#because in @D you'd probably have a more solid-looking reflection?

[swan2swan]

And if I say this shot right here is one of the greatest things I've ever seen in anything, ever? One of the best and most brilliant visual moments in the Jurassic franchise? In cartoons? In moving pictures as a whole?

[lacontroller1991]

Lucky to Have You (Bionic Exile Drabble)

Requested by @a-reader-and-a-writer: Can I request “ you are so smart. the world is lucky to have you." with Tak please? Thanks!

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Warnings: polyamorous relationship

Summary: You win the Noble Prize and your boys are there to congratulate you.

==========

The mirror in your dressing room casts a reflection of your appearance. Your silk grey dress hugs your figure and your hair is perfectly placed on the top of your head. Diamond earrings, a gift from Rick, drop from your ears and a small grey pendant, a gift from Tak, hangs from your neck. You smile at your reflection in anticipation as your note cards lay flat on the table.

It's 7 o'clock in Stockholm and your nerves are flying through the roof. In just a few hours, you will be awarded one of the top awards someone can be given for their contribution to humankind.

The door softly clicks open and two silhouettes enter your dressing room, a bundle of different flowers in both of their hands. "Rick. Tak. You're not supposed to be back here."

"We snuck in," Tak muses as they set down the flowers and make their way towards you. You snort.

"I highly doubt two 6'2 large men can sneak in." Your eyes rake over their appearance, causing your knees to go weak. You had told them it was a high class award ceremony, but you hadn't expected Rick to wear his fully decorated dress blues and Tak to wear a black velvet suit that hugs him in all the right places. "You guys look fantastic."

Rick is the first to go in, easily drawing you into his arms and placing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I knew you'd win, darlin'. I'm so proud of you." He dips his head and places a soft kiss to your lips as you cling to his uniform because if you hadn't, you would have probably collapsed to your knees. Rick pulls away and steps back while Tak takes his place. You offer him a small smile.

"This wouldn't have been possible if you never went through that portal." Tak lets out a rare smile that only you and Rick ever get to see as he wraps his large hands around your waist and pulls you into his solid frame.

"And I would've never gotten to meet you, princess. You're so smart. The world is- I-we," he motions between himself and Rick, "lucky to have you." He places a soft kiss on your lips before letting go and stepping back to Rick's side.

"We have to find our seats. We'll see you on the stage," they begin to head for the door until you stop them.

"Wait, guys." They stop and turn around. "Thank you for supporting me. I love you both so much."

"We love you too, sweetheart."

"We'll see you on the stage."

With that, your two men leave you to your thoughts and you think, none of this would have been possible without them.

==========

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[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Comments are always welcome. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My works are not to be posted anywhere.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: violence, panic, swearing probably.

Chapter 4

Chapter Five

Leaves whip across your face, scratching the bruised skin of your cheek.

Dirt shifts under your feet.

Your fingers slip on Poe’s shirt and you struggle to regain your grasp.

Panting echoes in your ear, mirroring your erratic, pounding heartbeat.

Roots seem to stretch out of the ground, determined to trip you.

You can’t see more than a foot in front of you.

You stumble, crashing to your knees.

Poe’s grunt is muted, soft, as he lands next to you. Your entire torso feels like it’s on fire.

You want to stay down, to just give up.

But you can’t.

Not yet.

The river is ahead of you. You can hear it.

You start again, ignoring the burning in your muscles.

The trip back is impossible. Too long. Too far. Your urgency makes you clumsy. Your injuries make you weak.

Blaster fire snaps and crackles over your head and you yelp, ducking out of reflex. Poe shoots over your shoulder and you hear the grunt as one of your pursuers goes down.

You have to outsmart them, lose them before they can follow you to your ship. Everything will have been for nothing if that happens.

It takes more time than you can afford, but finally you can board. You guide Poe to the built in sofa and run to the cockpit, getting ready for take off.

Your hands are shaking.

You can’t breathe.

Your vision is doubling.

It’s blurry.

You smash the buttons, definitely not being careful. The engine rumbles after too long of being dormant. You push the throttle to full blast, not caring if you burned down the entire forest.

Fuck this planet.

You plot a random course, jumping to hyperspace the second you can. You run back to Poe, grabbing the cart of medical supplies. You don’t care about your own wounds, only focused on him.

“They probably,” he starts and you nod, jabbing him with a bacta shot.

“I know. I’m taking precautions.” You mutter, avoiding his face. You can’t look at him. Not now. Not after everything.

“Hey, do you think,” he starts and you clench your jaw together as you wrap his bleeding leg as best you can. “Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now because she misses me so much?” He asks, hissing quietly.

