#i wanted to leave in the black borders and rounded curves since it was an artistic choice

[madeline-kahn]

Being in your arms is what I came here for I'll close my eyes if you close the door

HOW FAR WILL WE TAKE IT? ORVILLE PECK & NOAH CYRUS

[sableseb]

Illusion

Jack Benjamin x escort!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: allusions to homophobia, sex work, smut, rough & quick, spanking, exhibitionism, dirty talk, degradation

The events that have unfolded in the past couple of days lay scattered in Jack’s mind. He paces the expanse of his lavish quarters thinking of how his life went to shit this fast. His mother and father know. They know how he craves the touch of a man. His father told him to hide it, hide the feelings he has and never let them resurface. His mother slapped him for saying he loved another man. He pushed his secret lover away for the sake of his reputation. Now, the whole court is questioning him, hanging his sexuality over his head in case they ever need to bring him down.

His parents explicitly stated that to be King, he must put away his sinful, lust fueled desires for the same sex. This kingdom his father built is based on the Christian faith and what sort of God fearing kingdom would want a King that kisses men? What a joke. It always leaves a bad taste in his mouth and a sick feeling of not being accepted in his stomach.

As Jack looks out of his bedroom window to the twinkling night life below, he makes a decision. To him, being King is above his true feelings. He’ll follow his parents wishes like the good little soldier he always is. He’ll keep up his playboy, panty dropper act for the sake of the crown resting atop of his head one day.

They want a ladies man? They’ll get one, they’ll see he’s worthy of the crown. He may prefer sleeping with men, but that doesn’t mean he has a disdain for the feeling of a cock drunk broad wrapped around him. And luckily for him, his suave attitude and pretty boy face works like a charm each time he needs a quick fuck.

He knows of a night club that’s crawling with bachelors, married men, and even women looking for a good time, with their night ending by taking one of the ladies who work there home and finding pleasure in between the sheets.

Jack pulls out his cell and taps the first number in his contacts. He bites his nails on the hand currently occupying the phone in anticipation for what he has planned tonight. It’s sure to get everyone off his dick.

It rings for a beat before a, “Hello?” cracks through the speaker. 

“Louis? It’s Jack. I’m going out tonight. Make sure all the paparazzi knows. Tell them I’ll be at Pyre.” he says hastily while going around his room searching for his coat.

The line is silent for a moment. Louis knows not to question Jack’s requests when he gets that oddly, erratic tone in his voice. Without a second thought Louis says, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but be careful.”

Jack ends the call and makes his way out of the castle down to the city goers below. There’s a slight chill in the air that goes unnoticed by the people in barely there clothing looking for their next party spot. He brushes through the crowds to his desired destination. Bright, neon colors light up the whole block and to his right, he sees it. Sultry, red cursive lettering spelling out, “Pyre.”

He’s met with flashing cameras and yelling at the front entrance of the club. Good to know Louis is still a worthy asset. He flashes that pearly, white smile that borders boyish charm and slyness. The King and Queen’s son is always a hot topic in the press. And he’s sure that after tonight, he’ll be a hot topic nationwide.

As he steps through the club’s threshold, he’s met with darkness and thumping music. The only source of light coming from the strobes that bounce across the sweat soaked bodies grinding against one another. 

He starts to assess the women and sees you. Clad in a silver dress that falls just below that round ass and heels that accentuate those long legs leaning against the bar stool. You’re perfect. Perfect enough for him to already sport a hard on. 

He makes his way to you with a certain air of confidence that only he seems to possess. He comes up beside you and leans into your ear to, rather loudly, say over the bass, “The name’s Jack. And I’d really love to have some company tonight.”

You turn to face the man that made his presence known and take him in. Oh, so the prince is the one who needs a good fucking. You’d be lying if you said that this moment in time didn’t give you an ego trip. You’ve always thought about what it would be like to press your lips to his perfect pout and stare into those baby blues as he takes you apart ever since he graced the cover of VOGUE.

You smirk into your drink. “I know a prince when I see one, Mr. Benjamin.” 

He figured as much you’d recognize him. All the kingdom knows of him and his risque reputation. 

“Then, I’m guessing you won’t deny a prince of his request? I pay handsomely.” he states matter of factually.

He honestly didn’t have to pay you to do anything he desires. You’d have dropped on your knees in the middle of this club if that’s what he wanted. And little did you know, that’s close to what he needed your assistance for in the first place.

With a hefty transaction and a few drinks, you’re walking arm in arm with Jack to the hotel he rented a room in. You feel like a celebrity. A devilishly handsome man on your right, paparazzi on your left, and thousands in cash sitting nice and pretty in your purse. You just hope he’s a decent lay. You haven’t had one of those in awhile. Most of the men you’ve worked with didn’t even make you cum, always left you high and dry. But, the cash they guaranteed was worth the disappointment.

He walks up to the lobby desk and asks for his key card. As the lobbyist searches for the correct one labeled “Benjamin” your gaze drifts. This place is nice to say the least. It’s sleek and mature. A complete contrast to the man next you with his bright eyes and plush face.

After acquiring the card that’ll seal your fate for a one night stand, you both make your way to the elevator. You decide to make the first move once the doors close. Your sexual attraction getting the best of you. As the numbers ticked up, you turn to face the Adonis. You fist his jacket between your hands to pull him in close and whisper low in his ear, “Ya know, Jack,” you let your lips graze his ear with each word you speak, “I really hope you live up to that title you carry.”

Your hand rubs down, starting at his chest and snaking its way down his toned stomach to cup his dick through his pants. Jack’s breath hitches as you languidly palm him. Little shocks of pleasure spike across his spine. He’s a bit taken back from this forwardness you possess. No one ever showed a dominant side with him. He’s the one always in control. And he’s keeping it that way.

He runs his large hands along your curves causing you to lean into him even more before he takes your hand off him and retches your arm back. You’re spun around with such force that your mouth hangs open in shock. He roughly pulls you against him, trapping your aching arm between your back and his firm body. 

“Listen real close, baby.” he spits, words laced with venom. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m the one in charge. So, be a good little whore and keep it in your panties until we get to the room.”

The elevator dings and he lets you go, only to grab your hand and practically drag you to the suite. You take note of the wetness that’s pooled in the flimsy fabric between your legs from the little altercation. This little playboy has a rough side, and you can’t wait to see just how rough he can get.

His slender, ringed fingers put the key card to the scanner until the light turns green and you're swept away into the most luxurious room you’ve ever stepped foot in. Dull lights make the blue hues and black tones even that much more alluring. A giant mirror hangs above a bed fit for a prince and the large windows show the city in all its glory. 

Jack stalks over towards the window sitting in the middle of the large room. He sees men with cameras still mingling about below trying to get some shots of him and his latest conquest. He’ll give these sleazy excuses of people the shots they desire and more.

You shed your coat and purse before making your way towards the hulking figure near the window. You can tell something plagues his mind. It’s not hard to sense when he looks like a lost puppy in the moon’s hue. 

He glances at you as he moves to stand behind you. He pulls you in close by your waist and brushes your hair away from your neck. His fingers are so feather like you almost couldn’t register them. His lips though, you can feel them just fine as they pepper kisses and bites along your neck.

“City’s beautiful isn’t it?” he asks in between his sucking and biting. Creating little patch works of art across the expanse of your skin.

You’re in a trance and all you can do is hum in agreement. The feeling of his hands groping the soft flesh of your hips and his lips dragging along the base of your neck has you silently enjoying the attention. The only sounds coming from you are whimpers and breathy moans.

It’s a symphony to Jack’s ears. He finds your sounds more beautiful than anything Haydn conducted. He may just want sex, but he knows how to appreciate the beauty he finds in the people he beds. He might be an asshole, but he’s an asshole with a taste for the human form.

He places your hands against the window and kicks your legs apart. “What’re you doing?” you ask in slight concern. 

As he’s making quick work of discarding his clothes he simply states, “I’m going to fuck you while the city watches.”

What? You couldn’t have heard him right. There’s people down there that could easily see, there’s a million dollar mattress made for a rough fucking. A window is not what you wanted. But, what you want doesn’t matter in your profession and it certainly doesn’t matter to the prince as he pushes his naked body against your clothed one, trapping you against the cold glass.

He hikes your dress up past your hips and stares at the pretty lace thong sitting between your full ass. He grabs at the flesh, pawing and kneading before landing a harsh slap. You jerk against the glass and you feel the sting go straight to your core. 

The cool metal of his rings soothe over the places he strikes, easing the burn. His cock is leaking at the site of you spread out for him and the whole world to see.

“You see all the cameras below us, baby?” he asks while rutting his aching member against you. You can feel his precum sticking to your skin. He reaches around your body and pulls your breasts from the confines of the sparkling material of your dress. He starts treating your chest like he did your ass just moments ago. His rings catch your nipple with each grope of your chest making you mewl and arch back against him.

“Make sure to smile pretty, cause you’re going to show them how good I fuck this cunt.”

He rips your panties down your legs and stands between them. You’re soaked for him. And the thought of people watching as he uses you makes you even more wet. You feel him rub his dick through your sticky folds. He bumps your clit a few times and your legs shake with each pass of his bulbous tip against your bundle of nerves. 

He slowly pushes in. Your walls welcome him as he bottoms out with ease and you're both letting out pleasured groans. “Oh, fuck.” you gasp. The feeling of his thick cock resting inside you makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. He’s almost hurting you with his size. And so, you try to scoot up a bit to relieve the ache he’s creating.

He grabs your throat, jerking you back up to him. You let out a pained cry. You’re trying to adjust, truly, but he isn’t helping you. 

“Nuh uh.” he growls. “You’re going to take what I give you, slut.”

The bit of gentleness he showed you was just the calm before the storm. He forces your face against the window and starts to thrust in and out. His pace is hard and rough. His grip on your scalp helps with leverage. He knows you’re enjoying the stroke of his dick with the screams you let out and the way your pussy is pulsing around him. 

“God, how is a whore this tight?”  he leans in towards your face, taking in the sickly sweet fragrance you adorn and pants against your neck, “You like being watched don’t you, my dirty girl? I know you do because this,” he lands a smack against your pulsing cunt, “is milking me.”

You let the degrading words help you towards your climax. He’s hitting that spot inside you just right. His balls are hitting your clit with each sharp snap of his hips and it’s all too much. You can barely hold yourself up, the only anchor you have is his firm hold across your stomach. 

You both notice the flash of the cameras going off, but it doesn't faze you, you both love it. It makes both of your senses heightened. The thought of these pictures plastered on every magazine and news station has Jack gripping your hair even harder and driving into with such force you fear the glass may crack.

“Jack,” you cry. “Oh, fuck right there. Harder.”

He slaps a hand over your mouth to silence your pleas. “Shut up, bitch.” 

He forces your head back and the new angle your body creates has tears welling up in your eyes. The pleasure he’s giving you is borderline painful. But, his tight grip across your mouth and the delicious force of his dick has you wanting more.

 Jack can tell you’re getting close because it’s getting harder to pull out of your tightness. He takes his hand that's in your hair and braces it against your hip, making you fuck yourself against him. 

“You wanna cum, baby? Go ahead. Show em’ how this cunt swallows me up.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. You scream behind the palm of his hand. You can’t seem to catch your breath, your lungs ache from the air he’s keeping you from. You’re practically lifeless as he fucks up into you, chasing his own release. 

“Shit...” he gasps. The vice-like grip you have on him has him snapping his hips against you faster. Jack feels his lower stomach tighten and his balls constrict before he pulls out and finishes on your lower back, just below the bunched up fabric. He takes a moment to admire the mess he created on you. He’s sure his plan of fucking a woman so openly will diminish any doubts about him and who he beds. 

He pulls on his underwear and makes his way to the bar occupying the corner of the room to make himself a drink. You take a moment to catch your breath and drag your body from the condensed window pain. Your hair is wild, makeup smeared, and you have cum stuck to your thighs and back. You feel more used than usual. But, this prick just gave you the best orgasm of your life and you’d do it all over again.

You straighten yourself up as much as you can before turning around and being met with a steely, blue gaze. “Congrats, sweetheart.” he smirks, taking a drink from whatever concoction he created, smacking his lips. “You’re a star.”

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iii

→ one | two

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part three / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: drugs, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 2,948

☾ iii.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾ iii. part iii: meteor city

Sayomi woke up with a start. 

Her violet eyes flew open as she gasped remembering the past events and how her mother had drugged her.

Attempting to rise from her less than comfortable position on the ground, a nasty stench made her cringe as she gaped at her new surroundings. 

Trash and dumped items made up the entirety of where she sat, as well as everything else she could see from her spot. Most of it was worn down enough to be unrecognizeable, only looking like jagged pieces of material building upon each other.

Standing up in one swift movement, Sayomi stretched out her tired limbs as she tried to grasp the situation she was in. Maybe mother threw me in the junkyard?

It wouldn’t be the first time her mother had tried to dump her somewhere, but Illumi or her father would usually come running for her before she would even have time to recognize her surroundings.

Taking a step forward to start exploring, she paused as she kicked something lying by her feet. 

The item stood out amongst the rust and filth, as it was immaculate and seemed to radiate a familiar aura. A katana?

Tilting her head curiously, Sayomi reached down and grabbed the sheathed weapon. It was indeed very clean and actually seemed brand new. 

Looking it up and down, a silver gleam caught her eye- it was an engraving left on the otherwise black covering. 

‘Sayomi Zoldyck’

A rush of adrenaline ran through her blood as she recognized her own name engraved on the sheath. But why would mother reward me after dumping me in this junkyard?

Thousands of questions and possible scenarios ran through her head, but she pushed them aside with a shake of her head. I might as well play with this to pass the time.

The 10 year old unsheathed her new weapon, getting ready to take a practice swing when a rolled up piece of paper dropped from the katana.

Unravelling the note, Sayomi read it contents without a moment to lose. 

Sayomi,

Welcome to Meteor City. 

I’m sure you recognize the name from the many stories I’ve told you and your brother about my hometown. 

And from those same stories, you should know that those who make it out of the city come back stronger than they’ve ever been before. 

My only daughter, you know how much I cherish you and wish to see you succeed. 

When the time is right, you will find your way back home and claim your rightful spot as heir of the family business.

Until then,

Mother

Meteor City. As the reality of her situation started to sink in, Sayomi found it hard to breath. Whether it was the anxiety starting to take over her brain, or the barely breathable, polluted air of Meteor City, she found herself falling to her knees, nauseous.

☾iii.

Sayomi was desperate. She had been walking alone for close to four hours before traces of civilization began to appear in the distance.

Her wounds were splitting open under the cloth bandages she wore, and dehydration sent black spots dancing across her vision. 

Sayomi remembered something from one of the stories her mother had once told them. It was that the citizens of Meteor City refrained from hostility between one another unless they were threatened first.

With this in mind, Sayomi continued on to the tents and vast pillars of smoke in front of her. 

Clutching her side, which was now bleeding through the wraps Illumi had given her, Sayomi spotted vague figures moving about within the camp.

The sweat dripping into her eyes didn’t help her already blurring vision as she squinted hard to try and identify the faint figures that grew larger as she approached them.

At last within modest range of the camp, one of the members turned to face her. 

One after another the citizens turned from their positions, analyzing the outcast that had stumbled upon their camp.

Struggling to remain upright with her wounds and burning lungs, Sayomi let out a cry of pain before falling to the ground once again, the jagged surface cutting into her ankles.

Several of the figures rushed towards the fallen 10 year old. With caring hands, one of the citizens lifted the girl into her arms, her lightweight figure not being a struggle to carry.

Sayomi looked up at the woman weakly, she was most likely in her 40s, her eyes gray and facial features dull.

At the same time, the woman stared back, seemingly trying to analyze Sayomi’s strong features. She recognized that her slanted violet eyes were far foreign to Meteor City, along with her intricate kimono and katana. How did a child of such status end up here?

Taking Sayomi to her own home within the camp, she treated Sayomi’s wounds and gave her water along with a small portion of food to eat.

The woman had introduced herself once Sayomi was back on her feet. Her name was Rin, and she had been living in Meteor City since she could remember. 

She introduced her husband and daughter as well. Their names being Shota and Ayame respectively. 

Ayame turned out to be two years older than Sayomi. She had ashy brown hair and gray eyes like her mother.

The rest of the community welcomed Sayomi with open arms, not bothering to ask where she came from or why she was here. It seemed they didn’t care.

Though Sayomi was grateful of their hospitality, she was homesick already. Missing the mansion where everything was familiar and made sense.

When night fell on her first day in Meteor City, Sayomi shut her eyes tight from her spot next to Ayame on the floor. It didn’t seem real to her. Just yesterday she had been with her family and everything had been as it always was.

Did everyone want her gone? Not just mother?

Thoughts like these ran through Sayomi’s fragile mind. All this stress at such a young age poisoned the girl’s mind, making her question the validity of those who loved her.

☾iii.

Much like Illumi back at the Zoldyck mansion, Sayomi spent most of her time in Meteor city training.

The environment, as well as occasional gang fights taught Sayomi real fighting, and not the guided sparring she would do back at home. 

Mirroring the techniques she had once seen while shadowing a senior assassin, Sayomi worked towards extending her abilities to mastering the katana.

Her needles remained as well, safely tucked away on a band she kept around her left thigh, hidden from others. They were a constant reminder of Illumi, her best friend and the only one she had her hopes left in to save her.

On another note, the family she stayed with was generous to point that she began to grow suspicious of their willingness to take care of her.

Hospitality was one thing, but she knew enough to recognize an odd-favored deal when she saw one.

Sayomi had been freeloading off the family, wearing the extra clothes they provided her, eating their food, drinking from their water supply, and even sleeping in their tent. 

But as wary as she was, she knew this was the only option she had. For now.

She had already stayed far from the city’s borders, and the only way off of the island in the first place was by boat. 

Sayomi would have to wait for the right time in order to escape the city alive.

☾iii.

6 years later

“Sayomi~” 

The sun rose over Meteor City, waking its inhabitants, and marking the start to another day.

Inside one of the many worn tents at the camp, a girl with tangled, brilliant white hair laid sprawled out on the cardboard-floors.

“Sayomi!” Ayame entered the tent once again, waking the girl to join her family for breakfast.

Sayomi groaned at the sunlight that entered the tent with Ayame’s return.

Sitting up, her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, just barely touching the floor below her waist. 

Now 16 years old, Sayomi’s face had thinned out, no longer round and chubby, but firm and angular with more defined features. 

Her striking violet eyes and silky white hair were the only things that seemed to remain the same from when she was dumped 6 years ago. 

With a noticeable number of inches added to her legs and arms, as well as new subtle curves adorning her body, Sayomi had matured a great amount, both physically and mentally. What had once been an innocent, joyful 10 year old girl, was now approaching the end of her youth days trapped in a foreign city.

Sayomi didn’t talk about her family. Or the past for that much. 

She didn’t like to remember the feeling of waiting desperately for someone to find her. 

As a 10 year girl, she didn’t know any better than to rely on her family to come rescue her. But as those days turned into months, and the months turned into years, her hope had died miserably, being replaced by a deep sense of betrayal.

The most she had told the family about her life before Meteor City was about Killua. She had beamed proudly as she told them how similar they looked to each other. Killua. I wonder how he’s turned out to be. If he’s 6 years old now, that means he’s already started training...

But this was her life now, whether she liked it or not, and she would make the most of it even if it meant living only for herself.

“Sayomi! For the last time, waaake uppp. Breakfast is ready.” 

Yet another day in Meteor City began for Sayomi. After finishing up breakfast with Ayame and her parents, Sayomi grabbed her katana to go run through more forms on her own.

6 years with the katana, and Sayomi was almost considered proficient in the sword’s fine practice. Without a master to learn from, the majority of her techniques were either gathered from faint memories of when she was younger, or those she came up with herself.

She had also taken the risk of going into some of the gang fights using only her katana, and though she had gotten in dangerous situations to begin with, her hard work didn’t betray her. 

Standing in the piles of junk with her arms raised naturally behind her head, Sayomi took a deep breath in and out, ever so bored of the dull features at Meteor City.

☾iii.

After another day filled with meticulous training, Sayomi head back to camp, making her way to Ayame’s tent.

However, upon approaching the little green tent, she sensed within the air that something was off. 

