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littlesparklight · 4 years ago

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Princes and Cowherds

First part for a short fic (though longer than this, obviously) dealing with Paris’ discovery. I never really could like the later prophecy-exposure background for Paris, since they have him rejoin his biological family when he’s something like 16-19? And the Iliad itself always gave me the feeling he’s lived with them for a majority of his life, and you don’t get any indication any of the prophecy or exposure is a THING (bet it would have been mentioned otherwise), but I find I like it better if you make Paris younger. :)

Huffing and puffing through swaying firs, a cooling wind somewhere up above but not reaching down to Hektor, was a terrible way to get lost. Two hours ago Hektor hadn't yet admitted that lost was what he was, but by now it was inevitable. The two hunting spears, light as they were, weighed on his shoulder and his thighs and calves were protesting their cruel treatment since Hektor had so far refused to stop walking even to just sit down and rest for a couple minutes.

If he stopped, after all, he would be those extra few minutes away from getting un-lost, and the sooner Hektor got himself back on familiar ground, the better.

It still grated a little that Mount Ida should be where he'd gotten lost. He'd been here a couple times on hunting trips with his father and Aisakos, after all. Of course, he hadn't taken himself all the way to Shepherd Cottage just for this hunting trip, and when they'd always set out from there previously, perhaps it wasn't so strange that he might have taken a step wrong, at some point. If that was so, however, Hektor thought he should've found his way back to his starting point hours ago. All this, too, and all he had to show for it was a couple rabbits. He'd passed a deer or two, scared into graceful flight by his passing, but he couldn't exactly drag a whole deer around, even if it wasn't a stag in antlers, though they were all growing them in, still, at this time of year. At the very least he didn't have to admit to responsibility of having had the chance to know the mountain better by way of the traditional sheep herding, because he'd only just started out. The royal princes of Troy no longer necessarily spent any part of their stint herding sheep up on Mount Ida unless they truly wanted the full experience, and Hektor had, until now, rather intended to skip it.

Maybe he really ought to learn to know the mountain better, since that would at least ensure something like this didn't happen again, and actually going through the full effort of spending some time on Mount Ida with the sheep would help with that.

"Stupid," Hektor muttered, stomping along what looked like a possible path, and if he was supposed to get lost he was at least glad he was alone for it. He would have died if anyone caught him out like this, not knowing what he was doing or where he was going. He was fifteen, after all, not eleven! And with Aisakos gone just last year, his father needed someone he could depend on.

But who could depend on an oldest son and prince who got lost?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Groaning, Hektor finally gave up and stopped, running a hand down his face. Just for a little while. He needed to catch his breath, and maybe looking around while standing still would give him a better hint as to what part of the mountain he'd ended up on.

Unfortunately, the widely spaced, majestic firs looked no different now than they had in the last hour or more, and the only paths, barely obvious in the sparse undergrowth and the mat of pine needles, were animal ones. If humans walked past here, they didn't do so with enough regularity to mark their passing. Squinting up at the sky visible past the treetops, Hektor grunted. He knew he needed to go slopewards at the very least, but he could swear he'd been doing exactly that at several points, and yet he was nowhere near the foothills. Angrily, he almost shoved one of his spears down into the ground, but took a breath, let it out slowly, and shook his head. Losing his temper would solve nothing. Tossing his spears about as if he was a two year old having a tantrum would solve nothing. If this took until tomorrow to solve, it was not a catastrophe - he had food, water could surely easily be found, and it was summer. If it did start to rain, he could deal with getting wet.

In the distance, a rolling crack of noise, as if in answer to a certainly not meant challenge, sounded, making Hektor's teeth itch.

"Great." Sighing, Hektor looked around once more, this time in hopeful search for a potential shelter, even if it wasn't necessary that the thunder would come with rain, and then frowned. Tipped his head and cupped a hand about the ear, but no, he wasn't mistaken.

Singing.

Actually having registered it now, Hektor realized he'd heard it on and off for the last hour, maybe even the last two hours, at least.

It took him about a couple minutes of dithering, shifting on his feet and taking a step in the seeming direction of the noise, catching himself, doing it again, before he gave in. He was highly unlikely to ever run into whatever hunter or herdsman was out up here, so asking for a pointer to find his way back down to Dardanos wouldn't hurt. Much. He wasn't much at all charmed by the idea of having to ask a peasant or slave for directions, no matter if he should never see them again.

That the singing could be something other than mortal was, of course, not something that escaped him, but Hektor decided it was better to take the risk, and a nymph would be far better than a mortal hunter or herdsman, if only in how well she'd known her own home. For as tricky as it at first was to find the source of the singing, when Hektor stepped out into a sloping mountain meadow dotted with a small herd of cattle, he was pretty sure he was dealing with human singing, and thus human limitations on what might transpire.

The cows, at least, with three calves about their legs and making mad, dashing forays across the meadow, were certainly normal enough. Huge placid eyes followed his path across the meadow, through high, drying grass and around bushes, and were little bothered by him. Their neatheard Hektor found sitting on a rock by a narrow rivulet of water barely deep enough to swamp a finger's breadth of grass with itself.

A child, nothing more, so long-haired Hektor was wondering if it was a little girl, maybe a little less than ten years of age, especially considering the flower crown atop the child's head.

"Greetings," Hektor said as the singing broke off, and was treated to a gap-toothed smile after a startled, wide-eyed moment of staring. The child then jumped off their perch, flapping a hand to the rock.

"Hello. Do you need to sit? The slope is pretty steep!"

Bristling, Hektor, swallowed his pride with a sigh. At least he hadn't said he looked tired, but surely, after walking all the way past noon, he must look rather bedraggled, particularly in this heat. So he sat, eyeing his potential guide. A boy, probably, even if the child's voice was one of the sweetest he'd ever heard. When he wasn't singing, it was a shade more possible to tell, and while he was graceful, there was a certain boniness to the future promise of lanky build that made Hektor feel certain of his judgement.

"It is," he agreed, dropping his spears and the rabbits at his feet, caught by the wilting flowers spread around the stone. Looked up, to the fresh crown on top of those shining-soft brown curls, and wondered if the boy had woven himself a new flower crown at the first sign of his old one starting to fail in the heat. That was... dedication, he supposed. "Do you live near Dardanos?"

There was, after all, no real graceful way of asking for help without asking if the boy could help, and if he lived in some small mountain village somewhere up here, he would probably not be able to. Biting down on a groan, Hektor stretched his legs out as the boy blinked and then shrugged. His eyes were very large, and blue-green like a shallow sea, and Hektor could swear he'd not even seen comely maidens with as pretty cheeks as this boy had. He looked more as if he should be a prince than a cowherd in rough spun linen, the tunic he wore a little too long for him - something to grow into.

"Oh, yes. I like going all the way up here, most don't bother, but it means the grazing is good." The boy nodded, and little winks of light caught in carefully twisted metal hair ornaments spread out in his hair; they were clearly not meant to tame the curls. Rather, all they did was draw the eye to the thick fall of them, even if the metal must be cheap and the decoration of the ornaments sparse, if any at all. They did match the twisted bit of woven grass on one wrist, and on the other hung another bracelet of beads, a little chipped and colour fading, maybe, but nice enough for all that. Hektor wondered why the boy's parents would put such effort into making him look like this, when he clearly sat out among his cows most of the time.

But maybe it wasn't just, or only, the boy's parents. The fresh flower crown, and it wasn't a messy, slapdash work either, did attest to the child's own interest, as strange as that was.

"So you know the way down to the city from here? You need to tell me, then."

The boy opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared at Hektor for a squint-eyed moment, then shook his head, causing another glittering rush through his hair. "I could, if you want. But it might be easier if you just waited, and we could go down at the same time. The path isn't very simple, though maybe there's a better one I don't know."

It was Hektor's turn to draw breath and then snap his teeth shut around words unsaid, as much as he wanted to demand the child give him directions. Or maybe grab him by that skinny arm and drag him down the mountain, cows or no cows. But the boy had work to do, and clearly took it seriously. As well as, potentially, just trying to look out for the stupid, lost stranger who'd just asked him for directions down the mountain.

"Besides," the boy commented in the silence Hektor left, "would you rather walk down the mountain wet, or wait, and walk down dry?"

"What makes you think it's going to start raining anytime soon?" Hektor scowled, not liking the reminder. He didn't much like the idea of walking down the mountain for a couple hours, sopping wet, but he could deal with it.

"The thunder, of course." Somehow, the boy managed to sound as if it was obvious, but not as if he thought Hektor was stupid for asking. Or maybe not much, at least. "And those clouds."

One hand shielding eyes that made Hektor think of his father or Anchises or Aeneas, drawing to mind the rivers and their daughters, the boy pointed off south, the mountain falling off to the east and the slopes stretching out wooded and wavy. Beyond, above, was indeed a towering weight of roiling clouds, chasing the sun and soon to overtake it. Hektor opened his mouth and flinched as a drop of water hit him on his cheekbone, then his nose. He found new words to voice instead of what he'd intended to say.

"We're more exposed up here, what is to keep us drier than the moderate shelter offered by the pines?"

The meadow, after all, was empty aside from the cattle, their neatherd, stones, and Hektor himself. The boy grinned and waved at him.

