#in the aligned continuity from what i can tell there is quite a range of individual variation

[transingthoseformers]

So, I decided "fuck it, we're going to make another character for this concept" and deciding to elaborate on that bouncer au

So, here's the first actual design for Partycrasher!

They're for the aligned continuity, because I wanted to explore the cyclopsian frame type we see in TFP Shockwave (because the Empurata is only canon in IDW)

Those servos work very similarly to a claw machine albeit with an extra joint on each claw, with the benefit of twisty wrists that can move approximately 315°

Yes, they've got rather large doorwings! Their root mode is far larger than the alt (on Cybertron they were a midsized transport and this is the design for a transport, on Earth I'm thinking they might brme a van) and while it is mass display it's not in the way you might anticipate— they are much lighter and far lower density in root mode than you would expect

Basically a lot of their thing is based on bluff. I'm thinking I might keep that face like chestplare you see, it might superficially look like a Decepticon badge from far away which which which gives me the idea of them mimicking a Decepticon for the same reason a gopher snake mimics a rattlesnake.

[chukys-mouthguard]

hey! would you mind writing a mix of smut, angst & fluff for vince dunn please 😇

never not

4.5k words

genre: angst, fluff, suggested smut

featuring: vince dunn x female reader

summary: vince is traded and you try to navigate life without him, realizing it isn’t easy, especially when he comes back around

You still remember the day that Vince had been traded like it was yesterday. The two of you had been back in Mississauga for the offseason, enjoying the summer weather out on the boat when he got the call. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

Vince pulled his arm from round your shoulders as his phone rang from across the boat. Seeing his agent's name displayed on the screen making his heart sink as he quickly answered.

He’d walked to the further point on the boat to ensure you didn’t hear the conversation, knowing in his heart the likely reasoning for it.

“Yup, sounds good. Okay, talk to you later. Bye.”

His expression, though he tried to brave a smile, told you that the call wasn’t some crazy contract extension keeping him in St. Louis, but rather your worst fear.

Vince had been traded.

He sat back down next to you, kissing your head as he pulled you into his side once more. His fingers entangled with yours as he sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the water as he knew the second he’d meet your gaze he’d fall apart.

The conversation didn’t happen right away, which almost made the situation worse in your eyes. But Vince knew that the moment he admitted it, it would only be a matter of time for the two of you.

The idea of a professional athlete was inevitable, hard to avoid if you aren’t a superstar on your team. And even then, those guys sometimes pack up and leave themselves. But this was something you’d always feared, telling Vince you didn’t know how you’d handle the news. Packing up to move across the country was not an easy option for you with work and renting an apartment in downtown St. Louis.

So when Vince had finally told you the news, you knew you couldn’t follow him, long distance not being something you felt prepared for. Nor was it something you wanted. What you wanted was Vince, and for him not to leave. But that wasn’t in the cards.

“So that’s it? You’re just done?”

Vince’s voice echoed throughout the apartment as you sat on your bed, having just told him that you weren’t going to be able to keep things going long distance.

“Vince, what do you want me to say? You want me to lie and stick it out even though I don’t want this? I told you I can’t go with you, and if I can’t go with you then I don’t want to hold you back.”

He rolled his eyes as he continued packing his clothes. With each shirt he folded and placed in his suitcase another piece of your heart was breaking.

“I want you to say you love me! And that you’d do anything to be with me! You don’t think we can make it work? I’ll fly you out on weekends, I’ll be back to play the Blue at some point. You want to throw all of this away over distance?”

“I’m sorry…”

Your voice trailed off as you weren’t sure what else you could say. Nothing was changing your mind. The last thing you needed was a long distance relationship to distract you from work. Constantly wondering how he was doing, going longer periods of time not talking because of the time change, so many minuscule things that you didn’t need weighing on you.

“I wish you’d at least try before you just throw us away.”

And you did try, for Vince. But you both quickly realized that long distance when he played for a different team, wasn’t the same as him traveling with the Blues. Your schedules never aligned, and it was becoming harder and harder to make things work.

Vince finally understood your fears and realized that you were right. Despite how badly he wanted to make this work he knew that neither of you were happy being apart.

The two of you calling it quits before the start of the season. Figuring it was best to let Vince focus on a strong start with his new team. Though you couldn’t lie that you missed him. Missed the excitement of a new season, going to all his home games, getting to wear his number loud and proud. Always being Vince’s biggest support system, and likewise he was yours.

It wasn’t the same not having him around to practice your work presentations with. Bless his heart, he never understood anything you talked about, but he’d always watch you with a smile. In awe of how good you were at your job, the knowledge you had of the systems and data. He’d let you run through things as many times as you needed, never once complaining.

But as you sat at the island in your apartment, typing away at your newest presentation, you missed having Vince look over your shoulder. Constantly asking questions, trying to read through your notes and relate to the topics.

Having him there to remind you to stop and take breaks. To drink water, eat food, and most importantly to sleep. Little things of course, but ones you often would overlook when cramming for a deadline.

You missed him, you needed him.

The sound of your alarm jolted you awake, realizing you’d fallen asleep at your computer. Your notes scattered on the counter as you checked the time. You must have silenced your first few alarms, as it was already 7:30am.

“Shit!”

Sprinting to the bathroom your turned on the shower, then hurried to pull an outfit from your closet and have it ready to step into.

Tossing your hair into a bun, no time to bother with wet hair, you jumped in the shower. The fastest one of your life as you couldn’t afford to be late for your presentation.

Light makeup would have to do as you scrambled to cover your dark circles, just hoping to look presentable at this point. Your hair was the next obstacle to tackle, quickly brushing it and opting to pin some of it back and out of your face.

Throwing on the outfit you laid out and looking yourself over in the mirror you told yourself it’ll have to do as you threw on your slides, which you would swap for heels once at the office. Rushing to pack your bag with the scattered paperwork from your island as you made sure to save your presentation before tossing your laptop in your bag.

Cursing yourself on the drive to the office you tried to remember the last time you’d run late for work, especially on the day of a presentation. It not being something you did often, let alone ever did at all really. Always waking up with plenty of time to run through your notes, double check your slides, and of course make sure your makeup and outfit were perfect.

-

Rushing into the office you made it to your office, slipping on your heels as you planned to use every minute of the available hour before your presentation to prepare. Scanning your notes and slides over and over until you know the entire thing forward and back.

“Just breathe, it’s gonna go great.”

Taking a deep breath you calmed your nerves, feeling confident that things would go fine. You knew your material, you sure as hell knew how to give a presentation, and your boss had full confidence in you. She’d told you plenty of times you could sell ice to an Eskimo. That was why she gave you these difficult sales presentations, because you always got the job done, no matter the client.

“Knock knock, you ready to crush another presentation?”

Checking the time, your prep hour had gone much faster than you had hoped. Your boss patiently waiting in the doorway of your office, a smile on her face as she watched you gather your things.

“Absolutely, let’s do it!”

-

“Y/n, that was amazing! I mean, they loved it. I knew you would pull another top notch presentation out once again!”

A slight blush coming over you at the compliments, just shrugging them off as you simply viewed it as another aspect to your job.

“I'm just glad it went well, I’ve been preparing for weeks. So, I’m happy if you’re happy and the client is happy.”

“You know, I’ve been holding off on saying anything. Partly because I wanted to see how this presentation went. But, we are looking to expand our offices, and I’m thinking you’re at the top of my life to get one of the promotion spots.”

Your eyes went wide as you were sure you heard your boss wrong, never expecting to have performed well enough for a promotion on the level of office expansion.

“Promotion? Expansion? As in, relocating?”

She nodded her head as she sipped her coffee, “Precisely, not entirely sure on where that location would be yet, but there’s a couple options. Though I’m gonna need you in the best location where I know you will succeed. Can I send you an email with the details once I’ve finalized things a bit?”

Nodding your head was all you could think to do, speechless at the idea of relocating. Your boss smiling as she mentioned a few more details, your ears not fully catching her words as your mind was already racing.

“But I will send that email sometime this weekend. And, you know what, how about you take the rest of the day? My treat!”

“Wow, thank you so much! I’ll definitely keep an eye out for that email as well! Have a great weekend!”

-

“I can’t believe she gave you the rest of the day off, that’s so unlike her.”

You laughed at your friend's reaction to the kind gesture of your boss as you took a seat across from her. The two of you meeting for lunch as you opted take advantage of the free time your boss had awarded you.

“The presentation went really well, so she was feeling generous I guess. But, please tell me, when was the last time you knew of me being late for work, especially on the day of a big presentation.”

Her eyes went wide as she looked at you from behind her glass of water, “y/n stop it! How late were you?”

“Not actually late, but running behind for sure.” Your voice trailing off as you scanned the menu, your friend thinking over the last time she’d known you to do such a thing.

“I mean, being honest. I don’t think you’ve done that since before you and Vince called it quits.”

Flashing a glare at her you sighed, the topic of you and Vince being one she occasionally brought up. Saying that she wished you two could’ve made things work, that you were meant for each other. To which you always disagreed, mostly because you were trying to convince yourself she wasn’t right. That you and Vince weren’t meant to be, that the distance would’ve proven to be too big of a challenge.

“Have you talked to him lately?”

Your eyes scanned the menu as you tried to ignore the question, immediately piquing her interest.

“Shut up! You have!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

You playfully laughed as you hoped she couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks as you attempted to hide the fact that you had indeed talked to Vince.

“Fine, he texted me about the presentation. It’s been on my calendar since before we broke up, and you know Vince. He was always putting reminders in his phone to send me a text the morning of to calm my nerves or boost my confidence a bit.”

“You texted back right?”

“I’m not that heartless. I just said thank you, I appreciated him reaching out, and that was it. No fairy tail ending of us getting back together. Sorry to break your heart.”

She playfully frowned as you two ordered your lunch, then circled back to the conversation about your job.

“So you’re gonna be relocating? That’s a nice promotion! But do you know where?”

“No clue.”

Shaking your head as you traced a finger around the rim of your water glass, your mind began racing at the possibilities.

“I honestly just wish she’d tell me now. It’s all I’m gonna think about all weekend.”

Your friend noticing how much the news was already weighing on you, never having been someone that could simply not let things bother them or occupy space in their mind.

“You know what you need?”

A nervous glance came from you as you were unsure what crazy suggestion would come from her. Already thinking of a few ideas you’d turn down in a heartbeat.

“You need to spend your Friday at a Blues game, like good old times! I got 2 tickets for tonight, what do you say?”

You rolled your eyes at the suggestion, not prepared for her to have suggested that of all things she could’ve said.

“Are you kidding? A Blues game?”

“Oh come on don’t tell me you don’t have at least one of Vince’s jersey’s still hiding in your apartment somewhere.”

You tried your best to hide the embarrassed smile that was creeping upon your lips, but she’d noticed almost instantly.

“I knew it! So I’ll pick you up, 6 o’clock. We’ll have drinks, some good food, it’ll be fun!”

-

Making your way down towards your seats by the glass, the atmosphere couldn’t help but feel familiar. This arena having held such a special place in your heart for the few years Vince called St. Louis home.

You’d dug out an old jean jacket one of the WAGS had made for you a few seasons ago, it was mostly decorated in St. Louis Blues colors and logos, which you preferred. Not wanting to stand out for sporting your ex's name and number.

As you relaxed in your seat, noticing you were on the opposing teams end for warmups, you realized you didn’t even pay attention to who the Blues were playing. But as you watched the white and turquoise blue jerseys hitting the ice, your heart sank.

“You’re kidding right? Is this a joke?”

Your friend tried to laugh it off, but she could tell you weren’t joking. What she failed to tell you was that the Blue were playing the Seattle Kraken, Vince’s new team.

It felt like a set up for some crazy movielike scenario where the guy and girl are reunited after breaking up, only to realize they were meant to be together after all. Except, you weren’t ready for that, you weren’t sure you even wanted to see Vince. The breakup hadn’t been too long ago, but you were still trying your best at life without Vince. Clearly not doing so great with almost being late for your presentation, but you were navigating those things. On your own.

Vince had seen you from the moment he stepped on the ice, taking note of the jean jacket you had on. Bringing a smile to his face knowing that you’d kept it even after the breakup. But as he saw you get up from your seat and head for the stairs, he knew you weren’t thrilled to see him.

“Y/n I get it, I should’ve told you but, I knew you wouldn’t come. I promise this isn’t part of some elaborate plan to get you two back together. It just so happened to pan out this way.”

Your friend ran after you to stop you from leaving, grabbing your arm as she pulled you away from the crowd on the concourse.

“Bullshit it’s not. You didn’t buy these tickets, did you?”

Her eyes fell to the ground, not able to hide the fact that you’d read her like a book.

“Vince bought the tickets, didn’t he? That’s why they are on the Seattle end for warmups.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to see him y/n! You said it yourself, this morning you overslept and were late to work. When is the last time you’ve done that? Things have changed since you and Vince broke up, you can’t deny it. What’s wrong with seeing him play tonight? There’s no reason we can’t watch the game. No one is saying you have to see afterwards, unless you choose to. But, he wants to see you. He misses you.”

You tried not being angry with your friend that she’d been keeping this from you, that she’d been talking to Vince behind your back. But this wasn’t how you ever wanted to see him again, being misled to come to the arena with tickets he bought for you. No matter how hard you tried to not be upset by it, you were.

“Things have changed since we broke up, but that’s for me to deal with and get used to! It doesn’t mean that I have to take him back. Maybe I don’t want to see him. Maybe I don’t miss him. Did you ever consider that?”

She could see how upset you were, your voice shaky as you tried to pretend that the words you spoke were true.

“Is that how you really feel?”

Her tone was a bit sarcastic, though she didn’t mean to be. Tears threatening to fall from your eyes at any second as you tried your best to be strong, this not the place to break down over your ex and the feelings you still had for him. The pain of knowing he felt the same, that he’d orchestrated this night in an attempt to simply see you again. No guarantee that you’d even want to see him.

But you couldn’t convince yourself it was that simple. That he just wanted to see you from behind the glass, occasionally stealing glances when he was sitting on the bench. And you weren’t willing to stick around to find out what other surprises or ideas he’d had planned.

“I’m sorry, I can’t be here.”

Without giving your friend the opportunity to stop you, you turned on your heels as you hurried through the crowd. Calling yourself an Uber while you tried to hold it together. Figuring it was better to allow yourself the freedom to cry as much as you needed from the comfort of your apartment versus the busy St. Louis streets.

-

Once inside you didn’t make it past your living room before you finally had let yourself break down. It was truly the first time you’d let yourself feel the emotions and heartache of losing him. You’d forced yourself into your work, prepping for presentations, distracting yourself from the idea of life without him. That you never really allowed yourself to feel what that was like. And the idea that he was feeling the same, it all hit you like a freight train.

The soft knock at your door jolted you awake, scanning the apartment as you were unaware you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Checking the time you wondered how long you’d been asleep for, 11:45pm.

Slowly making your way to the door you assumed it was your friend, having seen a few missed texts and calls from her. But as you opened the door, you revealed the last person you’d thought to see.

“Vince? What, why are you here?”

Your tone came off a bit cold, though not intentional, as you were still waking up and now this. He took a deep breath as a soft smile crept across his lips.

“I, I needed to see you. You didn’t stay for the game, so I knew this was my only chance.”

He didn’t bother letting you invite him in, in fact it had been your shared apartment at one point in time. His eyes scanning the kitchen, then the living room. Noticing you’d not taken the opportunity to redecorate. Especially paying attention to the pile of picture frames that sat on your dining table, still holding the memories of you and him.

“Why’d you do that?”

Vince looked to you confused, holding tight to a framed photo of the two of you the night he’d won the Stanley Cup.

One of the best nights of both of your lives.