She could feel the abnormally tense auras of those sitting inside the tent, much like those of someone caught lying. Slowing her steps towards the tent, Sayomi activated her zetsu in order to listen in to the apparent conversation going on inside.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s her full name. Sayomi Zoldyck. She’s the one we’ll give you instead of Ayame.”

It was Shota’s voice. 

His normally confident tone was replaced by one filled with a thousand concerns. 

“I assure you she’ll be here with us when you arrive tomorrow. Thank you again, sir, for accepting the replacement. Good Night.”

Could it be another gang looking for trouble? She was sure she could take them, whoever they were, but it still hurt to be referred to as ‘the replacement’. 

Sayomi shook her head out of such thoughts, realizing how panicked she was becoming over another silly gang. She made her presence visible once again, taking louder than normal footsteps as she returned into the tent for the night.

☾iii.

It was a quiet night much like usual, but everyone inside the tent could feel the discomfort that seemed to radiate around the 4 in endless circles.

Sayomi shifted in her sleep, unable to ignore the itching feeling in the back of her mind. 

The gangs here are nothing, I’ll be fine. 

She fell asleep late that night, despite being exhausted from a full day of training. A battle of worries and self-reassurance eventually died down in her mind, letting her sleep in peace.

Having fallen into a deep sleep, she had missed the sound of Ayame crying softly next to her. The older girl fell asleep facing away from Sayomi, feeling too guilty to even look at her.

“I’m so sorry, Sayomi.” Ayame whispered into the darkness. 

☾iii.

Early morning the next day, a commotion stirred through the camp.

The sound of multiple vehicles treading over glass and broken fragments awoke Sayomi, who sat up too quickly for her tired self.

Her body lurched to the side, thrown off balance by the sudden movement she had made to get up.

Groaning while she firmly held her balance with a single hand digging into the blankets pooled around her, Sayomi was confused to see that the tent was empty around her.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Sayomi slung her katana over her shoulder hastily before making her way outside, her left hand hovering over the needles strapped to her thigh.

It was still dark out when Sayomi lifted the entrance of the tent. Quite close to golden hour, but still dark enough for her to have to strain noteably in order to see.

The vehicles she had heard were parked about 50 feet from where she stood. There were 3 cars parked side by side, black sedans that looked much similar to the ones back at the estate. 

Upon her eyes’ adjustment to the dark, Sayomi could see several men dressed in black suits conversing with Shota and Rin, Ayame by their side.

She kept her guard up as she attempted to read the auras of the people standing in front of her, getting a faint feel for their emotions.

Ayame and her family were tense, worried, but Shota showed small signs of relief in his expression. The men in suits were less readable, their emotions hidden behind an experienced aura of composure.

Looks like they’re pretty experienced… But they don’t look like a gang, or like they’re even from around here.

Taking a risk, Sayomi edged closer to the group, trying to listen in on the conversation. She was partially concealed by a pile of junk, only peeking out once in a while to confirm their positions.

Her new spot was about 30 feet from the closest man, and she could now make out parts of their conversation.

An unfamiliar voice rumbled “Rest assured, she will be provided with more than she ever was here.”

Shota’s voice was next. “And will she be safe on the trip to Yorknew City?”

Yorknew City. So whoever these people were didn’t want to kill her, but take her with them to the great city of opportunities? Well, damn.

Sayomi stepped out from her position behind the pile, not caring to keep her guard up as she willingly presented herself to her soon to be captors.

Ayame gasped upon seeing Sayomi walk towards them with her hands relaxed behind her head. Her eyes shifted to her parents. They were just as surprised, having not noticed her presence earlier.

The men looked from the shocked family of 3 to the teen strolling towards their makeshift circle. She could sense them growing tense with each of her steps, deducing her identity as their target.

One of them finally broke the silence, acknowledging her presence. 

“Sayomi Zoldyck?”

Sayomi gave a flat-lipped smile in return. “Yes sir.”

The family was wading in embarrassment and horror, caught red-handed agreeing to sell Sayomi off.

The men scoffed at the brazen teen, preparing to catch her off guard with the proposal, but Sayomi spoke first.

“So, what I’m getting from this- is basically that… you had a deal with this family for whatever reason. And were going to take their daughter from them, but they pleaded with you and insisted that I could be a better replacement?”

Her deductive instincts had helped her reach the conclusion that was pretty much dead on.

The family remained still, averting their gazes from the teen in front of them, while the men nodded several times before speaking.

“Correct. Your arrogance will surely not be needed where we’re going, but I guess it’s alright as long as you’re able to back it up.”

Leaving no opening for Sayomi to respond, another one of the men spoke up. “Shall we get going then? It seems like force won’t be necessary, so we might as well move while everyone’s cooperating.”

Sayomi had only nodded, a slight skip in her step as she seized the opportunity to leave Meteor City at last. Whatever business awaited her ahead could be dealt with, and she found it in herself to smile as she faced the family that had supported her for the past 6 years.

“Shota, Rin, Ayame. I could never thank you enough for your generosity during these past years of mine. And so, with all due respect, please forget all about me and flourish in the love of your family once again.”

No matter how blunt, she had meant every word she said, and with that Sayomi turned her back to the people who had raised her up through her broken youth. 

She felt no remorse for their guilt-ridden feelings, for it was just another thing in the past.

The 3 cars took off through the rubble, Sayomi in the backseat of one of them. Her violet eyes reflected off the glass of the window beside her, reminding her of the first time she had arrived. She sat in silence as she watched the hell that had been Meteor City flash past her.

Old news.

Just like her family.

☾iii.

to be continued.

a/n: i made a taglist if anyone wants to join! :)))

[refinedbuffoonery]

Mr. & Mrs. Claus

You should know that I wrote this whole thing just for the bad pick-up line Mac uses. And then I got hit with major baby fever while writing the end and....you’ll see.  Merry Christmas, y’all! ❤ 

Established MacRiley AU

*****

Riley’s only warning to Mac’s arrival was the slam of the front door before he yelled, “I’ve got the rings!” His boots clunked on the hardwood floor as he walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Let me get dressed and then we can go—” 

Riley met Mac’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. He stood in the doorway, slack-jawed, taking in the full effect of her costume. Smiling to herself, Riley finished applying her mascara, arching her back and sticking her ass out for his benefit. 

Mac cleared his throat. “Wow. You look incredible.” 

She twirled to give him the full effect. The stretchy, ribbed material of her off-white sweater dress clung to her body, stopping just below her knees and leaving nothing to the imagination. Her favorite black, high-heeled boots gave the outfit just a bit of edge. But the real showstopper was her coat—crimson velvet trimmed with fake fur, swirling gold and silver embroidery, elegant bell sleeves. It even had pockets. 

“This is my favorite part.” Clasping her hands behind her back, Riley swayed back and forth, watching the bottom of the knee-length coat swish like a bell. 

“It’s stunning,” Mac said, still a little stunned himself. He finally closed the gap between them. “You’re the hottest Mrs. Claus in LA.” 

“Literally,” Riley joked. “This outfit is toasty, and in case you didn’t realize, it’s definitely not cold outside.” According to her phone, the high was supposed to be 74 degrees. 

Mac rubbed her arms. “In all seriousness though, you look beautiful.” 

Even after all this time, Riley still blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips as she pulled him down for a quick kiss. 

She sat on the bed, unashamedly checking her boyfriend out while he changed into his own Santa costume to match hers. He fished around in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a pair of rings. “Matty said we, and I quote, have to return these to the Phoenix tomorrow, so no using them to build a homing beacon or something.” 

“Got it,” Riley said dryly. “No homing beacon.” She reached for her ring, but Mac seemed to have other ideas. He handed her his ring instead—a white gold band with a thin, but ornate border. 

Mac spoke in a deep, announcer-like voice. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus, you may go first.” 

Riley held his left hand in hers, playing along. “Do you, Santa Claus, take me to be your wife?” She tried to be serious, but her lips curled into a smile without her consent. 

“I do.” Riley slid the ring on. Mac continued, “Do you, Mrs. Claus, take me to be your husband?” 

Riley made a show of thinking it over first. “I do.” He slid the ring��an engagement ring and wedding band fused together—onto her finger. She’d worn it before. Like Mac’s, it was white gold, but the tiny diamonds set into the bands made it glitter in the light. The engagement ring part had a princess cut diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds, making the whole thing walk the fine line between opulent and gaudy. 

She looked up, and Mac’s soft smile made her want to melt in a puddle. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced, lacing their fingers together. 

“Okay.” Riley wrapped her arms around his neck. “You do that.” 

*****

They drove Riley’s Jeep to the hospital, since someone forgot to go to the gas station on his way home, and they were already late. They’d gotten a little distracted after their fake wedding. 

Mac rested his hand on Riley’s thigh while she drove. She leaned away from him, resting her left elbow on the door and holding the top of the steering wheel with her right. When Mac didn’t take the hint and started caressing her thigh instead, Riley batted his hand away. 

“Oh no,” she scolded. “We are not doing this right now.” Mac pouted in the passenger seat. 

They arrived at the hospital, hauling two massive bags of presents with them. The hospital administrator met them in the lobby to escort Riley and Mac to the children’s wing, thanking them and the think tank profusely for the entire duration of the walk.  She and Mac exchanged the same sly look they always did when someone referred to the Phoenix as a think tank.

Meeting the kids went by in a blur. Altogether too many young, bright faces swarmed the waiting room, clamoring to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus. With each kid she met, Riley was in awe of how they were all so positive and happy and full of laughter, even though many of them were so sick and would be spending Christmas in the hospital. 

The kids gravitated to Mac like moths to a flame. He sat and talked to each one, asking how they were doing and what they wanted for Christmas. They asked him ridiculous questions, like what snacks the elves like best and who his favorite reindeer was. In a classic Mac moment, he explained to a wide-eyed group of ten-year-olds that male reindeer lose their antlers every winter, so his reindeer are actually all females. 

Every time Mac walked past—which Riley suspected was far more times than necessary—he squeezed her arm or grazed a hand down her back, and Riley couldn’t help the smile curling her lips each time he did it. 

After a while, Riley gathered the kids and read a picture book version of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Pausing to show her young, captivated audience the pictures, she flicked her gaze to Mac. He stood in the back of the room with his arms crossed in a very un-Santa-like manner, chatting softly with one of the pediatricians. The rainbow lights of the Christmas tree behind him cast him in a warm, pink glow. 

The kid closest to her tugged on her coat, and Riley turned her attention to the girl. She was probably ten or so, with intense, dark eyes that probably never missed a thing. Including Riley’s wandering attention, apparently. “Are you checking out Santa?” she questioned. 

Caught. Riley cleared her throat. “Um—” Giggles erupted throughout her audience. “So what if I am? He’s very handsome.” 

The girl scrunched up her face. “Gross!” Riley joined in on the second wave of giggles before returning to the story. 

Later, after the chaos of opening presents, the adults rounded up all the kids and settled in to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The hospital administrator set it up so the movie projected on an empty wall. Mac pulled up a pair of chairs behind the projector and motioned for Riley to sit. Lacing their fingers together, Mac leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for doing this with me.” His expression was raw and unguarded. 

Riley squeezed his hand twice in response. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

They’d barely made it ten minutes into the movie when the shyest kid—a six-year-old boy wearing Spider-Man pajama pants who looked like a tiny version of Bozer—crawled into Riley’s lap. The boy didn’t say a word; he simply nuzzled his face into Riley’s shoulder and wrapped his tiny arms around her waist. Riley let go of Mac’s hand to pull the boy into her chest, where he fell asleep for the remainder of the movie. 

Afterward, Riley carried the boy back to his room while Mac started to say goodbye to the other kids. They’d been there more than half the day, and for many of the kids, it was time for blood tests or scans or chemo. Or maybe just a nap. 

Riley hugged the last kid goodbye with a bittersweet smile on her face. The little boy in her arms was so young, four or five at the most. Behind him, his mom mouthed, Thank you.

When the boy finally let go, Riley looked him square in the eye. "You be good, okay?" He giggled, nodding furiously before returning to his mom.

The boy and his mom walked away, leaving Riley and Mac alone in the waiting room. Riley stared after them. That had to be so hard, watching your kid have seizure after seizure and then spending days in the hospital, waiting for answers the doctors didn't have.

"Riles." Mac's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "You okay?"

She blinked. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that kid."

"I know," Mac sighed, rubbing his face. "He asked me if I could stop his seizures for Christmas."

Riley's heart clenched. "What did you say?"

"I told him I'd try my best."

Riley swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Without thinking, she drifted into Mac's embrace, hands finding purchase on his chest and resting her cheek on his shoulder. His arms circled her, pulling her tightly against him.

She couldn't string the right words together to describe how she was feeling. Sorrow, for the kid whose childhood was now destined to be filled with doctors and hospital trips. Empathy, for the single mom trying her best to remain positive for her kid's sake. Admiration, for the way Mac smiled reassuringly at the little boy despite the tears welling in his eyes. Riley settled for, "I love you." She kissed Mac's cheek.

Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, he said, "I love you too."

They stayed like that for a long time, only parting when Riley said, "Let's clean up and go home."

Remnants of wrapping paper and plastic packaging littered the floor—all that was left from the bag of presents they'd brought. Well, that and the glitter. The ungodly amount of glitter that was, to Riley's horror, everywhere.

She picked up a wad of half-crumpled wrapping paper, sending a flurry of gold glitter airborne. Most of it landed on her clothes. Great. She'd be finding those damn gold flecks for months.

Mac chuckled behind her. She whirled on him. "It's not funny!" she said with mock offence, sticking her tongue out at him.

But he wasn't looking at her face. His eyes tracked her every movement, lingering on the places where her off-white sweater dress hugged her curves beneath her long, red coat.

Riley made a show of brushing the glitter off her dress, starting from her knees and working upward, drawing Mac’s attention with her movement. When Mac's gaze finally reached her eyes, she winked before resuming not-so-innocently picking up wrapping paper. Riley kept her back to him, waiting for Mac to make the next move. 

Hands locked on her waist. Mac tugged her closer, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. "I'd put myself on the naughty list for you."

Smirking, she replied, "Oh really." Riley glanced over her shoulder and had barely even realized Mac's face was still right there when his lips landed on hers, and he spun her to face him fully. The pile of wrapping paper she was holding fell to the ground at their feet, covering their boots in more glitter.

The kiss wasn't very good. Riley couldn't stop smiling, no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together enough to kiss him back instead of bursting out laughing. I'd put myself on the naughty list for you. He said that as if he were on the nice list in the first place. They broke way too many laws on a weekly basis for that to be true. Not to mention, Mac's non-consensual cell phone breaking alone was enough to put him on the naughty list for life.

"Are you just going to keep grinning like an idiot, or are you actually going to kiss me back?" he teased.

It took all of her concentration to pull off even the most chaste kiss. A little too eagerly for being in a hospital waiting room, Mac sucked on her lower lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, his hands sliding under her coat and caressing her sides.

Riley had just gotten it together enough to slip her own tongue in without getting a mouthful of teeth or fake beard when she heard a faint giggle. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the cutest little girl peeking around a Christmas tree. 

“Santa, we have an audience,” she warned. 

Mac pulled away, blushing faintly, but his hands lingered on Riley’s stomach for an extra second. He gestured for the little girl to come closer. Sheepishly, she rolled out from behind the tree. Tinsel covered every available inch of her wheelchair, and the wheels lit up when she rolled in a way that reminded Riley of the light-up sneakers that were popular when she was a teenager. Not that she'd actually owned a pair, of course.

Mac squatted in front of the girl, whose wild blonde curls were equally unruly as Riley's own hair. "Were you spying on us?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug.

Mac twisted to look at Riley. I like her. "What do you think, Mrs. Claus?" he asked. "Do spies get put on the naughty list?"

Yes. She winked. "I think this one can stay on the nice list. She managed to sneak up on Santa, after all. Very impressive."

The kid beamed. She had no idea.

"Yes," Mac said slowly, "very impressive." He turned back to the girl. "So, what do you want for Christmas?"

The girl listed a whole bunch of presents, claiming she wanted to give Santa options. Mac listened intently, nodding at all the right points.

Something warm bloomed in Riley's chest as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. To say Mac was good with kids would be an understatement. When a kid spoke to him, he always gave them his full, undivided attention and took every word very seriously. When a kid was being serious, Mac was serious, and when a kid was acting silly, Mac would be twice as silly. And as a result, he could crack even the shyest and grumpiest of kids, and, more importantly, they would trust him. 

A thought popped into Riley's head. I want to have his babies. As if her body was reiterating what it already knew and her brain had just figured out, her hands unconsciously drifted to her abdomen. 

The same spot Mac's hands hands had lingered a minute ago, she realized with a start. Did...did he want kids with her too?

Riley wanted kids—she wanted kids with Mac—but she also knew that neither of them were ready to give up their job. They couldn’t keep doing what they did with a kid in the world. After growing up with absentee parents, they’d never risk leaving their kid to grow up without one or both parents. 

But when the time finally comes, when she and Mac are ready to trade in getting shot at and making stuff explode for stability and mundane normalcy, she won’t be able to wait any longer to start a family with him. 

She waited until they were in the Jeep before broaching the subject of kids. Tentatively, she began, "What were you thinking about back there when you put your hands on my stomach?" The look on his face then said he was definitely thinking about something, but Riley didn't want to assume what. 

Mac dodged her question. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did it." 

Riley knew that was a white lie, but she didn't call him on it. He'd answer honestly in his own time. Since it was too big a subject to outright ask him, Riley took a more subtle route instead. “Do you see yourself having kids?” 

His eyes widened in response. “You know I want kids.” 

That wasn’t what she meant. Wanting them and actively reshaping your life in order to have them were completely different things. “Yeah, but do you see yourself settling down, getting a safe, normal job, and raising kids?” They’d vaguely talked about this before, long ago, but Riley suddenly needed to ask him again. 

Mac was silent for a long time, staring out the front window. “Yeah, I do,” he finally said. “With the right person.” He glanced over at her, eyes softening. 

Me too, Riley wanted to say, but she choked on the words. It took her a couple tries, and the words came out strangled, but she was pretty sure Mac understood. Neither of them needed to say it directly in order for the other to understand: I want to have kids with you. 

Riley spent the rest of the drive fantasizing about the kid-filled Christmases in her future. She glanced down at the ring on her finger. First step, she thought. Get a real ring. 

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Explains Bones - Part 4.2

(These are all collected in the KyidylBones tag.  Additionally, this is the second half of part four - please read the first half here, especially if you have questions or comments about the ethics of what I’m talking about here.  I’m going to be leaving that out as this is a continuation of that post.)

Since I’m skipping the talking and ethical statements in this one, let’s just get right into the bones.  As a reminder, this is about race determination in skeletal remains.  

White/Caucasoid.  

Female, front view. (Source)

Male, profile view (Source)

So let’s break this down in an orderly way (I will put the comparisons and stuff at the bottom in an orderly table for easy reference.  Hell, this is partially for my own reference too bc I never remember this stuff off the top of my head.): 

Eye shape and sharpness - This is easiest to see in the front view, obviously.  White skulls that have stereotypically white features will have eye orbits that are technically called “square with rounded edges” (or as we call them in the nail world....sqoval.), but they sit at kind of an angle where they’re higher in the middle and lower at the lateral sides so most of us just refer to them as “aviator glasses” which I think is pretty funny of us.  And although you obviously can’t feel it with your fingers, the borders of the eye sockets will be sharper.  

Prognathism - As you can see from the bottom image, on a caucasian skull there is a low amount of prognathism.  The chin is often behind the spine of the nose rather than protruding.  European skulls have flatter faces, basically.  Although this male has a bit of an overbite so the curve around his teeth is more severe than it otherwise might be.  Generally speaking though, you’ll be able to draw a line from the nasal spine to the chin and not much will stick out past the line and the line will be straight.  The “muzzle” area of the face is less pronounced.  

Nasal Shape - This is actually mathematically determined by a measurement called the nasal index.  It is the ratio of the height to the width multiplied by 100.  European skulls have thin, tall noses, and you can see that illustrated pretty well in the woman above.  