"This way!" He whistled, though the cows were already moving, and so Hektor slotted himself at the head - behind the child - of a little parade of cattle as they walked up the meadow, to the cliffs at the other end.

Hektor should perhaps have expected the cave, large enough to hold the whole little herd as well as allowing himself and the boy to sit near the entrance, dry enough as the clouds darkened the sky completely and upended their contents. Once again dropping his spears and the rabbits as he sat down, Hektor stared at the view outside. The rain obscured the meadow, leaving on a fuzzy curtain of water to see, and so Hektor glanced to the boy sitting on the ground, legs folded at the ankles and studying him.

"What?" he asked as the child shook his head, and maybe it was only the lack of sharp contrast between light and shadow now that the sun was gone and they were sitting in the softer shadows of the cave, but the boy reminded Hektor of several of his own brothers. "What's your name?"

"Paris," he proclaimed, and then fearlessly - and quite shamelessly, too - peered at Hektor, from his red leather shoes to the heavy fringe along the bottom of his tunic and the sturdy belt, made of good leather and with golden inlays of a double-headed eagle, up to the fillet with its winged sun. "And you, my lord, look like I should be bowing in your presence."

He didn't, to note, and Hektor snorted, more charmed than he would admit. "You probably should, as I am Hektor, son of Priam and Hecuba, but if you should tell me you are the son of some Dardanian noble, it wouldn't surprise me in the least - your looks are those of a prince, not a common cowherd."

"My father's name is Agelaos, no slave, but a common man of Dardanos," Paris said with a shrug, but by his straight back and the sparkle of his eyes, he was undeniably preening for Hektor's judgement of what blood he should have. It seemed improbable, still, that such a plain background should produce a child like that. Thunder followed, startling both of them as well as the cows, the sound so loud the cave rather rung with it and followed near immediately by a thick, branching bolt of lightning across the sky. The flash of over-saturated light threw Paris' awed, wide-eyed little face in sharp relief, and Hektor once against felt as if he was looking at a sibling - one of his sisters, perhaps. The glint of metal ornaments in his lush curls didn't help matters.

"A kind father, surely, if one who indulges your comeliness a bit much." Hektor frowned as he looked Paris over. Honestly, it was a little concerning. Shouldn't Agelaos take more care when Paris carried what little finery he wore as if it might as well be a princess' array of jewels, and his precise way of sitting down had left the bottom of the tunic nicely spread, despite that it should be bunching up, large as it was? Paris was far too aware of himself.

"It makes me feel nice," Paris said, childish pout only making the severity of the words all the more ridiculous. "And my father doesn't really like it, but he doesn't stop me, either."

He looked away, staring out at the rain with the pout lingering on his face. Hektor didn't miss the twitch and shift of his arms that might have been Paris about to pull his legs up against himself, but catching himself before he did so, clearly self-conscious in front of such a well-born stranger despite his bold looks and words so far. Hektor shook his head.

"You should listen to h--- What's this?" Hektor reached out, having to lean over to graze fingertips along a fragile, jutting little collarbone, though that hadn't been his goal. His goal was the thin chain around Paris' neck, disappearing in under the tunic's hem.

"It's mine." Paris leaned away from Hektor, shuffling up against the cave wall, but the entrance was only a little wider than a cow and her calf, and so he didn't get very far without getting up and moving deeper inside the cave.

"It's gold," Hektor said, up on his feet, one hand sweeping down himself, but he hadn't been wearing anything about his neck, only a broad wrist cuff and a couple rings, and the other reaching for Paris. Paris struggled up to his feet, and clearly he wasn't stupid - he whirled around towards the cave's opening, but Hektor lurched forward, grabbed him by the waist and hauled him back.

"Let go! It's not yours!" Paris howled, surprisingly vicious and with quick elbows and hard little fists, more than one that Hektor got to his chin and stomach until he trapped Paris between his legs and against his torso, those maybe eight year old little wrists narrow enough for him to hold him still with one hand long enough to yank the chain out of Paris' tunic. After a moment or two Hektor gave up on pulling it over Paris' head, for his rich crown of curls were far too thick and long for him to easily free it when Paris was still wriggling around.

"Maybe not, but I don't believe it's yours either," Hektor said slowly, staring down at the medallion in his hand.

It was gold, and clearly kept lovingly polished for the shine of it even in the rain-shadowed cave. A double-headed eagle crowned by a winged sun decorated one side, which meant that unless if had come from south of the Troad, by some travelling messenger or noble, perhaps, it must have come from either Capys' or Priam's house.

"It is," Paris insisted, breathless and high, and shoved himself against Hektor so suddenly he almost lost his grip on Paris' wrists. One small, bare foot found his own, and leather wasn't exactly enough to protect against an angry eight year old stomping down. Hektor grunted, but couldn't really make himself discipline his little thief. "My father gave it to me, as a memento of my parents! He found it with me when he picked me up! It's not my fault it looks like your belt."

"... Picked you up?" Hektor asked as he slowly turned the medallion over. The back was smooth, except for the thin, scratchy lines of hieroglyphs messily inscribed there, clearly done well after the medallion had been made. He rubbed his thumb over them, frowning. "... Alexander?"

"You can read?" Paris breathed, and if it weren't for the small foot still digging its heel into Hektor's toes, the wriggle would have been pure excitement.

"I can," Hektor said, lightly - and far too kindly, definitely - jostling Paris with his legs. "Answer me."

"I was abandoned on the mountain in early spring. A bear apparently nursed me! Father said he didn't even have to chase her away, she just moved away when he came across her. And I was wearing that." Paris nodded to the medallion currently held taut away from his neck.

"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" Hektor snorted, but he tightened his grip on the medallion. Paris had said it with far too much nonchalance, as if it was something he'd heard many times, and while that could easily be a story made up to make an abandoned child feel better, it didn't change the fact of the existence of the medallion. The bear might be ridiculous, the sort of thing taken from any number of stories of mortal children of gods abandoned by their fearful mothers and nursed by an animal or other until found, but the medallion was mundane. It was the sort of thing you'd leave with a baby, even if you might have chosen to expose it for whatever reason.

The hastily scratched in Alexander on the back made Hektor's stomach churn.

"It's the truth," Paris huffed, stomping his little foot - the one he still had on top of Hektor's own foot.

Hektor closed his eyes as he jostled Paris again, hand so tight about the medallion his knuckles ached. Would his parents expose a child? It wasn't that he had a particularly terrible memory, no matter what Deiphobos might say since he liked to insist he remembered everything from the time he'd learned to walk, which Hektor didn't believe a whit of, but it was harder to remember his mother not being pregnant than whenever she was. He honestly couldn't say if she'd been pregnant or not when he'd been seven. Taking a breath and holding it for a beat or two, Hektor let the medallion drop back against Paris' chest and pulled him back, away from his foot. He did keep a grip on Paris' arms, and straightened up, trying to summon as much princely severity as he was capable of. The fact that Paris, if only for a beat, dipped his head a shade before he stubbornly turned his head and looked away was encouraging.

"We're going to talk to your father. Can I trust you not to run off, if I let go?"

Paris' little mouth wobbled, firmed. He looked back at Hektor with wide, wide eyes, though he tried to straighten up and stick his chin out.

"You're not going to take it? Or hurt my parents?"

Hektor stared at him, and silently admitted he probably deserved that, even if he wasn't sure what Paris thought he could do against a full-grown man. He did have his hunting spears as well as a large knife at his belt, admittedly. So he said nothing in his defense, just sighed. Thankfully it was drowned out by another roll of thunder.

"I'm not. I just want answers, and I think your father can give them."

"Answers for what?" Paris frowned, the lightning - more distant than the first two - throwing him in half relief, shadows stark and his hair a pale halo worthy of any mortal child of a god.

"That's what your father needs to tell me," Hektor said, refusing to consider just yet that maybe it wasn't Paris' father who needed to answer, but rather his own.

#greek mythology #the iliad #trojan war #hector of troy #paris of troy #lightart

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julianwinchester · 5 years ago

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1ST PROJECT

1. How are you settling in - how do you feel about being part of your tutor group?

Fine. I can just get my head down and work if I’m on a good thread and I want to and don’t feel overly distracted or frustrated with other people, but I haven’t really gotten to know any one closely yet. I enjoy being in a space where all I have to focus on is being creative and especially doing work I personally enjoy making.

2. What are your first impressions of the learning environment?

Fairly self-guided, I could ask for certain materials if needed. Getting out of it what I put in, little direct tutoring so far.

3. What are the differences to your previous learning and experience at A-Level?

I didn’t take any art classes at sixth form, so being in a space just dedicated to art is what I was looking for.

4. What if anything, do you need to find more about?

-What we actually do and don’t have access to in terms of materials, spaces, and guidance from tutors/other teachers with experience relevant to what you’re doing

-What is actually expected of you in the sketchbooks- my tutor says that it shouldn’t be a scrapbook and yet every well-graded sketchbook I’ve seen is very much a scrapbook. Do I need to write this much? Or is this too little?

-How to try different materials and get taught how to use them (ceramics, textiles, woodwork)

5. Where do you see yourself currently in terms of art/design/media?

-I have interests in working in all three areas and like the overlap between them.