As the clock ticked down to zero, you jumped up and down with the other WAGS. Tears running down your face as you screamed at the top of your lungs. Vince had done it, the Blues had done it. They won the Stanley Cup.

All the times he’d gotten to be proud of you for crushing a presentation at work, for getting a raise, or a promotion. Now it was your turn to be so incredibly proud of him.

The moment you found him on the ice you couldn’t let him go, his arms wrapped around you as the two of you cried. Knowing how hard he’d worked to even get an opportunity on NHL ice, it had all paid off.

“I fucking love you so much.”

You pulled him in for a kiss as he spun you around, careful not to trip over his own skates.

“I’m so proud of you baby!” The compliment spilling from your lips as your hands held his face, never wanting to forget this moment. The pure joy on his face, the look in his eyes knowing he’d done what only a select group of players will ever do in their careers. Wishing you could live in that moment forever.

“Why’d I do what?”

“The tickets, why did you come up with this elaborate plan to get me there?”

Vince set the frame down, walking further into the apartment as he took a seat in the living room.

“Because, I had to see you y/n. From the moment I left, I knew, it’s always been you. And, I couldn’t come back here and just ignore the fact that you exist.”

“Did you consider the idea that maybe I didn’t want to see you?”

Vince laughed at your comment, knowing it was a lie no matter how hard you tried to sound convincing. He could see that you wanted to just hold him, feel close to him again after everything. He could see that you wanted so badly to admit to him that you were glad he’d attempted to see you, because life without him sucked. To put it plainly.

You wanted so badly to tell him that things weren’t the same without him. That you couldn’t sleep, you were running late to work, that you missed him like crazy. But you knew nothing would change. You’d tell him how you felt, and by the morning he’d be off to the next stop on the team’s road-trip. And soon enough, you would be heading off to somewhere new yourself with the promotion coming for your job.

It seemed pointless to even bother him with your emotions and your feelings, despite how much you could see he wanted you to be honest with him.

He stood up from the couch as he closed the distance between the two of you. Noticing the scattered notes on the counter, assuming they were from a late night cram session for today’s presentation.

“How did it go today?”

You noticed him tilt his head in the direction of the kitchen island, letting out a sigh as you tried to look anywhere but his eyes.

“Um, great, actually. Didn’t start out that way. But, I crushed it. And, I’m getting promoted because of how well I did.”

A smile grew on his face at the news, loving to hear that you were still killing it at your job.

“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, seriously. But, why did it not start out great?”

Shaking your head you knew you couldn’t lie, Vince knew you too well and would see right through you. Watching as you nervously picked at your nails, searching for the words to say.

“I overslept, and was running late.”

“You overslept? Since when do you oversleep? And run late for a presentation, you’ve never done that.”

“Because I don’t have you Vince!”

You didn’t mean for your words to come out so harsh, your voice a bit louder but not really yelling as you retreated to your bedroom. Not knowing where to go but not wanting to face Vince, not wanting him to see you finally break down and let him know that you did in fact miss him.

“Y/n, talk to me, what do you mean you overslept because you don’t have me?”

Trying to distract yourself by aimlessly folding laundry, you shrugged.

“I don’t know Vince, it’s just, things are not the same without you. I never overslept when you were here. You helped me prepare for all my presentations, made sure I got enough rest. Made sure I was eating, drinking, everything. You were everything. And without you everything is different. But, it doesn’t matter how I feel. Any minute now I’m getting an email from my boss that is going to tell me what new city I’m getting relocated to, and none of this will matter because you’re going back to Seattle. And nothing is going to change. So just forget it, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Not wanting to cry in front of him, you attempted to retreat to the bathroom. Vince immediately grabbing your hand to stop you. Seeing that these weren’t emotions or thoughts that didn’t matter, and it was clear that you were feeling the same as him.

“It does matter. All of that matters y/n.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his hand resting against your cheek as his eyes scanned your face. Stopping to meet yours as he saw how much you were hurting.

“It matters because I love you, I miss you. So fucking much. And you’re right, things are different. Everyday I wake up and wish I could do anything to go back to the day I got traded and convince you right there to move with me. I would do anything I could to have you with me again.”

His forehead rested on yours as his hands now traveled to your sides, a grip on your hips as your hands played with the hem of his shirt.

“And I know you feel the same way, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself you didn’t want to see me, I can see it on your face you’re fighting with yourself to be strong. But, if this is the only chance I have. If you’re off to somewhere new yourself, and if you truly don’t want to see me after this,”

He closed the distance between you, crashing his lips to yours as your hands instinctively pulling him closer. Missing the feeling of him so close, the feeling of his lips on yours. Not caring that in the morning he’d be gone, and you’d go back to trying to navigate life without him. But for now, it felt right, and you couldn’t let him go.

“Please, just give me one last night to remind you how much I still love you.”

[mothercetrion]

it's Johnshi time (again!). here's the OTP meme I used. brief mentions of MK1 story spoilers in answers for 3, 9, 17, and 19. enjoy!

1) who can outdrink the other? Kenshi. Johnny has had his fair share of alcohol, but Kenshi built up a tolerance for it while he was in the Yakuza. now, unless it's something incredibly strong, he can hold his own longer than Johnny can.

2) who says “I love you” more? Johnny. he's better with his words and is very vocal about how he feels. he tells Kenshi he loves him at least three times a day without fail. Kenshi loves the assurance <3

3) who has trouble sleeping alone? Johnny. he can sleep alone, but it just takes longer. it's because he was in a relationship for quite a long time before his divorce and went from sleeping with his wife every night to having an empty bed. it's an adjustment, and then it's a blessing once Kenshi starts sleeping over.

4) who swears more? JOHNNY. good god, Johnny swears constantly. Kenshi swears on occasion, but it's rarely more than something like "damn" or "ass" whereas Johnny probably says "fuck" and "shit" every single day.

5) who does more of the housework? Kenshi. Johnny generally keeps a tidy space, as does Kenshi, but Kenshi is more likely to clean up if needed. Johnny isn't lazy, just busy, so he almost always helps if he's home.

6) who forgets their anniversary? Johnny. his memory is nearly impeccable until it comes to a specific date, and then he struggles. if he's reminded, like with a calendar or a notification in his phone, then he's good.

7) who steals the duvet in their sleep? it is an intense brawl every night until Johnny invests in a massive blanket. even then, the brawl continues, and it's usually started by Kenshi. Johnny will wake up to barely any blanket and Kenshi nearly fully covered from head to toe. he calls foul!

8) who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring? Kenshi; Johnny doesn't really snore. he's not consistently snoring, but he can get pretty loud sometimes. thankfully, Johnny got used to it quickly.

9) who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them? Kenshi has never had a pet before and wants one so badly. I love the idea of Johnny growing up with cats, though he doesn't have one now, but he imagines that he will have one very soon. Kenshi always pets stray cats if he sees them when he's out somewhere. (Johnny has a parakeet according to an intro with Rain, so he lets Kenshi hang out with her a lot. Kenshi adores her <3 and she definitely seems to like him too, always chirping like crazy when he's over.)

10) who usually makes dinner? Johnny. he loves cooking and is very good at it. Kenshi doesn't know much about cooking but Johnny is always happy to teach him.

11) who plays their music out loud? Johnny. if he's working out at home or cooking, he'll play music on a Bluetooth speaker. their music tastes mostly align, so Kenshi has no problem with it.

12) who hogs the bathroom? Johnny. this man's skin routine is in-depth and lengthy. it's no wonder he looks so damn good! Kenshi's bathroom routine is usually short unless he needs to shave, then it can take some time. even then, Johnny takes longer.

13) who gives the most compliments? Johnny. again, he is a lot more vocal about how he feels, and he will gladly shower Kenshi with compliments, ranging from his abilities to his looks (heavily on the looks; Kenshi is damn sexy!). he always knows just what to say to get Kenshi to blush.

14) skipping

15) who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public? Johnny will unintentionally embarrass Kenshi with the attention he gets in public alone. Kenshi does not like the intense public attention; he's not built for the celebrity life. Johnny understands that and knows it's not for everyone, so he won't ever embarrass him on purpose, but it still happens from time to time, and he's always sorry. however, if they're not in public, Johnny will do and say anything to get Kenshi embarrassed.

16) who gives the other cringeworthy pet names? Johnny. he loves calling Kenshi something absolutely ridiculous and seeing his reaction to it. he sticks with "Ken doll" or just his name for the most part, but every now and then, he'll change it up.

17) who fusses over takes care of the other when they get sick? while they will both take care of one another, Johnny is more likely to get fussy with Kenshi. we saw in the story for MK1 that when Kenshi is vulnerable and injured, he takes on a softer voice and is a lot more gentle than I would argue he is normally. the same applies when Kenshi is feeling under the weather. he's bad to get up and wander around, and Johnny is always there to help him back to bed. he'll sit on the bed with him with a cold rag and keep him company until he falls asleep, holding his hand the entire time. Kenshi doesn't like carrying Sento around when he feels sick, so Johnny has to give him an extra hand. he's thankfully very patient and would do anything Kenshi needs him to do!

18) who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long? Kenshi. he loves Johnny more than anyone in the world, and there's very little that Johnny could do to make him angry for too long. Johnny isn't perfect, and he does stupid things often, but Kenshi hates being mad at him. they try to be strong communicators when things go south.

19) who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared? when Kenshi has a nightmare, often about his blinding or their brief time in Shang Tsung's laboratory, or possibly even something he went through when he was part of the Yakuza, he needs to know that Johnny is there with his own senses. he is usually panicking and frazzled, and all he wants is Johnny. he will hold him as tightly as possible until what he's feeling eases up, and even then, he refuses to let go for quite some time. Johnny would let him hold on forever.

20) who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…) Kenshi. he's always touching Johnny in some way, whether it's hand-holding, a hand on his shoulder, or a gentle hand on his face when they're kissing. his use of touch is something he takes seriously, and it's important for him to utilize touch to bond with Johnny. Johnny absolutely loves it when Kenshi has his hands on him and will gladly let Kenshi do what he wants.

[pass1onepr1ncess]

JJBA Binary Stars: JuJou

(If you saw me repost this, no you didn't, I made some minor changes and additions and wanted make a better first post!)

I've been working on a Jojo Fan Part for quite some time now and I'm finally starting to get around to drawing the characters so that I can introduce them and talk about theProject!!! Also, if you follow my lovely partner @xxbattiepupxx you've probably seen him drawing one of the stand users for said fan part!!! ;)

In any case, the part is called Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Binary Stars and it takes place in the post-reset universe along side Steel Ball Run, Jojolion, and Jojolands! In terms of setting, Binary Stars takes place after the events of Jojolion and before Jojolands! Though Binary Stars starts off in Japan, it's in Okinawa instead of Morioh!

Jumi Joumae (Otherwise known as JuJou) is our protagonist Jojo! She has a twin sister named Jien who I'll talk about more in a following post. but the focus is on Jumi! My biggest inspiration for starting Binary Stars is that I really like how Golden Wind was heavily inspired by Y2K fashion, so I wanted to make a fan part that incorporates characters that are each based on/affiliated with a different genre of alternative fashion!

Now, without further ado, allow me to introduce JuJou and IT GIRL!

Jumi Joumae (Jujou)

Role: Protagonist/Jojo Age: 21 Pronouns: She/Her (Cis Girl) Fashion Style: Kogyaru

Jumi is a Kogal who, despite having graduated High School, continues to dress in kogal style into her early adulthood. She's very ambitious, and though her dreams of stardom and fame are far-fetched she takes them very seriously and won't let anyone talk her down from it. In fact, she's extremely protective of this dream. Anyone who makes fun of her or tries to tell her that her goals are unrealistic will discover that she can be quite confrontational. She remembers everyone who's ever laughed at her dream and holds grudges, frequently using her stand to cause trouble and mischief for them as well as just being plain petty in her interactions with them. Personality-wise, she's sort of like a fusion of Giorno and Josuke. Jumi is currently enrolled in a local college in Nagasaki for her General Studies Degree, but she has her sights set on a performing arts school in Tokyo. 

Jumi’s stand first appeared when she was around 13 years old. She’s never told anyone about it other than Jien, who of course didn’t believe her at first. It took about 3 months, but Jumi had finally gotten Jien to believe her about the “Pretty ghost lady” that lets her turn things into diamonds.Jien was never able to see IT GIRL since Jien hadn’t yet developed her own stand.

- Japanese (Has the littlest bit of White blood from Johnny but that’s a good few generations up the tree) - Younger twin to Jien by 30 minutes - Great-Great-Grandaughter of Johnny Joestar (Daughters of one of his unnamed descendants), Distant cousin to Jodio Joestar and Josuke "Gappy "Higashikata - Visually Inspired by Red Beryl (Houseki no Kuni), Clover (Zero Escape 999), and Yumemi Yumemite (Kakegurui) - Personality Inspired by Saki Tenma (Project Sekai) and Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

IT GIRL

Stand Name: IT GIRL Namesake: IT GIRL - Aliyah’s Interlude Ability:

Anything Jumi or IT GIRL touches turns into hardened diamond. Jumi can choose the color of said diamond, and if she deactivates her stand or if the target leaves her range, the diamond will revert back to what it was before. IT GIRL’s range is 5 meters (15 feet) in which her stand can not exit that range. IT GIRL's diamonds are neither flexible nor breakable.

In terms of stands being an extension of the user’s soul, IT GIRL represents how Jumi is casual, friendly, and laidback most of the time but how she toughens and shines under pressure and scrutiny. While diamonds can be pretty and shine like a star, they also have a sharp edge- like Jumi. 

While Jumi is more aligned with Kogal, IT GIRL is more aligned with the more dramatic Yamanba style of Gyaru.

And there's Jumi!! Next up is Jien, so I hope people will look forward to that!! I've been working on this fan part for a quite a bit now and have made not only main Jojo, Antag, and Jobros but also many minor stand users!!! I'm excited to finally start telling my story!!!! >w<

When I add more characters and such, I'll tag each post about this project with #Jojo Binary Stars so look out for that if you wanna know more!!!!!!

[littlethingwithfeathers]

I would like to know about the top five best notes you like to sing

Ooh. I had to think really hard about this... <3 (these will all be for treble clef as I'm a soprano) 1. Let's get the obvious one out of the way. A above the staff. It's the top of my reliable range (in a big group with sufficient practice I'm good up to C) And it just... feels good. One of my top choral music moments was letting that A rip in the fugue section of the 2nd movement of the Brahms Requiem. Freude, indeed. 2. To continue the trend and speak of the devil, C above the staff. And specifically this one from Carmina Burana. Nothing like joyfully shrieking your desire to fuck the Queen of England while backed up by a big ass brass section. 3. Okay I promise I'm climbing down off the top of the staff soon. G# above the staff, and specifically the G# in the final "amen" in the soprano 2 of Holst's "Nunc Dimittis." The entire universe exists in that descending line and I will not hear otherwise. 4. Top space E. If I resonate it juuuuuuust right, I can make my teeth rattle. Also, it's just in a comfy range to sing and so I have no fun story to go with it. 5. Last but not least... third space C. It's in a place in my voice where I have a lot of control for either setting the soprano-phasers to stun or singing a kitten to sleep. And also I once had a solo that consisted of chanting in Latin on that one note for like... 7 minutes. Sounds boring, but lemme tell you... that takes some serious concentration and practice and vowel alignment, especially when the piece in question is Arvo Part's "Magnificat." I honestly quite enjoyed it. The piece was beautiful and it was a unique challenge.

Thank you for the question!!! If you feel like it, what are your top five notes?