Nasal Sill - On caucasians, the nasal spine aka sticky-outy-bit at the bottom of the opening that you can see in profile is more pronounced.  It sticks out further.  This means that a caucasian skull will also have more guttering behind the edge of the sill.  IE, if you stick your finger in its nose and run it along the bottom of the nasal passage, you will feel a distinct dip. Europeans have a distinct nasal sill.  

Nasal Bridge - White have shorter nasal bones, and so the bridge of their nose is shorter in profile.  It also usually has a more extreme curve in the area inferior to the browbone.  This male actually isn’t a good example of that, because his nasal bones are long for a caucasian skull.  Basically, our noses stick out further.  

Unique skull features - None.  Caucasian skulls are kinda boring TBH.  

Next, we have black/African skulls.  In the US especially this can be a lot harder to determine because of centuries of admixture with the white population: 

This is a front and profile view of the same male, african individual. (Source)

Something you’ll start to notice as we go through this is that Black skulls and white skulls usually have opposite features and asian skulls are between these two extremes (Except for eye orbit shape.  Here it’s Asian on one end and African on the other, with European inbetween.).  If you think about geography here, it kinda makes sense.  Anyway, the skull features: 

Eye orbit shape and sharpness - African skulls tend to have eye orbits that are more square in shape, and often aren’t angled the way they are in whites.  This individual’s are angled though so they’re not super stereotypical of what would be considered characteristic of African eye orbits.  His are fairly square though.  The edges of the orbits tend to be softer and less distinct.  

Prognathism - African skulls are prognathic, meaning that they stick out the furthest.  In this individual, you’ll notice that it isn’t just his teeth that stick out past the line because of an overbite, the entire upper part of the maxilla is curved outwards.  African faces are much less flat than white ones.  The “muzzle” area is more pronounced.  

Nasal Shape - As you might expect, African nasal shapes are much wider and shorter than European ones.  They appear a lot rounder, and this is something that’s fairly unique to them, especially if the individual has very stereotypically African features.  

Nasal Sill - The nasal spine sticks out much less in an African skull - I’ve seen individuals who barely had one at all.  Between that and the prognathism, the bone almost seems as if it stretches, and you see very little silling.  So if you stick your finger up its nose you won’t have a sharp edge with a dip behind it in the nasal passage.  Sometimes there won’t even be a sill at all.  I actually found a really good image of this, but I don’t want to mess up tumblr’s list ordering, so I’ll stick it in below the list.  

Nasal Bridge - Africans have flatter noses, and to accommodate this their nasal bones are longer and the curve that’s inferior to the browbones is much less acute.  Their noses stick out less than that of Europeans’, and it’s something that is fairly consistent in their skeletal remains.  

Unique racial features - Not many, but Africans do have something called a “bushman’s canine”. Now, I’m gonna be honest with you guys and tell you that I STILL have problems identifying this feature.  This is despite the fact that I was taught dental anthropology by one of the dudes who basically came up with these guidelines.  So on the bottom of the upper canines there is a bump of tooth enamel that is more pronounced on Africans than it is on other races.  There’s a grading scale and stuff.  You can read about it here.  Now I found that by just googling Bushman’s canine, but one of the authors (Joel Irish) was my prof, lol.  Here’s a picture of it, but actually the drawing in that paper above is better at illustrating the two opposite ends of the scale.  I added the lines: 

(Source)

In addition, here’s the image showing the nose shape: 

(Source)

African skulls will also sometimes have stronger muscle attachment sites, but honestly there’s a lot of that part of anatomy that’s social so it’s not something you can use to ID them unless you know what they should be for the society you’re looking into.  

Ok, so that’s African skulls done.  Next up, Asian.  As a reminder, Asian and Native American skulls are *extremely* similar.  This is because they share common ancestors.  This is also confirmed by their genetics (Native American genetics are super interesting, but that’s a whole other thing.).  

(Source)

This is an Asian male.  

Eye Shape/Sharpness - Asians and Natives have round eye sockets, and the edge of the socket is of middling sharpness.  In addition, their cheekbones tend to be flatter and wider, so the combination of these things makes their skull shape pretty distinctive.  Personally I find Asian and Native American skulls to be the easiest to ID, and a lot of these features persist through admixture, too.  

Prognathism - Asian/NA skulls have a middling amount of protrusion.  This individual has a distinct prognathism, but it’s honestly hit or miss.  They can have it either way.  Asian cheekbones tend to mitigate the visual effect though so it’s a bit harder to see without specifically looking for it in profile with a straightedge.  

Nasal Shape - As you can see from this individual, the nasal opening is neither as tall as caucasians nor as wide as Africans.  Again, this correlates to what you might expect given their phenotypes in life.  Theirs are the most heart shaped, too.  

Nasal Sill - This is another area where they fall between the “very pronounced” of whites and the “not at all pronounced” of Africans.  This individual barely has a nasal spine at all, but does appear to have something of a sill that would be present if you felt inside the nasal passage for it.  

Nasal Bridge - Same as above, it falls in between the two extremes in shape and length.  

Unique Racial Features - This is why I think Asian and Native Skulls are the easiest to ID.  They have some really interesting racial quirks i their skull anatomy.  First off, they have what’s called a persistent metopic suture.  When we’re all babies our forehead (frontal) bone is in two pieces, and then they fuse.  The suture between the two is then obliterated, IE, completely healed and smoothed over.  In Asians and Native Americans, this suture fuses but you can still see it: 

(Source)

It’s a completely harmless genetic variant that runs in those racial groups.  The second easy to identify feature is shoveling.  On the back of the upper (Maxillary) incisors.  It’s basically just a difference in shape; a border around the back of the tooth.  It looks like this: 

(Source)

And here is the scale we use to grade it: 

(Source - heheh there’s Joel again.)

It’s found on the lower incisors as well, but it’s easiest to see on the maxillary ones.  

The last easy indicator is found along the sutures along the top and back of the skull.  The coronal (arc along the front like a crown), sagittal (top center) and lambdoid (where the parietals fuse to the occipital.  It’s like a downward V on the back of your skull.) sutures can be what’s called simple or complex.  In Africans and whites, the sutures are mostly simple.  In Asians and Native Americans, it’s complex.  What that means is that the wiggly line is so wiggly that it loops back on itself and forms extra small bones called wormian bones.  Sometimes these bones can actually be very large and have names.  Here’s what a skull with small wormian bones looks like: 

(Source)

The bones with the star are the wormian bones, although there are other, smaller ones.  Very large ones are called Inca Bones, after the population they were first identified in.  They look like this: 

(Source)

A and B are examples of Inca bones.  They’re generally a harmless genetic variant.  

Lastly, we’ll address aborigonal features: 

(Source)

This is an aboriginal man.  Aboriginal is a generalized term for any indigenous group, but in anthropology - and from what I can see most places - we use it to describe people indigenous to Australia and the surrounding islands.  The reason why it is only sometimes considered a separate category is that it’s pretty localized, and the differences really come down to some special features.  So here are the main differences you can look for to tell if a skull is aboriginal: 

Large teeth.  Aboriginal people have really big teeth.  There’s no other way to put this, they just...they’re large.  

Very pronounced browbone.  As you can see above, the browbone is MUCH heavier on an aboriginal skull than on any other kind of skull.  This is especially true for males.  

Flatter chin.  It’s called the mental protuberance, and on an aboriginal individual it is less prominent than on other individuals.  

Large occipital bun.  The occipital bun is the bit at the bottom back of your skull where your neck muscles attach.  You can see it in the profile picture in the far right sticking out of the bottom of the skull.  It’s especially pronounced in aboriginal people.  

Ok, so there is one more important characteristic for judging race that I totally forgot to include yesterday, and that’s palatine shape.  The dental arcade is the area of the maxilla that houses the teeth.  Basically the top of your mouth.  And as you, a human person, knows - it’s in the shape of an arch.  But that arch varies in shape from race to race.  And, what your probably don’t know from not seeing a bunch of skulls, is that there are sutures in there.  Between 2-4, but even when you have two they bisect each other and look like 4.  The shape of these sutures also varies from race to race.  Again, it’s a harmless genetic variant that runs in various geographic areas.  However, I’m going to elect to skip it because there’s already a LOT of info in this post and going into it with the depth it deserves would be a lot.  Instead, I’m going to just summarize here for you all WRT the characteristics I’ve listed: 

Eye sockets: White - Aviator glasses, rounded square, sharp edge.  Black - square/rectangle, blunt edge.  Asian & Native - Round, middling sharp edges.  

Prognathism: White - little to no prognathism.  Black - most pronounced prognathism.  Asian & Native - varies between these two extremes.  

Nasal Shape: White - tall and thin.  Black - short and round.  Asian & Native - in-between these two.  

Nasal Sill: White - sharp nasal spine, deep well behind a sharp wall.  Black - Little or no spine, smooth sill.  Asian & Native - Varies between these two.  

Nasal Bridge: White - short nasal bones, more extreme curve.  Black - longer, flatter nasals, a much less extreme curve.  Asian & Native - you guessed it...between these two extremes.  

Unique racial features: White - None. Black - Bushman’s canine.  Asian & Native - tooth shoveling, persistent metopic suture, wormian/Inca bones.  

And that is it! The rest of this series shouldn’t be quite this sensitive with respect to the subject matter.  Tomorrow is gonna be the archaeology of graves AKA how to dig up dead people.  =D After that will be (in no specific order) age determination, height determination, and teeth.  Maybe other things if I feel like it.  If you have questions or requests, don’t hesitate to ask! 

[kissmetae]

Right time

x Taehyung

❧ AU: You and your boyfriend try it without protection for the first time, allowing him to finally indulge in his hidden fetish...

|| RAW SMUT | 2.1k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || shameless sexual content

❧ Smut features: Impreg fetish, cum fetish, top!Tae, dirty talk, grinding, body worship (towards Tae), detailed, “keeping it in”... it gets weird but sweet, rough, use of cock ring lol, creaming, creampie and more...

❧ A/N: This is raw smut from start to finish. Requested by anon & anon 

His soft pink lips moved slowly over the skin of your neck.

His kisses were delicate, pressing sweetly and leaving with a gentle smacking sound. The round freckled tip of his nose brushed against your jaw as the trail travelled higher.

 Taehyung's beautiful hands were squeezing at your waist, moving your top higher and higher with each kiss.

 His soft breathing tickled beneath your ear and an eager hand suddenly slid up under your top and squeezed your breast firmly.

 He hummed, his deep voice only making you crave him more...

You tangled a hand in his hair and he moved even closer to you.

 You were lying on your back on the large bed and Taehyung was pressed up against your side, gently grinding his bulge against your thigh.

 He was so needy...

In fact he had been needy for days without telling you.

Ever since you had the talk he couldn't get it off of his mind.

It turned it him on...

He knew he had a thing for it, but being in touch with his fetish this close only made him realize how much he had supressed it before and how much it turned him on now when it was out...

 He whimpered against your ear, rubbing himself harder and moving a hand to your clothed lowers to create friction with his palm.

 "Let’s do it" he begged. "Please... I'm so ready... I can't take it anymore..."

 The frustration within him was unbearable.

The ring was tight around the base of his length, making his straining erection even more swollen.

 He had prepared....

Refraining from touch, refraining from your gorgeous body and holding back the best he could in order to build up... But this night he just couldn't withstand it any longer and the ring did the opposite of soothing his aching need to cum.

 It all started a few days ago...

How the topic came about he didn't remember but you ended up talking about sex. He hadn't admitted it but he really enjoyed being able to talk about i comfortably. Maybe it was the knowledge of the topic being somewhat "forbidden" that enticed him.

Regardless, along the way in the conversation the topic was brought up wither you should stop using protection.

He was immediately on board, wanting to feel you raw and be able to cum inside you and knowing your body would keep it and claim it, instead of it being hindered by the condom.

There was of course 'that' risk... but that was the whole point.

You were both ready.

Long-gone ready and as ready as you could ever be to risk 'that' to happen to you. Of course Taehyung wanted it more than anything... but on the other side of it all, his fetish was awaken.

 Call it un-classy and straight up sinfully disgusting perhaps ... but the concept of breeding turned him on beyond his control.

There was just something about it... a sense of pride. A pride that he and only him could impregnate you with his own to create something beautiful.

But right now it wasn't about the beautiful.

It was about the nasty, lust-filled need and longing for the sense of pride to hear you moan as he gave you a part of him.

 He felt himself throb and bit his lower lip hard.

He would break and lose control if he didn't stop now, but the curve of your thigh against him gave the best sensation... but it was nothing compared to the temptation of the unknown sensation.

 Taehyung quickly sat up by your side.

Your thighs were clenched tight and you were well aware of how wet you probably were by now.

The sight and sound of your lover rubbing himself against you for pleasure is nothing but arousing...

The sound of his sweet deep groans as his need grew stronger and the imagines it triggered your mind to have.

 His long slender fingers unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down your thighs along with your panties. His hands were hasty, rushing to get them off and tossed the two pieces of clothing to the floor.

 You sat up, crossing your arms and pulling your top off your head, tossing it to the floor as well along with the dismissed clothing. As you reached behind to unhook your bra Taehyung grabbed a hold of the hem of his sweats and you couldn't look away if your life depended on it...

You could clearly tell the lines through the fabric and how he wasn't wearing any underwear...

Apart from that his shirt was already long gone on the floor thanks to your eager hands.

 His upper body was a sculpted work of art.

Broad toned shoulders, distinct collarbones and a wide chest shaping the top of his V shaped torso. Soft honey golden skin, huggable and lean with a vague line by the hips and a thin trail of dark short hair leading from his belly button down.

 He was careful in his movement at first, carefully pulling down and helping himself with his free hand before yanking them down his thighs and kicking them off, revealing his long toned legs.

 But your eyes were focused on something else.

 His distinct almost heart shaped tip was a deep shade of pink caused by the black rubber by the base.

Had he been wearing a cock ring? For how long? No wonder he was so needy...

 He felt confident seeing you stare.

He knew you were attracted to him, just like he was attracted to you.

His eyes kept moving from your face to your breasts to your hip and back.

You licked your lips as they began to feel dry...

 The faint veins stood out more than usual and a drop of clear thick fluid was slowly leaking from his tip and down the head.

 Your heart was beating significantly harder, your inner thighs were glistening and your lips were slightly parted.

 He pulled his hair back with a comb of his hand through it and you practically felt ready to faint then and there from arousal and attraction.

 Taehyung swallowed and your eyes moved to his thick neck.

 This was all too much... 

How could someone be this attractive all at once? Not only had his personality captivated you but his appearance was a top tier bonus of its own.

 His hands suddenly reached out and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back down on the bed with him on top of you on all fours.

No words were spoken but his lips were parted as well, looking more kissable than ever.

 His expression reflected what his lower area clearly showed... lust.

Lust and hunger.

But with a tiny hint of shyness to it.

 But it was all blown away when his lips suddenly came crashing down against yours in a heated kiss.

 Your hands reached for his cheeks, desperate to pull him closer. But the quickly escaped into his black curly locks, causing him to hum against the kiss in pleasure.

 There was no time for nothing more.

 He reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and pushed your thighs further apart so he could get in between them and your heart beat raced even more.

 He grabbed his thick dick with his hand, moving closer and positioned himself by your wet entrance, unable to wait anymore to feel you around him.

 His tip touched against you, pushing against your entrance and sliding in ever so slightly before his hands landed on your hips.

 With a deep groan he pushed.

Sliding in with the tip and half way in, stretching you.

Your core hugged him tight and you were already desperate to feel him fill you fully and deep.

 Taehyung moved to lie down on his forearms on top of you with his hands clinging to your side and nuzzled his face against your neck.

 With a hard thrust along with the sexiest grunt you had probably ever heard he pushed in all the way. Really pushing... he wanted to get in all the way and it was ringing every bell within you and making your arousal leak over him.

 His breathing was shaky and you held your hand pressed against his toned back.

 It felt so much better to feel him raw... the pleasure was the same but the emotional intimacy was on a whole other level.

 He pulled back and out, barely at all and thrusted back in, picking up a steady rhythm of short hard thrusts.

Each one was on the border for him... the pleasure and the ring was going to make him cum too fast, he knew it would...

A few thrusts and he was ready to explode? He shamed himself.

"Pathetic!" He scolded in his head, forcing himself to hold it until you were close at least.

 But doing this only caused him to be more vocal, whimpering loud and long with heavy moans.

To you it felt heavenly.

He thrusted faster, longer stroked but just as deep, making you feel almost euphoric as you leaned your head back.

 You held him pressed close and his head nuzzled against your neck gave you a limited view over his shoulder of his bare behind moving against you.

You had to suggest sex in front of a mirror some time... seeing it was a turn-on on its own.

 Taehyung's movements were greedy.

He fucked you hard, releasing anything and everything with each thrust that had bothered his mind.

"Your body feels amazing." He managed to groan between the heavy breathes.

 You couldn't see, neither could Taehyung but you could feel very well how he had managed to make you cream on his dick.

The thrusts felt more slick and he went even faster.

"Fuck." He groaned.

 "Taehyung..." you pleaded.

 You felt the build up getting heavier and heavier and the muscles in your legs were tensing.

 "I can feel it baby... I'm going to cum so hard." His voice was deeper than usual.

He moaned, hitting his hips harder against you with his lips by your ear.

"You're going to get every drop baby." He ensured. "I'm going to fill you up you up so good."

 His words only made it harder for you to contain yourself and you could feel the tension building up within even more and you were struggling to hold it.

"I... I'm going to cum..." You whimpered, moving your hands to his flexed biceps and squeezing them hard.

 The words alone were a relief for him.

Finally.

He thrusted harder, focusing deep and not daring to pull out any more than half way.

The pounding was enough to break your tension.

 He was letting go, all his focus now was his release.

You moaned his name again and he smirked, hitting a few more times before your orgasm claimed you hard and made your muscles tightening hard around him.

Another cursing fell from his lips, this time in Korean.

 Your breathing was heavy and your release felt like a long awaited hard finish as it all let go. 

Taehyung's thrusted in deep a final time, remaining still and pushing in when his voice failed him and he moaned loudly as he came hard and heavily.

 His breathing was so rapid you were almost concerned that he was hyper ventilating at one point when his body fell heavily on top of you.

 You could feel it...

The warmth and the throbbing...

He rocked his hips gently, letting out the entirety of his release as he began to calm down.

 "Are you ok?" He panted, whispering.

"I feel amazing..." you assured and caressed his messy curls.

"I don't think I've- ever cum this hard." He confessed, still a little out of breath.

 "It feel different."

He nodded and caressed your sides with a soft hum.

"I want to stay inside a little more... to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That nothing spills out... It would be sexy seeing it leak down your thighs but I want all of it to stay in."

"How come?" You asked with a sly smile, still caressing his head.

"I like the thought of my cum being in you... and the risk of making you pregnant with my child..." 

You already knew the answer, but hearing him say it excited you.

"All we can do is hope."

"No. I'll make sure of it..."

 After a while of relaxing cuddling Taehyung carefully pulled out slowly.

As his tip slipped out you leaked slightly, unavoidable of course but Taehyung was quick to grab his pillow and placed it under you to angel your hips up.

The hormones that came with his release had washed over him hard and he turned into an overprotective huggable boyfriend in the span of a minute.

 He placed a soft kiss at your cheek before resting his head against your shoulder and placed his hand over your lower abdomen and began soothingly caressing the area. All while you traced your nails up and down the back of his neck in a relaxing manner. 

[herald-divine-hell]

Fire within the Blue Waves of a Bronze-Foamed Sea

Amayian awoke with a headache which pounded like a hammer against steel; and he fought back the tears which swelled as the faint streams of sunlight swept through the glass-frames set in the doors that lead out to the balconies, and the amber fire burning within the hearth, slender plums of smoke shivering up as a thin wall of gray-gold.

A shot of pain raked through the right side of his stomach, snapping all the way  up to the arm he had used to push himself upward. Capturing the gasp before it escaped, he tightened his jaw and took a sharp breath. He could feel two pairs of eyes upon him the moment he had woken up, but turning his head took too much energy. So, he would speak to them when he decided that he will speak to them, no sooner and no later. The two figures were a smudge of gray and purple at the corner of his eyes, which were grainy and made them out to be like smearing shadows, fading in blackness every so often.

A familiar voice thundered in his head, thickening the pound of his headache, and yet soothing him in a way he wish did not effect him so. “He seems to be able to move around. Thank you, Solas. I will call you if anything else is needed.”