6. What are your current strengths?

-Concepts, coming up with ideas out of the gate and being confident with them.

-Eye for design/what works visually and what doesn’t.

-It doesn’t take long for me to pick up what I’ve tried so far in Photoshop.

7. What are the areas you need to improve on?

-Follow-through on ideas I like but am not sure how to do

-Explaining/documenting my process- big problem at GCSE. I usually hate writing down my thought process after the fact, but I don’t mind explaining it out loud, so finding a way to bridge that gap

-Working from home

8. Record some actions that will help you achieve this.

-Document my reflections/notes/creative process in a more natural, train of thought way as I work so I don’t put it off

Week 2 09/09/18 - 13/09/19

1. How did you understand the rationale for the project?

Broadly, I understood it as making work which was true to our interests/interpretations of a particular subject, which we derived from the initial conversation and brainstorm we had in groups.

2. How have you made use of your studio time?

Sketching and writing in my sketchbook, testing materials, making pieces unsure if they were going to be a part of my final piece or not

3. What is your understanding of the “Creative Process” and how it applies to your way of Working?

Basically creating, scrapping and elaborating on ideas as they come to you- actively making inspiration. Testing materials/ideas/recycling/borrowing concepts regardless of whether or not they will work and trusting your own intuition/taste. “Sketching and writing in my sketchbook, testing materials, making pieces unsure if they were going to be a part of my final piece or not”

4. How have the contextual references you have found helped you think about new approaches to your work?

The book “No Sleep” by Adrian Bartos has been a huge inspiration so far- seeing how nightclub and event promoters designed flashy, attractive and personality-filled posters considering the lack of resources compared to what I’m capable of in Photoshop has made me want to take advantage of the platofrm even more, and have more fun with the design. Design elements like dithering, blocky type, collage, and repurposing sha

5. How have the practical and material elements of the work gone? (a) have you kept Notes?

Working with ink is fun and something I’m used to, but smudging and miswriting can be frustrating considering the inital aesthetic I was going for was meant to be more clean and technical. Later, while I moved into digital collage, all of my base materials were physical, and working with plasticine meant that I was also able to experiment in how the texture of the clay turns into the black and white, dithered aesthetic of the collages that I was doing. For much of the early project, yes, I’ve kept notes, but I tend to forget to while working digitally

6. What could you do better in the future / what are your plans for next week?

Write and make notes in my sketchbook/blog while working, rather than having to go back and write them after the fact.

7. Have you started photographing your work, keeping the images in a relevant folder?

Yes.

8. You had a tutorial this week, how might you use that to reflect on your progress?

Figure out if I’m making the right kind of notes/how to make those right kinds of notes.

FURTHER NOTES:

There were certainly points during class-time where I had to find things to do and procrastinated, which has been a consistent problem for me in the past. This was especially true in documenting; while I was happy to go crazy and spend lots of time working in Photoshop on my collages, it was really mostly by chance that I came across that idea and from messing around with Adobe Capture on my phone, which is not the most sustainable model of working.

I had a blast researching posters from New York’s nightclub scene in the 70s, 80s and 90s, pretty much completely incidentally when we were asked to pick out books at the library at the beginning of this week

MEDIA - THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG

Week 3 - Art/Media/Design Projects 16/09/19 - 20/09/19

First project, personal directions:

1. How well did you respond to the first project brief?

Considering the brief was (I believe purposefully) vague, and with my understanding the first brief was mostly about thinking in the creative process and being open to radical shifts in direction, I thought I fulfilled it well.

2. how well did you use your time this week?

I was really happy with the notes I made initially, and the idea of indiscriminately writing down every idea relevant to the project. I became kind of latched onto this idea of creating colourful, noisy gifs or short videos and I spent a lot of early class time working on the sound bytes for them, none of which I ended up using for my final pieces. A similar thing happened with experimenting with physical animation and a phenakistoscope, and it was frustrating feeling like I wasn’t really going anywhere with those ideas. However, I felt like they are getting me closer to my original idea.

Week 8 Art/Media/Design Projects 21/10/19 - 25/10/19

Third project, identifying future directions:

1. Identify overlapping themes, particularly in your personally directed work:

a. are there connections between ideas, approaches to materials or attitudes

that you have you used in all or any of these projects. If so, what are they? If

not, what are the main differences?

-Digital collage has ended up being something I used a lot more than I anticipated I would, since most of the work I’ve made independently before the Foundation year has been gouache and physical collage. I definitely follow the same process of sketching out mostly complete final piece ideas and doing extensive research, but I’ve also found that both projects have had a pretty radical change half-way through.

-I think research being a big part of my projects is a consistent theme for me, but I also consistently have a hard time documenting all the progress, since I’m not sure how to in most cases.

-In terms of consistent themes, all three were relatively different in themes; Media had to do with the supernatural, which is a theme I’m familiar with and interested in, and involved dipping my toes into animation and sound design; Art was based off of an idea I had had well before the project, and involved participatory art being being in a more curatorial role.

Compare how you have used your time between this project and the last. Consider

being open to different ideas and potential changes in direction.

exploring and evaluating different material possibilities.

creating more complex or unexpected outcomes.

developing an understanding of different artists and designers working in a similar area.

creating a better understanding of the different approaches to practice in each area.

presenting and/or explaining your ideas to others.

-I think organisation and note-taking has been a problem on both projects, I want to make the split between in-studio and at-home work more proportional, with time management being more of a problem with this project especially.

-I definitely haven’t been afraid to change direction, almost to a fault, since I closely documented every thought/decision that has gone through my head

Looking back over the last eight weeks are there patterns emerging in how you manage your project work?

-I definitely either latch strongly onto an initial idea, or don’t have one at all and do research, and I have a hard time working in that in-between stage when I need to develop an idea (especially if it’s one I don’t feel strongly about, such as with this current project.

Begin to outline your own particular strengths and weaknesses in relation to all of these approaches. Consider where/ how you fit into these different ways of working.

-I enjoy the research and

-Documentation in general is difficult for me, as it was at GCSE, especially since I have been tending to do all my digital work and research digitally. However, I really enjoy doing research for my work (something I have been doing for a long time, looking up references/inspiration/learning about the subject) the problem is just in getting my thought process and research down.

-I tend to treat the prompt or brief pretty flexibly, which hasn’t been such a problem on the first two projects since experimentation and being open to ideas was a major part of them. Despite the specificity of the Design project’s prompts, and my confidence in how I was going to approach my second try at that project (Switching from the Train Station to the Selfridge’s prompt)

List some of the artists, designers, photographers and filmmakers that have had the most influence on you in the last eight weeks.

what disciplines or areas do they work in?

what subjects did they study?

-Stephen R. Johnston

-Charles Freger

-Mason Lindroth

Use this week’s reflections to identify, or confirm possible future career directions.

-This last project has gotten me thinking about Illustration as a career differently. My initial difficulty with the Design project, criticism I received from my tutor about approaching the Selfridge’s brief by design rather than brand, and the fact that I changed briefs halfway through all of this project made it more frustrating than the previous ones, which is slightly discouraging because it was apparently the most “illustration-y” of the three, and illustration was the pathway I was considering choosing.

Ensure you have your Digital Portfolio updated.

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scarlett-ice · 6 years ago

Note

I've got a ColdFlash prompt for you! If you want it, and you like it and all Hogwarts AU where Len is a highly intelligent Slytherin and Barry is a highly intelligent Gryffindor, and everyone expects them to hate each other but they end up bonding due to the fact that both of them might as well been Ravenclaw (of course using their intelligece for very different ends)

Thank you for the prompt! HP AUs are a weakness of mine and while this was a little tricky, I’m quite happy with how it turned out! :)

When the hat had beenplaced on Barry’s head, it dithered.

You’ve got quite a thirst for knowledge, Mr.Allen, though it seems focused on rather specific topics I see. A brain like yours could certainly thrive inRavenclaw but no, there’s a fire in you, a courage in you that could only benurtured in…

“Gryffindor!”

While Barry wouldn’thave minded Ravenclaw, the nice red-headed girl he’d met on the train was convincedshe’d be put there, Barry was proud to be in the same house as his father. As it did turn out, Cisco, the other boy he’dmet on the train, along with Caitlin, did get put into Ravenclaw however Iris,his foster sister, was also put into Gryffindor. There was one other boy who caught Barry’sattention, a boy who Professor McGonagall called out as Leonard Snart. Barry was certain he’d seen Leonardpick-pocketing on the platform and as the hat put him into Slytherin, Barryvowed to keep an eye on him.

The rivalry wasunintentional but necessary. Barry hadalways prided himself on his potions skills and he refused to be beaten by theboy who had pick-pocketed on the platform, who had definitely been helping Slytherin cheat during the last Quidditchgame and threw potions into the cauldron like he didn’t care and they still ended up perfect.

By the end ofChristmas, their scores in potions were tied for best and while Cisco andCaitlin tried to tell him it wasn’t that big a deal, that they had theremainder of the year to go still, it frustrated Barry. He’d debated going to the Professor about hisbeliefs that Len was cheating (he hadto be, he wasn’t even looking at half the stuff he put in there!) butconsidering the man had taken points off of Gryffindor for him just sneezing,he knew there wasn’t much point.