[thewul]

DST, Drill & Sampling Technologies, Made in Morocco

design notes: the reactive darts are 20% of the pneumatic chambers surfaces that we see here, these pneumatic chambers continue below because we want a capable system, ie capable pneumatic chambers and consequent sample darts

exoplanet wise we are looking for fertile soil, if all there is rock dry soil we're less interested, now the orbital probes should be able to tell what is what, still how to build in a drilling capability, hollow drill heads would be needed mounted on a blade turbine so that when pressured air comes the turbine can power the drill, but frankly I don't see it, exoplanets have to be viable, we already have Mars where we can drill all we want

the samples platform has robotic arms, as you would find in a 3D printer, the heads puncture each needle precisely and selectively, without too much overthinking go there puncture that already programmed, it all has to fit beneath the motors but there's room, and leeway since we have the clearance below to tap into if needed,

the heads are somewhat flat and can fit snug into the pneumatic chambers no pressure lost, they're quite larger than those pneumatic chambers, because we want to obtain an pressure build up within the head itself

next we need to see the board within the samples platform where they connect when the dart, they're darts actually, exits, using slip wire

it's all encapsulated in those chambers, air pressure propels the reactive dart and a slip wire attached to it makes contact with the board, Bumper sits there while data is gathered using bio chips, when it moves the slip wire detaches no lose wires gone with the dart, the connector just stays there on top of the board

the 4 other boards that we have here basically just transmit wireless data to the motherboards above, well they could do more, such as controlling the samples platform arms and heads

disposing of 2 heads solved the communicating tanks issue and provided redundancy, ie if primary failed there would be a secondary which is what is expected from putting all those effort in deploying this robot, not to have it sitting useless because of a faulty head and no back up

looks like we are done, we just have to see the encapsulation from both ends, I don't know if we are going into designing the darts reactive needles, rather do the RV next

can it drill can it not drill, it should be feasible to have drilling darts, however obtaining a mineral analysis with those bio chips is more like it and it kind of boils down to the same, we are not yet interested in the geology of it but if it can sustain life and agriculture

the solution boils down to bio chips, and I would like to think that they can be engineered to do anything we want, I don't see an issue there, that is a complete range of soil analysis, including minerals, including traces of different molecules, hydrocarbons

last but not least, important even, within those encapsulated pneumatic chambers, sealed on both end we could have a pressurized gas, ie they're pre pressurized

what it does it provide this DST solution with more punch, where pressurized air that is injected in the pneumatic chamber by the puncturing head comes on top of and not as only

design notes continued: aligned the heads with the samples platform grid, along x, y, more room for heads wheels and motors too, makes it easier on them even, so first one on top, or below, or first one from either side

[myexplicittarotjournal]

Four of Swords: This card is about listening to the quiet voice of your soul, which to me is also about meditation and resting your mind so you can tune in with your intuition and soul purpose. So, to move forward with my goals, I would need to be attuned to all that. For instance, when I wanted to be an airline pilot, the more I tried to accomplish that goal, the more it seemed further away. And it's because, at some point in that journey, I forgot why I wanted to be a pilot, and I was pursuing it from an ego perspective. I wanted to prove to everyone that I could be an airline pilot. But did I desire that? This time things are different. Moving forward with my digital business is best for me, and this new dream aligns most with my values. Here is a well-overdue life lesson I learned the hard way. But at least I feel more in synch with my soul and path here on Earth.

Seven of Swords: As I said in this blog, this card is about my impostor syndrome. But this time, I feel it also resonates with my constant guilt. I wanted to be a digital nomad, but I knew my husband, J, wouldn't want me wandering around the world without him, which made me feel arrested and apart from the world. But I went regardless. I fought the guilt feeling I was having for leaving him alone for a month (I even started therapy), and it all made sense. Maybe because of my childhood PTSD, I'm afraid to disappoint people, which makes me easily manipulated. When he started disapproving of my dreams, I reconsidered and thought about not going so I wouldn't hurt him. But I wrote the first chapter of my digital nomad life beautifully. And if I want to go on with my life plans, I must let go of this people-pleasing trait that I have generated by this constant feeling of guilt that the Seven of Swords represents.

Three of Swords: This card tells me that one way to harmonize my dream of being a digital nomad with my emotional needs is to make more friends and be more open to social life. Life is too short to feel guilt for what you truly want. Go for it, make friends, attend parties, and celebrate life along your journey.

King of Swords reversed: I'm getting "Own your emotions" from this card. Is that what you want to do? Go for it. Then deal with whatever range of emotions you get. Emotions are like an envelope with messages from the Universe. Sometimes, you don't want to open up or deal with them, but once you do, you'll evolve as a soul and be more aligned with your path.

The Hanged Man: On the last New Moon in Gemini tarot spread two weeks ago, I've got this same card, meaning I should continue with therapy even though I think it's a pain in the ass sometimes. So, getting The Hanged Man again and for this exact question confirms that therapy is the way to go. I only have a few friends I can talk to. And the few times I tried to get their support, they weren't all that willing to listen to me. So, I know you thought about quitting, but don't. Making the most of this resource you found for yourself is essential.

Eight of Wands: This card means "Just go!" Start it already", "move move move"! Funny, it also means traveling by air. Therefore, this card tells me I should start my next workation soon. If you want to embrace practicality, be practical. So, Switzerland it is?

🐐 July 2023: Full Moon In Capricorn Tarot Spread

Harnessing the Power of the Capricorn Full Moon: A Time for Reflection and Transformation

As the radiant Capricorn Full Moon graces us at 11 degrees on July 3, the celestial skies offer us a moment of profound introspection and growth. During this sacred time, we are encouraged to reevaluate our focus for the year and realign ourselves, making necessary course corrections for the path ahead.

Realistically assessing our goals and direction takes center stage, inviting us to embrace transformation. The cosmic energies of the Sun and Mercury conjunct in Cancer bring us in touch with our innermost feelings and remind us to prioritize self-care. As we tune into the deeper energetics that 2023 has unveiled, the Full Moon, ruled by Saturn RX (retrograde) in Pisces, blesses us with intuitive clarity to illuminate our next steps.

Supported by the promising connection between Jupiter in Taurus, practicality melds seamlessly with ambition, guiding us to take bold, practical steps forward.

1a. Embracing the Full Moon Energies:

The Capricorn Full Moon arrives like a cosmic mirror, inviting us to reflect on the intentions we set for this year. It is a time of self-inquiry and a powerful opportunity to discern what truly serves us. As the Sun and Mercury converge in Cancer, our emotional landscape becomes a focal point, reminding us to nurture ourselves. This alignment calls for moments of solitude and introspection, where we can connect with our innermost thoughts and feelings.

1b. Course-Correction and Growth:

During this Full Moon, we have the chance to course-correct our paths. It’s essential to recognize what is no longer working or necessary in our lives and release them gracefully. Embrace change as a catalyst for growth, knowing that letting go can lead us to new, more fulfilling opportunities. Allow the transformative energies of this celestial event to support your journey toward positive change.

1c. Harnessing Saturn RX in Pisces:

As the ruler of this Capricorn Full Moon, Saturn RX in Pisces brings a profound depth to our insights. Its supportive trines to the Sun and Moon offer intuitive clarity, guiding us towards the next phase of our lives.

Trust your instincts and listen to the subtle whispers of your soul. Saturn RX in Pisces encourages us to embrace compassion, forgiveness, and spiritual growth.

1d. Jupiter in Taurus:

Jupiter’s presence in Taurus adds an auspicious touch to this Full Moon. It gives us the determination and practicality needed to take significant steps forward. Allow this energy to propel you toward your ambitions and dreams. Embrace your inner strength, and with a grounded approach, reach for the stars.

♑️ Full Moon in Capricorn n 2023 Tarot Spread

Welcome to the transformative energies of the Capricorn Full Moon Tarot Spread!

This 6-card Tarot spread is a gateway to unraveling the profound messages of the cosmos, helping us navigate this Full Moon with clarity and purpose. Let the cards be your celestial guides, illuminating the path to progress and fulfillment.

1) What structures and foundations must I examine during this Full Moon?

This card will reveal the aspects of your life that require a realistic assessment. Look at your goals and ambitions critically to ensure stability and strength.

2) What must I release to move forward with clarity and purpose?

This card will guide you in identifying what is no longer serving your highest good. Embrace necessary changes to progress towards your aspirations.

3) How can I best align my practical ambitions with my emotional well-being?

This card will offer insights into harmonizing your practical aspirations with your emotional needs. Find balance and nurturing in your pursuits.

4) What intuitive messages and insights are available to me now?

This card will reveal the deeper truths and intuitive clarity surrounding your path. Trust your inner guidance and the subtle whispers of your soul.

5) What resources and support are available to aid me in my journey?

This card will highlight the supportive resources and connections around you. Embrace the help available to you on your path.

6) How can I embrace ambition and practicality to achieve my dreams?

This card will guide you in harnessing your ambitious energy with a grounded approach. Embrace determination and fearlessness as you move forward.

3. Conclusion

The Capricorn Full Moon on July 3 is a potent time for personal growth, reflection, and transformation. Embrace the energies of the Sun and Mercury in Cancer, Saturn RX in Pisces, and Jupiter in Taurus as they offer guidance and support. Use the Tarot spread to delve into your innermost desires and intentions, making the most of these celestial energies. Allow the Full Moon’s luminous glow to illuminate your path as you navigate change and seize the opportunity to manifest your dreams with a grounded and determined spirit. Remember, within this cosmic dance lies the power to embrace positive transformation and fully express your true self.

[ilcaeryx]

Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm.  “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice  was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life. 

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

[lucreziasredwyne]

I CAN SEE US LOST IN THE MEMORY, AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY IN A MOMENT OF TIME ; YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE. (MATHIS&LU)

what: continuation of this thread, the night before the reach were due to sail to the iron islands / @ofgoldengrove 

mathis; his hands move from being upon her shoulders to holding her hands in his own. he listens intently to her words, not quite understanding, and yet fully able to do so all at once. mathis; "if that is what you rather, i will not press." mathis; and despite his desire to, to take her in his arms, never let go, never leave for war, or let her go, he knew they each had their own duties to attend to. perhaps one day they would be able to follow a duty to themselves, even if it was separately mathis; "but if there is even a little chance...someday...well, i won't exactly let that part of us go." mathis; "i care for you, i love you, as a friend, as more, but i would never press you, lucrezia. you are one of the most important things in my life. and if this is how we must be for us to be in each other's lives at our happiest, then i can live with that." mathis; "so that is it then, we treasure this, this friendship, what we have?" there's an emotion to his dark orbs, his hands squeezing hers gently. he doesn't know if he expects a new answer, but he needs to hear the words uttered from her again, with finality.

lucrezia: and perhaps his touch should have caused her heart to race, slipping from her shoulders to take her hands within his own, and she couldn't help but look upon them. look upon them laced together, how easy it was. how easy it would be. but it only ground her - the feeling of there being no game, no words unsaid, no secrets. what lingered between them was truth itself lucrezia: and she only nods when he speaks of someday, if there was ever a window in the future. she knew not of the future, but she understood what he meant entirely, her thumb tracing the outline of his palm quietly. lucrezia: "i know. i know you wouldn't. which is why you've always been the one." the one for what? she didn't entirely know. only knew that he was the one that always seemed to find his way back. lucrezia: and she looks at him as he tells her he loves her; as lucrezia, as lu, even lulu, as whoever it was she had been since she were twelve. lucrezia: "i love you too." lucrezia: too? how had they got here. she always thought she would be the one to confess she loved him, but she never thought she would be adding too at the end. lucrezia: he needed her to say it again. with finality. and she needed to say it again, with finality. for their sakes. lucrezia: and she nods again, leaning forwards slightly so her forehead rested against his own. "just this. how it's always been." lucrezia: "you're family to me, regardless of names, of law and the gods and a sacrament. there's no difference, isn't there?"

mathis; he nods in return, it seemed they understood each other's meaning so very well, as they had often done for so long as they knew one another. there was a clear, pained look within dark hues, but strangely enough there was a faint smile upon his lips. perhaps he knew no matter what, they would be okay. mathis; "the one..." he murmurs, an airy laugh escaping his lips. he did not know her meaning, and yet she was the same for him. wasn't she? there was truly no explanation. the gods themselves may find a loss for words as to what they were. mathis; "i understand." mathis; and he did, he truly did. his tone was light, gentle. that didn't mean he wouldn't lie awake wondering- what if? mathis; "none at all, lu. we are family. always will be. i promise." mathis; his words rang with a firm finality to them. it was the truth. family not in a way he may have hoped for, but family all the same. she meant too much to him to ever press further otherwise, unless the stars aligned for them yet again- and perhaps they might one day find their truth north. mathis; he savored the closeness, the feeling of her forehead against his own, the comfortable silence. he leaned his head back mere inches, orbs flickering down to her now, the temptation to seal such a moment with a kiss, a fleeting thought. he instead pressed his lips to her forehead mathis; "rest well, lady redwyne. my commander must be sharp as ever come time to set sail." his tone was light, in jest, as he always managed to conjure. he lifted a hand of hers to his lips once more before offering a nod and turning on his heel, the sound of his footsteps echoing the hallway until the imagine of mathis rowan disappeared around the dark corner.

[comrade-meow]

When The Drummers Were Women

By Layne Redmond

Yes, guys, there was a time in our history when the primary percussionists and drummers were women. The first named drummer in history was a Mesopotamian priestess named Lipushiau. She lived in the city-state of Ur in 2380 BC, which at that time had conquered all the surrounding city-states. She was the spiritual, financial and administrative head of the Ekishnugal, the most important temple in Ur dedicated to the moon god, Nanna-Suen. Her emblem of office was the balag-di, a small round frame drum used to lead liturgical chanting. In 2380 BC, Lipushiau ruled!

From the civilizations of Anatolia (Old Turkey), Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece and Rome, the Goddess and the frame drum emerge as the core trance and mystical religious traditions. The frame drum was once at the center of the oldest rave like gatherings — it was the oldest technology for altering consciousness. The mystery rites would last for days at a time with nonstop drumming and dancing. Get this in perspective — this was church. Quite a different religious experience than I had growing up! A frame drum is defined by the diameter of the drumhead being much larger than the depth of its shell. The shells range in depth from 2" to at most 6". They range in diameter from 4" to 30". Most of these drums are portable and can be held in one hand.

The frame drum most often has a skin on only one side but sometimes it may have skins stretched across both sides. Bells or jingling and rattling implements may be attached to the inside rim, and in ancient times were believed to add to the drum’s power to purify, dispel and summon. Very often the drums were painted red, the color of blood, or sometimes green, the color of vegetation, the primordial colors of life. Mystical designs and symbols might also be painted on the skin head or the wooden frame. Threads or ribbons knotted with ritual prayers or chanting often hung from them.

Although this frame drum is similar in appearance to the shaman’s drum found throughout Asia and North America, there is a major difference in how they are played. The shaman’s drum is struck with a bone, horn or stick. The Mediterranean frame drum is played with the bare hands. While striking a drum with a stick gives a single deep resonant sound, finger techniques allow more variety: a deep, open tone, a slap, a high-pitched rim sound, or a soft brushing sound. This difference in stroke technique has led to differences in construction. The inner edge of the rim of the Mediterranean frame drum is often beveled and its skin is usually thinner, to enhance the sounds produced by fingers and hands. Hand or stick? I have not been able to determine which technique is older - the shaman’s drum played with a stick or the frame drum played with bare hands. The use and basic constructions of the drums are so similar that they probably both grew from the same root techniques of altering consciousness. In every ancient Mediterranean civilization I studied, it was a goddess who transmitted to humans the gift of making music. In Sumer and Mesopotamia it was Inanna and Ishtar; in Egypt it was Hathor; in Greece, the nine-fold goddess called the Muse. Musical, artistic and poetic inspiration was always thought to spring from the Divine Feminine. One of the main techniques for connecting to this power of inspiration was drumming.