“Yes.” You reply, tying it tight.

“It’s worse than I feared.” He continues and you push yourself up, heading back for the cockpit, not waiting to hear what’s worse.

You take your natural seat, the co-pilot’s chair and take the wheel. Your hands are scraped and bloody from falling, among who knows what else. The secret stitches all over your body pull uncomfortably, you’ve probably ripped them open. They were crude to begin with.

You can’t just sit here. You have to look for tracking beacons. You force yourself to stand and head back through the cabin, avoiding Poe, even though you can feel his dark eyes on you.

You don’t blame him for hating you. He’s in this mess because of you.

You search the entire ship, maintaining your isolation until you drop out of hyperspace. There’s no tracker inside. There’s a decent chance that the ship was never found in the first place. But you have to be sure.

You head back to the cabin and guide the ship to an asteroid, landing on the dark side. You don’t notice the bloody hand prints you’ve left everywhere, mind too wild and overwhelmed with panic.

“Y/N.” Poe starts and you ignore him, grabbing the oxygen mask and lowering the ramp. It’s cold outside the ship, cold enough to turn your fingers blue.

Good. Maybe they’ll freeze and fall off, and then you can’t hurt anyone else.

You climb all over the outside of the ship, checking in absolutely every little space that could hide something like that, but there’s nothing.

Still…

Hesitation eats at you.

You take a minute outside, hiding like a fucking coward, before going back in and starting the engines once more.

“Find anything?” Poe asks from behind you. You jump, smacking your hand on the hyper speed lever as you try to turn.

“Damn it.” You curse quietly, holding your throbbing hand to your midsection. “Go lay down. I’ve got this.” You tell him, turning back around, trying to get your heart to calm the hell down.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you can’t take the look in his eyes, the ones filled with regret.

“Go. I didn’t find anything.” You say shortly and he eases himself into the pilot’s chair-his seat.

He looks over the console, reading all the flashing lights as easily as a second language. “But you’re still light speed skipping?” He frowns, turning to look at you.

You don’t try to make him understand. How can you? Your last gut instinct turned out so bad, he can’t possibly trust you again.

“Safety precaution.” You mumble, flipping some more switches.

He studies you for a minute, the silence dragging on and you want to scream at him to stop, to go away. But you don’t. And the silence drags on.

“Alright.” He says finally. “But you’ll need my help.” He finishes and you squeeze your eyes shut before nodding. You start the flight sequence, your broken heart doing little twists in your chest. You don’t know if this is going to work, or if there’s even a need for it. But you’ve committed now, you have to follow through.

The ship lifts and you hover before punching it to hyperspace. Radar is still clear as you course correct around crazy land masses. Spires of solid rock shoot straight into the sky as you maneuver. Poe’s grip is tight on the wheel, he’s nervous. He doesn’t trust you.

And just as well.

But the realization still hurts. Your best friend has lost all faith in you.

You flip the next switch, lining up the next location and Poe initiates, sending you back into the seat with a painful grunt. He glances at you, but you won’t show weakness, not when he was nothing but strong for you. You can hide this.

Water reflects a brilliantly lit sky, two suns reflect off a glittering lake, almost blinding you as you rocket towards the tree line in the distance. Radar is still clear.

Again, another planet where you’re steering for your life, praying to the Maker that you don’t crash.

Another, and then just one more.

Poe is silent through the whole thing. Realizing you were wrong, you were never being followed, you cheeks heat with shame as you plot the course for home.

“Go clean your hands, I’ve got it from here.” He says finally.

Carefully, painfully, you peel your hands off. The skin, sticky with blood and cuts adheres to the wheel, pinching and pulling as you lift them. Fresh blood rushes to the surface and you hurry from the cockpit to the refresher.

You turn on the water and scrub your hands, removing more skin than you’re cleaning, doing just as much harm as good. Your reflection taunts you in the mirror, staring at you, blaming you. Wildly, you fling it open, exposing the cabinet behind with all of Poe’s things; medicine, shaving supplies. The tightness grows in your throat and you drop your gaze, scrubbing harder, as if that could make everything go away.

Your nose burns and your eyes blur and you sniffle. Maker, you’re fucking crying while Poe is in there, flying the entire ship by himself while he’s injured and you’re in here, crying like a little fucking girl because you feel guilty.

The ship drops out of hyperspace and you crash back into the wall, head smacking the corner of the shower stall. Pain flares down your neck as you struggle to regain your balance.

Poe’s voice comes on the speaker. “Sorry about that. Had to drop out early. Making our descent now.” He tells you.