No, this required himgoing to the source himself, though, he did wait until Leonard was alone. Just because Barry was a Gryffindor, hewasn’t suicidal. Although, keeping his coolbecame a lot harder when Leonard just laughed at him.

“What can I say, somepeople are just gifted,�� Leonard said, smirking.

“You don’t even seemto care about the potion! You have to becheating somehow,” Barry replied angrily, on the verge of stomping his foot.

Leaning back againstthe wall, Leonard folded his arms. “Wantto bet on it? A competition to make onepotion, just you and me. No books oranything. It can be the potion we didlast time, cure for boils. Whoever makesit best, or makes it in the quickest time, wins.”

Thoughts of beingcaught breaking school rules didn’t even cross Barry’s mind as he just growledout, “Fine. When and where?”

“There’s a room onthe seventh floor. It only appears when you desperately want something. It should have everything we need. We can meet there, say, seven pm tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there.”

Like most storiesthat are meant be secret tend to do at Hogwarts, rumours of the great potion’scompetition spreads throughout Hogwarts, lasting for years to come as Barry andLen are made the figureheads of their respective houses. It doesn’t help thatthe pair are both made seekers, Barry in their second year, Len in theirthird. Whereas Barry is the faster ofthe pair, Len is the master of tricks and distractions and his actions borderon a foul all too often. Len didn’tmatch Barry in becoming Prefect, however it almost became like a new game tosee if Barry would be able to foil Len’s latest plot in time. Oh, they were mostly harmless, the tricks Lenplanned, and so he’d only ever been threatened a couple of times withexpulsion, but they could be very, very annoying, especially depending on whothey were aimed at.

What the majority ofstudents didn’t know, however, was that most evenings you’d be hard-pressed tofind Barry or Len. You could lookeverywhere, but you would never find them and that was because they were in a secretroom, a room that they allowed them to hide for as long as they wanted to.

“You are not kissingme during my speech,” said Barry, rolling his eyes but a fond grin on his face.

“You always say youwant me to be more romantic,” Len argued playfully. “What was the point of all this secrecy ifnot for the big reveal?”

Barry raised aneyebrow, “I think you’ve found plenty to enjoy from it.”

“So have you, I’m fairlycertain you wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for me,” Len smirked, flicking Barry’sHead Boy badge. “In fact, if it wasn’t for me you might not even be here today.”

“And if it wasn’t forme, neither might you.”

The truth of the potion’sincident went like this. The pair had startedoff well, both focused on getting a head start, but it had soon dissolved intothe inevitable bickering. In fact, soonthe pair got into such a heated argument that neither noticed Barry’s cauldronturning a dangerous maroon colour. Lennoticed just in time to jump in front of Barry and cast a shield charm, whichBarry had to do himself seconds later when Len’s potion also exploded. It turns out, saving each other’s lives was agreat bonding experience and their embarrassment at just what had happenedmeant they agreed no one would know the truth of what actually went down thatevening. And then, because it turned outto be pretty amusing, apart from their close friends, no one knew that they actuallygot along very well. Well enough tobegin dating in their third year.

“Okay, you can take thatout right now. I am not calling you my snookums in front of the whole school!”

Len sighed dramatically, flicking his wand and removing the beautifully wordedsentence. “One would think you don’tlove me, Barry.”

Again, Barry rolledhis eyes but his smile softened. “You know I do. Compromise then, at the end you can set offthose fireworks I confiscated from you.”

Len grinned. Unbeknownst to Barry, there’d been a veryspecial reason he’d let his boyfriend confiscate them. Honestly, he was happy towait until after graduation to use them but…it would certainly kill two birdswith one stone. Anyway, Barry couldn’tbe too mad during his own proposal now, could he?

“And this, BarryAllen, is why I love you.”

#coldflash #hp au #writing #ficlet #prompt

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prioritysurkesh · 7 years ago

Text

More than Gratitude

Pairing: Pathfinder Raeka/Sis!Ryder

Rating: MA

Warnings: Xenophilia, graphic sex, and inapproriate use of the Dalatrass title.

Summary: A sequel to A Pathfinder’s Gratitude. A PWP with a Part II, but get this: it’s longer than the last one and has some feels in it. It also features some speculative headcanons about sex taboos in salarian culture, which I swing backwards and forwards between but wanted to include for Raeka’s character.

If you enjoyed this and have an idea for a short story or PWP about any salarian character, or just want to talk about salarians tbh, then drop me a line.

Word count: 5609

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Sara fidgeted nervously outside the door to Pathfinder Raeka’s quarters. Naturally, considering the unexpected events of the pairs last meeting, she’d been ecstatic to receive the summons to Ark Paarchero. Now that she was here, however, she felt more bashful than a school girl; shifting her weight from foot to foot, adjusting and re-adjusting her hair, taking calming breath after calming breath.

Should I have dressed up?

Giving herself a once over, she pulled the zip of her leather jacket up… and then down again.

Down. Casual? Up. Smart casual? Down-

The decision was made for her when the doors to Raeka’s apartment suddenly whirred open.

“Pathfinder Ryder.”

Zevin Raeka appeared in the doorway, a welcoming smile on her face, “Don’t look so surprised, you are here to see me after all.”

“Pathfinder Raeka…”, Sara managed, her slight embarrassment at being caught dithering in the corridor was nothing compared to how taken aback she was by the salarian’s outfit.

Her hostess was wearing what, at first glance, seemed to be an ornate ceremonial gown. It was dark red, sleeveless, with an intricate golden trim around the seams; it fell just past her knees, with deep slits that ran the length of her thighs. A hood was also attached to the back, though Raeka didn’t have it up, and her exposed arms were clad in golden bangles.

Sara had seen enough salarians on the Citadel modelling full dress-robes to know they weren’t a people who did fancy in half measures. Still, it was a surprise to see her friend in cultural dress… she supposed Zevin might regard her own attire with a similar curiosity.

“How did you know I was there?”

“My scanner detected human life-signs in the corridor. I thought you might have gotten lost”,

Turning back into the apartment Raeka beckoned her guest to follow, crossing the room to a small seating area, and sitting down in one of the firm backed chairs.

Sara took a moment to glance around the rest of the room, it was large, spacious, and extensively decorated. Her eye was drawn to a large tapestry hanging above the bed; it had an unfamiliar symbol embroidered in the centre.

Raeka tracked Ryder’s gaze, “It’s my Clan sigil.”

“Hmm… it’s pretty.”

“Thank you. Please-”, the salarian gestured to the seat next to her, “-make yourself comfortable.”

Noting the human’s hesitation Zevin continued, trying to put her at ease, “I’d be happy to tell you more about my Clan ornaments if you’d like, though that wasn’t exactly my intention when I invited you here.”

Sara rounded on her, raising an eyebrow, “And what were your intentions?”

“For us to have a chance to talk, away from prying eyes and ears”, Raeka leant back in her chair. Her body language at first glance seemed open, relaxed, but Ryder knew better.

“You look nice”, Sara mentally kicked herself as soon as the word ‘nice’ escaped her lips.

The salarian didn’t seem to mind, a distinct greenish colour rising in her cheeks, “Thank you, again. It’s nothing special, you should see my old Dalatrass robes.”

Tired of the distance between them, Sara dropped into the proffered chair; fiddling with the cuffs on her jacket to stop her hands shaking, “Wait, you were a Dalatrass?”

“Yes, briefly”, Raeka pulled a face, “I was suited to the bureaucratic manoeuvring, but my conscience is lighter now knowing that those who follow me do so out of choice. Plus, I have the freedom to pick my own battles, such as the effort to restore Erinle’s biodiversity.”

Ryder frowned, it struck her how little she had ever been told about salarian culture, “What do you mean they ‘do so out of choice’?”

“When a salarian hatches, we imprint on the first person we see. Regulations ensure that person is always the Clan Dalatrass, or Dalatrasses in the case of females. Imprinting lasts a lifetime, and we can be… cultish in our devotion to family.”

“The same could be said of humans, but that… surprises me”, Sara took a moment to process the information she’d been given, “You- salarians, I mean -always seem so logical. Considered.”

“You aren’t the first to assume that and, for the most part, it’s true”, she laughed, “We’re pragmatic, let’s say. What else can you be when you live forty years.”

“Hey, you only need an hour of sleep per day”, Ryder smirked, “You’re getting more bang for your buck on an hourly basis.”

Zevin giggled, “That’s very true.”

Ryder resisted the urge to ask her hostess how old she was. Part of her was afraid of the answer. She did note that her hostess seemed to be squinting, and blinking in a slow, almost deliberate manner. Maybe this was the salarian equivalent of a human batting their eyelashes. She hoped so, and continued her questioning.

“So, you have children, right?”, she cringed internally. Real smooth, real smooth.

“Oh yes, many.”

“How many is many?”

“Hundreds.”

Sara tried, with some difficulty, to prevent the shock from registering on her face, “Oh, cool."

She was incredibly grateful when Raeka changed the subject.

“Perhaps you would like some wine?”

“Hell yes.”

Raeka grinned, rising gracefully to her feet, she crossed the room to a tall bureau with dark metallic panelling.

Ryder watched on as the salarian returned with a bottle and two glasses, drinking in the view of her toned legs, quite visible beneath the scanty dress.