The drum was the means our ancestors used to summon the goddess and also the instrument through which she spoke. The drumming priestess was the intermediary between divine and human realms. Aligning herself with sacred rhythms, she acted as summoner and transformer, invoking divine energy and transmitting it to the community.

The earliest known depiction of any drum was painted on a shrine room wall in 5600 BC in a Neolithic city in what is now Turkey. The shrine room wall depicts a group of ecstatically dancing figures, some of which appear to have percussion instruments. A band of human figures clad in leopard skins play various percussion instruments as they dance ecstatically around a large bull. One figure holds a horn-shaped instrument in one hand and a frame drum in the other. Other figures carry what look like shakers or rattles, as well as bowed instruments similar to the Brazilian berimbau. The excavating archaeologist, James Mellaart, has unearthed numerous other shrines in this city honoring a great goddess, and he believes that primarily priestesses tended these shrines. To date, the wall painting is our oldest evidence of a goddess-based tradition in which the frame drum was used in ecstatic rituals.

From 3000 to 2500 BC, written records of the Sumerians describe the goddess Inanna as the creator of the frame drum, along with all other musical instruments. They tell of Inanna’s priestesses who sang and chanted to the rhythms of round and square frame drums. Along with the written texts, numerous figurines of women playing small frame drums have been found. These drumming rituals were carried on in the later worship of Ishtar, Asherah, Ashtoreth, Astarte, and Anat in Mesopotamia, Phoenicia, Palestine and Assyria. Somewhere between 2000 and 1500 BC, the frame drum arrives in Egypt. James Blades reports, “All records from this period (Middle Kingdom) show the performers as women; in fact the whole practice of the art of music appears to have been entirely entrusted to the fair sex, with one notable exception, the god Bes, who is frequently represented with a drum with cylindrical body (frame drum).

”Another text described the priestesses as the composers and choreographers of the music and dance used on religious occasions. In the Cairo Museum there is an actual rectangular double-headed frame drum from 1400 BC that was found in the tomb of a woman named Hatnofer. Also surviving from the Ptolemaic period is the skin head of a frame drum on whose surface is painted a woman playing a frame drum in front of the goddess Isis. The inscription on the drum reads, “Isis, Lady of the Sky, Mistress of the Goddesses.”

It is important to comprehend the significance of women’s control of sacred music and dance in Egypt. Religious ceremonies based on music and dance can synchronize the underlying energy of the mind and directly influence our perceptions of reality. Ritual influences our modes of awareness that both underlie and transcend the normal patterns of consciousness. Rites can be used to rouse and shape group emotion and behavior, developing a continuous shared consciousness. Music vibrationally transmits states of mind directly from consciousness to consciousness. Thus, politically, music can resonate simultaneously on far more levels — emotional, spiritual, intellectual and physical — than can words alone. As music initiates changes in group consciousness, it can affect vast social and economic cycles.

The Biblical lands have also yielded numerous images of women playing the frame drum. Old Testament texts refer to the tambourine as the toph, which as been translated as the timbrel and the tabret. Exodus 15:20, “And Miriam, the prophetess, sister of Aaron and Moses, took a timbrel in her hand, then the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.” In some legends it is said that Miriam parted the Red Sea with the shamanistic power of her drumming.In Greece, some of the most beautiful representations of the frame drum are found on the red figured vase paintings from the fifth century BC. The frame drum entered Greece from several different directions — from Cyprus, one of the main centers of the cult of Aphrodite where the frame drum was prominent from at least 1000 BC, and also from Crete, where it was used in the rituals of Ariadne, Rhea and Dionysos.

Pre-classical Greece also saw the introduction of the cult of the goddess Cybele, from Western Anatolia. The tympanum, the Greek frame drum, was the main instrument of the maenads, the women initiates, in the worship of Cybele and Dionysos, and the priestesses of Artemis, Demeter and Aphrodite also played them. Both single-headed and double-headed frame drums appear, once again played almost exclusively by women.

The Romans saw the last great flowering of these rites when the religion of Cybele was brought to Rome in April of 204 B.C. She was described as, “Cybele, the All-Begetting Mother, who beat a drum to mark the rhythm of life.” Rome was the cultural center for the mystery religions of Cybele, Dionysos, Isis and Dea Syria — all of which used the frame drum in their ecstatic rituals. These practices flourished until the Roman Empire officially adopted Christianity in the fourth century A.D.

In the ancient world, prayer was an active, trance-inducing combination of chanting, music and dance, and initiates often danced the sacred spiral into the labyrinth. The classic labyrinth is a single path meant for meditative circling. To enter it is to experience a ritual death; to escape from it is to be resurrected. The danced line into the labyrinth was a sacred path into the inner realm of knowing. Dancers holding a rope signifying Ariadne’s thread (that allows participants to find their way in and out of the maze) followed a leader into the labyrinth, spiraling right to left, the direction of death. At the center they turned, dancing out in the direction of evolution and birth, all to the driving rhythms of the frame drums. Another function of the frame drum was to create a prophetic trance state in which the priestess could foretell the future. The most dramatic mode of prophecy was uttered in inspired rhythmic speech. In the depths of ecstatic trance, the oracle was possessed by the goddess, who rapped in powerful rhymes directly through her lips. The Greek word for this state of transfigured consciousness is enthusiasmos – “within is a god” – the root of our word enthusiasm.

Ecstatic prophecy has many parallels with shamanism. Prophetesses sought inspiration through a number of external stimuli, including fasting, ingesting honey, inhalation of burning herbs or essential oils and intoxication via alcohol or psychotropic plants. Cybele’s priestesses relied most heavily on the trance-inducing properties of music and dance. The rhythms of frame drums, cymbals and flutes moved them towards the consecrated, concentrated state of divine revelation.

The Dionysian rites are the most widely known of all the mystery schools and have an enduring reputation as drunken sexual orgies. This is due to the later descriptions by Christian political leaders to whom the ancient mysteries of the goddess along with ecstatic drumming, dancing and in this century, rock and roll, have been labeled devil worship. Our word “orgy” comes from orgia, derived from the root word meaning “deed.” The term was used for the celebrations following initiation in mysteries, which might or might not include sexual imagery or behavior. Its ancient connotation seems to have been simply “secret rites.” Their aim was the ecstatic transformation of consciousness through rhythmic movement of the body.

Historians have associated the maenads, priestesses of Dionysos and Cybele, with unbridled sensuality and socially uncontrolled behavior. The word maenad means “mad women.” Their erotic longing for union with the Divine found expression in wild, barefoot dances to the primordial music of flute and drums, their unrestrained hair flying wildly about their faces, snakes wrapped around their arms. According to some reports they drank blood and tore wild beasts limb from limb. Not too far out of line from what might take place at a contemporary summer rock festival!

Wine was indeed an important part of the Dionysian mysteries. External stimulants were always used in pursuit of higher consciousness, for divine intoxication with the spirit of the deity. References to drinking blood may actually allude to a communion rite in which the fruit of the grape represented the blood of the deity, as it does today in Christian communion rites.

Mastery of the precise musical rhythms required to align the devotees’ consciousness with divinity suggests a control and sophistication of technique that contradicts the historical image of wanton frenzied women. Creating rhythms powerful enough to move hundreds of people into ecstatic trance states required skill, discipline and endurance.

With the ascendancy of Christianity, Cybele’s great temple in Rome was destroyed, the Vatican was built on the site and the new priesthood banned the priestesses, instruments and music associated with her rites. Not only was the frame drum banned from Christian religious rituals, its use in secular contexts was also frowned upon by the Church, in particular its use by women. The Catholic synod of 576 (commandments of the Fathers, Superiors and Masters) decreed: “Christians are not allowed to teach their daughters singing, the playing of instruments or similar things because, according to their religion, it is neither good nor becoming.

”For 3,000 years women had been the primary percussionists in the ancient world. As Europe pursued this policy of disallowing women to learn music, they effectively barred them from the professions of composing, teaching or performing.

The last 30 years have seen a dramatic rise in the number of professional women musicians, but there are still few women pursuing drumming. Although little is known about the history of frame drums and the women musicians who played them, it is an important part of our percussive history. And the ancient traditions of using drumming for spiritual purposes can point out what we have lost.

At contemporary rock concerts we have all the trappings of ritual without the spiritual purposes. Flashing trance-inducing lights, loud rhythmic sound, chanted and sung words, but often with no higher purpose than to momentarily entertain or to glorify the individual performer. And no matter how much idolization some of these quite gifted musicians attain, they are often driven to attempt to fill the emptiness with drugs and alcohol.

Yet I remember concerts that hinted at the search for wider realms and dimensions of being. The first concert I ever saw was a show by the Monkees. But what blew me away was the opening act — Jimi Hendrix. I had no frame of reference for where he was taking me. I soared with him beyond the known on the piercing sounds and songs of his guitar. Yet in the end he burned and beat that beautiful guitar to pieces. I had experienced something profound and transformative, but it had ended in destruction, leaving me bewildered and yearning for something more. I have spent the rest of my life looking for the pathway into the ecstatic that leaves me transformed, whole and euphoric.

This article was Originally published in DRUM! Magazine’s December 2000 Issue

[4stars-uswnt]

My Muse, My Valentine [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Not sure if you’re accepting any request but can you write a cp x photographer gf where her gf surprised her at man u, like her gf secretly transfer there to be with cp. Thanks

A/N: please ignore some of the inconsistencies this story has with reality :) but anyways... hope you enjoy and have a happy Valentine’s Day (tomorrow) and remember it’s a day about LOVE, whether that be romantic, platonic, familial, or self ❤️

“I’m gonna miss you,” you whine, as you watch your girlfriend pack her suitcase.

“I know, babe. I’m gonna miss you too, so much.” Christen leans down to quickly peck your lips, before continuing to fold her clothes.

You and Christen had been dating for almost three years now, having met after you’d photographed one of the USWNT’s matches. You instantly felt an attraction to the curly-haired forward, your camera always drifting towards her wherever she was on the pitch.

After you’d posted a couple of your photos on your Instagram, which Christen made a point to like and repost, you gathered up the courage to approach her after a game, and thus began your relationship.

With yours and Christen’s busy schedules, it was sometimes hard to find time for each other, but you made it work, sharing an apartment in Portland during the offseason and flying out for matches when you could. But being a sports photographer did have its benefits, as your work often led you to spending more time with your girlfriend and admiring her speed down the field and score goals.

But now, with the pandemic, as the NWSL was struggling to field games,  you found yourself with little work. Christen herself was not quite satisfied with the league’s plan for the season, so when Tobin proposed the idea of going to the WSL, she desperately wanted to, yearning to get back on the pitch.

At first, when Christen approached you with the subject, you immediately opposed, not wanting to be so far from your girlfriend for such a long amount of time. Additionally, with COVID, it would be nearly, if not completely, impossible for you to visit. But after a blowout fight and discussing it further, you realized that this is what would be best for Christen and her career.

“Do you have to go?” You pout, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed.

“You know I do, (Y/N/N).” Christen playfully rolls her eyes.

“Humph.”

“Babe, come on, don’t make me feel worse about leaving you.”

“Then don��t,” you quip, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, pulling her down on the bed with you.

“Babe!” Christen squeals, as you blow raspberries into her skin.

You lift your head from the crook of her neck, your eyes locking with hers. “I know that you have to go,” you admit seriously. “Doesn’t mean I like it, but I know that this is what’s best for your career.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she says earnestly, giving you a small smile. “We’ll text and FaceTime everyday.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You cup her face and bring her in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of her soft lips on yours. “I also know that you’re gonna kill it over there in Manchester. The WSL isn’t gonna know what hit them.”

Christen ducks her bashfully, a small blush arising on her cheeks. “You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, Chris. I love you, too.”

“Good.” She gives you a quick peck, as she gets up from the bed. “Now, either quit bothering me or help me. My flight is early tomorrow morning, and I haven’t even finished packing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—————

It had been a little over five months since you’d dropped Christen off at the airport and she left for Manchester. Despite the constant texting and the nightly FaceTime calls, you couldn’t help but ache for your girlfriend. Without her, the apartment was lonelier and the bed felt bigger.

It had helped that your work had started back up, first with some freelance work and then with the NWSL fall series starting, which gave you something to do and kept you fairly busy.

Currently, you were sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of coffee, as you edited some photos for the Thorns. Just as you were saving your work and closing Lightroom, about to shut your computer, a ping alerts a new email in your inbox.

Switching tabs, you notice the message is from an unfamiliar address, so you presume it’s a new client. You click and open it, your eyes widening, as you scan the email:

Ms. (Y/L/N),

I noticed your professional portfolio through many referrals, particularly your work form the World Cup. I am writing on behalf of the BBC News Media Centre, and we’re looking for an excellent sports photographer to join the team, specifically to cover the FA Women’s Super League and the Premier League.

Your experience is outstanding, adn your work speaks for itself. I think you’d be a great fit for this role, and I’d love to tell you more about it and hear more from you.

Would you like to set up a phone or Zoom call soon? If so, let me know when you’re available.

Best,

Charles Smith

Director of Media Relations at BBC Sport

You quickly reread the email, and then reread it again, just to make sure you’re not dreaming. This was too good to be true. But you shake yourself out of your stupor and quickly type out a response to set up a phone call as soon as possible.

After hitting send, you shut your computer with excitement and throw your hands up in the air.

“Yes!” You exclaim into the empty apartment, as you throw your fist in the air and jump off the barstool.

Knowing you needed to distract yourself, otherwise you’d just be staring at your computer, eagerly awaiting the response, you decided to go on a run.

Jogging through the city, you think of your girlfriend and your potential reunion if this job offer worked out. You decided that if you did in fact take this position, you’d surprise Christen at one of her matches, hopefully one that you’d be able to photograph.

As soon as you arrive back in your apartment, you make a beeline for your laptop. You anxiously open your inbox and beam when you see Charles had replied to set up a Zoom call at 9:30 tomorrow morning. You excitedly type out pleasantries, telling him you’re looking forward to it.

For the rest of the afternoon, you were in an increasingly good mood. So later that evening, when Christen called you for your routine FaceTime, she could tell something was up.

“Why do you keep smiling like that?”

“Can I not be happy to talk to my girlfriend?” You tease, a huge grin plastered onto your face.

“You can,” Christen trails off, not quite believing you. “But you have the weird giddy look you get when something’s up?”

“Nothing’s up. Just had a good day,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Okay,” the forward accepts, still eyeing you suspiciously. “Anyways, you know She Believes is in a couple weeks, are you working the tournament?”

“Yup,” you nod and make a mental note to mention that to Charles tomorrow.

The two of you continue updating each other, chatting about topics ranging from what you had for breakfast that day to re-inc’s upcoming drop.

“Alright,” Christen yawns. “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

You check your phone and see it’s 5:37 pm, meaning it’s almost midnight in Manchester.

“Okay,” your eyes softening at the sight of your sleepy girlfriend. “Good night, Chris. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe. G’night.”

After ending the call and shutting your laptop, you head into the kitchen to make some dinner for yourself, getting on with your evening.

—————

The next morning, you anxiously await for Charles to begin the Zoom call, nervously bouncing your knee and biting your lip.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Charles greets, his face appearing on your screen.

“Good morning. Or rather good afternoon?” You correct with a light chuckle, to which he reciprocates.

“Well, as you know from my email, we are looking for a photographer to join our team, and from many referrals, you seem to be a very good candidate,

“So, I was thinking maybe we could look at your portfolio really quickly and then hash out the logistics to see if this is something that could work out.”

“Sounds good,” you agree, as you pull up some of your best pictures and share your screen.

