisting his body and throwing the blazing chunk of molten lava and rock towards the forest. The impact was devastating: trees fell from a large area where it hit, and Tani could swear the earth itself rumbled a little.

“I missed, but I can see them now,” Gamma commented cheerfully, hopping behind the wall again. “My attack’s still sloppy, the captain’s going to kill me if she sees it.”

“I’ll go--” Adrastea began, but the boy shook his head.

“I won’t miss next time,” he said confidently. “But I can’t promise I won’t hit you by accident.”

Tani peeked at the other group that was running back to the cover of the trees. They were protecting the crystal with water magic, clearly planning to counter the powerful fire-based magic that Gamma was using.

“Could you two work together? They are protecting the crystal with water now. If you could combo--”

“Absolutely not,” Adrastea scoffed, glaring at Gamma.

The boy simply jumped back on top of the wall and conjured another ball of magma. Tani could see that he was trying to shape it into something of a spear, but his control wasn’t good enough for it. With almost frustration and anger, Gamma threw the malformed chunk at the other party. It was rather terrifying, especially when Tani knew he didn’t have good control of it. That kind of a magic could easily kill. Another impact shook the ground beneath their feet. It was a small enough shake to make her wonder if she wasn’t just imagining it.

“Crystal destroyed!” a voice bellowed in the air - the announcement of their victory.

Gamma looked back at them proudly, not seemingly even tired after the two throws. He had easily pierced through whatever watery barricade had been erected before the crystal. Tani swept her face with her sleeve, drying the sweat that had formed there. She’d have to recharge before the next battle. She had very little mana left after all that. They returned to the platform together, the wind up there bringing a welcoming breeze to Tani’s face. She was worried. They would be going against Eric’s team next, that was for sure. Gamma and Adrastea were becoming more and more unwilling to work with each other, and their attributes were incompatible. Gamma’s magma could easily burn her flowers or Adrastea’s silk. Tani couldn’t help but feel like she shouldn’t be the one making strategies in this group. She wasn’t good at them.

“Good luck, Ben!” she heard Gamma wish someone.

A blonde, middle-aged man with quite fuzzy sideburns waved at them. He had a calm posture, smiling back at Gamma.

“Be careful who you wish good luck,” the man answered. “We might fight each other next.”

“Bring it on!”

Tani would have loved to sit down somewhere, but everyone else was standing. She withdrew to her shell, not taking part in discussions and barely looking at the fights. Magic clashed against magic, the battlefield changed in front of her eyes, and the first match-up finished. She could feel her mana returning ever so slowly, trickling back. She wouldn’t have enough for the next fight. By now it was clear - they would face Eric’s team. That team also had Ben, Gamma’s squadmate. They’d know two attributes from the team, but that was no advantage. Eric and Ben knew their attributes as well. On the changed battlefield, another battle began. Tani was too dazed to concentrate on it. She only noticed Gamma leave from her side quietly to meet with the just returning young lord Vermillion. Leopold Vermillion was the younger brother of Fuegoleon and Mereleona Vermillion, a talented fire mage in his own right. He had the characteristic orange hair, as well as the red markings around his eyes - similar to the ones his siblings had. Gamma spoke with the young Lord for a brief moment, both serious and swift about it. The time between Tani’s first and next battle felt too short, even if the pause stretched further. With her captain’s battle quickly finished, Tani and her group were thrown back into the battlefield, off to face Ben, Eric and their third team member. Brad was a brown-haired member of the Coral Peacocks. He looked a bit more nervous than the calm Ben and confident Eric. As they separated to their respective places, Tani turned to her team once more.

“Eric uses sand magic,” she told them honestly, giving them a worried glance.

“Ben has very nice copper magic,” Gamma shared in turn. “He has excellent control over it. I can’t wait to fight him!”

Adrastea looked like she was fuming inside.

“I’m not going to stay on the sidelines this time!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I need to show that I am a capable Magic Knight, and I can’t do that if you two do all the work.”

Tani grimaced. That would mean fighting in close-quarters.

“I can protect the crystal, but I’m really--”

“Good!”

“Wait, I’m fine if you want to go for the crystal this time, but--”

No sooner than the announcer had begun the match, Adrastea disappeared in a glimpse of an eye, the light blue silks floating in the air.

“Sorry, that might be my fault,” Gamma apologized, looking at the battlefield.

“Nevermind that,” Tani answered, frustrated. “Let’s find a defensible spot.”

There was a small elevated platform not far from them, which seemed to have some kind of a small mining cavern. They retreated there, with Gamma creating a wall of magma behind which they hid their crystal. It wasn’t the best creation, and likely anyone who would find them would be able to figure out it was behind the molten rock wall - but it was the best they could do for the time being. There were two entrances to the small cavern: one that connected to another platform through a bridge, and another one that led to a small ledge. Each of them guarded one of the entrances, nervously glancing at each other. Minutes went by slowly and painfully. Almost a quarter had passed when Gamma spoke up.

“I could go scout around a bit.”

“I’m--well, sure,” Tani answered hesitantly, looking at the magma wall.

Surely it would stand, even if she herself had very little mana to speak of. She nodded to Gamma still once more, and retreated closer to the wall. The blonde boy moved to the ledge, and disappeared from sight. It didn’t take long for Tani to hear a sound of impact. Gamma had clearly met someone out there.

“「Ginseng Gaze」,” she muttered impatiently, growing the same red ginseng flower and attaching it to her belt.

“Did you sense me, or are you just being careful?” a voice suddenly asked.

Tani looked to the entrance that led to the bridge. Eric was standing there, the light brown hair being tousled by the wind.

“I think you might be hiding the crystal,” he continued. “Which is silly, considering everyone knows you can’t attack.”

“Just come at me already,” Tani answered, glancing to the other entrance.

She couldn’t sense her teammates anywhere closeby. She drew out her sword. Eric moved his hands to create a missile of sand, which she deftly dodged. It hit the magma wall with a dull impact sound. Then, a little crack.

“Not a very strong wall!” the brunette man exclaimed, starting to throw his magic more rapidly.

“「Ginkgo’s Embrace」,” Tani shouted over him, holding her hands in front of her as fists.

Strong branches with fan-like leaves appeared around the man, clutching onto him and pushing him down. Her hands were shaking as she was holding onto the last ripples of her mana. The pool was empty, and she could see the sand gathering around Eric. This spell was one of her newest ones, and she didn’t have proper hold of it yet. On top of that, she didn’t have the energy to uphold it. Every trash that Eric managed weakened the branches. It didn’t take long for him to break free and continue his barrage of sand missiles. Though Tani attempted to block them with her sword, the power of it sent her against the magma wall itself. No matter how much she struggled, she had no mana, and she had no teammates to come rescue her. The shattering noise behind her marked the shattering of her dreams and her resolve.

“Crystal destroyed!”

Eric held his hand to her in an uncharacteristically friendly fashion. Tani took it quietly, letting him help her to her feet.

“Good fight,” he said confidently.

“Yeah,” she answered flatly, trying to answer his smile.

They walked outside together, looking around for their team members. Gamma and Ben appeared quickly, laughing together. They were both a bit scorched. Seemingly they had had a good fight. Tani sighed, and began to approach the viewing platform again. The quick steps of the younger boy reached her quickly, as Gamma sped up to walk with her.

“Adrastea was super close to breaking the other crystal,” he complained cheerfully. “She wasn’t a good match for the other guy, though - I saw him use fire as well.”

“Did you try to go help her?”

Small shame rose to the boy’s cheeks.

“No, I was having too much fun fighting with Ben,” he confessed.

“Can’t you fight him outside of competitions?” Tani asked rather sharply.

“Not recently. He is heaps ahead of me. When the captain takes us to the hot springs, he is there in an instant!”

“What does that mean? What hot springs?”

“In the strong mana region, there’s this mountain trail,” Gamma explained eagerly. “It's a really hot area - the air burns your lungs and you sweat like a pig just by standing there. The top part spews continuously lava, but during night it turns into a sweet hot spring! Captain Mereleona takes us there to practise controlling our mana skin.”

“I see,” Tani answered thoughtfully, avoiding looking at the boy for a little while.

It could be a chance to meet the Captain, couldn’t it?

“You have trouble holding up your mana skin?” she inquired carefully.

“Yep!” Gamma nodded. “Because my control is so poor, it takes me forever to climb up the mountain, and it’s a hellish journey. If I had one of your flowers, I’m sure it’d be easier.”

“If your captain takes outsiders, I wouldn’t mind that type of training myself.”

Gamma, hearing this, clapped his hands together excitedly.

“That’s a great idea! You can train me, and I can train you!” he said happily. “Even if we wouldn’t get chosen this time, there’s always the next one!”

They had reached the top of the platform once again, and Gamma sprinted towards other members of the Crimson Lion Kings. She could see the young Vermillion lord there with someone else: a woman around her own age, with beautiful sun-kissed hair and forest green eyes. The woman had a warm smile on her lips as she spoke with Leopold Vermillion. Tani was certain she had not seen that person before, but that was true for many people of the Kingdom. She simply stood by as Gamma went to talk to them. Once more, it didn’t take long for the blonde boy to come back.

“Leo seems to think it would be fine,” he said in an overly casual manner. “I’ll still need to suggest it to Captain Mereoleona.”

“Thank you, Gamma,” Tani said quietly, glancing at the other group again. “Who is that person with him?”

“Oh, her? She’s Solara,” Gamma told her happily. “A good friend of the captain.”