“I’m kind of surprised we’re drinking wine…” Sara queried, taking the offered glass.

“You don’t make a habit of drinking with salarians, do you?”

Ryder shrugged, “Usually in mixed company, where neither party is providing the liquor. This is your poison of choice?”

“Have you ever tried coort?”

“No.”

“Well”, Raeka smirked, “Let’s just say I’d opt for this any day of the week.”

Sara took a sip, though she didn’t know much about wine – let alone port – she’d venture this was expensive, “Have your tastes always been so cosmopolitan?”

“More so in recent years. My Dalatrass training exposed me to a myriad of xeno-culture, but it came with strings. Responsibilities.”

If Sara hadn’t been watching so closely she would have missed slight twitch at the inner corners of the salarian’s eyes. The momentary stiffening of her shoulders, and the tensing of her lips.

“What kind of strings?”

“I was given a chance to sample a great deal of what the galaxy had to offer. The catch was, first and foremost, that I had to prospect each and every new experience for its political utility.”

“The way you talk about it, it’s so clinical. Don’t you ever miss it?”

“Not at all”, Zevin shook her head vehemently, before taking a gulp of her drink.

Sara followed suit, continuing to press her host playfully, “Come on, not even a little?”

The salarian bit her lip, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Only the title.”

Ryder burst out laughing, “Really? Dalatrass Raeka does has a nice ring to it. Though you didn’t strike me as the type for titles.”

“A fact which doesn’t leave this room, Pathfinder.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Dalatrass.”

They sat in silence for a moment, staring at each other. Sara could have sworn Zevin’s expression was expectant, and perhaps a little uncertain.

Ryder’s cheeks felt hot, her body reacting to the wine and the sudden shift in the intensity of their conversation, “And what opportunity are you looking for after serving this wine tonight?”

Raeka brought a hand to her heart, her tone mock offended, “None. Fine company deserves fine wine.”

“Good, because your wiles won’t work on me…” Ryder paused, gauging her reaction.

The salarian’s large eyes grew wider still and Sara realised, for the first time, she couldn’t distinguish the colour of the pupil from the iris. She could, however, say two things about them with certainty: that they held a thousand secrets she would never be privy to, and that she was utterly enthralled by their beauty.

“It’s not because I don’t think you’re charming, or that you’re not a most gracious hostess…”

As Ryder approached Raeka found herself rising to her feet, almost instinctively, to meet her halfway.

The salarian was used to picking up on the cues of mental arousal, all of which she was feeling, but that didn’t account for the bodily sensations she was also experiencing.

Elevated heartrate, mild increase in adrenaline, substantial increase in blood flow around horns and… She faltered in listing her symptoms. Unexpected.

The way the human was eyeing her up, like she was about to pounce on her, caused a shiver to cascade down her spine. She couldn’t deny that she liked it. No more than she could deny that she had been anxiously awaiting Sara’s arrival all afternoon. So much so that she’d programmed a scanner specifically to alert her when she was outside the door.

Despite all that, she hadn’t been expecting this kind of bodily reaction, Maybe it’s just the wine…

“… but because I know what you want…”

Right, yes, Ryder, still talking. Zevin schooled her face into an expression she hoped did not reveal she’d been caught up in her own thoughts. Wait, what?

“Oh?”

“… and I’m more than willing to give it to you.”

“Ah, I see.”

Sara was so close now, all Raeka need do was lean in and their lips would meet. Yet she held back. Uncertainty bubbling inside her, despite the liquid courage, and despite Ryder’s explicit signalling she was clear to proceed.

The salarian even jumped a little when she felt the human’s hands settle on her waist.

She suddenly felt shy, this was a greater indiscretion than their last encounter. She’d sought out this woman’s company not once, but twice now; a fact as inescapable as the blood rushing to her...

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Dalatrass”, Sara’s grip tightened on the salarian’s waist as she spoke, her fingers twisting into the material of the dress.

Raeka nodded, coyly averting her gaze, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot too…”

You want this. She wants this. Those traditions are from a galaxy over six shrelling centuries in the past. Get on with it.

Sara was surprised by the force with which Zevin pressed herself into her arms, and eagerly matched the salarian’s frantic movements when their lips finally met. Gripping her lover tightly, she steered them in the direction of the bed.

Raeka staggered backwards, steadied by the human’s hands on her hips.

The pair parted only momentarily to tear off their outer clothes, and in Zevin’s case jewellery; all of which were quickly discarded as they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Sara relished the feeling of having the lithe alien pinned beneath her. Grinding her hips against her, she felt some satisfaction from the friction generated by the salarian’s knickers. Even greater was the satisfaction she gained from the noises her lover made when she grazed her teeth against her neck. Spurred on by the need to have the more experienced Pathfinder writhing beneath her, Ryder managed - with a little resistance - to flip the salarian onto her front.

Raeka whined as Sara pressed her down into the sheets. Clawing at the pillow, she felt Sara’s hand snake underneath her stomach. With what little movement she had, Zevin lifted her hips obligingly, allowing her lover access between her legs.

Raeka adored the fact that her lover’s fingers found their way to her cloaca with no questions asked. The fact that she didn’t have to explain her burning desire to be touched there, or why Sara’s insistent biting of her neck made her hot around her horns. She could let go and enjoy the moment without needing a reason.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”, Sara purred, rubbing her lover’s entrance through her silk undergarments.

The salarian let out a shuddering breath, rocking her hips against Sara’s hand. She could barely think, the feeling of being beholden to her lover’s desire like this was intoxicating.

“Uh”, Zevin tried to compose herself, but even through fabric the human’s touch made her head spin. Her mind was racing, the memory of having Ryder’s fingers inside her only heightening her anticipation of what was to come, “Sara, please…”

Ryder hooked her fingers around the elastic of Raeka’s panties and pulled them down to her knees; she allowed the salarian to lift each leg in turn to shimmy them off, but kept a firm had on her lower back to indicate she shouldn’t move any more. She scratched her nails up her lover’s back, running her left hand over her ass and down her outer thigh.

“You’re so sensitive…”, she murmured as the salarian trembled in response to her touch.

Zevin felt very exposed with her bottom elevated and underwear off, “Is that a good thing?”

“Mhm”, Ryder ran her fingers round the edges of Raeka’s cloaca, marvelling once more at the intricate tattoos that framed her thighs, lower back, and abdomen.

Wetting her fingers, Sara traced the outline of the salarian’s entrance, rubbing up and down the length of the slit, “You like that?”

Raeka’s body felt electrified by the human’s touch, “Yes, I want your fingers inside me.”

Sara laughed softly, and when she spoke her voice held mischief, “So, do salarians get wet or…?”

“Um, we-”, as Zevin began to formulate an answer Ryder gently pressed a finger into her, causing her to choke on her words, “we don’t- uh- don’t exhibit- uh- arousal in so-”

With the human sliding her finger in and out of her, even at a slow pace, it took all of Raeka’s willpower to continue. Her cloaca ached from the all too familiar sensation, but determined as ever she answered her lover’s question, “…in so visceral a way.”

Sara withdrew her finger to examine it, and was highly amused by the disappointed groan her lover made at the loss of contact. She drew her free hand up to caress the salarian’s thigh, marvelling at how smooth her skin was.

Not quite soft as human skin, though it seems to hold more moisture, she mused, before sharply bringing the palm of her hand down across Raeka’s ass.

Raeka yelped, pulling her head out of the pillow and twisting round to stare up at Ryder pleadingly. It had dawned on her what a compromising position she was in, the acknowledgement of which only increased her arousal.

If anyone found us like this… She moaned as she felt the human’s fingers begin massaging her entrance again. To be caught indulging such base desires would, in many salarian social circles, be an instant character assassination.

But with Sara, she felt safe; making no attempt to stifle a cry of pleasure when the human spanked her again.

Ryder could feel the tell-tale signs of her own arousal, from the wetness pooling between her legs to the heightened sensitivity in her clit. If what Zevin said was true, there would be no similar signs demonstrated by her body… and yet…

From this position, she could examine the salarian’s cloaca more closely. There were little ridges around the top and bottom that seemed slightly swollen, and the sharp hitches in breath when she touched those folds confirmed her suspicions as to what their purpose was.

Keeping two fingers stroking the sides of Raeka’s entrance, Sara pressed the flat of her tongue against the slit, licking up and down its length with firm, considered strokes. To ensure the salarian’s attentiveness, she slapped her hand across her ass every now and then.

Zevin hummed her pleasure, propping herself up on her elbows and arching her back so she could better rock her hips against the human’s mouth.

If Raeka had considered this before, she would have assumed that an alien with a longer, rougher tongue would be better suited to pleasing her this way. She was all too glad to discover this exercise was about more than just the tongue. The softness of the human’s lips, kissing and sucking at her sensitive skin, was enough to make her squirm. Soon the salarian was answering the subtle vibrations of her lover’s slightly muffled moans with her own. Whenever Sara’s tongue flicked over a particularly tender area, or better still intruded inside, Zevin made sure to reward her effort with gentle non-verbal encouragements.