Solas appeared faintly in view, staring him with those cool, collected bluish-gray eyes. His voice was softer than Leliana’s when he spoke. “I wish get some of the potions ready for him, Sister.” He turned that icy gaze from Amayian to the purple-red smudge. “Keep him here. We don’t want him to pass out like that again. Have him drink some from the cup. I mixed some elfroot and other herbs in it, enough to soothe his headache.” With one final stare, the elf departed in that easy, casual strode, down the stairs. The door to his bedroom chambers creaked open and then slammed shut with an echo.

Silence cloaked the chambers, only cut by the crackle of the flames. Amayian rested his head on the pillow, so soft he had no doubt it had been hurriedly fluffed. Light steps with armor-covered boots echoed on the stone floor, then muffling by the softness of the carpet; and the purple-red smudge bleed into view, revealing Leliana - with her high cheekbones, sharp and cool brown-flecked blue eyes, and her long, curving nose splattered with soft freckles. Her full lips were pulled tight into a line, and her gaze were filled with concern, annoyance, and distant all at once. He met her stare as much as he could, but another snapping bite of pain cut through him, and his jaw tightened once more. This time, he was forced to close his eyes for a moment or two.

When Leliana spoke, the icy tones were soften like melting snows. “Here,” she said, turning and bending away, curving in his vision like a sickle moon, before reshaping back into her straight-backed armored figure. “Drink this.” She handed him a cup, unadorned and plain, with only silver flames etched near the rim.

Taking it in a two-handed hold, he sipped long and slowly, warmth surging within him like a gushing river of fire and life. The bordering darkness lifted away, and the grainy haze thinned and wavered to clearness. The fire became brighter, the steel lines of the cut-glass set in the balcony doors were more sharper. That snapping bite dulled to a burning throb, but it did not cause him to wince like before. He always seemed to take the brunt of pain more easily than others. The throbbing dimmed to the back of his mind.

Turning became easier, as he shifted his body to rest the cup on the rounded side table. But Leliana was faster, and seemingly more insistent. She grasped the cup easily from her hands, and laid the cup on it’s delicate plate. “I will get you another cup, once you go to sleep.” The steel was still there in her voice, but there was a softness which mended ice in those eyes, dispelling the shadowy mist which clouded them. But they were still as sharp as daggers, only their cutting was less inflicting.

“Thank you,” he said, glad that his voice did not waver or crack. “But I do not need anymore rest. From the coloring of the skies, and my own reconciliation, it seemed I have been sleep for the entirety of the day.” He shifted himself up, and he felt the blanket about him drift down and puddle into his lap, revealing his bare chest to the cool air. Distantly, he was aware that he was naked beneath the sheets and coverlet and blankets, and he would put on some form of clothing, after Leliana left. A light whisper ringed in his mind that spoke of letting her stay and watch, to prove he was in all right of condition to continue on his duties. But he pushed it down as quickly as it came, a rumbling warmth tickling at his heart, threatening to rise up his neck and cheeks. Maybe he drank the drink too fast? Maybe that is why the warmth is so overwhelming. He did not want to find out, in any case. Nor did he wish to scar Leliana with his nakedness. “You may return to your own duties, Leliana. I know you are no doubt busy.”

Leliana stared at him with those lidded eyes, saying nothing, but merely peering at him like how an animal stalks its prey. Arms crossing over her chest, she dipped her hip a little to the side, and merely watched him, as if waiting for something to occur. Doing his best to ignore her stare, Amayian rested his hands on the soft mattress, and heaved himself up...only to collapsed back into the bed with a heavy breath he did not have the time to keep down, the pain from before stabbing and shoving it’s way across his body, like a boulder suddenly smashing against his chest. Crunching his eyes close, he took a few heavy and short breathes, calming his racing heart, tightening his hands into fists before let go. The pain ebbed slowly away.

Sharply, he felt Leliana’s hand on his, squeezing and drawing circles into the back of his hand, and for some reason, it soothed him enough that the pain fled away like a wind. When he opened his eyes, all the ice and the steel and the coldness was gone from her gaze. Only concern and worry swirled in those blue seas with its bronze foam. The shine of sunlight bathed her copper locks with a touch of amber, as if she was hooded in the fire of sunset. His fingers itched to pull away a strand which slipped over her eyes, but he kept his hands at his side. Amayian told himself that he only did so because he did not want that pain to fill him again.

“You are a fool, Amayian,” said Leliana, her voice gentle and warm. The softness filled him with that soft and persistent fire again. Where did that keep coming from? It was surely not from the pain, was it? When did she remove her glove? Her fingers were lightly calloused, and yet still soft. And they were warm. His hands always seemed cold, unless he filled them with magic. “But at least now you can see that you will not be leaving this bed anytime soon.” Her fingers, either without her knowledge or if she did was aware of it, gently squeezed around his hand.

It felt wrong for her to touch him, because he did not deserve the softness of her eyes, the kindness in her voice. He did not deserve it now, as he did not deserve it then, during the Blight. A tangling web of fear grasped at his heart, cooling the warmth, but he slashed it with effort that took too much. Unable to tear his gaze away from Leliana’s, from the soft crinkle at the corner of her eyes were faint wrinkles were growing or the gentle curve of her lips in that breath-capturing smile, he frowned. “In a few hours, I am sure I can leave.”

She hummed. “Hours which you can hasten if you sleep.” Her smile grew deviously, like the way she used to tease him for something he did not know. “Go on, I will be waiting.” Leliana stopped him when he opened his mouth to argue with a hand. “I already brought my reports up here, and since you will no doubt be in the bed for a few days, I can keep you up on things.”

She snatched the words before I could argue against them. He expected as much from Leliana. She always seemed to know how to read his mind, even if he did not understand it himself. Sighing, he nodded, and leaned against the pillow, before shuffling down. At the corner of his eye, he can see Leliana make her way to the couch which rested against the stone railing of the stairs that led down and out his room. She rested on it with one armored foot over the other, and poured herself of wine he did not saw before. When she caught him staring, she smiled in that easy and light way, which always seemed to render him a touch confused, and he turned away to stare up at the ceiling, slopping into a pyramid at the tip.

For a while - how long, he did not know - he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the soft trod of the wind against the stone walls and glass of the tower. But, soon, he heard Leliana hum a melody, a familiar song he could not name. A couple moments passed, perhaps even an hour, before she lifted the melody to song.

It was that song which lulled his eyes with a drowsy heaviness, and it was the soft Orlesian words which finally sealed his mind away for sleep, all fears and worries fleeing from mind and heart, and the memory of the softness of the eyes and smiles of Leliana, a remnant ghost of a woman who once shone as bright as dawn.

Amayian fell asleep to that sight, and only the Spymaster knew that a smile was on his own lips when he did.

[ghostboy-gamedev]

Learn Log #4 - Grassy Grove

On week 4 of my pixel art journey, I learned how to make objects of nature including grass, bushes and trees. Unfortunately, I had to postpone this to this week when the learning and blog post was set for last week as I was just preparing for a return to university (it’s all online – social distancing dw). Anyway, I ended up making the forest scene you see above, and it was a lot of fun. I think that the GUI elements last week had a focus on technicality and exactness. Letters are very rigid, and we have somewhat set ideas about what each character should look like. However, nature is more flexible and therefore logic isn’t as heavily involved.

Tile Sets

Before jumping into the actual elements of this week’s piece I want to talk about making pixel art tiles. You will have probably noticed that the nature scene is quite rigid like each element is set into a box. This is because I’m learning pixel art to make games and games often use tile sprites to build their environment.

Tile sprites are the floors and sometimes walls of the environment. They often loop or repeat to cover the environment, however, some engines have tools allowing game designers to build environments tile by tile.

In the first case, the tile sprite will have to be created with its looping in mind and details may be added to provide variation in the environment. However, these added details may highlight the repeating the pattern and the more a detail sticks out the obvious the repetition becomes. Additionally, smaller tiles will repeat more frequently, and this also shows repeating textures.

The second scenario requires variation to be created from the creation of multiple tiles. This is great for creating variation; however, the tiles will also have to line up with each other which may be trickier for more rigid surfaces like rocks or bricks.

Since Unity has a tile builder tool and I was creating a natural environment where tiles wouldn’t need to line up so clearly – I decided to go with the second option.

The size of the tiles may also dictate the size of the rest of the game. For example, a bush may be 1 tile large in terms of level design, so the size of that bush is determined by the size of the tile. This also goes for the player whose sprite will typically range from 1 tile to 2x2 tiles. I decided to just make my tiles 16x16 as I enjoy learning within that space.

Grass

A grass tile is typically made of a green background with blades of grass texturing the surface. Many people may open up a couple of green canvases and start texturing them with green lines, however, there’s a much better way to do things I think. Since we’re working with 16x16 tiles there’s a limited number of shapes that look like grass and are small enough to fit within the tile. So, if we make a bunch of lines in green then we have blades of grass that we can copy and paste into each tile (the blades should typically be a lighter green as light will be hitting them).

However, having blades of grass like this make tiles look flat. Adding shading will fix this issue by giving the grass depth, however, more complicated shading will obviously make the background more complicated which can affect the readability of your game.

Each blade of grass can now be copied into a 16x16 canvas to make grass tiles. I made 4 grass tiles shown below putting approximately 10 blades into each tile. I made each tile with different elements of the environment in mind such as short grass, long grass, bushy grass and leafy grass.

With these tiles, I created a larger image to test the repetition of the tiles. The repetition wasn’t a big issue; however, I didn’t think the leafy grass fit with the rest of the grass, so I decided to leave it behind for the next stage.

Next, I was going to add an extra tile for each of the current textures to reduce repetition as well as two flower variants for each tile type to add some colours into the textures. I did another test of the tiles’ repetition and overall look and it looked good but somewhat cluttered though I figured that this wouldn’t be an issue when I deliberately place the tiles rather than randomly scatter them.

I had in my mind the type of scene I wanted to make for this week, but it required dirt paths. Luckily this wasn’t an issue to make. I made two variations of the straight, one-way paths as they would be tiling and altered one of these tiles slightly to make the curve and intersection tiles.

I then assembled these 15 tiles into the image below.

Trees

Next, I wanted to add some plant life which would involve trees and bushes. I decided to do trees first as they would be larger than the bushes. First, I started with the shape of the tree which would be fairly basic. I made a rough tree trunk shape to start with and topped it with a circle that was a little squished before refining the shape a little more to get what’s shown below.

I then added colour into the tree. A simple brown for the bark and 4 shades of green for the leaves. These greens were made by colour picking the base green background and hue-shifting it towards yellow so the tree would stand out more from the background.

The colours are organised into ovals to help give the tree a sense of depth. The dark shades wrap around the edges of the tree to show the tree’s roundness. The colour thins out as it goes around because you’re viewing the shaded leaves from a side-on perspective.

Next, I blurred the lines between these circles by mixing the colours slightly. This was the start of adding leaves onto the tree. Quickly after that, I added more detail to the leaves by spotting the head of the tree with lighter greens. The details added were in ‘leaf-like’ shapes like hearts, single lines, and arrows. They don’t look like leaves individually and can’t receive much detail themselves (such as a stem) but together they make the tree look nice and bushy. I also added some detail to the tree trunk including shading.

The tree trunk seemed a little off when I checked it out with the image I had so far, unfortunately. So, I added some extra trunk at the bottom along with a nice shadow. This shadow was the colour black at a transparency of 127 (or half transparency). This works really well as a quick and easy shadow on detailed background, but it does, unfortunately, mean the shaded area is not hue-shifted as typically preferred. The final product is below.

Looking at this sprite you may think it would be difficult to construct a game environment due to the leaves, trunk shape and shadow involved. However, we can place each section down as a separate 16x16 tile with the main trunk tile being a collider and other tiles not having a collision box (like decoration tiles – we don’t want players to run into tree leaves). This works out really well, and I focused on the main trunk tile when positioning the sprite in the piece. Which is shown below.

However, the scene below is bit lonely so I thought I’d add some pine trees as a level border. The process of the pine tree is similar so I won’t describe each step but will show the images. This time around I did shape the tree a bit more wildly with branches and leaves sticking out from the tree. I also hue shifted towards bluer colours rather than the more yellow colours I used in the round tree.

Next, it was time to add more trees into the scene and add some grass beneath them. I made the grass beneath them short grass simply because it looks a bit neater than the other grass types.

I think it looks pretty neat! I made a pine tree variant by swapping the colours with that of the round tree for some variation which worked as a nice, easy trick. But it would look livelier with some bushes.

Bushes

You might have looked at the trees just before and thought, ‘That kind of looks like a bush on a stump.’ That’s because the techniques used to make bushes and trees are typically very similar depending on the style of the game. Since we’re using a 16x16 size which is somewhat limited they will likely turn out in roughly the same way.

I started with a circle shape that was modified at the bottom to be a bit flatter. This will hopefully give the impression that the bush is touching the ground and rounds out on the top

I did a similar process in colouring the bush as I did with the tree, however, I used fewer colours as I didn’t have as much room for highlights with the bush. The colours used are actually the same as those in the pine tree.

I then adjusted the outline to give the bush a wilder feel as well as texturing the inside of the bush to create the appearance of leaves.

The bush still felt a little flat, so I added highlights to the top of it to add a greater sense of depth. The highlight was rounded towards its end at the bottom to enforce the rounded nature of the bush. This required me to add another outline tone for highlights which I might apply to other elements of the picture. I was pretty happy with the bush, so I made another for variation and added them into the picture with some shadows.

The picture looked pretty good, but I thought some touch-ups might make it just that little bit better.

Touch-Ups/Conclusion

To touch up the piece I added some more trees for denser looking forest, added the lighter outline colour to the tress and expanded shadows around some of the pine trees. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I think the shadows could use some refinement at the top border of trees. I also think that top border highlights the repeating pine tree trunk which could also be changed to tile better. I do wish my bushes were a bit leafier than shrub-like, however, I think my ability to make leaves on both bushes and trees will improve as I practice. I also think a 32x32 base picture would allow me to make some more defined leaves. The lighting on the pine trees also uses a different technique to the round tree so next time I’ll try to be more consistent with that. Overall though I’m happy and I quite like the outline highlights as they make the image a bit softer.

That concludes week 4 of learning how to make pixel art. Next week I’ll be looking at sand, water and rocks to make a top-down beach scene.

My learning and this blog post wouldn’t have been made possible without these fantastic resources. Go check them out if you wanna learn some stuff about pixel art!

How to Draw Tiled Pixel Art by TipTut

Creating Variation in Pixel Art TutsByKai

Pixel Art 101: Grass by Pixel Pete

How to Make Pixel Grass Tiles by TutsByKai

RPG Grass Background Tiles by HeartBeast

Pixel Art 101: Trees by Pixel Pete

[Let’s Pixel] Tree by HeartBeast

[Let’s Pixel] Spruce Tree by HeartBeast

Pixel Art 101: Bush by Pixel Pete

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Night

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: Alrighty. So I wrote the next part at last. Our odd couple are still on the run. Also, this chapter will reveal a lot about the time period :)

Please let me know what you think and reblog if you can :D Thank you all again for being amazing and here’s your helping of angst.

You left the train behind. Kept away from the tracks and to the brush as the soldier, or James, led you into the unknown. You were content as long as it was away from Hydra. As long as you were moving. You traveled by night and rested a couple hours only before you kept on. 

Food was scant. You kept away from cities and towns. Unseen, perhaps lost. James would leave you to hunt a rabbit or some other meagre creature. Sometimes he returned with a box of oats or a can of stew; sometimes more. You knew it was stolen food but your stomach ached too much to care. 

Luka devoured you after each meal and in between. His own hunger was apparent. He cried at times and you worried he would draw unwanted company. James waited while you quieted him, as you let him suck at your sore breasts; almost barren now. 

Yet he continued to grow by the day, despite your shortcomings, despite your exhaustion. His little body grew heavier with each step forward. Some days, James carried you until he found a place to rest. He kept watch as you slept, only an hour for himself as you ate and tended to Luka. 

Still, he was silent. You didn’t know if it was because his words were still buried deep or because he didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know either. So you carried on into the winter nights, fleeing the unseen pursuers.

You reached the German border at dawn one day. It was weeks since you’d chased the train down the rails. The sun was hidden behind cold clouds and the sky pale with the threat of snow. Luka was wrapped in a thick wool blanket James had found and nestled in the front of your coat. You clung to him to keep both of you warm. 

James walked a foot ahead of you as he always did. He left the rifle by the train, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. He kept his hand by the pistol on his hip, your own hung just above your thigh. He emptied the chamber sometimes and showed you how to load it, how to aim it. But shooting air at trees was nothing like firing metal into flesh.

“Where are we going?” You asked at last. 

He didn’t answer and kept walking.

“Please, James, I’m tired. Luka’s tired.” You pled as your boots grew heavy on your feet. “If we continue on, I will die.”

He stopped and turned back so quickly you nearly collided. The air puffed from his nostrils into a frigid cloud before him. He stared down at you, his eyes wandered to the little bundle against your chest.

“West,” He said. “We must continue west.”

You frowned as you thought. You were far from the small Russian village where you were born. Far from the facility where your life had been torn from you, but never far enough from Hydra. You couldn’t speak German or English. Even if you could, you knew you couldn’t stay. 

“The border…” You began.

“There will be many guards but there is away. I remember…” He paused and looked around the frozen field. “When I was...When Hydra...I remember crossing.” He lowered his head and sighed. He turned his back to you again and fell back into step. “We go west. We’ll find a way across the line.”

You kicked yourself after him, carefully not to catch your toe on the divets in the ground. You rubbed Luka through your coat as he fidgeted. His breaths were even still. He dozed as he did most days.

“And we will rest soon.” He said over his shoulder. “When we find cover.”

-

It grew harder to avoid the towns and cities. Germany was much smaller than Russia. Your nights were spent walking and the days spent hiding. A week into your trek, James brought you a change of clothes. A pair of jeans, a tee, and a loose sweater. A jacket and boots too. They fit much better. He even found a proper onesie for Luka. 

He changed as well. He hid his gun under the faded green sweater that fit a bit too snug at the shoulders. His beard had grown thick and his hair was starting to even out. He gave you a hat to tuck your hair into and you almost looked normal again. Almost.

“I got a car,” He announced as he sorted through his bag. “We can make the border in a couple of days.”

“You stole it?” You asked. He rarely spoke first, if at all.

“Not from someone who can’t afford it.”

“This is Soviet territory, no one can afford it.” You argued.

“Would you rather walk?” 

You stayed quiet and tickled Luka’s stomach as he laid on his wool blanket. “No. We need to go as far as we can.”

He neared and looked down at you and Luka. The little boy was more alert these days. He smiled and blinked at the things he saw. He grabbed onto your finger and tried to pull it to his mouth. He was hungry as ever. James lowered himself to sit beside you, not close enough that you touched but enough to feel his warmth.

“He is well?” He asked. You looked to him, his blue eyes sorrowful as he watched the child.

“Healthy, despite everything. Big,” You turned back to Luka. You reached down and lifted him. “You should hold him.”

“What?” James eyes widened as you held Luka out to him. The baby peered up at the man wondrously and reached for him. “No...I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He is strong,” You assured him. “And he’s your son. You hold him.”

You stared at him. His jaw tensed and his nostrils flared as he thought. He swallowed and finally took Luka from you. Stiff at first, he cradled the baby in his right arm and carefully rested him against his chest. Your lips threatened to curve as you watched his little fingers dance in the air. 

James’ brow furrowed as he felt the child move against him then slowly, the tension left his face and his long lashes flicked up and down. He peeked over at you, surprise and calmness smoothed his features.

“You can’t hurt him,” You said. “I know you can’t.”

He looked to Luka and brought his other hand up to let him grab it. You felt a knot in our chest as James held his child and you slowly stood. James quickly glanced to you and you waved away his concern.

“I’ll make dinner,” You explained as you moved around the crooked shed. “I found a can of something. No label. It will be a surprise.”

He nodded and returned his attention to Luka. You watched them a moment before you turned away. Usually, you felt so cold, so incomplete without Luka on your chest. Not this time. You felt safe, even in the midst of uncertainty.