Tani nodded, stealing another glance at the strawberry blonde woman. She seemed like a gentle person. If Tani was any braver and not already tired from the day of fighting, she’d go introduce herself. Today, however, she had no energy. She could barely follow the rest of the battles. When Adrastea came to them and apologized for her behaviour, Tani had no mental energy to even try to advise her for the future. She watched Adrastea and Gamma make amends, though there was still tension between them. At least the knight of the Blue Rose seemed to realize that her leaving them alone had caused some trouble. As soon as the battle ended, Tani promised to be in touch with the other two, and walked home. Not just the dorms of the Azure Deer, but home.

The simple house was on the outskirts of Kikka, with a small garden on its side. No one was home when Tani stepped in - both of her parents and sister worked in the mines near Kikka, and they worked long days. She herself had worked in those mines before she had passed the entrance exam and became a Knight. She walked the small corridor to the spacious living room, and fell to the sofa. She was tired and she was sad. The only hope she held on now was that someone had noticed her efforts, or that at least she’d get to know the mysterious Mereoleona Vermillion as a consequence. She felt a bang of guilt - was she simply using Gamma to get to know his captain? No, she’d make sure that she would help the young boy too. Tani lifted her arm over her eyes and welcomed the darkness it brought to her. Sleep did not come instantly, but slowly.

Now all that was left to do was wait for the results.

[bipercabeth]

👀 anything + "does it still hurt to think about?"

(happy birthday alyssa i love u!!!) 

this is a bellarke fic so let’s pretend it’s on my sideblog and call it a day. s7 compliant until 7x10. then i do what i want. 

It all happens so fast. 

Bellamy comes back, ragged and worse for wear but alive. He and Echo meet an abrupt, messy end Clarke doesn’t catch the details of. And somehow, inexplicably, Clarke ends up alone with Bellamy in Octavia’s quarters while the others recuperate. 

Part of her longs to be with them—making plans, gathering information, maybe trying MCAP to crack Bellamy’s stubborn memories—but loyalty and guilt keep her rooted in place. It’s stupid to think she could’ve prevented Bellamy from being taken in the first place, but still. She should’ve been there. She should’ve known sooner. 

“Stop thinking so loud,” Bellamy calls from the bathroom. 

It earns a laugh in the way only Bellamy can. Laughter has been scarce lately. It always seems to be when they’re apart. 

She pushes the door open and leans against the frame, making eye contact with Bellamy in the mirror. He’s frowning, running his fingers through the long beard he grew on Etherea. Clarke wonders how much time he’s lost. At least she knew the number of days she spent in Eden. It’s a cruel trick of the universe to steal more time after everything it’s put them through. 

“How’d you know?” she asks. 

He shrugs. “I still know you.” 

He says it like it’s inevitable. This man has no memory of the past several months to years of his life, but he knows when Clarke Griffin is overthinking based on her silence alone.  

“Can I ask you something?” 

Clarke smiles. “Anything.” 

He turns to her, scissors in hand. “Will you cut my hair?” 

She takes in his unruly waves, which are nearly as long as her own. “I don’t know, I kind of like matching.”

“Just take the damn scissors, Princess.”

Clarke’s hand freezes, her fingers ghosting over Bellamy’s. It takes all she has to curb the shock from her face, but she doesn’t manage to suppress her smile. “Been a while since you called me that,” she says lightly. She drags a chair from the corner and motions for him to sit. 

She busies herself ruffling his hair. “How short?” 

“Like it was before?” 

It makes sense, wanting to return to who he was and how he looked before this. It’s not Clarke’s favorite cut, but she can do it. She measures the length out with her fingers. “Here?” 

“No, before. On Earth.” His voice is heavy with significance. Clarke learned long ago not to put words in Bellamy’s mouth, but she can almost hear him say with you at the end of that sentence. 

She swallows. “I can do that.” 

She works in comfortable silence, chopping off the longest parts before shaping up the rest. Bellamy’s gaze burns into her through the mirror, but she can’t bring herself to meet it. Regardless of how fun it would be to make fun of him with half his head shaggy, all Clarke can think about is how he’ll look when she’s done. The Bellamy she imagined for six years in Eden is about to be in front of her. That takes some priority. 

Six years of cutting her own and Madi’s hair has made Clarke something of an expert. Before she knows it, Bellamy is halfway back to himself, save the beard. 

It’s a bit shorter than before, she thinks as he looks in the mirror. Despite her experience, she hasn’t done a cut like this. A slight miscalculation meant she had to take in the sides a bit more than she’d have liked, but it works for him. She thinks most looks would, even the caveman thing he has going on on the lower half of his face. After all, it’s Bellamy. 

Bellamy’s responding grin is somewhat hidden under the beard, but Clarke sees it in his eyes. He tips his head back against her chest as she fusses and fluffs the front with anxious hands. “Looks good, Princess.” 

There he goes with that nickname again. This time Clarke can’t hide the way her hands still. 

“You haven’t called me that in 131 years.” 

Bellamy frowns, as if to protest, but quickly devolves into distress and confusion. “I don’t think that’s right. I think I called you that when I was... wherever I was.” 

The amount of baggage to unpack in that statement alone almost shuts Clarke down. She can’t look at him. 

Instead she moves to the medicine cabinet, distracting herself with the need to get rid of that horrific beard. “Does it still hurt to think about?” 

“When I push too hard, yeah. Sometimes the memories are buried so deep it feels like someone is bashing against my skull. Sometimes I can feel them, even if I don’t know what they mean. I’m just drawn to certain things. I think that means they were important to me there.” 

“Like what?” 

“You.” 

When Clarke’s breath stutters and she looks at Bellamy, she only finds quiet resolve. 

“I may not remember it, but there’s no way I was stranded like that and didn’t think about you. And when I came through the Anomaly, that was the one thing that stayed with me. Just you.” 

“I know how you feel. After Praimfaya...” Clarke feels her cheeks heat. “Well, you know how I got through it.” 

The misery of all the times fate has ripped Bellamy away climbs in Clarke’s chest, propelling her back to the medicine cabinet where she finds shaving cream and a straight razor. 

Bellamy’s face changes in an instant, morphing from something wistful and longing to his signature Big Brother face. 

“Why is there a razor in my little sister’s room?” 

Clarke simply smiles. “Little?” 

“I don’t care how long she spent on Penance. She’s my baby sister,” he groans. “Besides. I could still be older.” 

He moves to take the razor from Clarke, but she holds it close. “Can I?” 

“I can shave myself, Clarke.” 

“I know, but—” The misery climbs up her throat, now— “I thought I lost you.” 

That softens him. He leans back and offers himself to her. “All yours.” 

There isn’t much room for talking after that. Clarke wets his beard and rubs in some shaving cream, thankful for the towel she wrapped around him before she started this whole process. She doesn’t want to see him in the stiff Bardo robes or the parka he made himself on Etherea. Here, in the Henley she recognizes from before he left, he is almost her Bellamy again. 

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks as she lines up the blade with his sideburn. 

“No,” she admits. “But I have steady hands.” 

They’re less steady with body heat radiating in the space between Clarke’s body and Bellamy’s, but she won’t tell him that. 

The first swipe is a series of careful tugs with her left hand, assisted by her right holding his skin. Each inch reveals constellations of the freckles she so dearly missed. 

Clarke watches his face as she tosses the hair and wipes the blade. He meets her with unwavering trust as she brings the blade back to his skin, this time with more confidence. With each pass, the man she loves comes back to her. 

Bellamy’s cheekbones are easy, all sharp lines and simple angles. It’s one thing to watch the freckles bloom on his cheeks and another entirely to feel his breath ghost her fingertips as she takes off his mustache. Her fingertip traces the scar on his lip without thought or caution. Her eyes follow. 

Next comes the divot in his chin, freed at last. Clarke rests her thumb there to tilt his head back for the final strokes along his neck. He’s all trust in her gentle hands. He always has been. It becomes them, same as love. 

Love lives in Clarke’s hands as she holds his neck, feeling his muscles jump with anticipation. They have never let themselves get this close, and now she understands why. Clarke has been so strong for so long, but Bellamy is her undoing. 

“All done,” she breathes. 

He sits up, but Clarke is frozen in place. Her blade hovers near Bellamy’s throat while her hand cups the other side. A single drop of blood gathers where she nicked his upper lip earlier. She has the ridiculous urge to kiss it away. 

“Been a while since I saw you bleed,” is all she can say. 

His breath is warm on her lips. “I don’t think it’s been a while since I bled.” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to patch you up.” 

“You were,” he assures her.

“Bellamy, I...” 

“Yeah,” he eases the razor away and lets it clatter to the ground. “Me too.” 

The dam breaks, unleashing a flood of emotions Clarke never dreamed she would allow to surface. Bellamy’s hand tangles in her hair, and it’s unclear who pulls the other in first, but that doesn’t matter because his lips are on hers after centuries of waiting. She throws a leg over his lap and straddles him, her caution drowned in the wake of passion.

They part too soon for Clarke’s liking, but Bellamy’s hands stroke her back idly, like he has all the time in the world to touch her, and all that matters is that they get that time. They have seen the world end countless times, but it is reborn with each second Bellamy looks at Clarke like he looked at the sky that first day on Earth: joyful, disbelieving, reverent. 

“I never thought I’d get this,” he pants. 

“Me?” 

“Happiness.” He says it like it’s the same thing. 

Clarke kisses him for it, half because he’s sweet and half because she can. 

Their love has eclipsed entire planets, even outlasting the one where it was born, but he has always been Earth to her. The final journey home. Joy. 

And joy tasted better on Earth. 

[badgraph1csghost]

I was looking through my notebook from last year earlier tonight and encountered something I'd written in it. I remember making it shortly after I'd read the post about the creator of BoJack Horseman talking about Marge Simpson mourning the death of Maude Flanders.

I thought that analysis was a bit excessive, but was a legitimate thing to think about nonetheless. So, I decided to use that as a writing prompt.