Sara couldn’t quite place the taste in her mouth, it was sticky, but didn’t have a particularly strong scent - Probably owing to a lack of sexual hormones – yet it cloyed around her lips and tongue in the most delicious way. Sara gripped the salarian’s ass with both hands to better expose her lover and drive her tongue further inside. She smacked her palms down on Raeka’s soft skin once more, relishing the squeals her more aggressive attentions brought forth.

It was the thought of Ryder’s tongue lapping at her as much as the raw sensation itself that was driving the salarian wild. Whilst Sara’s mouth was otherwise engaged, Raeka let her imagination supply mental stimulation.

She let her mind wander, picturing a lake and the splashing of a waterfall onto rocks, with the human pressing her down into damp grass by the water’s edge. Her horns were burning from base to tip, and it was all the salarian could do to grip the sheets and stop herself tipping to one side. Squeezing her eyes shut tighter still, she envisioned Sara marked by tattoos of a rival clan, dragging her back into the water to mate with her. As the human’s teeth began to tease at the sensitive glands around her entrance she felt completely undone. Any resistance to her more animalistic side was overrun by the need for release.

Ryder on the other hand was enjoying taking her time. Especially now that she could feel the salarian’s cloaca becoming stickier, with some of the liquid spilling over and running down her chin.

So much for salarians not getting wet.

Abruptly, she became aware that her lover’s weight had shifted downwards, and a noise that sounded like she was… scratching?

Bringing a thumb up to maintain some stimulation, Sara reluctantly removed her lips from her lovers leaking entrance and was amused, if a little taken aback, by the sight that greeted her.

Raeka had her face inches from the sheets, twisting her neck from side to side, viciously rubbing her horns against the pillow.

It took the salarian a few seconds to register the human had ceased her ministrations. She could feel her stare without looking. She opened one eye to meet the human’s inquisitive stare.

“Sara… you’re teasing me…”, she whined, indignantly.

Sara didn’t respond immediately, taking a moment to admire her handiwork. She caressed two fingers over Raeka’s entrance and, when she withdrew, the salarian’s arousal clung to them.

“Seems like you’re pretty wet to me…”

Zevin had time to do little more than blush as Ryder leant in and pressed her lips against her cloaca once more, spreading it open with her fingers and spitting into the slit to add a bit more lube; though she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

Straightening into a seated position Ryder wrapped her arms around the salarian’s waist and yanked her into her lap, “Sit.”

Sara traced her fingers down the slightly outward curve of Zevin’s taught stomach, steering her lover to lean into her left shoulder.

Raeka sighed contentedly as the human’s fingers tended to her needs once more and obediently leant back against her. She was careful not to press too hard on the woman’s breasts, which she still had no idea what to do with yet.

She also kept thinking about Sara’s comment on her being wet, which was compounded by the fact she could now really appreciate the truth of her statement.

She didn’t want to look at her cloaca. It felt hot and sticky, and her inner thighs were also slick with arousal. It was so carnal. For her body to react to so…

Her train of thought was interrupted as Sara’s fingers slid inside her. Two of them. Without warning. Almost all the way to the knuckle.

Raeka squealed, her hips jerking away involuntarily only to find herself held fast by the human’s other arm. Though the action was met with little physical resistance, it was only natural for the salarian to recoil from such a sudden intrusion.

“Shhh…”, Sara murmured, kissing her throat, “I know you can take it, just relax.”

Zevin groaned, her legs trembling and she forced them open to stay open; she snaked an arm around Ryder’s neck. The human was right, she could take it, and the dull ache in her cloaca as her lover pulled out seemed to indicate she wanted more, not less.

“You won’t be able to walk after I’m finished with you.”

Emphasising her point Ryder worked her fingers deeper on the second thrust; massaging the sensitive folds of skin around the outside with her thumb.

Raeka was panting, the sudden intensity of stimulation was dizzying. She turned and to look up at the human, batting her lower eyelids, “Fighting talk, Ryder…”, she paused to take a shuddering breath, “Do your worst.”

Their lips met with fiery intensity, kisses becoming sloppy as Sara’s hand found a rhythm between the salarian’s thighs.

Raeka’s moans were lost in Sara’s mouth, her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation. The urgency of her lover’s kisses set a tempo her unpractised mouth could barely keep up with, and thankfully Ryder seemed content to lavish her cheeks with attention in the moments when Raeka couldn’t match it. Her involuntary vocalisations of pleasure, which were coming hard and fast now, were echoed by her lover, and Zevin could feel the human’s arousal, hot and wet, against her lower back.

Sara was desperate to bring Raeka to release whilst holding her in her arms. Whilst they barely knew each other, and this was only their second ‘encounter’, it felt intimate, right. Besides, the noises the salarian was making were driving her wild. She would have thought Zevin would have tried to stay quiet, they were on Ark Paarchero after all, and she had made it clear that this wasn’t something she was comfortable with others knowing about. Maybe she’s too far gone to care.

“You’ll wake half the Ark, making noises like that…”, Ryder drawled, “Maybe that’s what you really want.”

The salarian tried to respond, but the only thing she could focus on was the throbbing of her cloaca and the way pleasure rippled in waves throughout her lower abdomen as it was forced to accommodate her lover. She opened her mouth, a strangled whine was about all she could manage.

“Perhaps you want to be caught. What would your Clan have to say if they knew you liked to be fucked rough like a mindless animal, Dalatrass?”

“I- I- I don’t, I-”, the salarian feebly protested. Being called by that title whilst being defiled like this was disrespectful, wrong… and she loved it.

“Yes, you do”, Sara growled, nipping at her lover’s cheek. She’d had an inkling that Raeka got off on the taboo nature of their coupling, and the more she thought about it, the more she realised she did too. There were hardly any taboos in human culture surrounding sex anymore, even if the consequences were just pretend – for her at least – the forbidden was always exhilarating.

“Not mindless. N-not like an- an animal”, Zevin hissed. Though her protestations were entirely futile as every movement of Sara’s fingers made her rut and moan.

“No? Then I suppose I’m not fucking you hard enough yet…”

Withdrawing her hand, Ryder slid her ring finger into her lover to wet it, before using all three to massage the sides of her cloaca.

Raeka could feel three fingers tentatively probing her entrance, a stream of untranslatable profanity gushing from her lips.

She wanted to watch. Opening her eyes, the salarian looked down and was shocked to see how much she had leaked over Sara’s hand, her own thighs, the sheets. She barely had time to contemplate the implications before Ryder pushed inside her once more. She found herself transfixed on the sight of the human’s fingers disappearing into her.

Ryder noticed the salarian turning away from her kisses, and the direction of her attention. She grinned wolfishly, “Is that enough for you, salarian? Are you full yet? Are you satisfied?” Punctuating each question with a wet kiss to her cheek.

Zevin could barely catch her breath, let alone answer. She was unsure how much more her body could handle before it gave way to sensory overload. She could not tear her eyes away from Ryder’s fingers; she was shocked to see her hips rolling to meet the human’s hand, and the clear liquid spilling out of her and coating Sara’s palm. By Shrell, the sounds that accompanied every thrust were obscene…

“If you want more, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Raeka closed her eyes again, tilting her head back to rest on the woman’s shoulder. The human continued to whisper all manner of filth, interwoven with fervent kisses.

“P-please, Sara… I’ll do anything, just, please…”

“Yes, you will.”

Ryder slowed the pace of her hand to a more sensual rhythm, pressing deeper into her lover with little resistance, “But first I’m going to make you scream, Dalatrass. You’re going to cum with my fingers stuffed in your tight cloaca.”

Raeka braced a hand on Sara’s thigh, clinging hard to the woman as her muscles contracted. She shuddered as her pleasure reached its climax, spreading outward across her lower stomach and down her inner thighs, and causing more hot liquid to spill out from between her legs.

With the salarian gripping her so tightly, Sara clamped her free hand across Zevin’s mouth, stifling her lover’s cries as her orgasm hit. Role play aside, it would be hard to explain this to anyone who might come and check to see if the Pathfinder was being murdered.

When Zevin had stopped quivering, Sara thought it safe to remove her hand from her mouth… after watching her lover cum with such intensity, the throbbing in her clit had reached fever pitch. She needed to be touched.

Raeka gripped Ryder’s wrist, groaning at the wet popping noise her cloaca made when she tugged the human’s fingers out.

“Zevin, are you alright?”, Sara studied her lover’s face, her eyes were still squeezed shut.

The salarian dragged Ryder’s sticky hand to her mouth, slipping them past her lips and sighing as she tasted herself. She blinked up at Sara, sucking on the human’s fingers hungrily.

“More than. Though I think it’s my turn to make you scream.”

Sara cradled her lover in her arms for a moment before setting her down onto her back. She straddled her, edging forwards so her knees were either side of Raeka’s head.

The salarian’s long tongue could easily reach her without having to lower herself all that much.

Zevin relished both the taste and the noise Sara made when she licked her. The human’s arousal dripped down her tongue and onto her lips. It tasted much more distinctive than her own, and she preferred it. She wanted more. Wrapping her arms around Sara’s thighs she encouraged her to come closer, and the human was all too happy to oblige.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”, Ryder gritted her teeth as Raeka’s dexterous tongue lapped from her entrance to her clit in firm, unfaltering strokes.