-

Night time. The sky was black; the moon hidden in its silky depths. You waited a week for the lunar beacon to whittle away. James counted the days and his anxiety grew more obvious. Your own twisted your stomach and wrenched your chest. You’d have one chance and failure could mean all your lives.

You knelt in the ditch as James peeked over the top. You could hear the guards, hear the tinker of their guns as they held them at the ready, see the glare of their muzzles beneath the border lights. Luka was quiet, almost frighteningly so. James knelt again and pointed two fingers behind you. 

“Away from the outpost, not far, that’s where I crossed.” He pressed his lips together and looked down at Luka. “Through a river. Just beneath a bridge.”

“The rivers are frozen.” You whispered.

“Hopefully.” He walked hunched over past you and waved you after him. “It’s our only hope. There’s too many down there.”

“We could go back for the car.”

“They’d shoot the tires out.” He didn’t wait for you to catch up. “Besides, it doesn’t go much faster than a lame horse.”

You followed him, as you always did. He was more talkative these days but only about your escape. Never about what happened, never about where this would end, just about moving on; keep going, don’t stop, we’re almost there…

You walked for forty minutes, maybe more, and he stopped you just away from a stone bridge. Here it was darker. There were two men with flashlights walking along the figurative iron curtain, guns held low, their steps aimless. Their duty meant staying through the night, nothing more. When the reached the bridge, they would turn back and go about their rounds along the stretch of border.

James watched for a while. There pattern was the same, lackadaisical and repetitive. They were local farmers in soldier’s clothes. A job they took to feed their families, not one they would die for. He nodded and turned back to you in the shadows of the barren trees. 

“Ice is thin. We’ll break through. We can keep on the shore until we reach the bridge but then...Keep Luka above your head.” He pushed his shoulders back and spun around. 

He reached blindly behind him and his hand closed around your wrist. You mimicked his light steps as he led you through the dark, ducking in shadows as boots sounded on the frozen gravel. There were patches of snow but nothing so thick as to muffle your movement. Instead, he moved in time with the guards. Waiting for them to get far enough away before he started again.

He pulled you down the decline and kept you from slipping onto the ice. He turned again and met your eyes through the bleak night. You took Luka from his sling and held him snugly in your arms and nodded. James released you and continued on as you followed his broad shoulders towards the mouth of the bridge.

When you heard the guards again, he pressed himself to the frozen dirt and you did the same. The footsteps seemed to be on top of you before they once more retreated. He pointed two fingers ahead of him and you followed him in a crouch along the water rushing beneath the thin sheet of ice. 

Your foothold grew thinner and more treacherous as you neared the bridge. He stopped you as he reached the stone crossing and hoisted his bag from his back. His eyes flashed upwards as the guards boots echoed across the ground. The men greeted each other, chuckled at some indiscernible, and resumed their duty.

James waited until they were far again. He extended his leg to the water and carefully cracked the ice with his boot. He took a breath and hoisted his bag onto his shoulders. He lowered himself into the dark water, the ice at his waist. He turned back to help you down after him and you held Luka above your head.

You stifled a gasp at the frigid water and he made sure you were steady before he let go. He pushed his way through the ice, each crack, each snap, made your heart leap. What if the guards heard? Your teeth chattered as you followed him through the floes and he moved steadily until you were halfway under the bridge.

He raised his hand and you stopped. Listened to the sound of the guards above. They grumbled at each other and their boots tramped over the stone and wood structure. You waited again for their steps to fade into the distance. 

James signalled you to move again, your skin was numb yet burned like fire. You crept through the icy depths until you came out on the other side. He lifted you up first onto the dirt, just enough of a path to put one foot in front of the other. He climbed up after you and you looked back as he pulled out his pistol and listened.

Contented by the silence he nodded for you to carry on. You shivered and lowered Luka, carefully not to soak him. You walked and walked until the trees rose around you and he led you up the incline into another line of trees. It was odd how this side mirrored the other. Farcical how a little line drawn in the sand could divide people; divide the fortunate and unfortunate.

“Here,” He unzipped his bag, “Clothes.” He revealed a new sweater and a pair of jeans. “You’ll get sick in those.”

“It’s freezing out here,” You hissed.

“Exactly. So change fast.”

You offered Luka too him and he took him with the same reticence as he holstered his gun. He turned his back to you and you stripped your clothes quickly. You dressed even faster and found boots under the new set of clothes. He spun back as you pulled them out and laced them up.

“Keep your feet warm.” He advised as you replaced the sling over your shoulders. “The jacket will dry quick enough.”

You slipped back into the damp jacket and he returned Luka to his sling. You noticed the way his gloved fingers lingered on the baby’s cheek. He drew away sharply and bundled up your old clothes and hid them in a bush of thorns. 

“What about you?” You asked as he zipped up the bag and slung it on his shoulder.

“A little cold won’t get me,” He assured you and peered past the trees into the endless night. “Come on. Dawn will be here soon.” 

He didn’t walk ahead of you this time, instead he stayed beside you as you wove between the trees and back to the edge of the dirt road. You glanced over at him, his face hidden in the shadows. You reached over and touched the back of his hand, your wool glove soft against the cold leather.

“James,” You said as he flinched.

“Yes?” He replied gently.

“Will you carry Luka for a while? I’m so very tired.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to walk. A deep breath fogged before him as you poked his hand again. He grabbed your hand and stopped you. He turned you to him, the two of you enveloped in the black of night. For a moment, there was silence, thick, tense, frightful.

“Okay,” He said at last as he let you go. “I can carry him.”

[savedbybangtan]

Intermittent Fasting

Summary: She changes her entire being to be perfect for Hoseok. Don’t you think she has a right to him?

2172

Warnings: fluff?, smut, drinking, drug use

It may not look like it now, but I plan on making a main character in this fic yandere. If you get triggered by possessive, jealous, or controlling themes, then please do not read. Also, those with eating disorders or triggered by them should not read. 

Part 0.5

The saccharine scent of nectarines intermingled with the smell of the ocean, or more precisely the beach. There was a hint of fresh salt and some sweet fruit greeting me when I woke up. The sun was already blinding me with my eyes closed, so I squeezed my eyelids together even tighter to block it out.

The bed was very soft and… smooth? Satin sheets enveloped my naked back and legs in a homely manner, and that was when I realised I was not home in Gwangju, like I had been all week.

With a start, I open my eyes and sit upright.

The entire room seemed dark, in décor not lighting. The sheets were certainly satin but were burgundy along with the comforters and pillowcases. The walls were a glossy black colour and the floors looked to be some smooth grey rock.

Where the fuck am I…

…and why am I half naked?

The door across the room swung open and a girl dressed in a large white t-shirt, that I realised was mine upon further scrutiny, waddled in the room with a glass of water in her hands. On me, my shirt fit quite loosely, but due to her curves, she filled it out more. If she wore makeup, I didn’t notice.

Who was she?

I am sure I’ve seen her before. Her hair reminded me of cotton candy – a halo symmetrically divided in two with colours. The left side of her hair was an inky black and the other side was sky blue. Her smile was warm and welcoming. That smile perfectly fitted her; she was adorable.

I managed to have sex with someone like her?

“Hey, sleepy head.” She smiled at me and handed me the glass of water as I attempted to throw my legs over to get up. She sat in front of my legs casually so now it would be awkward to get my feet on the ground. “I see you didn’t touch your breakfast,” she frowned and practically pouted at me. My heart stuttered. “You need to eat.”

This was when I notice the tray of eggs, bacon, waffles, orange juice, peaches, and some other food items I didn’t recognise. They were neatly arranged on a wooden tray with a curtly folded napkin and silverware.

To get the sad look from such a pretty face, I picked up the tray and dug in with a smile. “I didn’t even notice it! Thank you.”

Her eyes lit up first before she smiled.

I started with the meat chewing animatedly. By the time I finished the eggs as well, I notice that she wasn’t eating. No, weirder, she was ogling my mouth when I ate the entire time. It was strange, so I decided to start a conversation. I remember that last night I went to the club with some friends. We finally finished our first finals ever as seniors. After drinking half a beer, I got very drunk and left to get a cab. I don’t remember much else…

I really should stop drinking.

My eyes couldn’t help but to trail down to her neck and then her breasts that were poking obscenely through my shirt. The window in the back of her helped to outline her Coca-Cola bottle silhouette that she hid beneath.

It was Saturday, I was on vacation from work, and the food was actually good, so I finished the plate eagerly, ignoring the voice in my mind questioning who she was.

I must have flirted with her last night.

As soon as I walked into the club, my friend ordered me a beer. I drank half over the course of 20 minutes and tried to leave before I got too drunk, but it was too late for me to come to that resolve. I would admit I’m a lightweight, but the alcohol was more effective than I thought. I stumbled a few times. Did she help me get a cab?

I drank the orange juice in one gulp. When I rested the glass back onto the tray, she picked it up with a smile and ran just outside the door quickly. The motion made the shirt ride up and her butt – that was the cutest thing I ever saw – flashed me.

She came back a few seconds after I realised I had an erection the entire morning.

She sheepishly walked toward me wringing her hands. “A-Are you okay? Last night…” she trailed off. “I want to make sure you’re not harmed. Did you eat enough?”

“No.”

“I’ll get some more. I made plenty! Did you like everyt-“

I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto the bed in one motion. “I’m hungry for something else,” I said in an even tone. I glanced down to where her legs met and then back up at her, an obvious hint as to what I was referring to. “Will you feed me?”

She whimpered over a little flirtation. Was this weird or was she just shy?

She was sat on her haunches looking down at me like she was afraid I would actually bite her. To ease the tension, I dragged my hands lightly from her knees up to her thighs and across her hips slowly. “Will you?”

“Yes! Please, yes. Anything you want!” She started to whine.

Wasting no time, I laid her on her back and pressed her knees a part. Her shirt bunched around her belly, giving me a full view of her vulva. I lifted her legs up so they were pressing on her torso to get a better view inside of her.

“Don’t look!”

Her face was so red, I was afraid it would bleed from her cheeks onto her sheets. When I looked at her sex again, she was already dripping.

I never saw anything like that. She was so ready just from me looking at her.

This would be fun.

To spare her further embarrassment, I dipped my head between her legs and coated my lips, chin, then nose in her essence.

With a moan, I got to work licking stripes from her perineum to the tip of her clit, watching her every reaction to see what she preferred.

I began to suck on her clit since it seemed like she was moaning for every spot I touched. In between the moans and pants, she cried, “Hobi!”

My chest and entire mouth were wetter than usual.

“I’m sorry! I just wasn’t expecting you to actually do that! I’m sorry!” She sat up on her elbows as she recovered slowly from her orgasm. It took me a while to understand that she squirted. I used a finger to swoop up some of it that was still in her, making her shiver, and stretched the fluids between two fingers forming a string.

It was actual cum. Out of shock, the fact that she called me by my personal nickname that only close family and friends knew escaped me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean you up right now.” She was panting as she struggled to use her legs to get out of bed. I grabbed her by her ankle and pulled her down under me.

“Do you want this?” I asked her as she looked at me with blown out pupils. I stroked my cock, preparing to enter her.

“Yes!” She practically screamed and opened her legs further, although her face burned crimson still.

I entered her in one quick motion straight to the hilt. “Fuck”

“Mmmm, Oh my God, Hobi! It feels so good,” she sang.

Was she oversensitive? All I did was put it in. I know that first penetration is normally the best, but surely it wasn’t that good for her to be moaning still.

I pulled out slowly until only my head rested in her. Her moans were frantic and strangely comforting. It encouraged me.

I decided to stop torturing myself and pistoned into her. I pressed down on her knees so that she would be even more wide open. She was too tight, and it was bordering on pain. “Shit, you’re so damn tight.” I leant down and started peppering kisses and lovebites over her neck and jaw.

Her insides contracted suddenly. After a few minutes, she gripped me into a vice hold as her own orgasm washed over her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she scratched my back. It was painful but I was too focused on my own cum leaving my body to mind it.

Completely spent, I got off her and l lied on the side. “That was amazing. Short, but amazing. I want to go again.”

She stared at me wide eyed. “Really? You want to go again… with me?”

At first, I thought she incredulously couldn’t believe I was ready for another round, but now I was perplexed why such a beautiful girl was so insecure. She made it seem like it wasn’t normal for a young man to want to be inside her.

She grinned after I affirmed her question and squealed in glee. “Its good to see you’re so healthy, but you should take it easy. Let me ride you.” She was already straddling me, and I had already agreed before she could finish the sentence.

My semen dripped from her pussy lewdly as she hovered her sex over mine.

She split herself open on my cock slowly with a look of utter bliss painted across her face. “Mmmm, it feels so good!” She spoke with too much emphasis.

I didn’t care if she was exaggerating, apparently my dick liked it.

She kept talking as she bounced up and down on me, never losing her momentum. Sometimes she would rut and grind on me like some energizer bunny, then she would take slow movements, carefully sitting down until she stuffed all of me in her and coming back up just until my head was about to slip out.

It was impressive. She stayed up there lasting longer than I had ever seen any woman in this position. Normally by now, their legs would be tired, but she just kept going.

The tshirt was on, but did little to hide what was underneath, so I never asked her to take it off. Instead, I grabbed a breast and felt the weight of it in my hand. Her hardened nubs were teased after I pinched each lightly. She sighed in satisfaction. Had I learnt anything from the first round, it would be that she grew quiet and slowed all of her movements when she was about to climax.

Her body stilled suddenly. Wrinkles marred her forehead where she tried to be still just as I was feeling my own end come about.

Was she edging herself, or was she running away from the orgasm?

Either way, I put my feet flat on the bed for extra leverage to fuck her from underneath. Slightly pulling her down onto my body, I tried to aim for whatever strokes she moaned the most to.

Again, she was between keening non-stop and hanging her mouth open in a silent scream. This time, she was not able to stop since I controlled the thrusts.

The velvet sheath that pulled me up to her cervix milked me until all of my own seed was spent. I loosened the grip that I didn’t realise I had on her thighs so strongly and laid her down on the sheets next to me.

We both stared into the ceiling to regain our breaths.

“That was amazing,” I couldn’t help the smile spreading across my face.

“More than I …could dream ….of,” she said barely audibly.

Her breaths slowed until she became so quiet that I looked down at her. She started sleeping so easily.

She looked so cute, I couldn’t help but to chuckle at her cherub sleeping form. Carefully, I drew the blankets over her, fluffed the pillows, and kissed her forehead.

From afar, I heard my phone ringing. If I listen closely, I can tell that it was not in this room and the tune told me that it was my job. I donned my shirt and left the room. Surprisingly, the rest of the house did not have the same medieval feel as the bedroom. It seemed like a regular house.

At the door, I found my underwear and my pants was not much further on the staircase.

The kitchen made it apparent that she did not live alone. The family portrait strewn everyone told me she had multiple siblings and her parents living here.

Just as I came to this realisation, I heard a few voices from somewhere else deep in the house. They were coming towards me.

Not wanting an altercation, I quickly found my phone (that was on a table in the foyer) and dashed out the house.

I dared not look back or use the ride share app until I was already down the street.

In my haste, I forgot to get her name, or even her number.

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

I’ve said before that EVERY SINGLE ONE of Danerys’ mentions of home and red door is foreshadowing of Danerys burning King’s Landing. Have a round-up.

AGOT

Danerys 1

    She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her "Little Princess" and sometimes "My Lady," and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.     They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper's hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.     At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother's crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother "the beggar king." Dany did not want to know what they called her.     "We will have it all back someday, sweet sister," he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. "The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King's Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back." Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known. D1

It comes together with death and pestilence. It comes together with taking back what was “theirs”.

    Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. "I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home."     "Home!" He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. "How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!" He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. "How are we to go home?" he repeated, meaning King's Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.     Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio's estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. "I don't know …" she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.     "I do," he said sharply. "We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo's army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will." He smiled at her. "I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying."

Danerys "going home” is attacking King’s Landing with the Dothraki.

Danerys 3

    "What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?" she asked him.     "Home," he said. His voice was thick with longing.     "I pray for home too," she told him, believing it.     Ser Jorah laughed. "Look around you then, Khaleesi."     But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye, all the doors were red.     "My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms," Dany said. She had known that for a long time, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for Jorah Mormont and all the world to hear.     Ser Jorah gave her a measuring look. "You think not."     "He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one," Dany said. "He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home."     "Wise child." The knight smiled.     "I am no child," she told him fiercely.

Danerys burning King’s Landing. It also foreshadows Danerys usurping Viserys, by allowing Drogo to kill her brother. She inherits being queen and Drogo’s army (much later) from him.

    Dany gave the silver over to the slaves for grooming and entered her tent. It was cool and dim beneath the silk. As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon's eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. She blinked, and they were gone.     Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. "The sun," Dany whispered. "The sun warmed them as they rode."

My favourite. You can’t find it looking for red door, but it is a red door. It comes together with the dragons and burning. There’s a lot of these. Drogo’s tent becomes red with the stallion’s blood (after the heresy started) for example.

Danerys 4

    She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he'd hit her. "How dare you send this whore to give me commands," he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet. (...)     "I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair," Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. "You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?"     His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.     It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. "You are the one who forgets himself," Dany said to him. "Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails." Viserys scrambled back to his feet. "When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut." He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him.     Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats.(...) "Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs."     Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. She liked to hold them. They were so beautiful, and sometimes just being close to them made her feel stronger, braver, as if somehow she were drawing strength from the stone dragons locked inside.     She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her … as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. "You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it." And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home.

Danerys usurping Viserys (hitting him and drawing blood), by allowing Drogo to kill her brother, which makes her queen. Also foreshadows Danerys usurping another which shall be associated with the green egg, since she covers herself and the egg with the green cloak stained with Viserys’ blood.

Danerys 6

    "The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons," the knight answered. "Have patience, Princess. Do not make your brother's mistake. We will go home, I promise you."     Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door … was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the dosh khaleen, was she looking at her future?

Danerys is seeing her future yeah. She’ll take control of Viserys’ army when she comes back to Vaes Dothrak and makes them bow to her. This happened in the show.

    If Khal Drogo had been with her, Dany would have ridden her silver. Among the Dothraki, mothers stayed on horseback almost up to the moment of birth, and she did not want to seem weak in her husband's eyes. But with the khal off hunting, it was pleasant to lie back on soft cushions and be carried across Vaes Dothrak, with red silk curtains to shield her from the sun. Ser Jorah saddled up and rode beside her, with the four young men of her khas and her handmaids.     The day was warm and cloudless, the sky a deep blue. When the wind blew, she could smell the rich scents of grass and earth. As her litter passed beneath the stolen monuments, she went from sunlight to shadow and back again. Dany swayed along, studying the faces of dead heroes and forgotten kings. She wondered if the gods of burned cities could still answer prayers.     If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old … and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman … but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget

sounexpected.jpg

Honourable mention for “she went from sunlight to shadow and back again”. To remember Quaithe: “To go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east. To go forward you must go back and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.“ This is meant to illustrate her journey back to Vaes Dothrak, she’s here at the moment.

    But the Western Market smelled of home.     As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed (...) She did take a dozen flasks of scented oils, the perfumes of her childhood; she had only to close her eyes and sniff them and she could see the big house with the red door once more. When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician's booth, Dany took that too and gave it to the handmaid, thinking that now she should find something for Irri and Jhiqui as well.     Turning a corner, they came upon a wine merchant offering thimble-sized cups of his wares to the passersby. "Sweet reds," he cried in fluent Dothraki, "I have sweet reds, from Lys and Volantis and the Arbor. Whites from Lys, Tyroshi pear brandy, firewine, pepperwine, the pale green nectars of Myr. Smokeberry browns and Andalish sours, I have them, I have them." He was a small man, slender and handsome, his flaxen hair curled and perfumed after the fashion of Lys. When Dany paused before his stall, he bowed low. "A taste for the khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady, it sings of plums and cherries and rich dark oak. A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me."

b-b-betrayal. This whole chapter is (bad) chef’s kiss.

Danerys 8

    "The time for that is past, my lady," Mirri said. "All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning."     Her words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all …   "No," she pleaded. "Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …"     Mirri Maz Duur sat back on her heels and studied Daenerys through eyes as black as night. "There is a spell." Her voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. "But it is hard, lady, and dark. Some would say that death is cleaner. I learned the way in Asshai, and paid dear for the lesson. My teacher was a bloodmage from the Shadow Lands."