WRITING PROMPT: Make up the most unnecessarily-dramatic situation for an animated character. Blame Raphael Bob-Waksberg. He started it.

~~~

What happened to Daniel Belcher? None of the kids at Wagstaff School can tell you where Daniel went, only that he disappeared the day after he asked Jimmy Poplopovich Jr. out to the butterfly garden. Daniel's brother, Gene, and his sister, Louise, pretend like Daniel never existed. All the kids at Wagstaff know is that Daniel doesn't go there anymore. But his twin sister, Tina, does. Or, she does now, anyway. Apparently, she was going to a different school until Daniel disappeared. Now, she goes to Wagstaff. That was two years ago.

Daniel had known for awhile that he was gay. Or, more specifically, that he wasn't interested in girls. On some level he knew that he wasn't growing out of his childish ideas about girls being gross; he didn't have a word for it until hearing it on TV: "Gay". He like-liked boys, not girls.

When he found this out, Daniel wondered if there could possibly be any other boys at school who felt the same way. Bob and Linda both agreed that the only way to find out was to ask boys out until one of them said "yes". So, that night, he decided that he would ask Jimmy Jr. first. All the way through the school day, Daniel felt confident in his decision to ask Jimmy out at the end of the day. It was only as the words, "Do you want to go out with me?" were coming out of his mouth that his confidence completely left him. He could feel the shocked and judgmental stares of everyone within earshot. Combined with the dumbfounded look on Jimmy's face, he decided he'd made a terrible mistake -- the kind of mistake that a man doesn't recover from. Without waiting for a reply, Daniel ran out of the building, as though his life depended upon it.

Daniel locked himself in his room; in equal parts grief, guilt, and panic; searching desperately for a way to take back his question. For whatever reason, he looked in his closet and re-discovered the 1990s-style girl wig he'd gotten for last Halloween, when Ezekiel dared him to dress as a girl. At the time, he'd thought it was funny, but he really got into character that year. He'd written in his diary some cryptic reference to feeling more alive than ever that night; some people he'd met trick-or-treating were so convinced he was a girl, they asked where his costume was.

Daniel took the wig to the bathroom and put it on. It looked artificial, with the unquestionably plastic way it caught the light, bent strands sticking out all over, and his own hair visible underneath it. He washed the hairspray out of his hair and shaped his sideburns to be a bit less angular... with his hair down like that, he found he could make it look feminine by anchoring part of it in place with a hair-clip. Debuting the new aesthetic for Bob, Linda, Gene, and Louise, Linda commented how she wanted to name her first child "Tina", but "Daniel" had been settled upon when it turned out to be a boy. "Not anymore... Daniel Belcher is gone. I'm your new oldest daughter, Tina!"

By realising she was a girl, Tina could kill two birds with one stone, as it were... She found the way she had been looking for to take back her question (sort of), and she could finally look in the mirror and be confident in what she saw. Gene posed the obvious question, “So, are you just changing into a girl because you like boys?” The answer: “Of course not.” It wouldn’t have mattered if TIna had like-liked girls before, she still would have done this, though it may have taken her a bit longer to get the idea.

Not known for his memory, Jimmy had already forgotten the whole thing anyway and accepted when Tina asked him out again.

(Ow, my hand)*

* That last bit was intended to remind me how much I hate writing things longhand.

To clarify, Gene and Louise pretend Daniel never existed and Tina doesn’t talk about herself as anyone other than Tina, so the kids who knew Daniel create drama by believing that Tina is Daniel’s twin sister. Mr. Frond, Principal Spoors, and all of Tina’s 5th-grade teachers know her deadname and simply do not use it.

Anyway, it’s certainly not a new idea, this.

[lifblogs]

Since I watched Frozen again, and remembered how much I love it, I thought I’d post this here.

WARNINGS: Some light almost-smut

Anna had invited Kristoff into her room. Sven wasn’t allowed in the castle, and was probably happily munching on carrots hand-delivered to him by their new royal reindeer caregiver. Anna had made the title official. It didn’t take much to convince Elsa; just another thing for her to stamp her seal on in her large pile of paperwork she had to deal with as queen.

Olaf, on the other hand, didn’t understand that he hadn’t been invited to this little social event. He wandered in after Kristoff, eyes bright with wonder, and plopped down on Anna’s bed, stick hands waving back and forth as he felt the blankets.

“So this is your room?” he squeaked, voice going higher on the last word.

Anna clasped her hands together, blushing. “Uh… yeah. Yeah.” She spread her arms out to do a ta da motion, which ended knocking over a dress on a stand she had by her wardrobe; it was for a dinner function she had later with a French nobleman. It crashed into the wardrobe, and immediately she busied herself with trying to catch it before it fell to the floor. Kristoff rushed to help her.

“Yes, it is,” she announced as Kristoff took over the work for her. “And uh…” She cleared her throat, tilting her head at the door, even as Olaf wandered about, snow cloud following him. He was looking out the window now. “Mm-mm!”

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, gazing at the view she had.

“Mm-mm!”

Kristoff put a hand on her shoulder, murmuring, “Let me handle this.”

Anna laughed, the sound quiet, not fully coming out of her mouth. Nervous. Oh gosh, was she nervous? She must’ve been.

“Olaf,” Kristoff began, “Anna and I would like it if you left.”

He jumped from the cushions by the window seat, different globs of snow following at different times, and  he soon rearranged himself in front of them.

“Ooh, is this a summer game?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s—“

Kristoff put a hand over her mouth, and she grabbed it, just now realizing how large it was, studying his fingers as he continued talking.

“Yes, Olaf, we’re going to play hide and seek.”

Anna, catching onto what he was doing now, exclaimed, “Yes! Mm-hmm!”

“Ooh, I love hide and seek!” His face fell. “What’s hide and seek?”

Kristoff took his hand back, and started gently nudging Olaf out the door, explaining, “You go hide anywhere in the castle you’d like, or maybe even all of Arendelle, and then...!”

Olaf’s eyes widened as he gasped. “And then?”

“And then we’ll try to find you.”

“Ooh!” He waved his little stick arm, and yelled, “Bye, guys!” The door slammed in his face.

Anna was giggling as she came over to Kristoff, and slapped him lightly on the chest. “That was mean.”

“What, we’ll go find him after… after uh…”

They broke apart now, faces going red.

He rubbed the back of his head, and Anna felt a hint of a smile growing on her face from the mess of himself he was making. “You wanted to show me something?”

She came forward, flattened down his hair, and he leaned into her, a noise coming from him that might’ve been a giggle. Gosh, he was tall, and pretty. Strong, rugged features, hair like gold, and so not unmanly like his family had suggested. And wow, his eyes were… dreamy. Amber. They were amber.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?” She realized she was still caressing his hair, and staring. She lowered her hand, and he clasped it in one of his. “Oh! Oh, sorry.”

He laughed, more confidence in it this time.

“You don’t have to show me now. It’s okay.”

“It was a book. I—I read a lot. It was just me for a long time, so I read.”

She turned and went over to her chest, digging around for it.

“Where is it? Where is it?”

Stupid, she told herself, as Kristoff drew closer, towering over her. Stupid, stupid. A book. He doesn’t want to look at a stupid book. But what book is it? What book?

For the life of her she couldn’t remember with him standing so close.

She’d been excited about it, wanting to share where she’d gotten her ideas of love, and—

She found it, saw that the man painted on the cover looked a tad like Hans with the sideburns and the dark hair.

Oh!

Anna dropped it, and shuffled back, tripping on her skirts.

Best not to show him that.

Or for her to see it.

She hadn’t known what love was then, and the book hadn’t helped.

“Oh, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Kristoff told her, kneeling down, and cradling her with his legs, bringing her up into his arms. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just…” She looked up into his face, wanting him to know she was telling the truth. “I guess I didn’t have the best life growing up, and seeing my things again… It was a bit much. Can we just…? Um…”

“Whatever you want.”

Kristoff helped her up and over to her bed, and they sat there for awhile, hand in hand, but Anna wasn’t content with it. She started shuffling back and forth, tapping her feet, then humming.

“This is nice,” she eventually said.

But what was there past the true love’s kiss? She wasn’t sure she really knew. Marriage? Babies? Anna didn’t know a whole lot about the baby part, and knew it was too soon, but were there other things? The way Kristoff was looking at her, eyes big, hopeful, but warm, a tantalizing smile on his face, she was beginning to think there were.

Growing up alone hadn’t taught her much about these things, and the stories always skipped after the kiss. Anna wanted to see what was after.

She let Kristoff caress her cheek and pull her closer, and then their lips came together.

Oh gosh, this was nice. This was love. Oh yes, it was.

And maybe something else because after their lips kept meeting, stronger and stronger, she climbed on top of him and he sidled down the bed, now lying back against the pillows.

Anna pulled back, giggling, seeing his lips were a tad rosier than before.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Something the love experts would be okay with,” he murmured, pulling her close again. He grabbed one of her hands, intertwining their fingers.

Mm, he was so warm. And he was sturdy too. The ice business really gave him a lot of muscle. Princes were supposed to have that, right? And here he was, not a prince, but her love, just the way she wanted him.

His hips rose up into her, spreading her legs wider around him, and she’d been leaning down to kiss him, but her forehead bumped into his chin. She giggled into his neck. Anna had never done something like this before.

“Anna, are you going to laugh the entire time?”

“Are you going to be weird the entire time?”

“It is weird,” he admitted.

Then she rose up, kissed his cheek, and let out a sigh against him. “Then yes.”

“Alright. You ready for this?”

“Not as ready as you are.”

“You don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“Fine. You teach me along the way. I’m ready to go.”

“Ha, I bet you are. So… Clothes are going to come off.”

“Mm, are we going to the sauna?”

Kristoff rolled, getting on top, settling in between her legs more, and it sent strange heat up through where he was and into Anna’s stomach. She gasped, pressing her hands to his chest.

“No,” he murmured gently.

“Oh? What are we doing then?”

“Making love.”

She leaned her head way back, and threw an arm out. “Making love. Sounds dreamy.”

Kristoff gave a small laugh and then his mouth found her neck.

“Ooh!” Anna exclaimed in surprise. She’d had no idea she was sensitive there. And his mouth was nice and hot. And he was sucking now.