“Do…” you cut off, your voice rough, and so fucking weak. “D-do you need help?” You manage and the silence drags on.

“No.” Comes the short reply.

You want to wail, to cry. To tell him how fucking sorry you are! You’re sorry for the kiss, and for getting him caught— but he won’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses and bumbling.

You slide to the floor, knees pressed tight against your chest as you try to breathe, try to steady yourself. The tight space helps, and acts as a compression unit. But it’s not enough. Not after everything you’ve done.

You can feel when the ship makes landfall and panic rises in your chest, sheer, blinding panic. The engines cut off and you hope Poe walks right off the ship to get looked at. Your ribs ache with the effort of holding everything in, of being silent.

And then a short knock on the door jolts you. “We’re here, Y/N. We’re home. Open the door.” He says, there’s something strange in his voice and for a moment your heart stutters in your chest. How sure are you that what you brought with you is actually your Poe? Does the First Order have capabilities on this level?

“You go ahead. I’ll b-be out in a minute.” You call and he sighs.

“Open the door.” He repeats.

“Poe, I-... I just need a minute. Please? Go get yourself taken care of.” You plead.

“You have to get looked at, too.” He reminds you.

“I know. I will.” You promise. Just not anywhere he can see you. There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence before you hear him turn and limp away.

You can hear him speaking at the bottom of the ramp, but then there’s a commotion and he’s shouting. Your name is mixed in and you scramble back from the door, already trapped, nowhere to go. Poe’s shouting gets louder, more frantic and tears finally escape as you shove yourself into the shower, twisting to hide. Clearly, this isn’t the resistance you left, the First Order got here before you, tricked Poe into landing. Now they’re going to finish what they started.

The door to the stall is pushed back, revealing a face you thought you recognized, but maybe your mind is playing tricks on you again. Blood loss is making you disoriented.

“Hey, Y/N, glad you’re back.” They say with a smile that seems to warp into something wicked. “Got something for ya, gonna make you feel real good.” He says, already reaching for you.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch m—“ you thrust your arm out to fend him off, but he jabs a huge needle into the crook of your elbow and you cry out as it pinches. “No,” you croak, already feeling weaker. Your knees no longer support you and you slump, falling right into their open arms.

“Get a table.” He barks over your head and you try to struggle. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay. You’re home now.” He promises, scooping you up and setting you gently on a flat surface. Foggy memories try to claw through the sedative, trying to warn you.

You try to roll off the table, you need to escape, you need to make sure Poe is safe. This is all your fault.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” He says, catching your wrists and securing them to the table. You try to scream, looking around frantically. Faces are blurry, dissolving as the sedative claims you. You can hear Poe shouting your name as he tries to reach you. People are holding him back, stopping him from taking your hand.

“Give her another dose, she’s fighting it.” The man above you says. The last thing you see before everything goes dark is Poe, fighting to get to you.

***

The hike to their base is long. It takes about half a day for them to march you back there. Made worse by the fact that your arms are bound so tightly behind your back that you’re losing feeling.

Poe keeps looking at you to make sure you’re okay, but other than that, he won’t talk to you. You want to tell him you’re sorry for getting him caught, for kissing him and distracting him. And the way he won’t talk to you, the way he keeps cutting off your sentences tells you that he blames you, too.

The troopers are content to watch you trip and fall, laughing as they drag you to your feet again. Sometimes they’ll even purposely trip you just to watch you struggle.

One time in particular, if you had just fallen where their boot caught your ankle, you would have been fine. But you try to right yourself, stumbling forward awkwardly for a few steps before falling and bouncing your head off a rock. Your name manages to hiss through Poe’s clenched jaw, but other than that, nothing. You’re hauled unceremoniously to your feet and shoved forward, but you can feel blood trickling down your face.

They finally lead you into their base, sore and bruised, dragging you through the sterile halls until shoving you both into a room.

It’s a dark room, red lights dotting the walls sporadically. In the middle, two upright restraining tables facing each other.

Just like in your dream.

Chapter 6

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[venusoliver]

The Taste of Sweet Silk on Your Lips; Chapter 11 BTS

NOTE: This post will discuss plot points from Chapter 11 my Ao3 fanfiction, The Taste of Sweet Silk on Your Lips. Please refrain from reading further if you'd like to avoid spoilers!

This chapter, if I'm not mistaken, is my longest chapter yet. Woah.

I've almost completely strayed from my original outline. Almost. For the past couple of chapters my outline didn't reasonate with the final result at all, but I think I'm starting to get back on track.