The two of you look through your photos, many from the 2019 World Cup, some of the Olympics, and a few from random NWSL games.

“Well, (Y/N), your work is quite impressive. If you’re ready, and you’re seriously interested in this position, we can talk specifics, scheduling, all that good stuff,” Charles offers.

“I’m definitely interested, but can I just preface by saying that my girlfriend is a major part of this decision, so depending on what she wants to do at the end of the season will impact my contract.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting your candor. “Your girlfriend plays in the WSL?”

“Yeah, well, technically only for this season. Her contract is up in May,” you explain.  

“(Y/N), to be completely frank, we’re looking to hire because a couple of our photographers had some personal issues due to COVID and had to leave mid-season,” Charles reveals. “So if it turns out that your girlfriend wants to go back to the NWSL, then we can work that out. And if she wants to stay, and you end up liking it here and you fit in well, we can also work that out. We’re pretty flexible.”

You sigh in relief, giving him a small smile. “Wow, thank you so much. So what would my contract look like?”

“Well, we can sign you to three month contract with the option for extension,” he offers, as you nod along enthusiastically.

“That sounds great,” you exclaim, beaming. “And just to let you know, I’ve already signed on to work the She Believes tournament from the 18th to the 21st.”

“That actually aligns with the WSL’s international break, and there are a couple Premier League matches that weekend, but I think we can manage, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

“You guys are too kind and so flexible. I really appreciate it so much,” you say earnestly.

“It’s really just us being desperate for a good photographer,” Charles jokes.

“Either way, I’m grateful for this opportunity.”

“We’re excited for you to join our team,” he reciprocates. “So, in terms of when you’ll begin, I honestly would like you to come over as soon as possible so that you can get settled and get acclimated.”

“I am honestly ready to start whenever you’ll have me.”

“How about next week? The Manchester Derby is on Friday, and honestly, given your portfolio, I’d love you to photograph that match,” the British man admits.

“That’s perfect!” You were in complete awe of how perfectly everything was working out. Photographing a Man United match as your first job meant you could surprise Christen, maybe as an early Valentine’s gift.

“Great,” Charles smiles.

The two of you discuss and finalize your contract and the logistics of you starting the job. Once everything’s settled and you each have the information you need, you wrap up the call.

“Well, thank you so much, Charles, for this offer, and I can’t wait to see you next Tuesday.”

“I can’t wait to work with you and meet you. See you next week. Cheers.”

After ending the Zoom call, you begin to make a COVID test appointment, book your flight, and arrange your hotel room for the few days that Christen doesn’t know you’re there, preparing yourself for moving across the world.

—————

After landing in London, getting settled into your hotel, and meeting with the BBC team and the other photographers, you were now on your way to the Manchester Derby.

In the back of the black cab, you pull out your phone to text a good luck text to Christen.

It was difficult to keep your surprise a secret, especially when you were actually in England, because it was much more difficult to FaceTime without her noticing your change in setting. You had to make up the excuse that you were swarmed with editing and preparing for the upcoming Thorns trainings.

As you pull up to the Academy Stadium, you hear your phone ding.

Chris ❤️

Thanks babe. Miss and love you 😘

You quickly type out a response, before heading into the building.

(Y/N/N) 💗

Love you too. I miss u too but go kick butt.

The match was exhilarating. Not only were you a sports photographer, but you were also a huge fan of the game, enjoying a good game when you see one.

You watched in awe, the level and style of play significantly different from than NWSL. While snapping hundreds of photos of both teams, your camera would always somehow land back on your girlfriend.

Your heart ached for the curly-haired forward, as you missed her dearly. Until you saw her back on the pitch, you hadn’t really realized that you missed watching her play the game that she’d mastered, her movements around the pitch and on the ball effortless and elegant.

As the ref blew the whistle, signaling the end of the half, you scroll through some of the photos you’d taken, deleting some of the blurry and unfocussed ones.

A smile immediately forms on your face when you see a picture of Christen during warmups with a huge grin on her face. You spend all of halftime editing said photo and putting together an Instagram post for your girlfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, the teams take the pitch and you go back to doing your job. Throughout the second half, you could tell that Christen was getting increasingly frustrated, her team getting down 3-0 with only about five minutes left.

You watch as the players high five and hug each other, and you want nothing more than to run onto the field to be with your girlfriend, but you had a plan to stick to.

As the team goes back into the locker room, you pull out your phone to post a photo on Instagram and then you shoot a quick text to Tobin:

(Y/N)🤓:

toby go check out my ig post :))

Back in the Man United locker room, after Casey went through her post match speech, Tobin checks her phone and sees a text from you. The injured forward playfully rolls her eyes at your message but follows your directions.

Upon opening the social media app, Tobin raises her eyebrows, her eyes widening. She glances across the room to see if her best friend had seen your post, but Christen was minding her own business, changing into sweats after her shower.

“Chris!” The older forward calls over to the other woman. “Have you seen your girlfriend’s Instagram post?”

Christen furrows her brows in confusion. “What? No, what is it?”

Tobin waves her friend over and shows her the post:

Liked by mrapinoe, ashlynharris24, and 638,231 others

yourusername: My muse, my valentine.

“As I sat and looked at her

and the rolling hills she sat upon

I thought,

what amazing luck I have

that the world had created

such beautiful things

and given me the eyes to see them.”

- atticus

tagged: christenpress

- - - - -

mrapinoe: Stunning pictures, (Y/N). Love you guys 💖

alikrieger: These photos are 🔥🔥🔥🔥

alexmorgan13: love this 😍😍

cdunn19: Beautiful!

glennondoyle: Love love love love this!!

ashlynharris24: Holy shit! Are you in Manchester????

↳lavellerose: Was this today??

↳sammymewyy: Oh my gosh it was!

↳kellyohara: Valentine’s Day surprise for Pressy?? 👀

Christen zooms in on the photo in the center, her eyes widening when she realizes that it is from today’s match.

“How did she get that picture?”

Tobin mentally slaps her forehead at her friend’s denseness. “Knowing (Y/N), she probably took it.”

“But that’s impossible. She’s in the States,” Christen states and shakes her head, dumbfounded.

“Actually,” you speak up, stepping into the locker room, deciding to make your presence known. “I’m right here.”

“(Y/N)?” Your girlfriend looks up at you, her mind in a state of shock.

“Hey, love,” you greet shyly.

Once her mind caught up with reality, Christen runs and jumps into your body, kissing you passionately but briefly and wrapping you into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe your here,” she whispers into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babe, so much.”

Unwrapping herself from the hug, Christen stares at you in awe. “What… how are you here?”

“We can talk about that later,” you give her another quick kiss. “But right now, I just wanna spend time with you. Maybe we can grab some dinner? You can show me around Manchester, considering I’m gonna be spending a lot of time here.”

Your girlfriend looks at you puzzled, but you just give her a wink with a small smirk on your face.

“Well, c’mon lets get out of here.”

—————

Back at Christen’s apartment, the two of you sit down for a nice and casual, but romantic, dinner you’d prepared along with a bottle of red wine.

After catching up, the forward finally decides to address the elephant in the room. “So how are you here? What’s going on, (Y/N/N)? You said earlier that you’d be spending a lot of time in Manchester, what does that mean? I’m so confused. Not that I’m grateful that you’re here right now and that I get to see you, but I thought you were working She Believes, and—“

“Chris,” you cut off your girlfriend’s endearing rambling. “Babe, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry,” she blushes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“I got a job with BBC Sport till the end of the season,” you answer her parade of questions.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

You nod, while taking a sip of your water. “It means I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

Not having the adequate words to express her joy and excitement, Christen gets up from her chair, walks over to sit in your lap, and connects you lips for a searing kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she breathes, rubbing her nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you quickly peck her lips while rubbing circles on her hip. “But as much as I love you and all this romance, we gotta get going soon.”

Your girlfriend tilts her head in confusion.

“Do the words ‘She Believes’ ring a bell?” You tease. “If I remember correctly, our flight leaves in a couple hours.”

“You’re coming with me?” Christen asks, her brain trying to wrap around the fact that her girlfriend, who she hadn’t seen in almost five months, would now be living with her in England and flying back to the States with her for the next week.

“Of course, Chris,” you give her a cheeky smile, along with a kiss to her nose, as you quote a book Becky had convinced the whole team to read. “You should know by now that I’d follow you anywhere. You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Fated Epilogue

Epilogue

Ares x reader

Word Count: 2041

Summary: Time skip to Zag running around trying to fix everything; then he gets a weird message from Ares.

The affair known to most of the Underworld’s population as The Confusion of Zagreus started as most things in his life did, on a run through the place as he tested the defenses against an escaping entity for what felt like the thousandth time. He’d had Ares’ vial with him, so naturally he’d gotten a fair few of the war god’s boons. Nothing too unusual, right? That’s what he thought right up until Ares said the most curious thing.

“When next you see Thanatos, tell him that his sister wants him to visit more.”

Sister? Zagreus wondered. Than doesn’t speak to his . . . Wait, Nemesis . . . But why would Lord Ares have messages from her?

When he mentioned it to his lover, Thanatos just chuckled. “I suppose it has been a while since I last saw her,” was all he had to say on the matter.

And that set the trend that continued for a while. He’d get a message from Ares to Than, pass it on, and get some cryptic non-answer in return. It was absolutely maddening. Even when he asked others, all they had to say was that it wasn’t any of his business, which was fair, but that didn’t aid his curiosity.

Finally, all that started changing when he managed to squeeze a drop of information out of Than when he asked, “So why does Ares see your sister more than you?” while they were dining together one evening.

And without really thinking, Death Incarnate reflexively replied, “Because she lives with him in Thrace instead of here.” Of course, immediately after that, Thanatos realized what he’d just admitted and promptly clammed up, but it was something at least.

Then Demeter let slip something else in one of her messages after he’d accepted several of Ares’ boons yet again. “Ares is aiding you when you get injured, is he? I’d be surprised if Nemesis didn’t have a hand in that sort of attack.”

And that set him thinking. Revenge was her area of expertise, after all. And many of Ares’ such boons were noticeably more powerful in dealing direct damage instead of causing various other effects. Could Than’s sister have been indirectly aiding him through Ares all this time?

Then came another piece of knowledge, this one from his mother upon inquiring why Thanatos and Lord Ares seemed to be so close. 

“Well War and Death were always bound to meet frequently just from their natures, I suppose, but it could also have been because of that mess where he saved poor Thanatos from being chained in a box. I’d wager that was a big help to making their friendship grow.” Before he could ask just what that was about, she continued, “Though it could have also started back when Lord Ares almost passed away, too. I remember Thanatos being quite concerned for both him and Nemesis during all that.”

“What do you mean Lord Ares almost died? He’s an Olympian!”

“He is, but the day Hermes found him was a day that stoked fear in the heart of every Olympian,” Persephone said gravely. “They all worried about Ares’ fate despite how they regularly ridicule the man, because if he could die that meant any of them could.”

Zagreus suddenly found his mouth extremely dry and couldn’t form a response.

“Yes, that was definitely the start of their friendship now that I think on it. It was very kind of Thanatos to linger without threatening the poor dears. From what I heard, he was very calm during the whole affair even in the face of such shocking news.”

“Yes, I suppose learning even the great Olympians might die would be quite dramatic,” he murmured, shoulders sagging.

“No, that’s not--ah! You don’t know, do you?”

He perked back up. “Know what, Mother?” he prompted innocently.

She smiled kindly as she patted his forearm. “It’s not my place to tell you if they haven’t already; I’d forgotten how much they value their privacy when they can get it.”

Who is ‘they’? Zagreus wanted to scream while yanking his hair out. Thanatos and his sister? Her and Ares? Thanatos and Ares?? But he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled stiffly and nodded.

It wasn’t until he managed to broker a peace between the Chthonic gods and the Olympians that he finally got answers.

~

There was a party you were supposed to be preparing for, but you were having a hard time working up the gumption to move from your current position. Because of said celebration, you and your husband--how you’d never tire of calling him that--had arranged your schedules so that they aligned, which of course was the reason you found yourself lying in bed perpendicular to the man, using one arm as a pillow under your head on his chest while the other hand played with his hair.

His gleaming red eyes flicked over to the open, brightly illuminated window where sheer white curtains swayed softly in the breeze. “We really should be dressing; I have a feeling your brother-in-law wants to meet us sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, but it’s so rare that we get time like this to ourselves.”

His hand found the one you’d been carding through his hair and brought it to his lips to kiss. “You and I have an eternity full of moments like this ahead of us; we can spare an evening for the boy.”

You huffed dramatically. “Let it never be said that you’re not a man of your word.” A sigh left your lips, but still you pried yourself out of bed without further complaint. “Are we doing full regalia or casual?” When there was no answer, you glanced back to see that he was transfixed by the sight of your naked form heading towards the shared closet. “Ares!” you laughed, snapping his attention back to reality.

“Darling, I take it all back; you must come back to bed at once. There’s a rather pressing matter that needs your attention at once.”

Now, you rolled your eyes. “Well that pressing matter can wait until we return. Are we doing armor or not?”

From there, there were a lot of kisses, gropes, and laughter between that moment and being fully clothed--in light leather greaves and cloth chitons rather than the usual full armor, after all, Ares so hated to be unprotected or unarmed--but neither of you were really complaining.

“Boys!” Ares called down the hallway with you tucked under his arm.

Two heads of wild silver hair just like their father’s appeared from the same doorway. “Yes, Father?” they chorused.

“We’re leaving. I trust you can manage things until our return?”

“Of course, Father.” And then they were gone from sight, their snickering still echoing in their absence.

Ares chuckled as he shook his head. “Little terrors, the both of them.”

Though they weren’t yours, you’d grown to love both of the twins the moment you met them. With Aphrodite being so absent in their lives, you’d taken up the role of ‘mother figure’ quickly, and the two were practically your own by now. “Well, to be fair, one of them is Panic.” 

~

You were unsurprised at the Olympian turnout at the party; most arrived near the time when you did, but none stayed particularly long. As fond as they were of Zagreus in theory, their detest of the Underworld would always be greater. Only Ares and Demeter attended from the mountain and stayed past the pleasantries and feast. Otherwise, it was entirely the subjects of the House of Hades that were present. Fortunately, they seemed to be enjoying themselves nonetheless judging from the way Meg and Dusa had quickly roped you and Ares into conversation.

Zagreus hadn’t seemed to notice your arrival yet--too wrapped up in getting to know his mother and grandmother, you assumed--but you caught sight of Hades glaring at Ares every now and then. Every time you caught him, the harsh threat he’d delivered to Ares rang through your ears once more. 

“Set foot outside this house, boy, and you shall find yourself in a fate worse than death.” Neither of you were surprised by the warning. He was, after all, still angry about the whole ‘bursting into the Underworld without permission to save Thanatos’ fiasco.

Eventually, you and Ares found yourselves alone for a moment once Achilles and Patroclus excused themselves. You tugged the glass from his fingers to steal a sip of his ambrosia, something that’d been quite hard to find the last time you’d visited. You didn’t want a full glass, and Ares never complained about sharing.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, clearly worried about you partaking in a drink you’d never really managed to develop a taste for. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly. The drinking coupled with the knowledge of how much you hated being dragged to these things had likely set him on edge.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a genuine smile. “These are my family, remember? Much nicer to be around than yours.”

“That’s quite true,” he murmured. No doubt, he was remembering when he and Aphrodite had been paraded around and humiliated as the entertainment at one of his family’s gatherings. His gaze flickered up as he noticed something before you did: Zagreus approaching at last. “And there’s the man of the hour!” he greeted warmly. It was hard to mistake the boy for any other given his attire was his family’s colors and the way he absolutely looked like a mix of his parents.