Anna hadn’t spent enough time around people to learn to be shy around them, and she certainly didn’t know how to be shy around Kristoff, so she widened her legs for him, and did what he had been doing, brushing her hips up against his. Oh, that felt good. Anna knew where too. Growing up alone she’d gotten bored with herself sometimes. She had two hands, a curious mind, lots of free time, no one around. So why not?

“You know what you’re doing?” he asked.

“Nope!”

“Not sure I do either.”

“You?” she tapped his cheek till it almost turned into playful slapping and he caught her hand and showered her palm in wet kisses. “You got this.” 

His tongue came out. 

“Ew, give me my hand back!” she shrieked.

Instead of doing that, he trapped it above her head, and then licked over her face.

“Agh! Reindeer King kisses!”

Anna uncurled her legs from around him, and rolled onto her stomach, and he kept going after her face, landing big, open-mouthed kisses on her cheek. She ended up closing her eyes, and Kristoff kept coming.

Anna found herself laughing, and tried to wriggle out from under him, her bottom up against him.

Huh.

She did it again.

Huh.

Ooh, hmm...

Yeah, there was something there.

Anna turned around, and shoved him away. He lay there, chest rising and falling evenly as she got up on her knees before him.

“What?”

Anna leaned over, staring at his fur and leather pants.

She put one hand over him, and the other she held to her mouth, laughing.

“Kristoff, are you turning into a troll on me?”

He’d been shifting up into her hand, but then pulled away. “Wait, what?”

She tapped him, and he gave a slight grunt.

“Like a little half-troll man. My true love is part rock.”

She kept poking at him, and he pulled her hands away, making her laugh more.

“No, no. Anna, it’s, uh… I’m supposed to do that.”

She made a disbelieving sound. “No, you’re not. I’ve been in saunas with my father, and I can tell you right now he was not part troll.”

“I’m not part troll.”

She reached out, grabbed the thick and hard part of him that was poking out at her.

“Then explain this.”

He gnashed his teeth at her, and pushed her back down. Anna laughed, thinking he was being ridiculous.

“Tro-oll!” she sang.

“It happens to all men.”

“Mm-hmm,” she teased, looking up at him through her lashes.

“It means…” He got off of her, and sat back, grabbing a pillow and putting it between his legs. He hugged it, resting his chin down over the  tassles. “It means I like you.”

Anna sat up, and went over to him, leaning on his shoulder. “Well, I’m likeable.”

“No, no. Like, I like you. I really like you, and I… I think you’re pretty, and beautiful, and-and attractive. And I want to do more than kiss.”

“So you’re turning into a troll because I’m pretty,” Anna teased, though she still didn’t quite get it.

Kristoff flopped down onto his back, and let out a long, frustrated groan. Anna laughed some more.

“It’s what a man’s body does, okay?” he shouted, arms going up into the air in defeat now. “Can we just get past that? I like you, my body likes you. It— I… would like to be inside of you. Got it?”

“Ohhhhhh,” Anna said, dragging it out as it finally hit her. She flopped down next to him. “So that’s making love.” She punched his shoulder. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I thought you’d be scared.”

“Pfft! Scared? Who’s scared?”

“You’re not? It’s… a lot.”

“How would you know, mister Reindeer King. You ever done it before?”

“Okay, what’s with the Reindeer King stuff? And no, I haven’t done it before.”

“Olaf called you it. Not my idea.” They breathed in and out together, staring upwards. “So… first time, then.”

“First time.” He sat up, and Anna looked and realized he didn’t have that bulge anymore. Oh no, had she done something wrong? “Look, maybe we started off wrong. How about” — he grabbed his lute he’d placed by the bed and began tuning one of the strings — “we start over a different way?”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

Kristoff cleared his throat, sang a few notes till they sounded clear, and then began strumming. “Reindeers are better than people! Anna, don’t you think that’s true?”

“Um…”

His voice went into a much higher register, a falsetto of her, and he leaned his head against her cheek, saying, “No, Kristoff, there’s you and there’s me, and to some great degree a whole lotta new love.” In his own voice now, he commented, “Oh, you’re right.” He went on singing, voice as beautiful as ever, “So I could be wrong, with all except you. Anna, let’s call it a night! Let my arms hold you tight. Tight…”

Anna leaned in close to him now, and felt none of that urge to tease him out of some unknown anxiety when they kissed, and it was gone from him too. Kristoff gently placed the lute aside, and she found herself in his lap again.

“This is nice,” she told him when they pulled apart, noses brushing together. She meant it this time, felt completely relaxed in his arms.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

They kissed again, and Anna didn’t entirely know what was coming next, but she and Kristoff could figure it out together.

[tenderlyrenjun]

The Rich Truth

part twelve | part thirteen | au m.list

7,0k words

You peer down at your small cross-body bag, sliding Renjun’s phone out of purse for the last time. The final message from your phone makes you smile when he tells you to look for him, that he is just around the corner. All your thoughts are consumed by thoughts of a handsome young man as you pull his phone over the exposed portion of your chest, cherishing it like a high school sophomore who got a Valentine’s Day gram from a secret admirer, like a Victorian women who just awed over the ending of Pride and Prejudice for the first time. The phone adds another layer of cold that makes you shiver, so you tighten your thighs together, rubbing them together for friction, for warmth, while you stick your neck out, looking for one Huang Renjun.

An unfamiliar Tesla pulls into the parking lot, stopping in front of a temporary 1-hour coin meter. Renjun steps out the backseat, broadening his shoulders in his stretch then buttoning his dark blue sports coat over that black shirt he has to know you ogled during all those nightly FaceTime chats. You watch him effortlessly spin on his heels ambling back to the shotgun mirror. He bends down to comb through the tips of his black hair, and you wish you could see his expression, see if he is as nervous as you are. Although ... you think that it would be absurd for him to be nervous - he is always so suave when you talk, flirting with you coolly.

Renjun turns around and his artistic eyes immediately find you, giving him the green light to wave at you. His smile falters a bit when you freeze a little bit, almost returning your nerves, not catching the way your eyes light up, mistaking that little glint in your eye for a reflection of the golden hour just before sunset, but that beam comes back to his face when you motion at him, when you finally see him - and he means really see him, in real life, off your phone away from those filtered photos he sends to make himself appear more attractive, though you think he always looks good and he thinks the same about you, especially at this moment.

When he finally joins you on the curb, you bow awkwardly, unsure how to settle the nerves in your stomach, unsure how to act in front of him now that he stands in front of you at last. He laughs at you deeply through his throat, his smile giving away those dimples you cannot see just yet, but he bends down to meet you once again, dipping slightly lower to peer into your eyes. Your eyes follow his out-reached hand creeping onto your face and bringing you into his body. You stumble forward a little bit as he draws you up to meet him softly muttering something about wanting to finally see your face in person. His gaze temporarily leaves yours, glancing at your lips then back to your eyes like he is asking for your permission or telling you about his plans.

His embrace feels sudden to you, but he actually moves in slow-motion, falling onto your lips millimeter by millimeter. He brushes his thumb onto your cheek until his fingerprint paints his homely touch onto your skin, not stopping until your outline is coated by his touch, memorized by his digit. His eyes flicker open for a second, maybe a little longer than half a second, and he catches sight of your eyelashes fluttering on your cheeks. His eyes shut again, even slower, as his mouth opens, drawing on your bottom lip, buried in your mouth, changing the angle of his embrace. The kiss leaves you even more breathless, but his soft exhales onto your cheek warm you temporarily in the brisk autumn weather.

Eventually he pulls away. And you think he does so at the moment right before you completely fall in love with him, like he wants to leave you on your toes. You thought the kiss was abrupt, but now you just want him closer, want his face to never leave yours, want him to make you fall so deeply in love. Your heels find the ground again and you peer up at him, stopping at his lips; the tips of his fingers still barely pull you into his embrace as your gaze asks him to kiss you again while your heart beats in tandem with his.

Despite having pulled away first, as fast as he leaned in, Renjun stays close to you. His eyes try to find your gaze but you are still focused on his lips, not catching the way he is bending down to kiss you again. He steals one more quick kiss, placing your hands around his neck while his breath hitches in his throat, a loss at words for once in your presence.

You pout when he draws back again, eyes trailing from his lips to pupils. He cannot be leaving you this breathless, he cannot. Well, maybe he can, and he is, but god, can he please just kiss you again? You had to suffer during all those nightly FaceTime chats, watching his very kissable lips talk your ears off, pucker at you like duck or fish lips, get too close to the camera sometimes. And now, now he is finally right in front of you like a romantic comedy lead, kissing you exactly like one, kissing you better than one, except he stopped. Why did he stop?

“I told you not to be surprised when I kissed you,” he mumbles quick and softly, the tone sparkling like the smitten twinkle in your eye. His confidence is still present in front of you, just maybe diminished a little bit at finally seeing you, not wanting to scare you off.

But your level of coolheadedness, or, really, lack thereof, matches his.

Your tongue twists in your mouth behind your teeth, lips parted and waiting for, no anticipating another kiss. Your body feels warm in the cool weather, and you cannot tell if it is from the way his stare makes your face heat up or his close proximity that traps you between his sports coat. Maybe it is the sports coat, you think, the same one that captures his perfume and makes you kind of lovestruck dizzy. And the only Tylenol is another kiss.

“But you still surprise me,” you whisper back, equally softly. Your heels come off the ground, all the weight in your body shifting forward onto your toes, into his chest. Your foot kicks up like a pop, like his fingers ghosting behind you sent you falling for him again. He wants to kiss you again, you can tell; he is just waiting for you to make the move this time, wondering if you want him as badly as he wants you. So you kiss him again, tugging him back down by his tie until your sudden embrace leaves him breathless, leaves his lips covered with your 24-hour lasting lipstick.

“Should we, um,” he exhales over your lips, his breath visible in the air, “Should we go inside?” 