Looking down at her lover’s big, black eyes, Sara had to brace an arm against the wall, “How are you so good at that?”

Of course, Raeka didn’t reply, her mouth was somewhat engaged, instead swirling the tip of her tongue in circular motions around her lover’s clit.

Ryder whimpered, arching her back and trying to resist the urge not to bear down on her lover and start fucking her face. She’d cum too quickly like that and she wanted to savour every second of this.

The salarian gripped Sara’s ass, pulling her hips forward to meet her tongue as she pressed it against her entrance.

It was the first-time Ryder really considered how perfect salarian faces were for sitting on, without the sometimes-awkward nose squashing that could occur with humans. And, as Raeka’s tongue slid inside, she also contemplated how perfect other parts of salarian anatomy were.

Just as she felt her climax building, Zevin shoved her back, and Sara had to steady herself so she didn’t fall onto the alien beneath her.

Her lover was one step ahead of her, wriggling out from between Ryder’s legs and pouncing on her with agility that took the human by surprise.

“It’s my turn to be on top”, Raeka’s eyes were lit up with glee as she leant over Sara, who was propped up into a near seated position by her elbows. Zevin knelt between Ryder’s legs, pressing a finger against the human’s lips to hush her protests, and using her other hand to keep rubbing the woman’s clit.

“Now, what am I supposed to do with these?”, the salarian removed her finger from Ryder’s mouth and poked it into the soft tissue of her breast.

Sara yelped, “Hey-”, once more her protests were cut off, as Raeka soothingly teased at her cunt with her other hand.

It didn’t help Ryder’s concentration that she could see her arousal shining around the salarian’s lips.

“You suck on them, here”, Sara traced her the outline of her nipples with her index fingers, “And squeeze- gently.” She demonstrated the soft massaging movement she wanted on the swell of her breast. It was hardly the best explanation, but it was the best she could manage under the current circumstances.

Zevin nodded solemnly, “Lie back.”

Ryder complied without hesitation, all her thoughts overrun by a desperate need for Raeka’s touch.

Sara soon realised, however, that there was in fact something that salarians were not suited to. Sucking.

Encouragingly Ryder placed a hand behind her lover’s head, affectionately scratching at her horns, she instructed her, “Close your mouth around it- yes, just like that- now with your tongue…”

The pair retained near constant eye contact, only broken in moments when Sara stretched her neck back, pushing her chest out to help Raeka gain traction on her skin.

Zevin let go of Ryder’s nipple, and exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated, “I’m not good at this.” Her tone was apologetic, “I don’t think my people evolved with this in mind.”

“It’s okay”, Sara stroked the salarian’s cheek, “Your beautiful smile more than makes up for it.”

Raeka stared at her, blinking slowly.

“You’re too kind”, she muttered, before closing the gap between their lips. Kissing, she had decided, was an art she intended to gain full mastery of.

“And your tongue…”, Ryder murmured between kisses, “Your tongue also makes up for it.”

“Well-”, Zevin shoved Sara back on the bed, “I better start putting it to good use then.”

With her lover’s wicked tongue at work between her legs once more Ryder knew she was close to finishing. She took Raeka’s hands as they snaked around her thighs and gave them an affectionate squeeze every time her lover hit a particularly good spot.

She cried out the salarian’s name when she climaxed, arching her back off the bed, she felt like the only thing that mattered in the galaxy was the two of them.

Raeka crawled up and straddled her, going in for another kiss, her mouth coated in her lover’s cum.

The human kissed her, only briefly, before shakily sitting up, swallowing, and trying to catch her breath.

“Is something wrong, you did finish-”

Sara nodded reassuringly, and offered her a weak smile, biting her lip, “Zevin… I… I think if we keep doing this I’m going to fall for you.”

The salarian licked her lips, “Fall for me? I don’t understand…”

Ryder took her lover’s hands again, “As in catch feelings.”

Raeka looked taken aback, “I can assure you, Sara, you won’t catch anything from me. We all had mandatory medical examinations before we were cleared for-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean that I’d catch something from you, rather that I react to you in a certain way… a way that I’m not sure is healthy for me if it’s not reciprocated.”

This statement was met with another blank expression, “We’re both levi-amino acid species. Any reactions you’re having can, I’m sure, be fixed with a simple antihistamine.”

Sara shook her head, exasperated, “Romantic feelings, Raeka.”

“Oh”, the salarian blinked rapidly, not meeting the human’s gaze, “That’s… very sweet of you to, um, think of me in that way.”

Ryder also looked away defeated; staring resolutely at her hands, “But you don’t feel the same.”

“It’s not that”, Raeka quickly countered, “I just wasn’t expecting… You’re the first person to tell me that and… I don’t really know what to say.”

“So, there is something more here, it’s not all in my head?”

“I think so…”

“You think so?”

Raeka sighed, “This is new territory for me, Ryder. I’d never even considered romantic love a possibility, but maybe that’s more to do with opportunity than inclination… You have to know, this isn’t usual for my kind.”

“There’s nothing usual about you, Zevin”, Sara lifted a hand to cup the salarian’s cheek.

Raeka’s hand clasped her wrist, cementing the intimacy of the moment by kissing the human’s palm, “We still have half a bottle of wine to finish, why don’t you stay a while and we can talk about it.”

“I’d like that.”

#zevin raeka #ryder x raeka #salarian #yes im an alien loving fuck and i have no regrets

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dundermifflin-this-is-pam-blog · 6 years ago

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Brooklyn 99 MBTI

This post contains spoilers for Brooklyn 99! These typings are just my personal opinion, if you disagree or have comments about characterization I’d love to hear from you!

Rosa Diaz (ISTP): The lone wolf of the 99 squad, Rosa is intensely private and, at first glance, flat and unemotional. She is first and foremost a “badass” risk taker that seems to have no problem jumping into situations and making quick executive decisions when there is too much deliberating or dithering. This is her primary function, Se, at work and provides her with much of the outward personality we see throughout the season. However, we see throughout the series that she is analytically minded (this being her first, internal, function Ti) and uses that to not only remain private but also solve cases and catch bad guys. A combination of Ti and Se makes it seem as if Rosa is making impulsive decisions based on little logic, but she has in all likelihood thoroughly analyzed the situation before making a decision (throwback to Captain Holt’s comment about how he would jump off a cliff if Rosa did because he is sure that she did the proper calculations to make sure it was safe to jump). As for her 3rd function, we see it come out in mysterious ways she pulls together information from a variety of different tangible sources to come to solutions (such as her extensive and secret training in med school and pilots school). Pinning down Ni is more difficult as it is internal and even someone who has it has difficulty explaining it, but we see it in the increase of intuitive leaps she makes over time. The 4th function, Fe, is clearly Rosa’s greatest weakness and we see multiple examples of her frustration at social norms and expectations of intimacy. A good example is at Pimento’s fake funeral when she is expected to play the grieving fiancé in order to sell the ordeal, Rosa is reluctant and almost unable to do it. However, when she thinks about how she truly feels about Pimento and realizes that it may not be an act after all she is able to show her emotions honestly.

Jake Peralta (ESFP): Jake’s primary function is Se and he lives almost entirely in the moment, absorbing information as it comes to him and having fun with it. His Se causes him to be bored with “work�� aspects of policing and makes him turn almost anything he can into some sort of game in order to stave off the boredom and mundanity. His Se also detests anything that stops his impulsiveness and “flow” which is why Captain Holt’s sudden imposition of order on the precinct is so horrifying for Jake. His secondary function, Fi, is where much of Jake’s deeply entrenched moral code comes from. Fi as a secondary function means that while Jake may seem impulsive all of his decisions relate back to an intrinsic moral code which he spent a lot of time developing, as well as a healthy imagination and need to understanding people and their stories. For example, he takes fairly normal assignments, like tactical village day, and creates a persona complete with an accent and backstory in order to engage with the activity and make it fun. Fi is also the product of Jake’s “Gut Instinct” or things he knows to be right but its not based on any system of understandable logic. It is simply a product of the interconnectedness and “story”-esque nature of his thoughts where the eventual outcome is obvious, though not necessarily in a normal way. However, the third function Te provides the quick and logical problem-solving technique that makes Jake a good cop in high pressure situations. While he mostly relies on his own subjective moral code to make the best decision, his Te allows for more reality-based decisions-making. Finally, Ni is Jake’s weakest function and this is shown by his inability to pre-plan and see future consequences of his decisions. Throughout the series he gains the emotional maturity to use Ni to think about his future with Amy and the 99, but generally he prefers to believe the future will work itself out and deal with problems as they come.