“Lord Ares!” Zag’s face was alight with happiness. “I’m glad you were able to make it; it’s an honor to meet you properly.” His eyes shifted to you. “You must be Than’s lovely sister I’ve heard very little about.”

You laughed lightly. You like this kid already. “I suppose that’s me, yes.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed I haven’t seen you around the House before now,” he probed curiously.

You decided to indulge him; it was a celebration in his honor after all. “I pop by to visit Mother and Hypnos from time to time, but I see Than enough that lingering isn’t worth it. I’ve gathered that you’re usually gone from the House as much as he is.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he chuckled. “Makes sense you wouldn’t just lurk around when you put it like that.”

“Have to budget that precious time off somehow.””

“Plus, it’s sort of my fault that she resides in Thrace since I stole her all those years ago,” Ares teased.

“Stole her, sir?” Oh, how the poor boy looked so confused at those words. You were willing to bet his mind was just running back over Persephone’s situation and comparing it to yours.

Your brows furrowed. “Zag, has no one told you about Ares and I?”

“No!” his voice was laughing but had a manic edge to it. “Everyone keeps hinting at there being something going on with you two, but no one wants to clue me in! I’ve tried to respect your privacy by not asking directly, but it’s driving me crazy!”

“Oh, for Father’s sake.” Ares rolled his eyes. “I’m going to have a word with your brother about this,” he announced as he started pulling away from you.

“Wait! You’re not mad at Than are you?” Zagreus fretted. “Because I’d hate to cause strife between you because of my own curiosity, and--”

“Relax, Zag,” you soothed.

“Thanatos is the only being I would ever call my friend outside of her,” he gestured toward you. “I thought it went without saying that he didn’t have to keep secrets from you for my benefit, but apparently that isn’t the case. I’m simply going to tell him that. I’ll be right back, my darling.” With a kiss to your temple, he stalked over to where Than was loitering with his sleeping brother at the edge of the room.

When you looked back at Zagreus, he was staring at you absolutely slack-jawed, probably at Ares’ display of affection. “Blood and darkness, my Lady,” he managed to wheeze, “what is going on?”

You snorted a little, amused slightly by his turmoil. “Zagreus, Ares is my Fated. He’s my husband.”

His eyes went a little crossed as he realized it was just that simple. “Oh, is that all?!”

[drandnurseturner]

The Wrong Impression

Call The Midwife Fanfiction

Nurse Crane & Miss Higgins

What happens when Nurse Crane finally confronts Miss Higgins about his not so kind reactions to The Turners?

As Nurse Crane exited the Mother’s room into the waiting room she passed Nurse Turner. She was smiling from ear to ear. It wasn’t unusual for her to be happy but she did seem more so than usual.

Nurse Crane noticed Miss Higgins scoffing at something across the room. What on earth could be she be scoffing at now? It was a look of disapproval that Nurse Crane had seen on many occasions.

That’s when she spotted some beautiful flowers.

“Oh! Aren’t those nice?” Nurse Crane said aloud as she approached them. “Are they yours Miss Higgins?”

Again. That scoff. “No. They do not belong to me.”

“Oh. Well then who’s are they?” Nurse Crane approached Miss Higgins desk.

“They belong to Nurse Turner.” Miss Higgins was looking down at her work. She obviously didn’t want to discuss this.

“From Dr. Turner? What a sweet man still surprising his wife with flowers. They are beautiful!”

Again. The face. Nurse Crane had seen it so many times but just then she realized The Turners were one of the main reasons for it.

She placed both of her hands on the edge of Miss Higgins desk and leaned toward her. Miss Higgins looked over the rim of her glasses. “Can I help you Nurse Crane? This is quite a rude way to be approached.”

“We have known each other for some time now Miss Higgins. I would venture to say we have even become friendly and as a friendly person I want to remind you that everyone can see the expressions that appear on your face. Most of the time I am in agreement with them but I am not today.”

“What are you talking about Nurse Crane?”

She leaned in closer to Miss Higgins. “Do you know their story Miss Higgins? Or do you think you know? From your expressions and scoffs I would guess the latter.”

Miss Higgins sat there in silence as Nurse Crane backed away.

“As a friend Miss Higgins, may I suggest we have tea together after working hours? I think I may be able to change your opinion.”

“I will not take part in gossip Nurse Crane!”

“Neither do I but that seems to be what you have chosen to believe instead of the facts.”

No more words were spoken. Miss Higgins did as she usually does and continued on with her work. Nurse Crane smiled to herself as she walked back into the Mother’s room. She was not one to involve herself but this time she felt she must.

There had been no further communication other than what was necessary between the two ladies. Nurse Crane left before Miss Higgins. She hoped she would take her up on her offer but it seemed she wasnt interested.

Later that evening Nurse Crane sat around with the Sisters and nurses of Nonatus House. They were having their handy crafts and quiet time when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Nurse Anderson said as she got up.

A few moments later she reentered the room with Miss Higgins.

“Nurse Crane. Miss Higgins is here to see you.”

Nurse Crane was shocked. She noticed everyone was looking at her in surprise. “Oh well of course!” She stood up from the couch started to guide Miss Higgins toward the kitchen. “We have a tea time this evening don’t we? Let’s pop on the kettle.”

Nurse Crane could hear Nurse Franklin asking what this was about. The Sisters mumbled something about it not being her business. No matter the situation, Nurse Crane was not one to out someone who had been misled.

“Please sit down.” Nurse Crane stated. “Thank you for coming by.”

“I do apologize for earlier.” Miss Higgins had a sad look about her.

“Oh please! Let’s get this tea set up and we can discuss it in the garden. It’s a lovely evening, we should take advantage of it.”

This was not a discussion Nurse Crane wanted overheard. She knew Miss Higgins was a difficult woman but she meant well. She understood what it was like to be misunderstood. Her misunderstandings with Sister Evangelina were difficult for her. In the end the two became friends. She hoped for the same outcome with Miss Higgins.

The ladies walked to the garden in silence. Nurse Crane carried a thermos she had filled with tea and two cups. They sat down on the bench and Nurse Crane handed Miss Higgins a cup and poured tea for each of them.

“I’m sure you think me an awful old woman!” Miss Higgins blurted out.

“Not at all lass!” Nurse Crane placed her hand on Miss Higgin back. “Sometimes our opinions can be based on untruths.”

“But you are right Nurse Crane. I do scoff at them and I am horrible for it!”

Miss Higgins was becoming very emotional which Nurse Crane hadn’t expected.

“I had heard things before taking my position at The Surgery. I didn’t want to believe them. I am in that reception room all day. Patients think I must be deaf but I have heard some terrible things.”

“Why did you believe them Miss Higgin? You know the gossip in Poplar is very toxic!”

“How do you all do it?” She was crying now.

“What’s that?”

“Stay so happy. All of the time. Day in and day out. All of the terrible things you all see yet you always see the bright side. You all are such beautiful people.”

“Oh Miss Higgins! You can’t go through life letting things bring you down. I think that’s how we have all survived what we have. Together we are strong. We bring each other up.”

She handed Miss Higgins a hanky. “Now. May I tell you one of my favorite stories?”

Miss Higgins sat up and collected herself. “I’d love if you would.”

“I was hoping so.” Nurse Crane grinned. “Years ago, before I came to Nonatus, there was a Sister and a Doctor.”

“So she was a nun!” Miss Higgins eyes widened.

“Oh yes!” Nurse Crane said knowing how that gets everyone each time. “The Sister had a difficult childhood having lost her mother at a young age. She joined The Order right after nursing school. She was a wonderful nurse and midwife. The Doctor had recently lost his wife and was left with a son. Oh what an amazing young man he was. Although, they had known each other for years, it was as if the stars had aligned as they say.”

“How’s that?”

“The Sister became ill.”

“Oh no!” Miss Higgins was hanging on to every word.

“She had tuberculosis. She had to live in a sanitarium while she recovered. What no one had known was that the Sister had been questioning what God was requiring of her. She did not feel it was to be a Sister but rather something else.”

“What? What happened?”

“After a lot of reflection and prayer, this Sister decided to leave the Order. When she had made her decision, she read every letter the Doctor had sent her while she was away..”

“He wrote her? What did they say?”

“Miss Higgins! I don’t tell secrets such as those.”

Miss Higgins frowned.

“I don’t know the content of the letters.”

They both laughed.

“But I do know they led to these two marrying and having a beautiful family.”

“The Turner’s.” Miss Higgins stated.

“Yes.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“We may all work together but we are friends as well. Shelagh and I have enjoyed tea and biscuits a time or two. Instead of wondering if what I had heard was true, I simply asked Shelagh how they came to be.”

“That would have been a simpler way.”

“Yes it would have been. And...before you ask, yes there is an age difference but one thing I have learned about all of the marriages and relationships I have witnessed in my years...age is just a number.”

“They are a beautiful family which is why I often found myself torn between what I witnessed and heard.”

“I have learned it’s better to believe your impression than those of others.”

“You’re right. I feel so terrible Nurse Crane!”

“This will stay between us Miss Higgins. No need to fret as long as I don’t see anymore of those scoffs!”

“I can’t promise you won’t see one here and there when they are being a little too personal for a professional environment.”

Nurse Crane laughed. “I love when we see a little of their personal life. It fills me with joy to see the happiness of others. Even the “mushy” stuff as Master Turner used to say.”

The ladies laughed and continued with their tea. Nurse Crane knew Miss Higgin meant no harm and she certainly wouldn’t be disclosing her previous beliefs to anyone.

[caleb-wigodast]

Whatever is in Your Heart

Dorian/Dariax

Rating: Explicit

This is the first fic I've written in like over 3 years and it's just 4k worth of smut. Anyway I wanted to write some somft Doriax fucking, so I did. The premise of this fic is a sex pollen flower, so there's some questionable consent with the premise itself, but in the fic I made it clear that they are both very much into it and would be dtf without the sex pollen.

Spoilers for episode 5 of Exandria Unlimited!

(Read it on AO3)

“Whatever is in your heart, this place will know” those words from Fy’ra Rai rang through Dorian’s head as they made their way past the obelisk. A vine sprouted out of nowhere and tripped Dorian, causing him to fall into the radius of the flower emitting a dangerous pollen Orym warned them about. Dariax rushed over to help him to his feet, but he was too late, (or right on time depending on your perspective) The next blast of pollen emitted from the flower coated them both in its intoxicating scent. If this place knew what was in their hearts, it knew their desires, and it clearly wanted them to fulfill those desires...

Dorian coughed and choked on the scent as it filled his lungs, forgetting he can hold his breath indefinitely, and he felt a tingly warmth flow throughout his body that set every nerve alight inside him. Dariax’s hands on his waist felt like fire, it felt magnetic, and he leaned into Dariax as Dariax seemed to do the same.

Dorian blushed, “Are you?”

Dariax stuttered, “y-yeah, you?”

Dorian nodded, he looked to Dariax and saw his face pink with blush as they clung to each other, trying to remain standing. Within a few moments after the pollen took full effect, they felt their knees go weak as they collapsed on the forest floor together, still holding each other in a loose embrace, panting and staring into each other’s eyes with desire and need.

“Are you okaaaaay!?” Opal called out.

Right, the others.

“U-um, yes! We just, got a bit too close is all!” Dorian called back nervously, trying to crawl out of the flower’s radius and back to the group, he could feel Dariax’s eyes on him even as his back was turned.

“Are you sure? You’re not poisoned?” Fy’ra questioned.

“Nah, I think it’s just like a, like an exhaustion thing,” Dariax supplied, stumbling his way over behind Dorian.

“Do you think you’ll be alright to continue?” Orym asked.

“Uh, I might need a bit of a rest, but I wouldn’t want to hold the group up. Besides, Fy’ra, you said that flower was the only dangerous thing here?” Fy’ra nodded and Dorian continued, sitting on a stump “Well, in that case, you all can go ahead. I think Dariax and I are just going to rest here for a bit, if that’s alright with you all, of course.”

They looked at each other nervously, “If you’re sure, we really don’t mind waiting.” Fern reassured.

“Thanks but uh, nah I think we just need to rest by ourselves for now.” Dariax slumped against a nearby tree, not trying at all to hide his massive hard-on.

Opal, of course, noticed this, and checked Dorian too, who brought his legs a bit closer to his chest to hide, she grinned, “I think they’ll be fine guys, lets just keep going!”

Opal ushered the group forward, and Dorian would have to thank her for that later. In the meantime, he was painfully hard in his trousers, so was his crush, and they were both alone in the woods.

The second the others were out of earshot, they locked eyes, gazing intensely, “I don’t want you to agree to something purely of circumstance, or to think I’m doing the same,” Dorian clarified.

Dariax nodded, eyes blank, “I don’t know what that means, I just don’t want you to fuck me just cause we’re both really horny.”

Dorian paused, “yes, that’s… what I mean, and honestly I’d rather it be the other way around.”

“Wait, you mean, you’d want me to fuck you?” Dariax looked a little confused.

Dorian blushed, “only if you’re fully on board!” he insisted, staring at the ground.

“I mean yeah! I just figured since you were taller you’d wanna be the one to top, but hey! I’d love to fuck you!”

Dorian turned an even deeper shade of blue, “Great. Wonderful then.”

“So… do you wanna have sex?”

Dorian, still staring at the ground, nodded, “Yes, Dariax, I would very much like to have sex.”

Dariax pushed himself off from the tree he leaned against and began to close the distance between him and Dorian, “Cool! Anything off limits? Or-?”

“Um,” Dorian’s hands fisted in the fabric of his pants, he was painfully hard and really just wanted to get going, “just don’t degrade me or anything, what about you?”

Dariax took Dorian’s hand, prompting him to stand up as Dariax hopped onto the stump Dorian had been sitting on, making them eye-level. “same for me really, I just want us to both have fun. If anything hurts, just tell me and I’ll stop, yeah?”

Dorian nodded as he moved to press his body close to Dariax, “mhm, yes, good.” His brain was already fuzzy with contact, head swirling as the heat of Dariax’s body enveloped him as their arms wrapped around each other and they desperately held each other close.

Dorian buried his face in Dariax’s neck as they moaned out. Their cocks weren’t quite aligned, Dorian’s was closer to Dariax’s knee and Dariax’s was kind of against Dorian’s abdomen, but it was friction nonetheless, and the pair moaned as they moved to lock lips.

Dorian lost himself in Dariax, forgetting momentarily where they were and what they were doing, all he knew was Dariax and pleasure as he rutted against his thigh and felt his knees get weak at the large bulge against his hip. When Dariax ran his tongue against his lips and pushed in, Dorian let a desperate moan slip out, gripping Dariax’s shirt and kissing back feverishly.

Everything felt so hot and yet they weren’t close enough, Dorian worked at the ties on Dariax’s shirt, pulling them undone and breaking the kiss only momentarily to rip his shirt off over his head. Dariax got the hint and started working on Dorian’s shirt, leaving licks and kisses to each new piece of his smooth blue skin he exposed.

Dorian found it sweet, but he was getting impatient, he moved to untie Dorian’s pants and shove them down his waist as Dariax left a trail of kisses along his shoulders. Dorian moved to pull Dariax’s underwear down too, but of course he wasn’t wearing any, so Dorian was now gripping Dariax’s ass. He let out a groan at that, biting down on Dorian’s shoulder in response.

Dorian moved his hands to explore the hairy dwarven expanse in front of him, roaming and mapping out every spot that made Dariax moan and suck harder on Dorian’s skin. He was gripping his ass again when his delicate fingers brushed against Dariax’s balls, causing him to buck forward into Dorian and let out a high-pitched whine.

Dorian felt his erection strain against his pants, desperate for Dariax as he whimpered the man’s name, he broke away from the kiss and furiously worked to remove his pants, tossing them aside and lying down on the grass. Dariax moved to lie on top of him, hands roaming the soft, tender blue sea of skin before him.