You slide your arms under his sports coat. Your cold fingers trail up the black shirt, causing him to shiver in your arms, his waist trying to meet yours. His arms circle around your neck, resting on your shoulders while your head tilts up to look at him through your eye lashes- and he loves the sight, his head rushing through so many thoughts. 

“Yeah,” you answer him, stepping back, almost dragging a stumbling Renjun with you. “Come on, let’s head in before we miss those reservations.”

Renjun kisses your temple, his leg standing between yours to balance himself, then he de-tangles from your limbs quickly, though he never lets you go - he only reverses the roles, slipping his waist from your grip, sliding his hand in its place, preferring to hold your hand. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says cryptically and laughs at your confused face before tugging you to the door you need to unlock with that key reserved only to let interns into the museum after hours.

You bend down to the bottom lock, thrusting in the key and turning the door knob. You glance back at Renjun, the door now unlocked, with a satisfied smile, but when you catch him staring at your bum, your lips curl into a smirk and you cough to get his attention. His neck pops up to meet your face, a slight blush creeping with his hand going to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. He tries to form more words, stuttering minuscule excuses, then his hands come to touch his sideburns and brush his hair behind his ear. You reach out, laughing, and grab his hands, tugging him into the building.

“Wow,” Renjun speaks slowly, his lips ending in an awestruck pout. His eyes lead his head while you lead his body through the rooms. All the pieces kept stealing his attention and you nearly fall in love with the way he shares your interest in art, then a thought echoes in your brain: an artist and his analyst; the poetry in those words alone nearly makes you swoon.

“Hurry up, slow poke,” you joke, tugging him a bit harder but his longer legs easily meet yours and soon he is dragging a giggling you through the corridors while you give him quick directions.

He pulls you around his exhibit, almost missing it, but you anchor yourself into the ground, making him stop. You do not think he is so lanky but the way he awkwardly flails, still connected to you by your hands, has you laughing otherwise. And he wants to keep hearing that sound for as long as possible. 

“Is this yours?” he asks, taking a step closer to your body.

You nod twice, slowly, biting your bottom lip between that forming timid smile on your face. You dart your eyes to the side, staring down the dimly lit exhibit room just before the intern offices. 

“Do you,” you swallow a nervous lump, “Do you want to head in?”

Renjun watches you, I mean, how could he not? You are absolutely beautiful and he cannot miss the way your smile grows a bit more at seeing the collection you are so passionate about, so obviously proud of. And of course, he returns your beam when your gaze returns to him asking him to dive into your world for a little bit before you cross the Han River into his. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your lips, his breath hitching in his throat so his lips urge against yours briefly. He pulls away again, then grazes your hair behind your ear so he can whisper about how much he loves the fond, dazed look on your face so, yes, with his entire heart, does he want to see what you have been working on.

“So I’m analyzing seven pieces in this exhibit and organizing another wall of paintings,” you brief him, vocals drippin’ with a honey voice that nearly gives him a toothache from all the sugary sweetness. “But I think, I’ll just show you one or two for now.”

“You’re going to make me comeback here?” he asks teasingly. You look away, mortified, and nod but he tilts your face up to his with a comforting smile and light-heart chuckle. “Don’t worry; I’d comeback here. For you.”

It sounds silly, but he keeps making you smile, like an infatuated smile, like a ‘just the thought of you makes me smile’ smile, like a ‘doodle your name in my notebook thirty times over’ smile. And you don’t know how he manages to elicit that kind of behavior from you, but he does, and he keeps doing it while you two tread through the exhibit.

You explain to him the complexities of Neolithic Chinese art, going back and forth between cultures in different provinces, in the same era though, and how those cultures both used jade but for different reasons. After he lets you talk uninterrupted for maybe 3 minutes, you stop to wring your hands back and forth, giving him the opportunity to say something, to change the topic if he wants.

“Why’d you stop?” he inquires almost immediately upon hearing your voice fade into silence. Renjun has told you, been telling you over all those nightly FaceTime chats that he loves to hear your voice and he loves what you have to say.

“I just wanted to give you the opportunity to say something, to hear what your thoughts about everything; I don’t want to overpower the conversation because I know that I can go on and on forever,” you laugh nervously and hollow at the end, trying to make the situation more cheery than your statements resonate.

“You didn’t even talk that much.” He shakes his head but complies with your request, moving to hold your hand in an effort to relieve both his and your nerves. He had not realized how insecure you were about certain things, always appearing so confident over the phone or FaceTime, but he guess that it is easier to be suave when you can maintain an image. “I really like the concept of jade to be honest, and I didn’t know that there were different uses for it outside the Confucian values or displays. I really just want to hear what you have to teach me, more than anything really. I usually study figure drawing and more modern art to draw things from my imagination.”

“Oh that’s also really cool and could probably be applied these pieces. A lot of the functions and names for these things are unknown, so the curators and art historians have been applying modern social laws of morality and whatnot onto these pieces, which I think is super cool, yanno? What ... what are you doing?”

You lean away from him, back finding the wall in this faintly lit room. He did not scare you, other than the potential of this relationship, if you could even call whatever the two of you are doing a relationship, which would fail more on your part than his, but Renjun stepping towards you makes your heart rate go up, makes you lose your thoughts, makes your breath vanish. It is like all those things go straight to that incredibly charming smirk on his face, the one under his sparkly eyes. 

“Sorry, the way you talk about art, the way you have so much knowledge,” his breath falls out of his mouth with adoration, sinking into your protruding pout he is leaning down to. “It’s all just so pretty.” His eyes flicker to yours for a second with his next words. “You are so pretty.”

Renjun leans down again, this time his pace seeming so normal but you want him, you want him to go faster. And you think, there is no going back from this, your relationship with him will always be so charged, so lascivious. So what else is there to do? You tangle yourself into him and return his embrace with more desire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between your kiss, his hand grazing through your hair with a touch as equally soft as his voice. “I’m listening to you, I promise,” he says, again in your mouth, again subdued by the compassion hidden between your lips, again drinking in the sweet nectar you produce. “But I can’t help it.” His mouth is open, breathing irregularly while you pull and tug at his body. “You - I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long - God.”

Your tongue kitten licks at his, asking him for more, telling him that this is all okay. His yearning groan beseeches you with a request that only your body understands. You pull at the ends of his hair and his hands fly to your hips, one trailing behind to your lower back, then slightly below. He pushes you against the wall, a smug grin tugging on his lips like your fingers in the wisps of his hair, and he dives a bit deeper, pushing his pelvis with your arching back. 

“What time is it?” you ask him after a moment, turning your head to give him room to breathe, to pull away, to answer your question.

But he just pecks at your neck. His wandering palm ends on your collarbone, fingers dancing towards your cheek to keep you in place while his lips insist on littering 24-hour long-lasting love bites as payment for your lipstick rubbing onto him.

“It’s five minutes before I tell you the time,” his hot breath sends shivers down your spine, shivers that he can feel as you get closer to him, coming off the wall so he has to push you back down. A little over his estimated time passes and he lets up from your neck, though he still stands incredibly close to you.

Renjun flexes his wrist, shaking his Apple Watch free of his sleeves, and you relax a little bit, watching him like a smitten high schooler with major heart eyes bugging out your face.

“It’s just a little after six.”

He puts his arm down and curves in to kiss you again. You giggle puerilely, accepting his last embrace before he and his boyish grin drag you outside. Occasionally you trip at how fast he is going through the museum he wanders through like a maze, like Theseus guided through the Labyrinth by a golden string, by the paintings hung on the wall you are so passionate about - Wait, no, he, like a courageous youth, leads you, a beautiful maiden, through the Minotaur’s Labyrinth before you get devoured by that time crunch. He laughs at the analogy and turns back to make sure you are all right, not actually being chased by a bull hybrid.

God, it should be impossible for Renjun to look so pretty, so blinding, like he brightens the entire world. And he might as well be, setting off the motion sensor light system while the entrance nears. You catch golden hour outside the building and dig your heels into the ground, stopping the both of you, but Renjun’s momentum had built up so he staggers into you, almost sending the both of you falling over.

“Hi,” he whispers, looking from your lips to cheeks to eyes again. “What’s wrong? Do you not want to go?”

You tap his pout quickly, not over those craving for his touch. “I just - Can I take a picture of you? The lighting looks really pretty and you’re really handsome, and, oh, God, is this weird?”

The dazed look on Renjun’s face never leaves and actually motivates him to fall forward, his lips crashing onto yours again.

“Yah, we’re going to miss golden hour,” you tell him, leaning away but his lips follow your pull, giving you one, two, three, four more quick smooches, eliciting your pretty laugh.

The picture you take of Renjun in the moment parallels and contrasts the picture he takes of you in the Tesla. You laughed with the poses he took on, continuing to snap shots even as he moved toward you, his smile becoming more relaxed. Renjun, on the other hand, turns off his shutter sound and steals a picture of you watching the sunset out the window, illuminated by the glow like an angel. Hmm, he just might have found your permanent nickname.

You turn around, hearing his hum. “Did you say something?”

“No,” he hums in response, still staring at the new picture on his phone, atop the others from your ootd snapshots. 

Renjun smiles at you and leans over. You think he is going to kiss you again but he goes a little further, fingers curling between your thighs around your leg, pulling you closer. The seat belt pulls over your neck, choking you a little bit. You instinctively lean back to stop the polyester from depriving you of air, but it locks, trapping you in place. Renjun unbuckles your seat belt with his free hand and the hand itching at your bare skin tugs you over his lap. He brushes the hair out of your face, then lets his palm sit on the part where the seat belt dug into you, rubbing at you almost in a soothing manner that electrifies you more than eases you.