How Danerys goes home, by bringing the dragons back to life.

Danerys 9

     She was walking down a long hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone.     "You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"     She saw sunlight on the Dothraki sea, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they rippled like water. Drogo held her in strong arms, and his hand stroked her sex and opened her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. "Home," she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, but suddenly the stars were gone, and across the blue sky swept the great wings, and the world took flame.

How Danerys goes home, by bringing the dragons back to life in the pyre, after her dumb attempts at saving Drogo with bloodmagic. Also, how home means leaving blood on her wake and burning the world, possibly foreshadowing King’s Landing burning too.

    Ser Jorah's face was drawn and sorrowful. "Rhaegar was the last dragon," he told her. (...) She felt the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever.     "… don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"     Viserys stood before her, screaming. "The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned." The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. (...)     "… don't want to wake the dragon …"     The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.     "… don't want to wake the dragon …"     She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo's copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. (...) And Daenerys Targaryen flew.     "… wake the dragon …"     The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door.      And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

This whole chapter is (bad) chef’s kiss. The door recedes as Danerys sees Jorah saying Rhaegar was the last dragon and Viserys claiming he is the dragon. Then she does “something” and the door comes close enough to throw open and go “inside”. This is Danerys becoming a true Targaryen, illustrated by the “wake the dragon” mantra. She goes from  “you don’t want to wake the dragon” to “wake the dragon” to “dragon”.

The something that I didn’t include for brevity sake is her character journey. An allegory for the birthing of dragons complete with tears turning to steam like the event proper, as she sees Rhaego (mother of chldren) but then he burns as he turns to ash (mother of dragons), An allegory for becoming a dragon complete with burning everything as she goes and the smell of burning blood, as her ancestors urge her on, then she feels her backs give in, sees wings and flies.

From Vaes Dothrak she goes to Westeros, to see her brother at the Trident and looks inside of his helmet, but it’s her own face. Together, if Danerys had accepted her brothers were the Last Dragon, she wouldn’t return to Westeros. However, after Danerys becomes a dragon and the destruction she made along the way, she is the Last Dragon and not Rhaegar.

     "Saved me?" The Lhazareen woman spat. "Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved."     "Your life."     Mirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. "Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone."

The Dothraki (Danerys) burn burns a god’s house (Vaes Dothrak) and then burns a traitor’s home (King’s Landing).

ACOK

Danerys 2

    "Ser Jorah, find the docks and see what manner of ships lay at anchor. It has been half a year since I last heard tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the gods will have blown some good captain here from Westeros with a ship to carry us home."     The knight frowned. "That would be no kindness. The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise."

Jon is a “usurper” in Danerys’ eyes and he really does kill her. I thought it was just betrayal, but he does kill her. Good for him.

     The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.   

sounexpected.jpg

Lovely the mention of Danerys’ crazy father, who wanted to burn King’s Landing. She will do what he could not.

Danerys 3

    "I am half a world away from my kingdom even here. If I go any farther east I may never find my way home to Westeros."     "If you go west, you risk your life."     "House Targaryen has friends in the Free Cities," she reminded him. "Truer friends than Xaro or the Pureborn."     "If you mean Illyrio Mopatis, I wonder. For sufficient gold, Illyrio would sell you as quickly as he would a slave."     "My brother and I were guests in Illyrio's manse for half a year. If he meant to sell us, he could have done it then."     "He did sell you," Ser Jorah said. "To Khal Drogo."     Dany flushed. He had the truth of it, but she did not like the sharpness with which he put it.

b-b-betrayal

Interesting the way he puts it though, betrayal for gold eh.

Danerys 4

    She fled from him, but only as far as the next open door. I know this room, she thought. She remembered those great wooden beams and the carved animal faces that adorned them. And there outside the window, a lemon tree! The sight of it made her heart ache with longing. It is the house with the red door, the house in Braavos. No sooner had she thought it than old Ser Willem came into the room, leaning heavily on his stick. "Little princess, there you are," he said in his gruff kind voice. "Come," he said, "come to me, my lady, you're home now, you're safe now." His big wrinkled hand reached for her, soft as old leather, and Dany wanted to take it and hold it and kiss it, she wanted that as much as she had ever wanted anything. Her foot edged forward, and then she thought, He's dead, he's dead, the sweet old bear, he died a long time ago. She backed away and ran.     The long hall went on and on and on, with endless doors to her left and only torches to her right. She ran past more doors than she could count, closed doors and open ones, doors of wood and doors of iron, carved doors and plain ones, doors with pulls and doors with locks and doors with knockers. Drogon lashed against her back, urging her on, and Dany ran until she could run no more.     Finally a great pair of bronze doors appeared to her left, grander than the rest. They swung open as she neared, and she had to stop and look. Beyond loomed a cavernous stone hall, the largest she had ever seen. The skulls of dead dragons looked down from its walls. Upon a towering barbed throne sat an old man in rich robes, an old man with dark eyes and long silver-grey hair. "Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat," he said to a man below him. "Let him be the king of ashes." Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on.

The show’s endgame made Danerys’ threatening Winterfell enough of a reason for them all to move against her and she felt threatend by Jon being the rightful heir to the Iron Throne becoming public. Before season 8 aired, I thought these would be more important than simple threats and I’m still convinced the books will be the case, but even if they aren’t the foundations are the same so it will be something like that either way.

The sequence goes like this: [1] Euron’s War Horn > [2] Red Wedding > [3] House with the Red Door > [4] Aerys telling the pyromancer to burn KL with wildfire > [5] “The dragon has three heads” and one Aegon is to be king. The show went like this and of course you’ll notice, it’s out of order:

[5] Danerys feels threatened about Jon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. “The Dragon has Three Heads” is Rhaenys, Aegon and “There must be one more.” Jon.

[1] The War of Fire: Daenerys versus Euron

[3] Danerys conquers King’s Landing.

[4] Danerys burns King’s Landing.

[2] Danerys threatens to burn Winterfell like she just did to King’s Landing.

I might buy that the Undying show [5] last to indicate who last betrays kills her, but there’s no excuse for [2] hanging out out of place. This is why I don’t think it will be as straightforward as the show. I’m still convinced she’ll do something nasty in Winterfell or the Starks, before she flees them.

     Faster and faster the visions came, one after the other, until it seemed as if the very air had come alive. Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible. A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door. Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow. Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged. A white lion ran through grass taller than a man. Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed. Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. "Mother!" they cried. "Mother, mother!" They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them . . .    

The red door comes sandwiched between Mirri Maz Duur’s blood magic ritual and Danerys’ birthing the dragons. It’s never good imagery, only bad.

Danerys 5

"All the brass in this booth is not worth twenty honors," Dany told him as she studied the reflections. The old man had the look of Westeros about him, and the brown-skinned one must weigh twenty stone. The Usurper offered a lordship to the man who kills me, and these two are far from home. Or could they be creatures of the warlocks, meant to take me unawares?

How did Danerys die? Unaware (betrayed) at “home” (King’s Landing). I once thought it would be by a creature of the warlocks (Bran) and a Sorrowful Man (Arya).

     Three heads has the dragon, Dany thought, wondering. "I shall tell my people to make ready to depart at once. But the ships that bring me home must bear different names."     "As you wish," said Arstan. "What names would you prefer?"     "Vhagar," Daenerys told him. "Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names on their hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who sees them to know the dragons are returned."   

Danerys goes “home” with dragons.

I’m actually unsure if this means only this, or foreshadows a three-way between Danerys - Aegon - Jon over King’s Landing. Some think Cersei took Aegon’s role in the show and since I also believe Jon will be far more of an enemy towards the later stretch, a three-way battle would fit rather well.

It’s the same for ASOS and ADWD, I’ll complete this another time.

[rosegivy]

Chapter 2: The Black Knight

Valandi stood in the royal castle feeling slightly nostalgic. Before she became the Black Knight, she used to live in a place like this. Of course, the architecture was much different from that of the paler residents of the kingdom of Laurendia. She sighed sadly as she recounted the gold archways that led to the palace of her people. She wondered if it was still standing after it was conquered, abandoned by their royalty, by her. A bitter taste filled her mouth and she stopped reminiscing. Instead she surveyed the colourful flowers in the royal gardens she was forced to wait in, curious as to why no one came to greet her

She was here to hopefully help another people with their problems. So that she could solidify her status as a noble, male, knight. She may have cut her thick black hair and spent much more time in the sun to darken her skin from a chestnut brown to an almost midnight black, but she had to fake confidence as she felt one small mistake could ruin her guise.

She heard her attacker before she saw them. In one swift movement she unsheathed her yatagan, a short slightly curved sword. She used it to parry the strike. Surprised by her response her attacker, a knight it seemed, was not prepared for the kick to his gut. He doubled over in pain and Valandi used the back of her sword to send a blow to his skull knocking him unconscious. No sooner had she done that two more knights came from her sides. They were armed with a sword and shield each. Valandi rushed the attacker on her right. She feigned a strike to his left with her sword and pushed the palm of her hand to his neck, incapacitating him. She again parried the third man's assault and swept his feet out from under him. She pointed her sword to his throat letting him know she could kill him. Inwardly Valandi rolled her eyes. These people fought like blundering cattle, they had no technique, no knowledge of the body. They were simple army grunts.

A slow clap could be heard from the entrance to the garden. Valandi turned to see a large man in a decorated blue battle uniform. He sported a long beard speckled with gray that clashed with the neatness of his outfit. Despite this, Valandi could tell he was no army grunt.

"Gave them a workout I see." His voice was deep from his stomach.

Valandi sheathed her sword. She did not reply, waiting for the man to get to his point. Uncomfortable with the lack of discourse the general coughed to break the silence.

"Not very chatty, that's fine. I am sure you are curious as to why we summoned you here. The great Black Knight. Black in more than demeanor I suppose." Valandi did not respond. She was used to these kinds of remarks but was getting impatient. She only nodded.

He introduced himself as Sir Graeme, the head general of Laurendia's army. And proceeded to explain the situation. Valandi listened intently. She took the updated map of the region he handed her after he had finished. Rescue a princess, slay a dragon, save a kingdom. Simple. Although she felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of the dragon. She had not fought one since...

"What exactly is the princess' curse?" Valandi asked, purposely interrupting her flow of thought.

"We aren't quite sure." Sir Graeme responded. "Whatever it is you need not worry about it. Just bring her here in seven days and you will be greatly awarded."

Valandi waived away his offer. "The only compensation I can hope to ask for is that you mention my deed to the court of Camelot and back my good name."

Sir Graeme was not surprised. The mysterious Black Knight was known to not take reward from the people he has helped. "Or course. But if you do not mind me asking, why Camelot? You clearly are not from there." He gestures to her complexion.

"A magic free land should be for all people. I wish to become a knight of the round table, so I can fight among those who also wish to fight for the good of common people." Valandi stated simply.

Sir Graeme bowed slightly in respect. "I pray that you accomplish this goal. Surely there is none as noble as you at the round table."

"I wouldn't give myself that much credit." Valandi replied curtly looking at the map he handed her again. She put her fists at her side and bowed slightly before she turned to leave.

"Godspeed sir-?"

"The Black Knight is fine." Valandi responded as she left the courtyard.

-═══════ι▬▬

Valandi rode East deeper into the heart of Laurendia. The princess was kept in a fortress on the border in a more desolate mountain area (most of the border was a mountain range). Her hand clutched the reins as she leaned into Ziba, her horse, urging him to go faster. In the distance she could see the the mountain where the princess' dungeon should be. It was at least a two day journey but she would make it one and a half. Her determination and stubbornness are what has kept her alive, even when everyone she had ever loved wasn't. As she rode, she allowed her mind to wander and after some meandering it went where it always did. To that day.

She was barely a teenager. Her and her family were on their way to Camelot to meet King Uther. They were going to make history. It was the first time people from their kingdom would have a partnership with the new continent that didn't involve slavery. Her family would join the nobility of Camelot, swearing allegiance to each other. And when her younger brother Raja was of age, he would become a knight to honour the agreement. It was part of efforts to have the two very different peoples seen as equals.

They hadn't even made it to the sea that separated the continents before disaster struck. A dragon. A small one, but enough to be deadly. Valandi squeezed tighter at the reins, willing the memory to fade, but the pain stayed. She had to get the scene out of her head and focus. While she continued riding, she went over sword forms mentally. An effective way to get her mind off subjects she didn't want to think about.

She slept overnight in a valley before reaching a gaping chasm, where a thin bridge was constructed as the only means to cross it. Below her she could only see darkness. If there was a river below this bridge Valandi couldn't see it. On the other side of the bridge was a small castle, still magnificent in its own right. However, it appeared to have undergone several ruthless attacks. Most of the turrets where completely destroyed and scorch marks covered large portions of the castle walls. Still Valandi could see no sign that the dragon was present.

She decided to dismount Ziba and continue the rest of the journey on her own. She was afraid that he would run away frightened by the dragon or cause them both to fall on the bridge. Valandi took a deep breath, unsheathed her sword and began to traverse the bridge. With every step it swayed beneath her. Her stomach churned when she glanced down. Keep your cool Val. She chided herself. Just one foot in front of the other. Then she will save the princess and be on her way to Camelot.

Finally, she crossed the bridge and ran into the castle. Now where would the princess be held? She realized that despite the small size of the castle she still had a lot of ground to cover. As she searched, she noticed the failed attempts of her predecessors. Skeletons in armour was all that was left of most of them. Some more recent victims where blacker even in their bones, seemingly burned alive. Valandi shuddered, the image of her brother's charred arm as he tried to protect her moments before his death flashed in her mind. Focus. She chided herself.

Eventually she reached a less damaged part of the castle. Stairs led to the top of a tower. Of course. Valandi climbed them quickly, without losing a breath. At the top of the tower was a door to what seemed to be a bed chamber. She knocked on it and immediately scolded herself. She was rescuing the princess, there was no need to knock.

Nonetheless a sing song voice answered, "Come in!" Valandi opened the door which led to a bedroom like she had guessed. A large, pink, four poster bed was against one wall, beside it a window which overlooked the bridge from where she came. Meaning the princess probably already knew she was coming. At the opposite wall was a mirror and a table filled with cosmetics. In front of the mirror was the most fascinating woman Valandi had ever seen. She had bright orange hair, almost like fire Valandi thought. And her skin was as pale as milk, with freckles dotting her face. Her eyes shone a deep emerald green, matching her silky, green gown. Her striking features were unlike any Valandi had ever seen before. She looked so much different than the people from her land, yet still beautiful.

"Are you here to save me knight or are you going to keep staring?" She mused with one eyebrow raised.

Valandi bowed quickly and cleared her throat. "Save you your highness." She said deepening her voice slightly.

The princess approached her and reached out her hand. Valandi paused before she took it and kissed it, almost forgetting this land's customs. "Then get on it with it. Sir-?"

"You can call me the Black Knight." Valandi replied.

The princess raised her nose. "Hmm that's a strange name for a knight. Mysterious." She curtsies. "I am Princess Christan."

"Yes, excuse me your highness, but there is supposed to be a dragon guarding you, where is it?" Valandi was perplexed.

The princess shrugged. "It must have left to go terrorize a village. We must hurry before it gets back." With that the princess hiked her skirts and hurried down the stairs. Valandi followed. She helped the princess cross the bridge and soon they are on the other side.

Princess Christan sank to the floor, allowing her hands to feel the earth. "I can't believe it." She laughs her smile revealing pearly white teeth.

Valandi allows herself to smile slightly. "How long have you been locked up there?"

"Since I was a young girl." She stands up dusting herself off. "An abandoned castle is no place to grow up, but it had to be done." She said as she pet the horse. Ziba seemed to like her. He nuzzled his nose against her hands and she smiled wider.

"Why were you put there? Seems a bit cruel for parents to lock up their own child."

"I was cursed at birth."

"How so?"

The princess hesitated. "That's not important. What matters is that I was saved." Suddenly she looked at Valandi closely, a realization coming to her. "That means you're my true love." She said, holding Valandi's hands and coming close to her. "I must reward you with a kiss, true love's kiss."

The Princess closed her eyes and leaned into Valandi. Valandi moved out of the way of her lips. "No, I am not." The Princess opened her eyes.

"What do you mean? You saved me."

"Yes, but for someone else. Prince Astor is your true love."

The princess crossed her arms. "Then why didn't he save me?"

"He is no shape to; I must take you to him."

Christan started marching towards the bridge, heading back to her prison. Valandi couldn't believe it. "No! You're doing it wrong. The curse will not be broken unless I am saved by true love. I will be waiting in the castle for this Prince Astor to prove his love for me."

Valandi sighed in frustration. "Sorry princess that's not happening." She grabbed the princess by her waist and threw her over her shoulder.

Christan hit and pulled at Valandi. "Put me down you, you lug!" Valandi ignored her and placed her on her horse roughly.

"Listen here your highness." Valandi scolded her. "Your kingdom is about to destroy another if your marriage does not stop it before that happens. I need to do everything in my power to get you there by next week, or else thousands will die. Do you want that all so you can find love, your highness?"

The princess' eyes widened and she shook her head. Valandi continued, "You will follow me back to Prince Astor's castle, they will cure you, you will be wed and you will live happily ever after. Deal?"

The princess nodded and said quietly, "deal."

"Good. Now let us hurry before the dragon returns."

-═══════ι▬▬

Valandi and Christan traveled for the most part in silence. Valandi walking alongside Christan on horseback.

"Are you not tired?" Christan asked.

"No." She replied curtly.

She was amazed that the knight could be so... knightly. Not once did he complain about walking, while she rode on his horse. Even though they went up and down hills and through mud. He stood stoic without falter. Guiding her towards her happy ending. Something she had been waiting for for most of her life. Finally she would be free of, of it. She hoped that the prince was handsome, but she couldn't help but notice the man that called himself the black knight. His skin was darker than any she had seen before and his hair was blacker than ash. But that's not what caught her attention the most. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black but changed to golden discs in sunlight. She had never seen anything like it.

"What?" Now he was looking at her inquisitively.

"Sorry?" She replied.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Princess Christan blushed. "It's nothing. You're just so... mysterious."

"Hmm." Was all he replied.

What Valandi was actually thinking was the date. As far as she knew she was supposed to start menstruating before she began the journey. She even wore protection just in case, but upon inspection that morning there was nothing. So she decided to go without it for the day (for the stuffing of wood up ones arse is very uncomfortable especially on horseback). But as she felt the princess stare at her, she also felt the familiar feeling of flow between her legs.

"We must set up camp now." The knight said suddenly.

Christan smiled. "Ah so you are tired." Then her smile faltered. She smelt it. The metallic smell of blood distinct to a woman's monthly cycle and it wasn't from her.

"What is it princess?" The knight asked.

Chistan knew she couldn't call him, no her, out on it. It would seem absurd for a regular woman to be able to smell such a thing. So instead of acting on it Christan shrugged and looked towards the oncoming sunset. "Nothing. I agree, I grow tired." Christan saw the almost unmistakable look of relief on the knight's features as she nodded.

"We can set up right here. There is a stream not too far away from here for bathing." They were traversing the mountain range. In front of them was a grassy valley. Just as was mentioned there was a stream that flowed behind a green hill. It's tip resembling that of the mountains that surrounded it.

"I didn't know men bathed often." Christan said curiously.

"It's for you princess, but now that you mentioned it I am in need of a bath." The black knight made a show of smelling her armpits. Christan huffed as she was led to where their camp would be. That was a smooth save, she thought to herself. But Christan was going to find the proof she needed. Soon they stopped in front of the hill near a hollow that resembled a grassy cave.

Courteously, the knight asked, "would you like to bathe first, princess?" Wow, she was taking the chivalry thing very far, Christan thought. However, if she was going to prove she knew she was a woman she was going to need her to be occupied.

"That's alright, I think I'll help set up camp." Christan said removing what appeared to be the knight's camping bag from the horse.

"Thank you, princess." The black knight left Christan with the horse as she made her way to the stream.

Christan pretended to be busy unpacking the knight's things. She didn't pack much other than the bare essentials. Water skin, dried food, some cloth, etc. A small dark brown pouch caught her attention. It was made from a leather she had never seen before. Christan's curiosity was piqued, but something told her not to touch it. Besides, she realized that time was passing quickly and she may miss her window. Reluctantly, she replaced the mystery pouch in the travel duffel.