“You’re so pretty, your skin is like the sky,” he gazed at Dorian’s body with awe, Dorian squirmed under the attention, “Can I give you love bites?”

Dorian blushed but nodded, watching as Dariax moved to kiss the tops of his shoulders, using his tongue to trace his collarbone down to his chest, leaving little bites and nips here and there before he reached his nipples, swirling his tongue around one before taking it into his mouth and sucking in earnest.

Dorian let out an undignified noise of pleasure as he felt Dariax’s hand come up to pinch at his other nipple. Dorian let out a string of whines and moans as Dariax alternated between sucking and pinching each of his nipples. Dorian gripped Dariax’s shoulders tightly before moving him off, panting. Dariax stopped immediately to check in, “everything alright?”

Dorian nodded, catching his breath, “Yes, I just- if you keep doing that I’m not going last much longer-“ he grunted out, trying to hold himself back.

Dariax nodded, he took his sweet time trailing kisses and love bites down his chest to his hip bone and making a tapestry of bite marks around his abdomen. Dorian whined, he was getting impatient. He ran his hand through Dariax’s hair to guide him towards his cock, but his fingers got caught on some matted areas and he tugged more forcefully than he intended. He was about to apologize when he heard Dariax whimper and let out a shuddering breath against him.

“Can, can I suck you off?” Dariax asked, staring up at Dorian from between his legs.

Dorian huffed out a laugh, the sight alone making him harder, “as long as you allow me to return the favor.”

Dariax grinned and moved to press a kiss to the base of Dariax’s cock, swirling his tongue around his balls and suckling gently. Dorian moaned out and bit his lip to restrain himself, keeping a hand in Dariax’s hair to tug and pull as he pleased, wishing Dariax would just get on with it already! And he did, Dariax licked a slow stripe up the backside of Dorian’s cock before sucking on the head and taking him further into his mouth, gazing up at Dorian through hooded eyes filled with lust as he swallowed him down.

Dorian panted heavily, fighting to keep his hips down against Dariax’s apparent lack of a gag reflex. He didn’t know a blowjob could feel this good, especially with a beard involved, but it seemed to only add to the sensations. His hand tightened in Dariax’s hair and he felt the other moan around him, unable to control his hips from thrusting into the air, he pulled Dariax off as he caught his breath.

Dariax stopped again, looking at Dorian expectantly, needing to make sure everything was alright before he continued.

“ah- sorry, I can’t. can’t seem to control my hips,” Dorian bit his lip anxiously, “Would it be alright if I-?” he trailed off, unable to make his request out loud.

Dariax understood though, “You can use my throat all you want, buddy, just do what makes you feel good. I’ll let you know if its too much, don’t worry” he gave a reassuring smile with a hint of wickedness behind it.

Dorian flushed and nodded before Dariax went down on him again, he felt the head of his cock hit the back of Dariax’s throat before he swallowed around it, and Dorian let out a shuddering breath.

Dorian cried out Dariax’s name and thrust his hips up into the tight, wet heat of his mouth, hesitating at first but feeling encouraged when Dariax made no protest, only moaned louder and sucked harder. Dorian gripped Dariax’s hair and bucked up into his face, loosing himself in bliss as his hips snapped up against Dariax’s head.

A few minutes in, Dariax took a moment to swallow the precum and spittle that had gathered in his mouth, and that’s what tipped Dorian over the edge, breaking him in the best way and causing his body to shudder with the force of his orgasm. He held Dariax’s head against him the whole time and he swallowed as much as he could, though come inevitably dribbled into his beard as he looked up to admire the dark-blue flushed Dorian who fought to catch his breath.

When Dorian finally came back from his high, he looked down to discover he was hard again. Whatever effect this plant had on them, it certainly wasn’t going away soon. He then noticed the warmth around him and looked to see Dariax snuggled close against his side, holding him.

“Dariax, are you, still…?”

Dariax nodded, “Yeah, but I can take care of myself, don’t worry,”

Dorian scoffed playfully, “I thought you said you’d let me return the favor,” he slid down until his hands were on Dariax’s thighs, holding him to the ground, looking up at him for any signs of discomfort. He found none, Dariax was just staring at him, wide-eyed as he nodded his head, “O-okay, yeah, sure!”

Dorian smirked and used his hands to hold Dariax’s hips to the ground as he lowered his head. Though he was a dwarf, Dariax was decently endowed, and what he lacked in length he made up for in girth, so when Dorian deepthroated him, he didn't have to worry about gagging on his length, just about fitting all of him in his mouth.

Dariax seemed to be enjoying it though, and Dorian was as well, he pressed his face close to Dariax so his nose brushed his public bone and he rested there, breathing shallowly through his nose as Dariax squirmed and groaned beneath him. Dorian swallowed around Dariax’s cock and hollowed his cheeks as he ran his tongue around him, swirling around the base before trailing up to the head, keeping his mouth as far down on Dariax as he could.

After only a few minutes of this, Dorian moved his nails to gently run against Dariax’s taught balls, and Dariax came with a pitiful moan of Dorian’s name. He shuddered all the while Dorian sucked, swallowed, and worked him through his orgasm. When he’d finished and pulled off, Dariax tugged Dorian’s arms up towards him to hold him close. Dariax was a cuddler apparently, but Dorian didn’t mind, what he did mind was that his ass was feeling entirely too empty, and his cock was still painfully hard.

After a few minutes of holding each other and exchanging gentle kisses, Dariax was hard again, and the kisses became hickies and the snuggles became grinding. Dariax was sucking another mark on Dorian’s shoulder as they rubbed their cocks together when Dorian decided he couldn’t wait any longer, “Dariax, please, I need you inside me. Do you have anything, oil, water- anything at all to help with that?”

Dariax kissed the mark he left before nodding, “yeah, I should have something in my pants, just a sec,” he crawled over to his discarded pants and procured a small vial from one of the pockets, he returned to Dorian and squatted between his legs, spreading the substance on some of his fingers before moving to kiss Dorian sweetly, “If at any point it hurts, or it’s too much, you just let me know, yeah?” he spoke softly.

Dorian nodded, heart warmed by how tender Dariax was being, “Yes, just, please. Need you,” he moaned, his hips shifting a bit.

Dariax teased the rim of Dorian’s entrance making him shudder, “I got you buddy,” he moved to close the distance between them and distracted Dorian with a long, slow kiss, waiting to feel his muscles relax before making his first intrusion.

Dorian naturally tensed at the prodding until Dariax swiped his tongue over his lip in a way that turned his brain into putty. He let out a soft moan and relaxed into it, barely noticing when he pushed his finger in completely.

Dariax was sucking on Dorian’s lip when he began gently scissoring him open with three fingers, massaging his inner walls but purposefully avoiding his prostate. Dorian whined and tried to roll his hips back on Dariax’s fingers, but Dariax pulled out his fingers altogether and broke their kiss.

Dorian whined, “Dariax, please!”

“It’s alright, I just- mmm, needed to get myself ready,” Dorian looked up to see Dariax coating his member in the contents of the vial from before. He breathed deeply to steady himself as Dariax moved his legs to hang over his shoulders. “Are you sure you can handle this? I’m a bit big.”

Dorian huffed out a laugh, “modest much?”

“No really, I mean it, the last thing I wanna do is hurt you,” Dariax hovered over Dorian, lining up with his entrance but not breaching it yet.

Dorian looked at Dariax and saw only earnest concern in his eyes, making his heart warm, “Thank you, I’ll be ok, Dariax.”

Dariax smiled, “Alright, I’ve got you buddy,” at that, he slowly began pushing into Dorian. The intrusion felt good, like warm honey spilling into his insides, a sensation filled with pleasure and a little bit of pain, but the good kind. It was the kind of stretch that hurt but felt oh so good at the same time, and it was making Dorian’s head swim.

When Dariax finally bottomed out, Dorian felt like he was flying, he gripped Dariax’s wrist as he adjusted to his size.

Dariax needed a moment to adjust as well, “Fuck,, Doriannn. You’re really tight,, but like, in a super great way. You feel amazing,” he moaned out, biting his lip.

Dorian let out a breathy laugh, “Hah, you were not kidding about your size,” he whimpered, “fuck! you feel incredible!” he cried out, gripping Dariax’s hair to pull him into a searing kiss.

Dariax returned the kiss gladly, a tongue slipping inside Dorian’s mouth as they kissed, trying to battle for dominance as they adjusted. Dariax rolled his hips as he sucked Dorian’s tongue into his mouth, pulling a desperate whimper from him.

Dorian tore away from the kiss panting, “Fuck- Dariax, please move, now!” he begged.

Dariax nodded, holding Dorian’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He slowly slid out and Dorian made a weak moan at the loss, before he was slowly filled up again and felt like he was walking on clouds. This repeated a few times before Dorian decided this angle was no good, and used their held hands to pull Dariax back down for a kiss.

Dariax happily obliged, pressing kisses all over Dorian’s face, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his throat, leaving even more marks here and there. Dorian panted and squirmed under the affection, using the hand not laced with Dariax’s fingers to grip his hair, not guiding, just tugging, and making Dariax moan out.

Dariax continued at the languid pace, brushing against Dorian’s prostate occasionally, the only indicator being a sharp whimper that would burst from the string of moans Dorian sang. He could tell Dariax wanted to take this slow and carefully, and his heart ached for that, but also, the plant sex pollen was still in their system, and he really wanted to come.

Biting his lip and deciding to sacrifice his dignity, he whimpered, “Dariax.. please,, harder.” And he felt Dariax’s breath catch at that, he nodded with his nose pressed against Dorian’s neck as his hips picked up the pace a bit.

Dorian moaned out, shifting his hips up a bit until a sharp gasp made Dariax stop moving, “What’s wrong, are you ok?”

“Fuck yes! There. please, that spot- again, please. Yes, so good!” Dorian cried out helplessly.

Dariax nodded and moved his arm under Dorian’s waist to help keep the angle as he thrust his hips back up against that spot and made Dorian cry out again. Dorian locked his ankles together as he wrapped his legs around Dariax’s waist, desperate for that sensation again.

Dariax kept at that spot, making Dorian cry out and whisper swears and pleas for “more, harder, faster, please, Dariax!” and Dariax was happy to fulfill all his requests. He thrust into Dorian harder, keeping his face near Dorian’s while his hips did most of the work, planting his knees firmly in the ground as he fucked up into Dorian’s ass.

Dorian was nearly in tears from pleasure, his voice raw with the obscene amount of noise he was making. Dariax kept hitting that spot and making him feel so good. He moved his hand from gripping Dariax’s hair to rake his nails down his back, biting down on his neck to return the favor of the many love bites Dariax had given him. Dariax’s hips faltered at that, crying out and quickening his pace even further.

Dariax got a bit rougher at that, he gripped Dorian’s hips hard enough to bruise as he pounded into him, Dorian’s teeth sinking into his skin as his nails made erratic marks all throughout his back. But throughout this all, they were still holding hands, fingers laced together in a tender pairing, a sign of the true intimacy behind what otherwise looked like a desperate chase for pleasure.

Dorian came with a reverent cry of Dariax’s name, clenching around him and pushing Dariax over the edge as well. If Dorian thought he was full before, he felt like he was bursting now. They collapsed to the ground, both covered in come and sweat and feeling utterly exhausted as they came down from their highs.

The stars in Dorian’s eyes faded back to reality as he felt the warm, hairy embrace of Dariax next to him. Dorian moved his arms to hold Dariax close to his chest as they sat for a few moments, just breathing, and enjoying each other’s company.

“You’re like. Really… really hot,,” Dariax broke the silence.

Dorian chuckled, “I could easily say the same for you, Dariax, that was… incredible.”

“You’re tellin me, that was like. The best fuck of my life!” Dariax exclaimed.

Dorian blushed, “Really?” was all he could reply, he knew Dariax got around, so that was a high compliment.

“Yeah,” Dariax looked at him in earnest, “It’s always nice having someone you trust to do stuff with.”

Dorian gave a sincere smile, looking down at their still laced hands, “I’m glad, I feel very much the same,” Dorian moved to kiss Dorian sweetly on the lips, but when he shifted, their- once again, hard cocks brushed against each other, making both men moan out.

Dariax looked down, puzzled and a bit frustrated, “Really? Again? What does this forest want with us…”

Dorian sighed, “well, at the very least it means we can try out more,, things, alternative positions, other methods of arousal?” he arched an eyebrow.

Dariax looked at him blankly, thinking for a second, “I don’t know what that means but I could always try riding you!”

Dorian blushed, sighing fondly to himself “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

Later they would ask what this meant, later they would talk about relationships and first times and much more, but right now, the sex pollen was still working it magic, and the forest wanted them to fulfill their desires.

[fallenrepublick]

A Fitting End

This is... not very good, but @savagesbonergarage made me think about it once and I couldn’t stop myself so now it’s you guys’s problem

Warnings: The Chiss Triangle, cheating

---

He had tried.

He really, truly had tried. Strict moral codes and an internal shaming system that usually worked to combat his bad decisions had been rendered ultimately useless for once in his life, possibly making the whole thing worse now that he thought about it, having ended up forcing him to linger on the issue as opposed to ignoring it entirely. The greater sin, even then, was that he was glad for it.

There had been a moment, a night when Thrawn hadn't been there, as was usually the case nowadays. The emptiness of Thrass's house was normal, the dark rooms populated only by lifeless and semi-comfortable furniture not exactly welcome, all things considered, but not unfamiliar. For your own house, though, it was suffocating.

And he sat up frantically when the comm rang, rushing across the house to the counter he'd left it on, knowing that whenever he was contacted in the late hours of the night, disaster was imminent, or worse, had already happened. He answered quickly, a bit more forcefully than he had meant, and his heart stopped the moment he heard your voice on the other end, small and nervous, as if you were considering simply hanging up instead of following through with the call. You said his name, and silence followed.

"What happened?" was all he asked, fearful and anxious, terrified that you'd been hurt or otherwise. Despite his best efforts to hide his feelings, it was fairly obvious.

"Nothing…" you said lowly, instantly regretting your emotion-fueled decision. "I just… I'm kind of lonely… I guess…" It was ridiculous, you began to think. Why would you call him for this problem?

And he too wondered, why had you called him? He was the one you thought of when you needed someone? He was the one you needed? So he offered, "I could stay with you, if you wish."

When you said no, he sank, only to be lifted once more when you asked to come to his home instead. He quickly agreed, bidding you stay where you were, and he would go bring you. He had believed it to be a one time occurrence, that you would have moved on with your life once Thrawn once more left. But you called during the second trip, the third, the fourth, eventually leading the visits to be a usual ritual, if only for your comfort.

That was months ago. Even now, even as Thrawn still remained home, Thrass barely slept, the comm inches from his bedside, waiting for a moment when it would ring and you'd ask for him. He doesn't know what he's expecting ever, but he would never miss that call for the world.

But again, Thrawn leaves. It seems like that's all he ever does lately, his presence more often out among the stars than home. You understand, of course, as that's part of the job, but even when he is here, he's not. His mind lingers elsewhere, still wandering through his work, still prioritizing everything that has nothing to do with you, still forgetting that he's home to begin with. And the worst part of it all is that you end up feeling less alone when he isn't there.

Thrass beams when you walk in the door, already knowing the system by now and which room you usually stay in, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders the moment you see his face, replaced with a new, lighter sensation.

“Welcome back,” he teases. It was the third trip this month, and you were only halfway through the second week. His black hair slides over his shoulders when he tilts his head, reminding you a bit like a waterfall shrouded in shadows.