“Can I?” he asks you, searching your eyes though you are focused on his lips. He tilts your head up, thumb sliding across your neck, to make you look at him. “Can I kiss you again?” he whispers softly, the moment suddenly more intimate and charged now that you sit in his lap.

You nod your head and he mimics you, the both of you staring at each others lips. You think that your seat is unsafe with just his hand wrapped above your bum as your only protection from a crash. But you survive one anyways - the crash against his lips. This time is your moment, is your turn, so you push him against his chair, forearms laying on both sides of the headrest with his face in the middle. His neck extends him up towards you, your arms steadying over his shoulders, pushing him down into the seat.

“Oh, my god,” he whispers in Chinese, pressing his chest to yours, letting up from the seat to make you arch your back. “You’re so pretty.”

You want to make a comment about how he reverts back to his home language, about how attractive it is, but he slips his tongue into your mouth, his lips parting to connect with you more, his hands gripping a little tighter. Before you can even let out a whimper, his touch provoking every nerve in your body, his phone rings, blasting that standard iPhone tone all over again. You wonder how many calls are going to interrupt your actions, just like that initial moment in the library a month ago.

Wow, the time has gone by quick, you think about your rapid relationship, as Renjun answers the phone - his phone for the first time in forever. He gives you a small apologetic look that you return comfortingly by brushing his bangs away from his forehead, from his guilty sparkly eyes, a thought coming to mind to show him that you accept his repentance, that it is not a big deal, that you just want to focus on him in this moment.

“Did you get your phone back?” Jaemin asks without a greeting, anticipating Renjun’s voice.

“Yeah, but why are you - oh, God,” he breaks the common language for his native tongue once again while yours drags along his neck to his collarbone, his hands slipping onto your waist. 

Your companion of the night loses his cool during the phone call he is quick to abruptly hang up then clamor back onto your lips until the restaurant comes into sight under the nearing pitch-black sky.

Renjun steps out the car first, having sat behind shot gun, and you grab his out-stretched hand, gliding out of the Tesla like you did into his life. He smiles when you link arms and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then leads you into the restaurant, giving the host his name secretly.

“Right this way, sir,” the host says, preparing the menus and leading you through the restaurant.

Renjun guides you, again, through this simple maze while you gaze around. One wall imitates a wine cellar, rows of diamonds outlining the few bottles pumped into each hole. The entire floor seems to be made of glazed wood and you ponder the innuendos and implications of that. Opposite the wooden wall are windows between every table. You notice how they alternate from containing grills/steamers to nothing but a candle on top.

“Watch your step,” Renjun tells you, interrupting your thoughts. You grip his arm tighter, turning around the corner to head upstairs.

The second floor is even more aesthetically pleasing. The tables sit next to the windows, separated by pretty flowers. Instead of that bland khaki color, the chairs are black and the tables coated like marble. You wonder if the two of you are sitting in this setting, not seeing very many people up here. You guess that the higher up you go (there are four stories), the more exclusive it is, but the two of you slip into a room all the way on the right side of the building, a room with only one table. You have a private dinner, and suddenly you are hyper aware of who exactly Renjun is, of how you acted towards him previously, of what this place means for you.

“Thank you,” you murmur faintly when he pulls your chair out and smoothly propels you to the dinner table. Oh, God, you are completely going to silently spiral in the middle of this date, overthinking the past.

“Just live in the moment,” Renjun says casually, behind his menu so that you cannot see his lips, cannot see how he trembles a little bit. But the same is for him - he reads his menu; well, not really reading, more like boring his eyes into the words he has read so many times over his million visits to this restaurant with his parents and friends. His distracted eyes cannot see yours perk up, snapping to attention at the reminder you heard from your friend. “My friend Jaemin, the one who called me, er, uh, in the car, while we were ... you know -” He takes a sip of water then goes back to his menu, flushing up a little bit at the information he is going to reveal. “- He, uhh, told me to just live in the moment.”

“Any reason why?” you ask, coming off your seat, leaning closer to him, trying to further the conversation to make this date one of many. Also, his words echo your best friend’s and all the confirmation bias swirls in your brain - you may not believe in soul mates but he is really pushing it.

“Yeah,” he stutters, blushing a little bit more through his neck. He brushes his short hairs over his hears, not really altering his combed hairstyle, more altering the conversation and mood. “He says I’m a little dreamy, a little like Peter Pan sometimes.”

Your elbows come onto the table, providing support for you to rest your chin on your palms, completely compelled by the handsome boy somewhat ranting in front of you. You hum, telling him that you are listening, completely focused on hearing every word out his mouth. It is something people fail to do on most dates, in even most settings like class, meetings, family dinners, etc.: just listening, without thinking of what to say next or getting distracted by anything.

“I love Peter Pan,” you tell him honestly, indicating that you share an interest with him, hoping that this comes off to hint your compatibility more than anything else. “Do you think that you’re impulsive or careless like him? Or just childlike and wanderlust?”

“Maybe?” he questions himself, his voice lightening up at the end. “Do you think I’m impulsive or am I innocent like a pure boy?” He poses for you again, his chin resting between his fingers shaped like the Nike check mark.

You laugh breathlessly at him, because he keeps stealing your breath. You lean back in your chair, feeling a bit more comfortable with him since he keeps the whole situation real with you, unafraid to tell you that he is nervous, that he talked to his friends about you and his worries for the date.

“Maybe you define the word pure different than the traditional sense,” you offer, mildly analyzing his personality but not too much to come off as too strong. “I think you have that childlike glint in your eye, like you might be idealistic for the future. It’s not a bad thing, it’s refreshing in this somewhat cynical world, you know? I like that about you,” you trail off at the end, face heating up a the tidbit you vulnerably revealed.

“Ha,” he laughs oppositely to you, nervous but a good nervous, “Maybe.” 

The two of you keep saying maybe, waiting for the potential of this relationship, finally letting all those built up emotions run the course of this date. You retreat back into the menu but not as much as before and smile at your thoughts of Renjun in front of you. The waiter comes into your room, closing the door behind him, and trekking over to the table radiating expressed feelings. Renjun orders the most, from the appetizers to your desserts, and explains a few of the dishes he thinks you might like, asking for those to be brought out as well. He makes sure to ask the waiter to bring out a dessert menu when the food comes, just in case you’d want to extend the day - he knows that he does and hopefully dessert is one way. Although, he might have an actual dessert place on his mind for the end of the date but that is too far in the evening to think about - Jaemin did tell him to live in the moment.

“Did any of this make you nervous?” Renjun asks you, folding his arms onto the table, leaning forward at you over the maroon dining cloth, biting at his lip. “This whole date, all the buildup?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” you relent. “Or, a lot, really, heh. It’s funny; my best friend Rae actually told me the same thing Jaemin told you. She thinks I get a little wrapped up in my head too, but more about the past than the future.”

“Opposites attract right?” he flirts with you, sending you an assured smile. “We might balance each other.”

“Yeah, like Wendy and Peter Pan.” You smile at him but your eyes get a little nervous and he picks up on it.

“What? Is this not going as well as I thought it was?” Do you want to leave? To never see me again? 

“No! No,” you reassure him before he spirals like your racing mind. “I’m just worried and thinking about to discuss, you know? I don’t just want to have an electronic relationship where we can only talk over our phone and all we do is make out in person - not that you’re a bad kisser or anything; I really enjoyed it. I’m just ...” You suck in a breath. “Yeah,” you exhale, somewhat defeated, unsure how what else to say, putting your barely coherent thoughts out there.

“Hey,” he reaches out to you, grabbing your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. He is tempted to kiss you again, this time your hand like a knight declaring his beloved, but he refrains, preferring to talk to you and hear your honey sweet voice. “Don’t worry about it. We can just talk about anything. What’s your favorite childhood movie?”

You give him a look, a mix between incredulous and amazed.

“What?” Renjun asks, his lips slightly parted. He is metaphorically on the edge of his seat, awaiting your response.

“Why are you asking me about my past, pure boy?” you bring up the nickname teasingly. You look down at your hands, interlacing your fingers, and smile when he exhales - perhaps you two are going to do a lot of this tonight, taking turns reassuring each other after revealing things about yourselves.

“I’m just trying to get to know you, angel,” he answers with a smile then picks up your hand, kissing at your knuckles. “I really like you and I will keep confessing to you.”

“Is this an incentive to get me to confess back?” you ask. He questioned you about your past to give you a sense of comfort, to tell you that you can spiral or overthink all the previous events, and now you reference the future, albeit the immediate future but still, to return a sense of comfort. “Regardless, I really, really like you too, Huang Renjun.”

“I’m glad, really.”

“Me, too. Most people are not so forthcoming with their feelings in my experience.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, exhaling hot breath softly, “But I think we can reveal it in art, you know.”

“I hope so. It’s why I decided to analyze art - it’s so vulnerable and intimate.”

“And beautiful?” Renjun asks, staring at you, telling you again that you are beautiful. He wonders if you can tell that he does not just mean your appearance but the way you talk about your passions, wishing on the Second Star to the Right to be one of your passions or, at least, to be adored by you like one.

“Exactly my thoughts,” you tell him, you say about him, returning his sentiments. He is an art you cannot help but want to know the history, present, and future of - he is like that favorite masterpiece you keep dear to your heart, looking at for comfort and familiarity and home. “Do you reveal yourself in your art? Do I have to analyze your art to know you, to really know you?”