The BDSM chapters are always the most difficult. There's a lot of terminology that can come into play rather quickly, not to mention the struggle to keep things consistent and clear. (Where are Mikasa's hands? How do I describe that? How do I phrase this differently than the last three paragraphs I wrote? Okay, hold on, what's a synonym for—)

Long story short, it's a handful. But when I'm done writing the chapter, when I can finally delete "DRAFT" from the title of my chapter page, it's a feeling I don't feel to often.

I feel proud of myself. And that's an amazing thing :D

But along with BDSM chapters comes references!

Now, my original plan was to actually watch live BDSM performances online. I watched a very solid handful before I started writing this fic, and I learned quite a lot, but in the end..

I'm a procrastinator, okay?

My schoolwork was starting to pile up. I was failing multiple classes (I'm only failing one now, yay for me!), and what does my brain do when there's actual work to be done? Not that. Anything but that.

Now, writing my fic isn't work. I LOVE writing this fic. But typing out extensive cartography notes and typing out prolonged sexual tension can start to get grouped together, and before I knew it—

A week had passed since my last update. That's always when I start to get anxious.

So, instead of taking this slow and watching low-quality footage of shibari clubs in russia, it was just me— my brain— and a very aggressive google searching session.

In the end, I'm still very happy with how things went.

The issue arose initially when I just.. couldn't find the right references. I had the picture in my head of what was going on, but I still needed a picture to look at so that my descriptions wouldn't become to vague and absurd.

Let's start off easy, Mikasa's lingerie.

I had a lot of options when deciding what Mikasa should wear. Something risque, of course, but nothing too revealing. It was a tough decision, but I think this picture does my vision justice! Aside from the shoes. Mikasa is a little too powerful in heels like that.

The next order of business was getting references for the bondage rigging.

The spreader bar was easy. Legs spread, bar in the middle, you're good to go!

Next up was the harness. I had a couple of other options I was debating when deciding on what type of harness I wanted on Mikasa. I originally went with something more dainty, with thinner rope and smaller knots— but once I decided on suspension-esqe rigging near the end of the performance, it only made sense for the harness to be more secure.

As for the arms.. that was the most difficult part of this chapter. Finding a reference, writing it out— when I go back to make minor revisions on the fic (grammatical errors)— it's going to be very hard to stop myself from rewriting that portion of the chapter.

The sheer joy that raced through me when I found this image is unmatched. I had scoured the internet looking for a clean, clear reference for what I wanted. After rephrasing my google search multiple times (shibari arm rigging, arms behind head, arms behind head shibari, etc.)— and praying I wouldn't have to use a p 0rn screenshot as reference, I found this image.

This is precisely what I was going for with her arms. Mikasa is a very fit woman, and I don't doubt that she wouldn't have a problem getting her arms behind herself like this.

In my mind when I pictured Mikasa bent at the hip, legs spread wide, arms lifted upwards behind her— this is precisely the position I envisioned her arms in. I used that reference when describing the actual rigging for the arms as well.

But enough about all the k!nky stuff! This chapter was a lot more sentimental than originally planned.

I'm consistently at odds with myself when writing these chapters, trying to give them the smut I intended while also making their relationship believable.

I ship these two insanely hard, but their dynamic is a really tough one to pinpoint and make work.

They're both very cold and shut off from people in day to day life, so for their relationship to work— they need to be forced together, and they have to be in a situation where their stubbornness pulls them closer rather than pries them apart.

With all of that to keep in mind, bringing in some fluffy aspects is crucial. It makes their connection make more sense. After all, neither one of this girl's is doing random hookups. Not often, anyway.

The fluff ended up coming organically. Even if their performance this chapter was still just a performance and not an actual BDSM scene, aftercare still comes into play.

Hitch and Annie had a far different dynamic because they were friends. They were friends, and experienced in the BDSM scene. They're able to perform without getting emotionally invested— because they don't love each other romantically. There's not this same intimate connection.

As for Mikasa and Annie, it's completely different. Annie loves Mikasa to the point that she's risking quite a lot to keep the girl in her life. Mikasa is new to the scene, but she's enthralled by the idea of letting down her guard and letting someone else pull the reigns for once.

They compliment each other in an intimate, romantic, and s3xual way. The performance itself and the aftermath should reflect that.

So, it does! I found myself smiling quite a bit at the end of the chapter. I really do love these two.

The next chapter will include full fledged smut, thank goodness. I'm both nervous and excited to start writing the chapter. But, for now, I'm probably gonna get some rest.

Thank you all so much for your support. I wouldn't still be writing this fic if I didn't know that there were people out there who enjoyed my work. It makes me smile even when I'm struggling :) I hope to see you all again when I post the next chapter. Thanks so much!!