He kept everything as you left it, each light softly glowing in its place, the furniture that seemed to have gained a pillow or two since you started staying here all neatly arranged in their usual spots. And him. He stands straight, his air of confidence a convincing facade to all except you, his eyes searching for something you aren’t quite sure you have. But his smile is warm and welcoming, such a contrast to how cold your house had been feeling, and the home was more open, so opposite to the constricting nature of Thrawn’s. You were always glad to be here, this time is no different.

You look forward to the late hours, when you sit on your plush bed, soft sheets surrounding you with a gentle heat that tells you you aren’t alone, while Thrass lays in front of you, leaning on his elbow. And you talk. It’s all you find yourselves doing when you’re here. He listens, smiling, laughing, a crooked expression that could hear you speak for eternity, that makes you want to speak to him for eternity.

He has food usually ready in the mornings, and if not, is making it by the time you enter the kitchen. You still talk, reminiscing, and he goes on about how he imagines his life if he wasn’t a syndic, if he simply dropped everything and found somewhere else. He can’t, he says every time. This life is too secure for something like that.

You find him in one specific room often. On the walls hang instruments, strings and woodwinds, different sizes and shapes, some from the planet and many not, aligned and organised the way he likes it. On the floor stands keyed instruments, ones that look close enough to a piano or harpsichord, others you wouldn’t be able to identify if he hadn’t shown them to you. He sits at one of the ones that looks like a piano most of the time, scribbling away at a sheet on the stand in front of him, playing the current line over and over again before writing yet again. You watch a while before speaking, the melodies he plays and movement of his hands so achingly sad that you can’t seem to do anything but watch.

“What song is that?” you finally ask, pulling him from his thoughts and back to you. His demeanor doesn’t change. “Is it a new one?”

He covers the sheet with books. “Yes. But it isn’t finished.”

The day goes on as usual. The loose schedule you follow doesn’t change. But the song doesn’t leave your mind either. And after the hours of talking at night, after you’ve sufficiently lost track of time and he tells you goodnight, you sneak back out. It’s wrong, you know. But you’re so curious. Slipping into the room once more, struggling to see in the darkness, you flip on a switch and carefully leaf through the sheets on the stand. You find it, neat and pretty handwriting gracing the page in dark ink, a single word at the top as its title. Your name.

You paused, unsure what to make of it, such a sad, hauntingly painful song given your name. Why? You flipped to the back, the blank back instead covered with more words.

I love you, I love you, I can’t say it, but I can play it, you’ll never know one way or the other, but I love you.

Endless lines of words that all say much the same, often switching between languages, some you recognise, some you don’t. And you don’t understand why your heart beats so quickly, why you want to find him. Yet it becomes evident that you don’t have to.

“I haven’t found a fitting ending, yet,” he says behind you, making you turn quickly, guilt in your eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t play it for you… But I want it to be finished before I do.”

“It says my name…” you say, half to yourself, looking back down at it. “And on the back…”

“I know.” It comes out in a sigh, knowing this conversation should never have happened. But gods, you’re right there. You hold his work so gently, as if it actually mattered, and your lips part when you watch him, trying to find your answer. There’s so much he’d give to do.

“Thrass…” You answer similarly. The proper thing is to reject this, to explain that you know where you stand, and such a thing isn’t possible. But you can’t. There had been so many other times, so many moments where he’d comforted you, when you fell into bouts of sadness or loneliness and his arms around you were the only thing keeping you in the moment. When his face buried into your neck, seeking solace where others turned their backs on him, a reason that you now see was only a part of it. Your hand had found its way into his soft hair, and his gentle arm on your waist made you never want to let go. And you would tell yourself that your heart often lied to you, that the waver was temporary and all would return to normal in time. But you aren’t so sure.

He smiles. “I know.” He can’t push it. He won’t push it. No matter how badly everything hurts when he sees you, no matter how harsh fate seems to make you love his brother. It’s a dream and nothing more. “I believed that I could find the courage to do something once I finished that. I believed I could walk away from my emotions. But I don’t know how to end it. I don’t know if I ever will.”

A beat. You know you shouldn’t say it. It isn’t right to say it. You tell yourself not to say it. But you do. “You see me.”

And at first, he seems surprised, his eyes slightly widening at the response. “I always have.”

You hesitate, words caught in your throat, tears forming in your eyes, though more from relief than anything else. But you’ve already said so much.

“You love me.”

A second. Another second.

“I always have.”

When he steps forward, he looks down at you, still smiling in the regretful, knowing way he always does, inches from where you stand. And it’s so, so wrong. You take his hands, holding them with the music, pressing them to your chest, feeling how cold they are against your skin. And you can’t bring yourself to look at him, lowering your head and closing your eyes.

“I love you, too... Thrass,” you say in quiet, shaky breaths, fingers tightening around his own.

You feel his lips press gently onto your forehead, and you glance up slowly, only to close your eyes once more as he continues, a kiss placed at your temples, your cheeks, your eyes. He waits for you to lean into him before kissing your lips, his arm snaking around your waist as he moves down your neck.

He hums about taking you away, about building you a life somewhere else, where you never have to be alone, where he’ll always be there. His breath is warm against your skin, his hands cool as they explore every place they’ve longed to touch. He melts into the way you hold his neck, the strokes they make through his hair.

Every kiss is a new word, another way to say “beautiful,” a new language and dialect, every synonym they have for “love,” for “perfect.” It’s so natural, the way he says it, as if the words were made for his lips, for you to hear. You forget it’s wrong. In the moment, it’s so, so right.

[pythagoreanwhump]

Eyes Closed, By My Side

AO3 link

After helping Anastasia vivisect a rebel spy, Kai has to make sure they survive the resulting infection long enough to confess. They didn't want to think about any other reason they were being so gentle, not when their head was still cloudy with emotions they weren't ready to face yet.

Thank you to @sopwithwhump for helping me with the idea and making it happen!

CW: Aftermath of torture (vivisection, but not explicitly mentioned), intimate whumper, dissociation (again not explicitly mentioned), very very brief (like half a sentence) mention of compulsive handwashing and what could be read as denial of that

Kai wasn’t one to startle easily, something to be expected given the nature of their job, unless there was something on their mind that bothered them deeply. Today wasn’t the type of day where they would admit to themself what they were thinking about when the phone rang, though.

They were rarely phoned for anything important, most of their superiors opting to use a pager in case Anastasia had them out of the office, but it would be undisciplined for them to not answer the phone immediately. The voice on the other end was one that they have heard before, but not familiar enough to recognize over a call.

“Lieutenant Waykes?” They heard the voice ask. They must’ve mumbled something in affirmation, though they couldn’t quite realize what they said. The voice continued. “The prisoner needs surgery. We just need a confirmation that you want them alive.”

This time, they distinctly heard themself say yes, but they didn’t think they knew what it was supposed to be about. They found themself pacing to the door of their office, an open file still clutched in their hand, before they stopped themself from rushing out without even knowing where they wanted to go. They set the file down, pressing with their thumb and smoothing out the corner where their grip had left a crease, and anxiously adjusted the position of everything on their desk, and then their uniform, before heading toward the med wing.

The place was empty, a large room set aside for prisoners with a couple of cots along the back wall next to windows covered with grey curtains. A small desk sat in the corner with a locked shelf next to it, and inside sat a few bottles with their labels obscured with the thick plastic screens of the doors. Certainly, it would be better for a prisoner to be brought here for help than to be in the cells being tortured everyday, but the place was no less gloomy. Swallowing thickly, they tried the door that they knew connected this room to the main medical office. It didn’t budge, and it was clear from the uniformly dull copper knob that it hadn’t been touched in a long while, but there was a tint of dark red hidden behind it, and a splotch on the old yellow paint of the door that looked faintly orange, brown even.

They left through the front door again, pulling it shut behind them, and somehow it felt like the hallway had brightened up as they did. The outside of it was painted a shade of green only slightly lighter than the walls, and with a few more steps down the hall, it was easy to forget the room even existed. The next room had double doors, propped open with two battered pieces of triangular wood, and the sunlight spilled through the tall windows, but the lights were still on overhead, buzzing with their harsh white glow.

“Can I help you?” The nurse sitting by the door barely looked up only to glance at the small silver bar on their shoulder. Kai stared back, scanning over the table and the pile of papers, more organized than their own desk ever had been even on their first day, and the nurse’s neat uniform, an ironed crease down the middle of the red cross printed on a clean white armband sitting right below the sewn-on double chevrons of his rank.

“Hm?” Kai responded, hoping they hadn’t zoned out long enough for it to be weird. “Right. I’m looking for a prisoner I sent over there yesterday.” They gestured toward the other room, and there was a shelf where they remembered the door being. “There’s no one there.”

“They’re in surgery,” The nurse replied. “It’s all hands on deck over there. There’s not much staff assigned to prisoners in the first place. It’ll take a few hours.”

Kai thanked him with a nod, asking him to tell the others to give them a call when it was done, and walked out, making the trip back to their office. They hoped no one would stop them and assign them some other task, walking close to the walls with their eyes down, their finger skimming against the rough chalky paint as they moved, feeling the friction that soon turned from grounding into numbness.

They sat in front of their desk and picked up the same file as before, laying it in the center of their desk so the spine aligned with the knob on the drawer right in the middle. The crease from their grip before was still there, sharper on the left than the right, and they smoothed it out with the side of their left wrist while they picked up their pen with their right hand.

The same grey walls that they had usually felt secure within suddenly felt too close, too tight, and they knew they needed a change of scenery. They would never admit how often they felt like this in their officer after they came back from the cells, how the walls were painted the same color and how they could very well end up in the other type of room with a single misstep. They found themself thinking that they would prefer even the gloom of a storage room that had been converted to heal only to prolong suffering.

They tucked a stack of files under their arm and once again walked to the med wing, opening the door to find the room as empty as before. They found a chair by the window, setting their stuff down on it and reaching to draw open the curtains. They expected to find dust floating in the rays of light that spilled in, but there was nothing. They didn’t know if they should be glad that the place was at least clean or hate it for how dead it seemed.  They spread their things out on the windowsill, trying to ignore now the peeling paint making crinkling noises as they wrote. Leaning against the side of the window and pushing their work into the sunlight to see better, they almost felt like a young student posing for an aesthetic photo of themself studying.

The thought occurred to them that they still had no idea where the operating rooms were when they heard a bed being wheeled down the hallway toward them. It can’t be far, but they never bothered to look for them. They had little time to wonder, anyway, the doctor seeing them in the room and directing the others to push the bed right to them, rolling the rebel, still unconscious, onto the closest cot.

“Here,” She tossed them a pair of cuffs, grabbing the rebel’s hand on her side and attaching it to the railing of the bed. “Get them cuffed up. They’ll be waking soon. And close the curtains. They always try to look out and plan to escape if they can see through the windows. Every one of them.”

“This one definitely would,” Kai looked down at the rebel who looked defiant even while unconscious. “I’m sorry for the trouble, ma’am. Captain Kolettis didn’t tell me it would be this bad.”

The doctor sighed, stepping aside to let a nurse put in a new IV. “You know, we don’t usually expend so many resources for prisoners. We had to pull staff from the normal care team today. I’m a doctor, and I will save their lives when I need to, but they don’t deserve to take up medicine and manpower that are meant for our own soldiers. This one lost their right to it when they decided to betray us. Next time you want someone alive, make some effort yourself instead of dumping all the work on us.”

“Captain Kolettis doesn’t care about what Captain Ridley would do if she killed the rebel, but I would prefer not to cross her after she made me promise I would get a confession from her prisoner.” Kai moved away from the bed, following the doctor to her desk. “I’ll get them out of your hair as soon as they’re good to go back to a cell.”

The doctor looked at them in silence, wariness showing on her face. “They’ll have to be here for a while. If you want a confession from them, you’re gonna have to wait. They’ll be too delirious to say anything for a day or two.”

Kai hummed, rushing back to the prisoner’s bedside when they heard the cuffs clanging against the railings of the bed as they started waking up. “Do you want me around or would I just get in your way?” It seemed like in the movies, people always tried to rip their IV out as they were half-aware, waking up in a hospital, but the rebel just struggled, the edge of the cuffs digging into their wrists.

“Sure,” She scribbled something at the bottom of a document that looked too messy to be a signature, even for a doctor’s handwriting. She pushed it under a clip and snapped it closed, looking around as if looking for something. “I’ll leave one nurse here, then, so it doesn’t get too crowded. Do whatever you want. I don’t care, as long as you don’t damage them up too much and then need me to fix it again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kai muttered, not looking up at her as she left the room. They cupped the struggling rebel’s face, pressing them down into the bed and whispered against their forehead. “Hey. I know you can’t really understand me right now, but you know I don’t like so much struggling.” They weren’t able to tell before from the fleeting touches on their wrist, but now that they were close, they could feel how hot their skin burned. “I’ll have to punish you later if you keep struggling like this, okay?”

Kai didn’t know if it were the threat or the cool touch of their hand on the rebel’s forehead, although they doubted either would be really effective. They stilled, arms falling limp, but they jerked their head to the side, trying to escape Kai’s touch. They mumbled something, but Kai shushed them, thumb brushing over their lips as they leaned in to whisper another threat in their ear. “It’s okay, you’re alright,” Kai said when they’ve quieted again. “They just had to do surgery to clean you up so you wouldn’t die on me. Anastasia should’ve been more careful with you, you’re too beautiful to be killed like that.”

“No Kai please-” The word “surgery” seemed to have sent them into a frenzy. They arched off the bed, then collapsed down and tried to turn onto their side and curl up. Kai grabbed their shoulders and shoved the point of an elbow into their chest to force them down. Their eyes were open, but they were more feral than clear. “You can’t, please, don’t let them cut me open again, Kai.”

That seemed to take all the strength they had in them in their current state. Their eyes slipped closed and their shoulders trembled with quiet almost-sobs, but there was nothing left in them to struggle anymore. Kai ran their hand through their sweat-soaked hair, picking away the tangles. A whimper escaped their tightly pressed-together lips when Kai placed the back of their hand on their forehead, but soon their both hands were warm and the rebel was still burning hot.

“Private,” Kai waved at the nurse where he sat, probably just catching up on paperwork like everyone else. “Is there something I could use to cool them down a bit? I might as well while I’m here.”

“Yes sir. You probably should if you want them to recover fast so you can ask them questions.” They pointed to the sink. “Would you be alright grabbing it yourself? There’s rags in the top cabinet, and get one wet with cold water.”

“Thank you, private,” They nodded, and they didn’t remember themself getting up and walking over, just that the next moment they had the rough fabric in their hands, held under the running water. They stayed there for much longer than they had to, feeling their fingertips go numb under the cold water. They knew people maladapted to this job for whom washing their hands all the time was the only way to chase away the feeling of invisible blood forever sticking to their hands, but for them it was simply easier to let go of their thoughts while they felt the flowing water take it away from them. They glanced at the nurse again, but he paid them no mind, hopefully not nothing how long they stood by the sink.

They wrung out the cloth and used it to wipe their hands, folding it into a neat rectangle and laying it on the rebel’s forehead. They mumbled something incoherent and Kai hummed as if agreeing, taking hold of the rebel’s hand with their own, rubbing their cold fingers into their palm. “Does that feel better? Just relax and sleep now, you won’t be hurting so much when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Their eyelids cracked open a bit, but Kai doubted they could see the reassuring smile they flashed them. “I don’t… wanna hurt anymore…”

“Mhmm,” Kai nodded, squeezing their hand and feeling them squeeze back gently. They couldn’t promise them no more pain, but at least nothing would be as bad as what Anastasia had done. What they had helped to do. Flipping over the wet cloth, they muttered a quiet apology, but the rebel was already unconscious again. They bore witness to their suffering, and now they will stay by their side in their vulnerability. It wasn’t much, but at least they could convince themself they did what they could.