“Probably not,” he pauses, not because he lacks for a moment, unsure what to say, but because he has to think, uttering a deep throaty uhh for a second. “You can ask me anything; I’m all accessible for you.”

“Seems ... intimate.”

“Only for you.”

You squirm a little bit in your seat, not used to this sudden or outward praise from another person, especially since it reveals romantic intention towards you. But it warms your heart nonetheless, Renjun warms your heart.

“Maybe you should analyze my art,” he offers. “You never did tell me what you thought about the eye I sent you.”

“Oh, right.” An embarrassed smile slowly breaks into your face. You do not want your lips to automatically curl up like they do, displaying your teeth a bit more, as the smile widens with your deepening fluster, but you cannot help it - he makes your brain go empty, your heart sing, and your body react. You lick your bottom lip then bite it to stop the grin from spreading deeper onto your face, but it is all for naught because you have to answer him. “I though it was an interesting body part to choose because eyes are the gateway to your soul, and,” you inhale a little bit then mutter the next few words, kind of muddying them together, “and you managed to make them as sparkly and captivating as yours.” You lift your head up, eyes pouting innocently at him.

Your eyes make him let go of your hand so he can pick up his chair and slide next to you, not caring how this could interrupt the fixed date-setting set up by the employees. You watch him establish a seat next to you, marveling with all the stars this Marco Polo dude stole and presented to your eyes. Renjun picks up your leg, crossing it over his, and stretches his arm over the spine of your chair, giving him the perfect opportunity for the both of you to lean into each other. You think he is going to kiss you again, especially since he is so close again and since he must see the way your eyes keep automatically finding his lips, but the waiter is back, placing dishes all around you. You cough awkwardly, pulling away a little bit, reclining into his arm a little bit. His hand finds your shoulder, massaging it comfortingly, and he finds the embarrassed smile you keep hiding cute, so he tells you as the waiter walks out again.

“Stop,” you tell him, not really wanting him to stop though.

“Can’t help it.” His arm falls onto your shoulders and snakes around to tilt your face back to his. “You’re cute.” He kisses your nose then pulls away, still keeping your leg over his thigh though, to dip his metal chopsticks into the small, neatly wrapped mountain of vermicelli and feed you a bite. “I know you’re a grown adult and that this is super cheesy, but indulge me, okay?”

You nod, sliding your other leg over his lap and inclining to his pretty hands, taking a bite of the Chinese noodles. You think he is cute, being cheesy, because he still seems cool. And you cannot tell if you like it because you like him or because he is not going overboard, reaching greasy territory - either way, you might fall for him a little bit harder. 

“Does this mean I should feed you too?” you laugh behind your open palm, hiding the food in your mouth as you chew.

Renjun opens his mouth playfully, not really expecting you to copy him, but you do anyway. You pick up a piece of chicken, breaking it off from the body and slip it into his mouth. He purrs in amusement, in agreement, enjoying you feeding him more than the actual chicken, although the dish does taste good - which he both is thankful for and expected from the restaurant he thinks highly of, having brought his mom to during the rare moments she visits him.

“Oh, I hope talking to my mom wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be, or too nerve-wrecking at least,” he broaches the topic, wandering into uncharted territory as his fingers wander to the hem of your clothes, just fiddling with it - but still enough to spike your nerves because it feels like he is dropping hints about being serious with you, like going steady with you kind of serious, not that you mind, you feel the same way as him, if not more for him.

“It wasn’t too bad,” you answer, stuffing a bit of the vegetables that fell out of the gua bao bun into your mouth, reflecting on the conversation just a couple days ago. Is your relationship with Renjun progressing too fast? No, you think, recalling that all of your conversations flowed easily, like you two were slowly building a foundation for something without rushing into anything too impulsively - the whole situation is a little risky you think, his fingers occasionally touching your bare upper thigh as he fiddles with the hem of your clothes under the table, but it is not wildly out there or so spontaneous that your lives are thrown upside down. “I think I was just caught off guard at her calling me, especially since I may or may not have been a little hungover at the time.”

Renjun laughs with you. “Yeah, you went to a party just last weekend.”

“And I might go to one this weekend too, for Chuseok, because, you know, it’s a time to go go home,” you stutter from teasing to over-explaining, suddenly embarrassed at the implications, not wanting to give off the vibe that you are not serious about this relationship because you are, you definitely are, especially if he keeps looking at you like you are the only girl in the world.

“Should I give you three hickies then?” he taunts you, his hand shifting between your thighs, just holding your leg enough to stimulate you, and for the second time tonight, as he snickers, you find yourself grinding your thighs together, knees pointed inward, trapping his hand. “You know, since you did make me think that it was your neck in the snapchat? It’s like some sort of payback but one that is hopefully enjoyable for the both of us.”

“Why are you always that horny, pure boy?” you reference your texts to him just two days ago.

And he seems to vibe with you on the same wavelength, responding in the same manner. “Why are you always that gorgeous, angel?” He leans in, his breath hitting your lips harder than any kiss he has given you all night, making your own breath hitch in your throat and you bite your lip nervously. “Two can play this game.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, while pulling away to drink a large sip of cold water.

Dinner fluctuates the same way, between arousing flirtations and random facts about your lives. The only constant is his hand on your thigh, not that you really mind. You finish two hours after you arrived, ending the meal laughing.

Renjun is the first to stand up and his hand reaches out again to help you up. You glance at the table, smoothing your skirt down, eyes immediately finding the closed dessert menu - neither of you even looked at it, or, at least, you did not, too distracted by your charismatic date. You do not mind not getting dessert; honestly, because dinner was a lot, but you want to continue the date and cannot think of anything else other than more food. You turn around,  rolling your eyes when you find him staring at your backside again. You mutter something about the location of his eyes and he smirks, although you can see the slight tint to his cheeks. This dinner was progressive for the two of you, especially your confidences, letting you two grow more familiar with each other and a little more intimate both emotionally and physically.

“Do you want this night to end?” you ask him.

“No,” he answers honestly, an ice cream parlor at the front of his mind. It is another surprise but he wants to hold your hand and show you all the constellations he used as maps when he was a kid in China, wandering to his grandma’s house. It is an insight to his life, both past and present, an intimate detail he wants to reveal to just you. But he has to ask if you feel the same way, if you want the same thing. “Do you?”

You smile, again on the same page at him. “Nope.”

“Good. I’ve got so much to share with you.”

[henrylevesconte]

Henry “Dundy” Le Vesconte’s Looks, Rated

I’ve been itching to take a stab at the meme @bomburjo​, @radiojamming​, @theiceandbones​, and @subsequentibis​ have all completed (AND MORE OFC! Everyone’s posts have been great!) So journey with me with my favorite minor character and notorious background lurker. 

Go For Broke assisting Collins by stealing his medicinal whiskey look -6.5/10. The finger-less gloves and full coat really sells the look for me personally. This is about as dressed and hatted as the lad gets. 

Go For Broke awkward work meeting look- 100/10. Dashing. Astounding. Someone got over dressed with their work meeting and made sure their hair was perfect before just going to town on a plate of biscuits. Bonus points for clear coordination with Fitzjames in looks, style, and mutual disdain for Crozier. 

The Ladder Janky Franky’s hallucination fun time look- 1000000000000000/10. Truly my favorite look for him. The smile, the drunk amusement, the gloved grip on his drink, hair and sideburns on point, FULL DRESS UNIFORM! Perfect look for a perfect boy! 

The Ladder “Oh my boss just died” look ft. Mad at Crozier pt 2- 5/10. It’s a solid look. Dundy looks about ready for a nap which after Sir John’s death scene I always feel the same way. BONUS POINTS: Invisible hat tip to Crozier. Really spruces up the scene in a bizarre way. 

First Shot A Winner, Lads aka depressed lieutenant winter look ft. Charles “Horny Feet” Des Voeux- 10000/10. Bundled Dundle. He looks pretty cozy tho.

First Shot A Winner Lads toe removal scene look- 0/10. No. 

A Mercy awkward meeting round 2 look ft. Blanky at his finest- 3/10. A classic look, one we have seen before but he’s got more noticeable injuries and seems to need a nap even more. Dundy reminds me of an employee who has been to so many Monday morning meetings he’s counting on his boss not noticing if he shuts his eyes for just one second. 

A Mercy Benjo Boy look- 10000000000000000000000000000000000/10. Look, everyone wears slops but the swagger exuding from this scene makes it a complete look. The pose, the confidence, the refusal to let anyone on Terror touch him after announcing a big party. What even is a benjo? I love it. 

A Mercy Carnivale look minus gun- 100/10. Look at the King who stole my heart while also blasting off a shot gun in a closed tent like a jack ass. It’s such a good look you know he asked Fitzjames for the best when picking out his costume. Also notice height difference in officer (Dundy towers over all). 

Horrible From Supper No Shave 1848 look- 7.5/10. Oh I do love the scruffy look for ya boi. The finger-less gloves again really add to the “I’m dying of scurvy” look. The cravat really stands out. Everyone looks a bit rough but he’s still managing to get by and for that Dundy gets a higher rating. It’s probably why he got invited to Jopson’s surprise party instead of Hodgson. 

Terror Camp Clear “Silence Himbo!” look- 5/10. Dignified, tired, someone decided to let him have a gun again (probably Fitzjames). Still going strong. Bonus image: 

Should be titled “I’m getting too old for this shit!” Seriously though who let him have a gun again? 

The C, The C, The Open C Rescue look- 1000/10. What can I say about this casual look? It’s a classic, the open sweater, the re-purposed pants, the goggles, the silver waves, the finger-less gloves, the obvious concern and quick run to James’ side when he goes down. King of upcycling. I can see a modern instagram influencer calling this a thrifted look. Hurts my heart to look at if I do so for more than five minutes tho. 