Amy Santiago (ESTJ): As Captain Holt’s prodigy Amy sets high standards for herself as an officer and a person and her personality fits those high standards. Having Te as her primary function means that Amy is singularly focused on advancing her career. She thrives in the hierarchical system of the NYPD and takes any opportunity (including a wealth of seminars and other career-advancing programs) to cultivate those skills within the boundaries of what she knows. Te provides Amy with a way of maximizing efficiency and “being the best” – which can make her quite competitive. Si is the secondary function and explains her obsessive need for order, both inside her mind and out. Si works like a filing cabinet for information that can be brought out and used as needed by the Te, and allows Amy to learn rules and follow them quickly and efficiently. Similar to the way she adapted to Captain Holt’s new rules when he joined the 99. The third function, Ne provides the catalyst for many of Amy’s good ideas and interesting theories. While she primarily focuses on facts (Si) in a concrete system of logic (Te), Ne provides a way for new ideas to be created through what she knows. For example, the various binders, projects, and gifts given to Holt all came from interesting and fun ideas generated by the Ne. As well as innovative and new approaches to outsmarting both Jake and Holt during the Halloween heist. Finally, Fi works as Amy’s inferior function and is inherently her weakest. While she uses her Te, Si, and Ne to use creative ideas and concrete information to push herself to the top oftentimes Amy can get so wrapped up in the system she is working in that she forgets to consider her own feelings and opinions. This is exemplified when Holt asked her what she thought her greatest flaw was and she struggled to find it, eventually realizing that Jake (whose secondary function is Fi) unintentionally pointed it out to her. This was the Fi function at work, and it is shown more frequently throughout the series as Amy gets more mature and her relationship with Jake allows for more exploration of her inferior function.

Captain Raymond Holt (ISTJ): As the patriarch of the squad Captain Holt brought stability and focus with his stern demeanor and focus. As his dominant function Si colours Holt’s approach to almost everything, as he prefers to ponder all external decisions using his Si before coming to a decision. It provides him with impeccable memory for facts and dates that he seems to pull out of nowhere to make a point. Si is often described as being a filing cabinet where all relevant information is stored into their appropriate file in order to be pulled out later and Holt uses his Si to maintain a working knowledge of many different things that may be useful to him as a Captain. Holt uses his secondary function, Te, as a way to interact with the 99 and be the great Captain and leader we know and love. Te provides Holt with his ability to work effectively in within the government because he is focused on goals and maintaining momentum for positive results. Te allows Holt to see the outcome of plans and ideas even before they actually take shape. He uses this in all police work but is the most intensely on display during the Halloween Heist – his intense focus on detail and obsessive pre-planning shows a combination of Si and Te in order to outsmart Jake. Additionally, the stubbornness associated with Te is where Holt found the drive to work through years of racist and homophobic politics in the police department in order to slowly implement change. As the captain of the 99 we see the fruits of his many years of labour through programs like AAGLNYCPA. Captain Holt is a mature ISTJ and often uses Fi to his advantage to understand what people are feeling and behave appropriately. But there are many moments throughout the series where he offers blunt critique or comment and hurts others without meaning to, such as telling Gina that she is not a professional dancer or failing to tell Kevin when he was (lightly) stabbed. These situations are rectified often through the input of others he trusts and through his use of Fi, which shows him the best solution whether it be an emotional or practical one. Fi also contains Holt’s values system, which is largely unaffected by those around him and creates many of the opinions and views that he is respected for. Fi is where his drive to blaze a new trail for black gay police officers came from, his other functions like Si and Te allowing him the follow through to do so. As Holt’s inferior function it is the least developed in the functional stack, and Holt often struggles with new ideas and experiences that he does not have time to meticulously plan for. Ne allows for an onslaught of ideas and perceptions of what will happen next and creates ideas for future projects all of a sudden and without much warning. Holt has mastered the art of taking these ideas and future predictions, combining them with his more dominant Si and Te and using it to execute those abstract plans.

Charles Boyle (ESFJ): Boyle is first and foremost an extroverted Fe user as he forcibly inserts himself into almost any emotionally turbulent situation and offer support and ‘interesting’ personal anecdotes. Fe is an information gathering function and Boyle uses that information to try and help the 99 with their problems, usually with novel (albeit gross) solutions. Fe also makes Boyle adverse to conflict and he often gives in at the first sign of anyone making a fuss, his divorce with Eleanor is a great example of how his desire for harmony got in the way of logic leading to him living in his ex-wife’s new husband’s basement. Boyle’s second function Si is, arguable, where a lot of the weird comes from. Boyle uses his Si to remember little bits of information (since Si is objective, he often remembers things differently than other people in a similar situation). Si and Fe in combination make Boyle a good detective as he gathers information through his Fe and then stores it in his Si, allowing that information to come out and be used later on in a case. However, his Si also values traditions and the Boyle family traditions can be quite strange and unusual from the outside looking in. He resists changes that Gina tries to make, such as going to Aruba, and initially resists Lynn and Darlene getting married at all. However, given his Fe and the insistence of his father, Boyle comes around on the last point and agrees to help get Gina’s blessing. Boyle’s 3rd function, Ne allows him to see future possibilities and although it is used less it interacts with his Fe and Si to imagine future possibilities and keep himself from becoming set in his routines. He uses his Ne in an unhealthy way when he goes “Full Boyle” and begins making impulsive leaps in relationships based on events that may be four or five years down the road, such as asking Vivian to marry him a few months into their relationship. His final function, Ti involves Boyle’s own internal logic and reasoning and could involve logically working through many different options and finding the best solution through reasoning. This is inherently Boyle’s weakest function and that is demonstrated through his reliance on other people’s opinions (Fe) and the “status-quo” (Si). However, Ti is important to Boyle so he can depend less on what the squad wants of him and more about what he and his family wants – using Ti logic to make decisions that are best for him and not for other people.

Terry Jeffords (ISFJ): Terry mirrors Captain Holt’s primary function, Si, but he uses it in a slightly different way. While his mind categorizes facts and ideas quite easily, those ideas are organized in a subjective way that is very much dependent on how those facts are related to the people around him as his secondary function is Fe. However, Terry can operate very well in an organized system and highly values his routine (hence his strict exercise and diet, Terry loves yogurt). Si used in such a way makes Terry a great police officer as he notices details not only about cases he is working, but also about the squad in order to deal with the day-to-day nitpicky problems that plague the precinct. As a data-gathering function Fe is responsible for Terry’s knowledge of what everyone on the squad is feeling and warm approach to trying to help them. This is also the root of Terry’s protectiveness of those that he deems to be in his “inner circle”. This includes obviously his children who he has many crises about making sure they are going to a good school and being taken care of appropriately. He also applies his Fe to others on the squad such as his protectiveness of Rosa when her and Pimento are getting married. His disapproval of Pimento coming from both Si evidence that Pimento is unstable, however, he eventually comes around based on Rosa’s genuine feelings of love for him. As a developed ISFJ Terry uses Ti to be a great sergeant as his problem-solving skills is intensely focused on other people. A good example of Ti at work is when Holt and Terry attempted to make the office more efficient using Terry’s observations of previous times when the office was inefficient (using Si) and took steps to curb those instances through logical analysis (Ti). This also is the root of Terry’s stubbornness as once he comes to a decision about something it is very difficult to change his mind, as he has already solidified his personal logic about it. With his last function being Ne Terry has problems going too far out of his comfort zone and taking risks and he is happy to have the same routine and live within it. This is demonstrated by his love of being a father and the mundanity of tasks related to his children’s routine. Terry channels his Ne by doing small things within his normal routine that are thrilling, and yogurt is actually a good example of this as he uses it as a thrilling reward for fulfilling tasks and goals. When faced with uncertainty Terry’s instinct is to try and figure out what is going to happen and since he is not adept at using Ne that can lead to a rabbit hole of worst case scenarios that lead to panic. This was especially true when Rosa responded to the active shooter and he was unsure whether she would be back, leading him to try and plan for the future by getting new health insurance in a frenzy.

Gina Linetti (ENTP): As Gina’s primary function, Ne is where all her crazy ideas come from. Ne provided us with the name of her fragrance line and game show, all of which were shared with Captain Holt and anyone else who happens to be nearby. She is also there to provide commentary and her own opinions into a conversation that may seem disjointed and crazy but are actually just products of her mind jumping around so quickly between topics and her voicing those mental leaps without explaining the thought process that went into them. A good example of seemingly disjointed mind leaps is when the 99 is looking for a new IT person and Gina vets them using novel methods that Terry finds unnecessary and disruptive. She eventually explains her method and how she arrived at the best conclusion (using her Ti to logic it out and explain her thought process) and the leaps make more sense. This function helps Gina actually logic out her ideas and put them into focus. She uses it to sift through ideas that may or not help her move forward with them. Another example of her Ti at work is when she bests Holt, Amy and Jake by winning the bet by matching their planning ability through the combination of the Ne and most especially by using her Ti. The Fe side of Gina is very developed and she shows it in many ways that we may not traditionally associated with a “feeling” function. She uses Fe in order to build a huge social following (the G-Hive) and also uses her unique understanding of social hierarchies to influence and manipulate other people in the precinct (her relationship with Pimento is a great example of this). This is also the epicenter of many of Gina’s more tender moments in which she refuses to give Boyle Sr. her blessing because of worry about her mom and her loyalty to Captain Holt when he is transferred to Public Relations. Since Si is Gina’s weakest function, she has trouble actually getting started on projects even though she has many ideas. Gina often fails to reliably do her job as a secretary as she doesn’t want to remember small details that are the core of secretarial work and is often making mistakes (filing documents by perp hotness, for example) which are the source of comedy and her reason for leaving the 99.

#brooklyn 99 #brooklyn99 #jake peralta #rosa diaz #amysantiago #terry jeffords #raymond holt #captainholt #charles boyle #gina linetti

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