[supertweetycherry]

THE DECK PRINCESS - [ii. The Talk]

🔹Pairings: EXO x BTS x OC

🔹Genre: Fluff, Cardau, Adventure, Powers, Reverseharem, Love, Mates

🔹Ratings: General

🔹Warnings: Light Swearing

🔹Word Count: 2.9k+

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“I’m up, mom. Stop screaming.”

I groaned as another round of screaming started from downstairs.

“Lee Yoonmi! Get up you lazy girl. We have guests coming over soon.”

I buried my head deeper into the pillow. After last night’s rowdy party and then the extra run back to the house has left me exhausted and cranky. Considering I returned just before 5 in the morning and my wake up call started at 9, I can proudly say I’m utterly screwed. I might just have to take a bunch of pills to get rid of the incoming headache that will soon plague me.

“I’m up, mom. Please stop screaming.” I growled, not bothering to open my eyes. “See, I’m getting ready.” I made some uncoordinated movements with my arms on the bed before dropping them like a sack of potatoes.

“Hurry up!” I smiled. That’s usually the warning I get before she leaves me alone for an hour.

“Okay.” I said into the pillow before changing sides to get into a more comfortable spot.

“I mean it Lee Yoonmi!”

“Ugghhhh... MOM!” I whined pulling myself up from my warm comfort. What is wrong with this women? I just want to sleep. I need to sleep. Three hours of sleep is not fun. Screw the guests. I don’t want to meet them. They can go and fu—

I stopped.

“No.” I exclaimed as I suddenly remembered who was coming today. “No, this can’t be happening.” I quickly picked up my phone and looked at the time. It’s 10am.

“Fuck” I’m so screwed.

You see, today I’m getting a special recruitment visit from a very prestigious academy in all of Seoul.

The Celestials Academy. I know the name is not that grand but still. It’s one of the world’s best academy that houses the best of best. All of its graduates are now big companies CEOs and major share holders, ruling the world by the tip of their fingers. Infact, my whole family has been to this academy. My parents. My grandparents. My great-grand parents. My great great-grand parents. It’s a tradition. So it’s obvious, that I, Lee Yoonmi, the only child of my father would attend this place.

THAUK!

I winced as my foot hit the dresser. I totally deserve this. I have been prancing around the room trying to get ready for the special visit, but ended up making more of a mess than the actual dressing. I looked at my toe in worry. It was red. And it was throbbing in pain.

“Fuck!” I cursed as I tried to hold down my scream. “Deep breadths, Yoonmi. Deep breadths.” Why does this always happen to me?

I was about to give my dresser a deathly glare is when a flash of black stopped me. There was something lying at the foot of it. Exactly where I had happened to hit my foot.

“Oh, what the hell? What are you doing here?” I grumbled picking up the familiar looking playing card. “Shouldn’t you be on the table?”

I looked at my study table where I had last placed this card. It was empty. The window behind it was wide open. The wind must have flown it all the way across the room. Just like it nearly took my eye out last night.

“Ya! Are you a trouble magnet or something?” I rambled as placed it on the dresser and continued to fix my jeans. “You should know, I blame you for this. Because of you I had to take a detour last night in heels to escape your little fans. Nearly broke my ankle from all the running. And now I’m super late for my interview that will possibly decide my future in the Lee family.”

Is it weird that I’m talking to a card? Something tells me it can hear me.

Looking at the mirror, I sighed sadly. My eyes were red and puffy from the lack of sleep. My lips were chapped due to dehydration and my skin colour had turned two shades darker than normal. I am well and truly fucked.

“Again, I blame you for this.” I repeated as I picked up the card again. As predicted, it was larger than a normal playing card. The sides were curved and there were specks of small white galaxy like blobs that covered the dark background. It seemed like the blobs were moving and twinkling just like what a normal galaxy would look like from under a telescope. The silver diamond in the middle of the black wispy background was shinning for some reason. The sun rays from the nearest window sparkling the diamond like the real thing. The surface felt smooth. There was also some writing underneath it. Two characters. They looked pretty similar to the old Hangul characters that was taught to us in history class last year. Hmmm. I might have to refer to my notes to see what it means. Meanwhile, I flipped the card around. The other side was blank white. But I could see faint outlines of vines forming around the border of the card. They had a light green tint to them.

“You’re such a weird card.” I hummed, narrowing my eyes slightly. Something is not normal about this card. It was warm. Like it was buzzing with energy. As if it’s waiting for something.

“Why were they after you? Heck, why did I even decided to pick you up? You do know Song Mina is going to kill me if she finds out I took her precious card. Actually on second thought, I don’t regret taking you. I don’t like her anyway. So I don’t really care if she’s still out there crying over her harem of boys to find you. Besides, I can see you are in a very bad shape. All these tears and rips. It makes me feel sad. I don’t know why.”

It was true. The state of this card is making my heart ache. Even though the diamond was shinning, the sides and the white blank side are carved with creases and slices of lines.

“Am I going crazy? I’m talking to a card.” I mused, shaking my head. “Yeah, I AM going crazy.”

Suddenly, the card grew warm. A tingly feeling went through my fingers. I looked weirdly at it.

I think I’m really going crazy.

                                                       ******

I looked weakly at the peas on my plate. I had just finished my breakfast and was starring at the extra big green peas that my lovely mother has decided to dump on me for some unknown reason. Don’t get me wrong, I love peas. But today, they seemed too sweet for my taste.

“Why aren’t you eating, sweety?”

I looked up at my father’s clean face. His face portrayed unknown worry. I couldn’t grasp what he was thinking but by the side glances that he kept giving to my fumbling mother, made me worried. They both were acting weird since the moment I have come downstairs to join them.

“They’re too sweet.” I said, dropping my chopsticks loudly on the table. Unknowingly, my hand went to the side pocket of my jeans where I had placed that weird playing card. It was still warm. I could feel it vibrate a little but I ignored it and just continued to run circles over it with my fingers. I just needed the satisfaction that it was still there.

“I thought you said they were coming.” I suddenly said, looking at my watch. They should have been here by now.

“Actually, they are not coming till two in the afternoon.” My mother said slowly.

“What?” I questioned, looking at the time again. “That’s still two hours away!”

“We know, sweety. We just wanted to have a little talk with you.” My father spoke, putting his own chopsticks to the side. That wasn’t a good sign.

“You guys are making me nervous. Did I do something wrong? Look if it’s about last night then I’m sorry that I sneaked out. I know I wasn—“

“Wait, You sneaked out last night?” My mother exclaimed.

“Uhh...” I looked at their confused expressions in worry. I wasn't supposed to say that. Oopsie. “I-I uh... I m-meant I snitched out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh.. It means I snitched out all the food from my secret stash.”

“You have a secret stash of food?” I bit my lip in annoyance.

“Yes, mom. I have a secret stash of food.”

“Why?”

“Because I get hungry.”

“But there’s food in the kitchen.”

“I know.”

“Then?”

“Then what?”

“Then Why?”

“Ugghhh...” I groaned, pretending to hit my head on the dinning table. This is getting nowhere.

“Honey, you can drill her with your questions later. We have more pressing issues to discuss right now.” My father cooed my mother to a stop. I whispered a thank you to him. He was pretty lenient on me. I bet he already knows I sneaked out last night.

“But..”

“Ji-soo...” My mother sighed heavily.

“Fine.” She said before snapping her head at me. “But this isn’t over young lady. I know you sneaked out last night. I’m not deaf.”

I nodded nervously. It’s better to just roll with it.

There was an awkward silence for few seconds before my father bursted.

“Yoonmi, there is something that your mother and I have hidden from you.” He started lightly, taking in my change of expressions carefully. My eyes had narrowed at him. “The reason we are telling you this is because you are about join the academy that will either make or break your future.”

I sat up straight at his word. Make or break my future? What is he on about?

Now, even my mother was starring at me with an intense look. There was absolute something serious about this situation.

“What do you mean?”

“Yoonmi, you are a Card Wielder.” My mother announced. I gave her a funny look.

“I’m a What?”

“A card wielder. It’s a term used to refer a person who posses the abilities to summon Warriors from cards. Now, I know this sounds crazy, but please let us explain what warriors and cards are before you start asking us million and one questions.”

I gave them a weird look. Yes, I did have a bunch of questions running through my mind but I will let them explain first. Who knows they might be playing a prank on me?

“Many centuries ago, a secret society was established to protect the world from unknown forces. It consisted of card Wielders and warriors. The warriors were a magical race that once inhabited this earth before they were all trapped within the playing cards. They are beings who look like us, who act like us, who feels like us. The only difference is that they each posses magical powers that can be used to save the world. Their cards, is like a small prison that keeps them in-place. The masters, which is us, have the power to summon and use them in whatever way we want to. Over the centuries, our society has flourished. We were able to build various governments, schools, hospitals and companies around the globe with the help of the warriors. And you my sweetheart, you are also a part of this growing society. The celestial Academy that you will be going to is full of Card Wielders. It was built to train young Wielders on how to use their warriors properly and achieve things that you could never dream about before.”

I was dumbstruck. I’m a card wielder? There were human like beings in playing cards? With magical powers? A secret society? How am I supposed to digest this? This is a bloody clusterfuck they dumped on me!

“I know this is a lot to take on, sweety.” My father voiced out. “But don’t worry, Professor Lizing will explain more about the cards and warriors when she comes around.”

I stared at them. Is it my turn to speak? I don’t even know what to say.

“You guys are pranking me, right?” I started. “Please tell me this is a prank.” I said in desperation.

“No, Yoonmi. It is not a prank.”

I suddenly gripped the table as I sucked a deep breadth. Are they being serious?

“I don’t believe this.” I denied, shaking my head vigorously. “There’s no way something like a Card wielder or warriors exist! It’s all fiction!”

Both of my parents exchanged looks. I banged my hand on the table loudly to gain their attention.

“Do you guys have any proofs?” I demanded, pinning them with a glare. They again exchanged looks. “Stop looking at each other and give me the damn proof!”

Suddnely, a deep humming buzz echoed just before everything on the table started levitating. I stumbled back in fear as the peas on my plate were now twirling in mid-air right infront of my own eyes.

“That’s the power of levitation. I gained it when I acquired a special ‘air’ deck when I was 21.” My mother announced like it was nothing. I looked at her with wide eyes.

“And this is what I like to call ‘water splash’.” My father spoke just as a glass of water beside me erupted, splashing all its water into my face. I coughed and wheezed at the sudden attack. “A pair of twin warriors. The most naughty duo you could ever find.”

“Static.” My mother continued, clicking her fingers. I suddnely felt a shiver before my brown bangs on my forehead rose up in the air. I could see sparks flowing through them.“A nice little trick for a little payback.” As if on cue, one of the hair touched my raised eyebrow and I felt a small shock run through me. It threw me off my high stool in an instant.

“Sonic Boom. I clap my hand like this and BOOM.” And just like that a loud boom was heard, and both the ladies of the house covered their ears to protect them. When it stopped, a ringing was left in my ears and the whole dinning table was trashed to bits. I could see my squashed peas under a broken leg table.

“Oops, sorry.” My father laughed nervously, wincing at my mother’s glare.

“You know what, maybe your whipped ass would look better with that sorry.” My mother exploded just before she raised her hand. I ran to her in an instant and held her boney fingers from producing anymore of this magic.

“Stop. Please stop. I get it. It’s all true.” I exclaimed in desperation. “I believe you.”

They both looked at me and flushed.

“Sorry.”

I ignored their apology and pondered on this new development. If this is true, does that mean I’m like them? I’m a wielder? why haven’t they told me this before? That I’m not a normal person.

“Wielders have magic?” I questioned unconsciously.

“Oh no, honey.” My mother waved at the question. “Wielders are normal. We just gain a small amount of power when we gain a full deck. It depends on the deck’s basic element or how powerful it is.”

“Decks?”

“Ask professor Lizing. I think she will be able to explain you this a bit better.”

I nodded.

“Hold up...” I said standing up. My face was still dripping with the splashed water. “You said card Wielders summon warriors from their cards, right? But I have never done that before. I have kissed hundreds of playing cards when I was little. As far as I know there was no warrior wheezing out of them.”

“It only works on special cards, Yoonmi.” My mother explained. “Cards that are larger than a normal playing card. They each have a individual design and colour to it. They are magical cards. You will feel them buzzing with energy. They will seem very... alive.”

My body froze. Cards that are bigger than normal? Buzzing with energy? They don’t mean.... no way. Are they referring to that weird card I found yesterday? There’s a freakin person living inside it?!

As if on instinct, I slapped my hand onto my right pocket. It was growing warm again. I could feel it buzzing.

“Every wielder gets their first card by the age of 8. And from there on, they build their collection up to form decks. There’s no limit on the cards and there are hundreds of decks out there for Wielders to choose from.”

“But I haven’t even gotten my first card yet. Does that mean I’m a late bloomer?” I questioned worriedly. “Is that bad?”

They both looked at each other before facing me again. Did I just see them cringe?

“Well, technically it’s both bad and good.”

“Explain.” I ordered, pining them with my best glare I could muster up.

“It’s bad because you will be looked down upon by the other Wielders if you don’t get a card soon and it’s good because it means you are destined to have more special cards.”

“Destiny? Special cards?”

“You will learn about this at the academy. We can’t tell you anything else.”

I nodded. I get what they mean. My brain is still trying to filter out the information they dumped on me earlier.

“So, I’m going to be bullied unless I get a card soon. Great.” I huffed. Bullied at school and now bullying at the academy. I’m screwed from all sides.

“I’m gonna take a break. Please let me know when they are here.” I announced before leaving the room with a loud bang. Yeah, cue in my theatrics.

[zenonaa]

3. ice skating, with Hinanami please?

Hajime doesn’t know how he got talked into this, and he had even been there. Static hisses in his ear. Scratch that, he’s still being talked into this.

“Summer Harvest to Coconut Head, do you copy? Over,” says a voice, coming from the earpiece tucked into his ear.

He winces and raises a hand, but he doesn’t fiddle with the earpiece, just hovering his hand by the side of his head.

“I told you that’s not my code name,” he tells her, trying to move his lips as little as possible so as to not draw attention.

“Whatever,” huffs the voice of Natsumi Kuzuryuu. “Just tell me what you see when you get there, alright?”

Hajime is already there, but he doesn’t tell her that. His hand falls to his side as he surveys his surroundings. The rumours proved true: Hope’s Peak does indeed have an ice rink. For the main course students, of course. Not for the reserve course students. He folds his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders and hugging himself as the cold flanks him from all angles, tinging the ends of his gloved fingers warm.

Ahead of him lies a rectangular sheet of ice bordered by barriers that Hajime knows can’t be glass but looks like it, slightly frosted. Approximately a dozen students scatter the ice rink. Nearby, two boys march around the edge, one with a mischievous grin and another with a dark cap more fitting for summer, hand-in-hand, while a blond guy lectures a blushing girl with braids, their fingers loosely clinging to the other’s as they hobble along. Hajime knows them. He knows every main course student. Studied them like they were on the syllabus.

Yet they don’t know him. Why would they? No one glances twice at him. Their eyes pass him like a gust of wind. He shivers.

“Summer Harvest to Coconut Head!” Natsumi snaps. “Hello? What’s going on?”

It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds since she last said something. Hajime grimaces.

“I’m here now,” he says.

“I knew it!” She perks up and lets out a laugh. “Alright, so according to my insider, my brother and Peko are going to be there in ten minutes. When you see them, you’ve got to tail them and tell me if they - ”

Something shunts into the back of Hajime. He loses his balance and with a shout, flails his arms as he crashes face-first into the snow. The world turns black, then white as he lifts his head. Scrunching his eyes shut, he props himself up, spits out snow and coughs, all while pain rattles in his head like loose gears.

“What’s going on?” squawks Natsumi, crackling, but not in his ear. 

Below him. When he tumbled over, the earpiece fell out of his ear. A swear leaves his lips and he sifts through the snow, trying to find it. 

He knows the person who barged into him hasn’t moved on, but he also knows he isn’t supposed to be here so keeps his head down. Whoever they are, they don’t bend down to help or immediately ask what’s happening. Their shadow presses down on him like a foot on his back. 

Seconds pass.

“Sorry,” the person says, as soft as the snow he planted into, and he tenses. Recognises the voice.

Hajime swivels his head around.

“Nanami?” he says.

Chiaki stands over him, her head tilted to one side, gripping a portable game console with both hands. In her pink, puffy winter coat, she resembles a lychee fruit, round and textured. Her pale eyes peep out from beneath the rim of her bobble hat, pulled down to cover her ears. 

Recognition sparks in her eyes.

“Hinata-kun?” she says, staring down at him. Confusion creases her face. “What are you doing here? Did you want to skate?”

“Um...” He trails off and rubs the back of his neck. “I... uh, I can’t ice skate.”

Strictly speaking, he can. Just badly. The few times he went with his former high school, he ended up bailing out after a fall or two and sipped hot chocolate instead. 

He thinks she will ask why he’s there then if he can’t skate.

But Chiaki shrugs. “Neither can I.”

His brow quirks.

“Why are you here if you can’t skate?” he asks, not that he is in any position to question her on this.

“Mioda-san invited me,” explains Chiaki. She shields her eyes from the Sun and scans the ice rink. “Ah, but she’s not here yet. She said she would be here at two o’clock.”

“... It’s four.”

“Huh?” Chiaki clicks on some buttons on her game console and squints at the screen, leaning in. “Oh... That’s right. I changed the date and time on this so I could catch some rare fish.”

Hajime knows of Ibuki Mioda and also knows he would have spotted her neon hair by now or heard one of her famous rockstar howls if she was here. Chiaki casts her eyes toward the ice, where metal scrapes and bodies swish.

“Mioda-san will have gone by now, I think,” she mumbles.

He doesn’t reply. She looks at him now, still frowning, and he remembers he’s sitting conspicuously on the floor so he rises to his feet. His cheek stings, but otherwise, he’s alright despite the fall. Her head tilts back to fit his face into her vision, and as he comes to his full height, she smiles.

“In that case, how about we skate together?” she suggests. Hajime raises his eyebrows.

“Even though neither of us can skate?”

Her countenance hardens.

“Yep,” she says, but despite the intense look on her face, her tone remains light. 

The way she stares at him makes him feel like she’s seeing underneath his skin. He can’t avert his gaze from her. 

“If we look silly, we can look silly together... if that’s alright with you,” she says. Her head bobs, and after she blinks, she seems more sure of herself. “I don’t mind, but I would like us to skate together. It’s always more entertaining skating with other people, even if you’re no good at it... I think.”

He hesitates. She doesn’t relent.

“It’s more important to have fun than to be good at something,” she says, and he feels like something shifted in the pit of his stomach.

Before he can answer, the snow buzzes.

“Coconut head!” the snow snarls. “Are you there? What’s going on?”

They glance down. Though he can hear it, he can’t see the earpiece buried in the snow, but as he looks at Chiaki again, he doesn’t know what difference that would make to what he says next.

“Alright.” The corners of his lips curve up. “Let’s go.”

Chiaki’s face lights up. She takes his hand and the two go to rent some skates together, snow crunching underfoot as they walk. Once they’re laced up tight enough that their boots squeeze their feet, they tentatively inch onto the ice. 

Hajime’s first step has him wobble, but feeling Chiaki strengthen her hold on his hand, he manages to steady himself.

“The first step is always scary,” she tells him. “But you can’t do a second or third step without it.”

He turns to Chiaki. While everyone else on the rink sloshes about, she stays by his side.

“I’m not scared,” he assures her. “Not with you here with me.”

Her face gives a quiver and she pinkens, and it’s not the cold. Though she tries, she can’t duck her head into her scarf to hide away like a turtle. She blows out her cheeks and bumps against him gently, not hard enough to knock him off balance, then carefully steps forward like the ice might crack if she’s too hasty. 

It doesn’t, and she smiles at him.

“Let’s go, Hinata-kun,” she says.

He smiles back, and the two shuffle around the edge of the rink together.