The C, The C, The Open C awkward meetings never end look- -100/10. Love the hair, not much else. Dundy looks desperate for a tube of moisturizer and for the suffering to end (which coincidentally it’s about this point when I too want it all to end!) Beard and chops don’t seem as wild as previous episodes. 

We Are Gone and so am I look ft. a really creepy guy in the background- 1/10. Ouch. I love the suspenders, I love the hair curls, I love the ratty sweater. I love how he’s snapped and abandoning the sick. Just kidding. I hate that. If someone just let him nap maybe Dundy wouldn’t resort to this. Also the windburnt look, coming for Tozer’s look.

Bonus image: 

“Oh god he’s still looking at me isn’t he?”

[robinrunsfiction]

Hey I’m sorry if this is too many prompts but could you do a 2007ish Patrick Stump friends to lovers smut with 23, 37, 51, 144, 145, where Patrick’s really insecure and kind of submissive but the reader is gently confident and sure of herself but also really sweet to him? Thank you so much you’re writing is amazing!! 💙💙

Do You Wanna Feel Beautiful?

Pairing: Patrick Stump x Female ReaderRating: Mature (Smut)Requested By: AnonWord Count: ~2,000Author’s Note: I realize I didn’t quite hit the “friends to lover” angle, but I hope you like it anyway!

The house was full of people drinking and shouting over the music, and you were getting more and more frustrated as you tried to look around the room, but you couldn’t find your friends. After pushing through the crowd for a while you decided to give up and that’s why you turned around and ran right into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed. The first thing you noticed was how cute the guy you ran into was in his trucker hat and sideburns.

“It’s fine,” he smiled back and bit his lip as he looked you up and down. “Umm, I’m Patrick,” he said reaching back and rubbing his neck.

“I’m (YN),” you replied. His blue eyes sparkled and you felt your stomach flip. “I was just gonna go find someplace quieter.”

“Oh yea, sorry” he said, nodding, stepping aside so you could get by him.

“You can come too, if you want,” you offered.

He looked surprised and then nodded and followed you through the crowd to the front door. When you got outside you sat down on the front step and took a deep breath and Patrick sat down next to you, adjusting his trucker hat. You and Patrick started talking now that you could hear each other. The conversation flowed naturally, and you immediately loved his sense of humor. Suddenly your conversation was interrupted by the door bursting open and your friends stumbling out.

“(YN)! There you are! We’re gonna go home now,” your friend announced, patting you on the head as she walked carefully down the steps.

“I should help my roommates get home,” you said apologetically to Patrick. 

“Oh, yea. Hey (YN) hang on,” Patrick said as you got up. You stopped and looked back at him. “I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have yours?”

A smile spread across your face. “Patrick, please don’t use cheesy pick up lines on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, it’s just that you don’t have to,” you laughed. “Give me your phone,” you said holding out your hand. He looked startled for a moment before he dug in his pocket for his phone to give to you. 

After you entered your information, you leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek before turning to catch up with your friends, throwing one last look over your shoulder at him as he stood stunned on the steps of the house.

~

Patrick had been nervous before your first date, feeling self-conscious, picking himself apart in the mirror, but when he picked you up, the fears melted away, at least for a while, when he saw your smile. After going to dinner and then a movie, he again bit his lip nervously as he walked you to your door.

“I had a lot of fun,” you smiled at him.

“I’m glad, I was nervous,” he trailed off, kicking himself mentally for not keeping his insecurities in check.

“Nervous about what?” You asked, concerned.

“I umm, I know I’m the opposite of tall, dark and handsome,” he said glancing down at his shoes.

“Hey,” you replied, tilting his face up so he was looking at you. “I like exactly how tall you are and I think you’re quite handsome,” you said before leaning in and kissing him softly.

When you pulled back, he was blushing and your heart felt like it was going to burst. You reached up and caressed his cheek. “I really like you Patrick, I’d really like to go out with you again if you want.”

“Yea, I’d like that a lot,” he nodded and smiled. You gave him another quick kiss and headed inside.

~

You loved being around Patrick, whether you were going out on a date, or just spending time at home. Everytime you hung out, you felt like you were falling a little more for him.  One thing that was so endearing to you was Patrick’s demeanor. Despite being the lead singer of one of the biggest bands around, he was still insecure and you wanted nothing more than to make him realize how amazing he really was.

One night you were having a quiet night at his house hanging out. Patrick was lounging back with his legs propped out in front of him on the coffee table as you laid with your head on his lap. He was singing softly as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I like the sound of your voice,” you murmured.

“Thanks,” he laughed lightly.

You rolled over and looked up at him. “Don’t you believe me?” You asked sincerely.

He shrugged. “I do,” he trailed off.

“What is it?”

“I still worry that you’ll realize that I’m not good enough for you.”

You sat up and looked up at him totally shocked. “Patrick! You are amazing! You’re kind, and handsome and,” you paused, for a moment before nodding and deciding that this was the moment you wanted to confess your feelings. “I love you Patrick.” 

“You do?” He asked, pushing his glasses back, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“I do!”

“I do too, I, I mean I love you too (YN)! I never thought you’d love me back,” he laughed shaking his head. “I love you so much and I didn’t want to scare you off.”

You caressed his cheek while smiling softly at him. “That’s the thing though: you have so much love in you and you’re afraid of letting it out. I want to show you how much I love you, how special you are.”

You stood up and offered him your hand. He took it and followed as you led him to his bedroom.  Before that night, you had yet to go all the way with Patrick, but you took control of the situation as you made love, kissing and complementing every spot that Patrick was insecure about.

~

After that night, a dynamic shifted between you and Patrick. Patrick was so completely devoted to you and your natural confidence led to you taking the more dominant role in the relationship. Before you knew it, a year had passed and you were celebrating your anniversary with Patrick. He had spent much of the year touring promoting Infinity on High, but he had made sure that he would be back to spend that day with you.

Patrick almost felt nervous when he arrived at your door, as it had been weeks since he had seen you. As he waited for you to answer, he remembered back to your first date, and how you made him feel so special, in a way no one else could when you kissed him right there. He was pulled from his thoughts when you opened the door.

“Patrick!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too!” He said, holding you close. “I got you these,” he said, offering you the bouquet of pink roses.

“They’re beautiful, thank you baby,” you grinned. “Come in, I have dinner almost ready.”

After you finished your meal, Patrick insisted on clearing the table, but you followed him out to the kitchen and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Are you to continue the evening?” You murmured as you placed a kiss behind his ear.

“Yes please,” he replied as he turned to face you after putting the plates in the sink. “I wanna make you feel good.”

A grin spread across your face before you leaned in and kissed him passionately. After making out in the middle of the kitchen for a while, you decided to take things up to the bedroom. As usual, you led the way, unzipping your dress and left it on the floor just outside the doorway as Patrick also started shedding his own clothes.

“So how are you gonna make me feel good?” You asked as you sat back on the bed, and noticed Patrick’s cheeks were going pink.

“I, umm, I could brush your hair?”

“Brush my hair?”

“Yea, I mean, I know how much you like your hair played with.”

“Aww, Patrick,” you cooed.

“Or I can give you a massage.”

“That sounds perfect,” you smiled. He sat down next to you on the bed as you rolled over and tossed your bra aside. He grabbed the lotion off your bedside table and started to rub your back.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yea, baby, I missed how your hands felt on me,” you purred. After he was finished, you sat up and kissed him, pushing him gently down onto the mattress and climbed over him. “Now it’s time for me to make you feel good.”

You leaned down and kissed his neck and left a mark as he let out a gasp. You ground your hips against his, then trailed kisses down his body, complimenting every inch of skin as you went, until you reached the waistband of his boxers. Pulling them down and took him in your hand as you licked a stripe up his cock. He let out a moan as you took him in your mouth. You looked up at him devilishly as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper. 

“Shit (YN), I’m close,” he muttered and you pulled off.

“Ok, lay down,” you said.

“Hang on, I said I wanna make you feel good,” he spoke up. “Lay back.”

You giggled and laid back against the pillows as he ran his hands up and down your thighs, before gently pushing them apart. He ran a finger along the lacy cloth of the panties you were still wearing before pulling them down your legs. He started peppering kisses along your thighs until he reached the apex and started to gently kiss along your folds. You moaned in pleasure as his tounge found your clit and two of his guitar string calloused fingers dipped inside you.

You loved when Patrick did this. Not only was he an incredible singer, but that was not the last of the talents his mouth provided.

“I’m gonna,” you gasped.

“Cum for me,” he said, curling his finger just right and you let out a shaking moan as you came undone.

“That was so good baby,” you murmured. “But we aren’t done yet.”

You sat up and motioned for Patrick to take the spot you were just in, then you climbed over him, running your hands over his chest as you smiled down at him. “Ready?”

“Yes please,” he practically begged.

You rose up over him, before sliding down his shaft deliciously slowly. Patrick bit his lip as you rolled your hips. While he was gone on tour you talked almost every day, and when he could get some privacy even had phone sex, but you missed this more than anything. You missed the way he filled you so completely, the connection between you, the way his hands felt on you. He ran his hands up and down your thighs and you leaned down and kissed him. The shift in angle felt incredible, so you moaned against his lips.

“You like that, baby?” You gasped.

“I love it, I’m, I’m not gonna last,” he moaned back.

“Cum for me,” you said as you ground your hips against him. He bit his lip before gasping out your name. That sent you over the edge as well.

After cleaning up, you and Patrick curled up together in bed. “I missed you and this and everything so much. I love you Patrick,” you murmured sleepily against his chest where you laid your head.

“I love you too (YN). This year has been amazing because of you,” he replied.

You looked up and he leaned down and kissed you before you both drifted off to sleep.