[sugardaddytonystark]

Ships in the Night (part i)

When Thor, the infamous Pirate King, lays down anchor in Wakanda, the last thing you expect is for him to ask for aid from your own king. You volunteer your assistance, leaving the home you’ve always known to set sail with King Odinson and his crew.

author: sugardaddytonystark pairing: Thor x Reader (Pirate King Thor x Dora Milaje mermaid reader) word count: 2k+ tags: explicit, m/f, sex work

i.

The Ocean has its silent caves, Deep, quiet, and alone; Though there be fury on the waves, Beneath them there is none...

You have no doubt in your mind that this is Thor Odinson, the pirate king.

He may have sailed into port on a ship much smaller than his fabled Frigga, but if any man has the presence of royalty, it’s him. His size alone competes with the most powerful of men you have ever laid eyes on; his stature and strength unparalleled to anyone you’ve ever known. There’s no question that this man wields battle ax and war hammer with ease and familiarity, his scars telling stories of combat and conflict.

Even now, laid out in the bath that you’ve drawn for him, his presence overwhelms the room. He’s too big for the tub, calf crossed over shin as his legs rest against the porcelain edge, feet in the air. His thick arms, corded with hard muscle, are sitting on either side of the bathtub, his wrists wrapped round with strings of gold and leather and carved bone, the trappings of nomadic wealth. Both hands boast a single ring, one smooth band, one set with a glimmering red stone. His neck, too, is a testament to his affluence, with lengths of thin gold chains and a single strand of suede wrapped snug at the base of his throat. In each ear hangs small gold hoops.

His hair, sun-bleached and salt-stiff as it is, was weighted heavy with beads and rings and coins before you got your hands on them. Now, the trinkets lay in a small pile on a near table, and Thor, small braids undone, tangles unfurled, sighs beneath your touch as you massage sweet-smelling oil into his recently cleansed scalp.

You’re knelt upon a low, cushioned bench behind him, fingers running through his long hair, then down his neck, across his shoulders. He sighs when your fingertips press against the knots beneath his skin, tension leaking out of his body with the help of your tender touch.

His shoulders are broad, wind-whipped, and stained a freckled bronze. Skin like his doesn’t burn in the sun, having spent his whole life beneath the open sky as pirate prince, and then king. It’s a warm, golden brown, not near deep as those born to your home of Wakanda, but with the passing merchants, the visiting travelers, and those from lands far beyond your own who have settled here, Thor doesn’t stand out as he would have only a generation ago.

Despite his regal appearance, Thor has given you no indication of who he is, merely introducing himself as a captain whose men were in need of warm food, a decent bed, and whatever other comforts they could find. Apparently, comforts to Thor mean a hot bath and the attentions of the most selective and costly courtesan in Wakanda, who caters to only the most worthy of men.

The pirate king would surely be worth your time, and even this man who pretends to not be just that would have caught your eye regardless. And whether or not Thor meant truly to deceive or to merely just go about unburdened by recognition, you feign ignorance despite knowing him for what he is. For who would ever imagine that this man, gloriously nude, in a bath of oils and salts and flowers, is the fleet commander of a hundred ships known as the country of Asgard, both feared and respected on the high seas?

Elsewhere his status would be either an advantage or a burden, but Wakanda is a country of curiosity and trade and peace. She does not persecute pirates as the rest of the world does, even a pirate as infamous as King Odinson. She is open to all, a place to rest, a place to get rich, as long as any disorder or disturbance stays outside of her borders.

Because of this generosity, Wakanda has not been victim to attack since many years before you were born. Those who would raid and pillage give Wakanda a wide berth, or stop only to rest and resupply before being on their way. And Wakandan ships are safe on the seas, her flag a symbol of peace to all.

The nation is ruled by the Black Panther, who is not only her king, but her protector; one of the most formidable men the world has ever known. Besides the king, Wakanda is also under the protection of the Dora Milaje – an elite force of fierce and vigilant warriors who can shift forms from legs on land to a tail in the sea. Their skill in combat is unparalleled to almost any army known to man; their strength as incredible as it is inhuman.

They have been known to dismantle ships from the water with only their strength and a few grapnels. They can lure men to their watery deaths with just their voices and ensnare them with naught more than a touch.

As such, your hands slide down Thor’s chest as you lean forward, fingers pressing into the muscles there. Thor tilts his head back, resting it on your shoulder, soaking the sleeve of your thin, silk robe with his wet hair. He looks unworried and relaxed, his eyes closed, pink lips slightly parted.

You study his face - his strong brows and thick, dark lashes, the lines at the corners of his eyes that strengthen his otherwise soft features. You can’t help but think that he’s absolutely beautiful and much more gentle than you would have ever imagined.

You shift one of your hands up, shoulder flexing beneath Thor’s head with the movement, to cradle his jaw in your palm. You angle his head back even further to kiss his cheek, to nose at the velvet of his beard and breathe him in. He still smells like ocean salt despite being slathered with almond and coconut oils, the saline and sweet scents emanating from warm, wet skin making for a heady combination.

You’re overcome with the sudden urge to taste him, to mark him, so you do, teeth sinking into the curve of his neck and shoulder. It’s not hard enough to hurt him, but it will linger if he’s prone to bruising. And you take pleasure in the thought of him returning to sea with your claim still upon him.

Thor emits a sharp inhale at the pressure, and when you pull back, his eyes open, storm blue meeting your own with a flash of something devious underneath his otherwise docile demeanor. The corners of his parted lips tilt up, gold teeth glinting at the edge of his smile.

“Join me,” he says, with the air of a man who gets what he wants with no more than a simple command.

“There’s hardly enough room for you alone,” you reply, voice soft as to not offend him. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

He huffs in displeasure but relaxes all the same, closing his eyes and allowing his head to roll against your shoulder once more, face toward your neck. 

“Tend to me, then,” he says against your throat, peppermint sweet breath warm against your skin. “I’m all yours.”

You laugh softly at the declaration, and you can feel his smile against your neck as he presses his lips against your throat. You decide that you enjoy the feeling of his mouth on your body, so you tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to wander. You hum in appreciation as he noses at the underside of your jaw, bites gently into the sensitive skin there.

You feel yourself losing control, the atmosphere shifting to Thor’s favor. Your eyes, which you had not realized were even closed, open and you pull back, but not without leaving a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

You rise up further on your knees and reach down across the long line of Thor’s torso, feeling the strong muscles of his stomach, the coarse hair below his navel. You can feel his hard cock against the back of your knuckles where it has risen to rest against his stomach, but you don’t take hold of it yet, choosing instead to taunt and tease. He lets out a frustrated sound at your evasion, and you smile against his jaw in response.

His thigh is thick and powerfully built, solid in your grasp as your fingers knead the hard muscle. You have to practically drape yourself over his shoulder to reach, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just turns his head to nuzzle at whatever skin or silk on your person that he can touch.

When you finally do take his cock in your hand, he’s hard and thick against your palm, hot even in the cooling water of the bathtub. He hisses as if burned, hips jumping to thrust his dick up into your fist. Once he settles, you give him one long, slow stroke from base to tip, twisting at the top, then stroking back down again. You keep going, caressing his balls with your palm, cupping them, feeling the weight and heft of them as he moans in response.

You slide your palm back up the underside of his cock, fingertips following after to wrap your fingers around the head, stroking just the tip. You pump him, slow and shallow, the oil in the water slicking your way and making for an easy slide.

Thor’s fingers tighten against the edges of the tub, scarred knuckles going pale at the pressure. He uncrosses his legs and plants both feet on the edge of the tub, giving him more leverage to thrust up and fuck your fist. But it’s not enough. He’s too impatient for your slow and teasing touches, so he wraps his hand around yours, dwarfing your fist with his fingers. He moves your hand, forcing you to go at the pace that he wants, thrusting his hips up as he does.

Gradually, he picks up speed. You try to keep up with him, but it’s too much, he’s too strong, so you just relax, give in, let him use your hand to get himself off. You other hand is planted on his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin for leverage so that you don’t fall forward.

You’re not even being touched but the sight before you is overwhelming. The strong muscles in Thor’s stomach are bunching and flexing as he moves, the head of his dick, glistening wet and flushed red, is rising from your fist, blanketed by Thor’s larger fingers. Your cunt clenches at the thought of his thick cock inside of you, of him fucking you the way he’s fucking your hand.

There’s water sloshing over the sides of the tub, spilling over you and drenching your robe, but you’re too far gone to care. You barely even realize that your thighs are spread, knees pressing hard against the bench you’re kneeling on, hips undulating in a ragged rhythm. You’re moaning against him, lips and nose pressed against his skin, tasting and breathing in the sun-kissed, salt-steeped column of his throat. 

Following a gasp, Thor grows silent for a moment, breath catching in his chest. His shoulders hunch in on himself, hips still thrusting, driving his cock erratically into your fist. 

“Come for me, Captain,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “Please, come for me.”

Thor moans, long and loud and deep, hips stuttering, his fist clenching yours even tighter than before. He erupts, long ropes of come landing on his freshly cleansed skin, covering his flushed, glistening stomach and chest. 

He squeezes, making you milk the last of his come from his cock, trails of pearl white spilling down his shaft, into the bath water. He relaxes after, body sinking down, the back of his head resting against your chest. 

Thor picks up your hand and presses his lips to the back of it, breathing heavily. His kisses up the back of your wrist, rubs his cheek against your skin before you gently slide your hand from his grasp. You dip it back down into the warm and swirling water, then place your palm on his stomach, wiping him clean once more.

(quote by Nathaniel Hawthorne)

[minimin1993]

S/M 41 & B/L 34

Warning: Implied smut. Violence.

Sebastian and Min had decided to keep their relationship out of the spotlight and keep the fans guessing and just continue with what they had been doing. He had recently cut his hair and mustache to Jeff’s style while wandering around the hotel practicing the accent making Min laugh her ass off only to be tackled by Sebastian.

“You gotta stop laughing at me princess.” Sebastian said groggily, he just woke up and found Min laying on her stomach giggling at him.  

“I can’t you look so funny.” Min said pulling on the mustache.

“I might just keep it, its growing on me. Totally bringing back the 90’s vibes don’t you think.”

“Oh god please don’t, I won’t be able to handle you looking like this all the time.” 

“Why not? I thought you love me for me and not my looks.” He teased.

“I will love you even if you rock a bald head and round tummy but god this mustache has gotta go. You look like you have old school pornstar-stache.”

“You don’t like that pornstache that much?”

“Nope, I like you without it or your normal scruff.” She said rubbing his dimple chin. 

“Uh huh, so what are you going to be doing today when I’m heading to set?” Sebastian said pulling her on top of him. 

“I might go visit Chris on set early since they are filming already.” 

“Sure, you just want to see Chris working the nomad look with his long hair and a beard.” 

“Pft… Whatt?? Noo… Pftt.. what gave you that idea?” Min teased Sebastian.

“Yeah, right. Don’t even lie, his new look is doing things to you.” Sebastian said tickling her sides having squirm on top of him but he holds her still. 

“You play dirty Mr. Stan. Okay, okay I admit. But I can’t help it I like a man with long hair and heavy beard.”

“Ohh so you only liked me because I had long hair.” 

“Well it was a bonus but I like this short due on you. I can see your eyes better.” Min said running her fingers through his short hair only to giggle again when she looks down on his mustache. “But to be honest Chris is totally not rocking an old school pornstar-stache.” 

“Okay that's it, you are so going to get it now.” He aid flipping them caging her underneath him. “Who do you belong to babygirl?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should remind me.” Min teased causing him to growl before reminding her who she belongs to.

  “James I swear to god, get you butt up, we gotta feed the children before they eat through my flower bed again.” Linda slaps Buckys butt who refuses to wake up for the umf time. 

“I don’t want to right now.” He said pulling her in bed caging her underneath him. “Right now I want to enjoy you.” He smirks feeling the strike of arousal from her running down his spine knowing he got her right where he wants him. They have been living a very quiet domestic life for over a year now in a hidden place in the edge of Wakanda enjoying each other through their soulbond which Bucky clearly loves to take advantage of. 

“Nope, we not doing this again. This will be the 4th flower bed in 2 months, I would like to enjoy my hard work before it gets eaten.” Linda said flipping them back over before getting off the bed hearing Bucky groan behind her while to walk to the edge of their hut. “Maybe if you hurry up we can enjoy each other under the waterfall.” She transmitted an image to his mind winking at him.

“Yes mam.” He said leaving the hut making her giggle. 

Bucky was feeding their goats they call their children, Linda was currently on the ground with a goat in her arms while 2 wakandan children was petting it when King T-Challa and Okoye comes up to their hut. 

“James.” Linda said nodding over to T-Challa as 2 of the Kings Guards men comes over with an equipment case opening it, Bucky and Linda walks over to the case seeing a new Black and Gold Vibranium arm. 

“Where’s the fight?” Bucky said grabbing Linda hand both sharing the same thoughts. 

“On its way.” T-Challa said. “Shuri wants the Blue Phoenix to come to her lab as soon as possible.” 

“Yes King T-Challa.” Linda said watching them leave leaving the couple to their thoughts.    “We will never get a break huh.” Bucky said as they walk back inside their hut. “All I wanted was to go to war come back and enjoy living a normal life with you in the 40’s, maybe pop out a few Barnes here and there but god love throwing me a curve ball. Now I finally get what I want, a quiet normal life with you only to have it end it in a fight. This is my punishment, this is what I get for all th...” He said sitting down on the bed rubbing his face. 

“James none of what Hydra did was your control so don’t blame yourself for that. I understand how you feel but the world needs us. How about this, after all this is all over we go away off the grid just me and you. We can settle somewhere.” Linda said tilting his face up to look at her. 

“You would do that?” 

“Of course I would, you may have been fighting for 70 something years but I have been fighting for many more than that. I am tired of the fight. I just want you, and maybe like you said pop out a few Barnes.” 

“I love you so much you know that.” He said 

“And I love you too, now think about it. Now you will have 2 arms to finally do what you want with me.” She winks at him.

“God you are going to be the death of me.” 

“Don’t you even start, we both know you are the one that is insatiable.” She said pushing him lightly on his shoulder making him chuckle. 

“Can’t help it, 70 years dry spell will do that to a guy.” He joked winking back at her. 

“Uh-huh, Now come on before Shuri get mad at us.” 

  After Bucky was fitted with the new arm, Shuri had excited move over to Linda with a new weapon for her to try. 

“So I know you draw your energy from things around you to conjure your whip what if I told you I have a device small enough to hold your type of energy where you can conjure your whip at maximum capacity everytime without feeling drained.” Shuri said 

“And I say you are lying?” Linda joked. 

“I wish I was but I am a genius, here.” Shuri said throwing her a necklace containing a crystal Linda recognized immediately.

“How did you get this?” Linda said looking at the crystal she used back on asgard a long time ago.

“You ‘L’ sent us another package not to long ago label for emergencies only.” Shuri said. 

“Thank you Shuri, you have no idea how much this means to me.” Linda said putting the necklace on feeling rejuvenated.  

“Now get suited up, Captain Rogers shall be here any minute now.” Shuri said 

  Both Linda and Bucky for suited for the mission walking out of the palace holding each other's hands seeing the quinjet and the rest of their friend walking towards them 

“How we looking?” They heard Natasha say  

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…” T-Challa said nodding over to the them.  

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man.” Bucky said letting Linda hand go hugging Steve.  

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asks  

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world.” 

“I missed you Linda.” Steve said giving Linda a hug.

“I missed you too Stevie.” She said before giving everyone else a quick hug before they move to Shuri Lab to see if they can remove the Stone from Vision. 

  Sam, Rhodes, Bucky, and Linda decided to stay outside on guard waiting only to see an alien vessel coming down straight toward them.

“Cap we got a situation here.” Sam said in the com as the defense shield surrounding them destroys the vessel.

“God, I love this place.” Bucky said as they all look up in the sky 

“  Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome.” Rhodes said watching 3 more ships burn through the sky. 

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures. And get this man a shield.” T-Challa said through the com. 

The soldiers all marched out to the appointed aircrafts and were all transported to the edge of the border. 

“Always remember I will love you.”  Bucky transmitted to Linda who looks over at him holding his hand. 

“I love you too, We will do it together.” She answered back. 

“This is going to end bad.”Bucky transmitted.

“Till the end of the line.” Linda joked making him roll his eyes. 

“MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU! MAYEFA YA HU!” The Jabari warrior chants as M'Baku, rallies his soldiers

“Thank you for standing with us.” T-Challa said patting M’Baku on his shoulders.    “Of course, brother.”  

T-Challa, Steve, Linda, and Natasha walk to the edge of the barrier, where Proxima Midnight and Cull Obsidian stand seeing Proxima tests the strength of the barrier by drawing her sword across it consideringly.    “Where's your other friend?” Natasha said.  

“You will pay for his life with yours. Thanos will have that stone.” Proxima Midnight said  

“That's not gonna happen.” Steve said.  

“You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” T-Challa said.  

“We... have blood to spare.” Proxima Midnight said as she brandishes her sword with a snarl, and the ships behind her start raising their outer hulls to allow their   "passengers" to disembark.

“Oh by the way Luna, I am sorry to say that your Asgardians family is dead.” She said with a smirk. Linda/Luna hands were radiating blue about to attack.

“Not now my love.” Bucky transmits into her feeling her rage stopping her as they walked back to the massed forces.  

“Did they surrender?” Bucky asks  

“Not exactly.” Steve said.  

T-Challa leads the Wakandans in the war cry "Yibambe!" telling them to hold fast as the Outriders bound toward the barrier; Proxima drops her sword arm down in the signal to attack.

“What the hell.” Bucky said astonished by the amount of outsiders charging at the shield.  

“Looks like we pissed her off.” Natasha said as they watch horrified as  the Outriders bombard the force-field, squeezing limbs and bodies partly through only to be bisected.

“They're killing themselves.” Okoye said in disgust.

As a few Outriders managed to squeeze through intact, the Border Tribe take a knee and raise their shields. The Kingsguard behind them level their sonic spears over their comrades' shoulders, and on T-Challa's command, fire at the approaching monsters. Bucky uses his M-249 machine gun, Linda/Luna sends charges of her own, and  Bruce fires the Hulkbuster's hand repulsors.    “You seen the teeth on those things?” Sam said flying over them shooting as he goes  

"Alright, back up, Sam. You're gonna get your wings singed.” Rhode flies over the heaviest concentration of Outriders and drops a barrage of mines, all exploding fantastically.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us... there's nothing between them and Vision.” Linda said as they watch the outsiders circle around the shield.  

“Them we better keep 'em in front of us.”  

“How do we do that?” Okoye asks T-challa  

“We open the barrier. On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen.” He said over the com.  

“Requesting confirmation, my King. You said open the barrier?” Dome control asks  

“On my signal.”  

“This will be the end of Wakanda.” M’Baku said  

“Then it will be the noblest ending in history.” Okoye answers.

Steve readies his Vibranium shields with Linda/Luna conjuring both her whips ready to fight. T-Challa commands in Xhosa; the Border Tribesmen disengage their shields and stand, as he walks out in front of them, never taking his eyes off the enemy.    “  WAKANDA FOREVER!” He shouts crosses his arms in the Wakandan salute and closes his Black Panther helmet, charging for the barrier. The heroes and leaders are at the fore of the charge. Halfway to the barrier, the Black Panther shouts into his comm “Now!” 

Steve, T-Challa, and Linda  picks up their speed and full at full charge leaps into action attack. Linda whips her whip practically disintegrate whatever her line of target.    “Oh how I miss you Lunar.” She said to her crystal.  

“I see how you it is my love.” Bucky transmitted jokingly into her mind while he shoots the outsiders.  

“Jealous of it?” Linda snarks back playfully with a smirk on her face.  

“Gotta say though doll seeing you in full attack mode is doing things to me.” He thought sending her an image  

“Maybe once this is over you can make it a reality.” She moans in her mind hearing him chuckle.  

“God I love this bond.” He answers as they both never stopped fighting.  

The fighting continued non stop for who knows how long before they were starting to get way to outnumbered. Linda/Luna felt Bucky struggles through their bond fights over to him seeing him knocked over trying to fight the outsider with his favorite knife who was snapping their fangs at him, then Rhode, Banner, one by one getting swamped with Outsiders. She was about to jump to Bucky when someone enters her mind.